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That Way Madness Lies

Page 20

by Dahlia Adler


  Thompson: There wasn’t a lot of love for Aufset in Rose Park. And I know it was supposed to be on some dead-the-beef shit, but after everything we’d watched Cory go through the past couple of years, the whole transformation, lotta niggas wasn’t ready to see him again.

  Vera: I told him not to come. (Crying) I told him not to come. Because I knew. I knew something bad would happen.

  Violet: It was one of the toughest conversations I’ve ever had to have. The three of us—me, Vera, Mutasa—we went to Calabasas, and we prayed with Cameron that he skip the Rose Park show. It was too dangerous.

  Vera: There was one moment, that afternoon, when Aufset came in, and I could feel the change in Cory’s body. He was tense when we were in the room, but once Aufset was there, he loosened. There was an ease with them. And I saw it. So much made sense when I saw that.

  Adler: During that phone call, I told him it might not be a good idea to do the Rose Park show. And we got into it. It got pretty heated. I was in tears by the end. Because I didn’t want to lose him. I didn’t want him to come back and for something to happen. I felt like I’d be responsible.

  Vera: He and Aufset. People joked about it before when they would perform together. You’d see videos of them on Twitter, and pretty soon there’d be homophobic TikToks. It was like that. The replies in some of those tweets were just too horrible to look at sometimes. How could they say that about my partner? The father of our son? We loved each other. But I saw him and Aufset, and it wasn’t a joke anymore. That … that distance I felt growing between us when we lived in Calabasas together, I thought that was because of the music and everything that came with it, but … (Crying)

  Violet: He loved you, Vera. He always did. Cameron and I never had any talk about his sexuality. Whether he was gay or bi or … He behaved like the boys around him behaved, then he closed himself off, and he went somewhere I couldn’t reach him.

  On April 2, 2019, Lanez was reportedly seen waiting outside the Executive Suite gay, lesbian, and transgender bar and lounge. He’d recently visited several of his childhood haunts in Rose Park before riding with an associate to Belmont Heights. Earlier in the day, he’d taken pictures with fans and signed autographs.

  According to unsealed transcripts of the grand jury proceedings, he was allegedly approached by several men claiming to be associates of Aufset. According to further testimony, they had asked him whether he planned on doing the Rose Park show. When he answered in the negative, they shook hands and Lanez turned to leave. After he did, one of the men stabbed Lanez in the back several times before three of the others joined in.

  A nearby witness called an ambulance, administering aid as the 911 operator instructed before the paramedics arrived. But Lanez could not be saved.

  Tyson Aufson, also known by his stage name Aufset, announced the cancellation of the Rose Park show on Twitter and Instagram, explaining, “I am struck with sorrow.” He alluded to possible gang involvement in saying, “Though in this city he hath widow’d and unchilded many a one, which to this hour bewail the injury, yet he shall have a noble memory.”

  Aufset subsequently released a track in remembrance of Cory Lanez titled “Assist.” Within 24 hours of its release, it was the highest streaming song on all platforms.

  OUT OF THE STORM

  Inspired by King Lear

  Joy McCullough

  Shut up your doors, my lord; ’tis a wild night.

  My Regan counsels well. Come out o’ the storm.

  —ACT 2, SCENE 4

  (CORA, 15, and her sister GABI, 20, in an ICU hospital room, the curtain drawn around the bed.)

  CORA:

  She’ll come.

  GABI:

  She won’t.

  CORA:

  You think the worst of her.

  GABI:

  With good reason.

  (Beat.)

  CORA:

  I get that it was hard for you when she left—

  GABI:

  You don’t know. I’m sure she seemed like a hero to you, blazing some new trail, striking out at sixteen, but it wasn’t like that.

  CORA:

  I do know.

  GABI:

  She left and didn’t look back.

  CORA:

  Still. Our father’s on life support. How could she not—

  GABI:

  No warning, just gone. And now it’s been two years. You don’t know her like I do.

  (Beat.)

  Marybeth, hi. Yeah, there’s no update, just read the same statement from the morning livecast. Prayers welcome, donations to the ministry. It is not tacky. It’s what he’d want.

  (She hangs up.)

  What? Don’t judge. We haven’t hit our quarterly goal yet.

  CORA:

  I didn’t say anything.

  GABI:

  You never do.

  (A commotion in the hallway.)

  ROWAN (off-stage):  I am family! How do I convince you I’m his daughter?! Just because I’m not on the livestream every week, I swear to God. Check the website. Pretty sure I haven’t been cropped out of the photos yet.

  GABI:

  She came.

  CORA:

  Told you.

  ROWAN (off-stage, sweetly):  Thank you so much. And God bless.

  (ROWAN, 18, enters with a suitcase.)

  What’s up, bitches?

  GABI:

  Oh my gosh, Rowan! Keep your voice down!

  ROWAN:

  Is that any way to welcome the prodigal daughter?

  GABI:

  There’s press everywhere. The nurse’s father is a major donor! You can’t just waltz in here, all foulmouthed. Is that a tattoo?!

  ROWAN (to CORA):  Look at you, baby sister. I wouldn’t have even recognized you.

  CORA:

  Hi.

  ROWAN:

  Hi.

  CORA:

  How was … Yemen?

  ROWAN:

  Somalia. Yemen was last week. But I didn’t file any stories from Yemen; my contacts weren’t as good as I hoped.

  CORA:

  Oh.

  GABI:

  How are we supposed to know where you even are?

  ROWAN:

  Follow me, like Cora does. I’m @RowanReports.

  GABI:

  So I can watch you thrill-seeking in war zones? No thank you.

  ROWAN:

  I’m doing important work.

  GABI:

  Fine. I’m just saying, it would be a lot easier if you called occasionally.

  ROWAN & CORA:  Nobody calls.

  ROWAN:

  Jinx. Buy me a Coke.

  CORA:

  Um. Okay? There’s a vending machine—

  ROWAN:

  Not for real. It’s a thing we say, don’t you remember?

  CORA:

  …

  ROWAN:

  Sugar and caffeine only make my jet lag worse, anyway.

  GABI:

  Your body is a temple. And yet you’re still smoking?

  ROWAN:

  Why are you going through my bag?

  GABI:

  I’m looking for a charger.

  (ROWAN grabs her bag, finds a charger, and shoves it at GABI. GABI plugs her phone in. Silence. At one point, CORA almost speaks, but then chickens out. Finally:)

  ROWAN:

  So do they wait to read the will until after we pull the plug?

  GABI:

  Rowan! What is the matter with you?

  (GABI bursts into tears and runs from the room.)

  ROWAN:

  Oh my god, the drama.

  (CORA stands.)

  Don’t go after her. It’s what she wants.

  CORA:

  That’s why I should.

  ROWAN:

  You’re too pure. She’s manipulating us. Wonder where she learned that.

  CORA:

  Gabi’s not like Dad.

  ROWAN:

  No? She made my entire six
th birthday party about her because of a skinned knee.

  CORA:

  She was only eight.

  ROWAN:

  Tell me she hasn’t done something similar to you in the last year.

  (Beat.)

  CORA:

  This isn’t a skinned knee.

  ROWAN:

  No. It’s not.

  (Silence.)

  Are you dating anyone?

  CORA:

  Seriously? You can’t just show up after literal years away and make chitchat. And what are you even talking about? I’m only fifteen. Were you allowed to date at fifteen?

  ROWAN:

  Why do you think I left?

  (Beat.)

  Look, what am I supposed to say? I didn’t abandon you—I knew Gabi would never leave. But I reached a point where it was clear: if I didn’t make a break for it, I’d get sucked in and lose myself completely. Maybe it’s different for you.

  CORA:

  You don’t know what it’s like for me.

  (Beat.)

  ROWAN:

  Gabi was the one who used to dream about getting out. She was going to be a traveling preacher, leading revivals all over the world. Of course, that’s before she bought into Dad’s whole thing about women in leadership.

  CORA:

  She basically runs the ministry.

  ROWAN:

  Through Anthony. She’s still engaged to that loser?

  CORA:

  Anthony’s nice. Mostly. And she has official duties of her own.

  ROWAN:

  Does she ever get to preach?

  I’m not trying to be an asshole, Cor. It’s just easier with some distance to see … Honestly, I hope you get out the first second you can. I’ll even help you. It’ll be easier now, with Dad—

  CORA:

  Are you rooting for him to die?

  ROWAN:

  He’s already dead, hon. It’s just the machines.

  CORA:

  I know that. I’m not a baby. But I don’t know how you can sit there and tell me things will be better when he’s dead.

  ROWAN:

  Not better. Easier. And obviously I don’t mean everything. Just your choices about what to do with your life—you won’t have to weigh his opinions or face his wrath if you have some of your own. You can date, if you want to. And oh my god, college! You’re not locked into going to Spurgeon. You could go to a state school. Or take a gap year!

  CORA:

  Sorry if I’m not thinking about my own future right now.

  ROWAN:

  Fine. Sorry I brought it up.

  (Beat.)

  It’s just, there’s nothing wrong with thinking about your own needs.

  CORA:

  There’s also nothing wrong with considering others’.

  (Silence.)

  It’s like you don’t even understand how many people will be devastated by his death. The memorial’s going to be nationally televised. World leaders will be there. I know he wasn’t perfect, but do you even care how many people will mourn him?

  ROWAN:

  I’ve met people literally across the globe who know his name, who quote his books. A woman in Nairobi found out who I was and wanted me to touch her dying baby.

  CORA:

  Tell me you didn’t give her an earful about the real Ray Lawrence—

  ROWAN:

  I touched the fucking baby, Cor. And sat there with the mother while he died. I may have sung.

  CORA:

  Amazing Grace?

  ROWAN:

  What else? But how many brilliant sermons, how many uplifted lives do you suppose it takes to outweigh each one he destroyed? My mother, your mother—

  CORA:

  Stop. Just stop it.

  (CORA exits.)

  ROWAN:

  Rowan Lawrence, clearing rooms since … forever.

  (She checks her phone, sends a few texts, then leaves a voice mail.)

  Hey, love. I made it. Just wanted to hear your voice, but … Anyway, I’m here. I miss you. I would rather be in a war zone right now. A different war zone than this one. Just … call me if you can.

  (GABI enters with a clipboard and some paperwork.)

  GABI:

  I already read these, but you have to. Welcome to adulthood.

  ROWAN:

  You already know my vote.

  GABI:

  Pull the plug and go out dancing?

  ROWAN:

  Or drinking. I’m flexible.

  GABI:

  This isn’t a joke. This is your father’s life! There’s a reason he stipulated that we both have to sign—

  ROWAN:

  A final fuck you to his oldest daughters?

  GABI:

  If you don’t care about him, at least think about Cora. We’re all she has now. If you could attempt to not be a complete narcissist—

  ROWAN:

  Do not call me that.

  GABI:

  Truth hurts?

  ROWAN:

  It’s unfair and you know it. Tell me you know it.

  (Beat.)

  GABI:

  Fine. You’re just phenomenally selfish.

  ROWAN:

  I can own that. But I came, didn’t I? It wasn’t for him.

  (ROWAN studies the paperwork while GABI responds to messages on her phone.)

  It’s pretty messed up, don’t you think? Requiring us to be the ones to decide this? To agree? He could have just …

  GABI:

  What? What were his other options? For all the people around him, he wasn’t really close to anyone.

  ROWAN:

  Except for whoever was sharing his bed.

  GABI:

  Don’t start.

  ROWAN:

  It’s true.

  GABI:

  But it’s not. Of course there were women, but he couldn’t confide in them. Have you ever thought about how lonely he must be?

  ROWAN:

  There’s a difference between lonely and power hungry.

  (Silence.)

  Do you think he ever—with Cora—

  GABI:

  No. I made sure of it.

  (CORA enters with a Caffeine-Free Diet Coke for ROWAN.)

  CORA:

  I still think you’re the worst.

  ROWAN:

  No arguments here.

  GABI:

  Ro’s had some time to look at the paperwork. Maybe we should—

  CORA:

  You wanted to preach, Gabi?

  GABI:

  What?

  CORA:

  Rowan said you wanted to preach. When you were younger.

  GABI:

  Oh, no. I mean, I also wanted to be a unicorn.

  ROWAN:

  We went on that revival tour when Cora was tiny, remember? The crowd was getting restless, and you marched up to the pulpit and started preaching!

  CORA:

  How old was she?

  ROWAN:

  Like seven. I was so scared what Dad was going to do when he found out, but he just laughed it off.

  GABI:

  Well. Yeah, then, in front of everyone. After was a different story.

  (Beat.)

  ROWAN:

  What did he do?

  GABI:

  It doesn’t matter.

  ROWAN:

  Of course it matters!

  GABI:

  I don’t want to talk about this stuff, with him right there—

  ROWAN:

  Maybe that’s exactly why we should. A chance to speak when he can’t silence us? I never thought that would happen.

  GABI:

  It wasn’t what you’re thinking. Physical or whatever. It was just words.

  ROWAN:

  Words are never just words.

  GABI:

  Just, you know. I was so tired and wanted to go to bed. But I had to keep standing there while he lectured me about my place, made me quote scripture about women keeping silent. When I
cried, it was proof that I’d never be strong enough to lead.

  ROWAN:

  Did he say that? Or did you think it?

  GABI:

  I don’t … I don’t remember.

  CORA:

  It doesn’t matter anyway.

  (Silence.)

  ROWAN:

  Okay, so if I understand these documents—

  CORA:

  You should preach. At the memorial service.

  GABI:

  Don’t be ridiculous. He already planned everything. He wants Pastor Matt—

  CORA:

  So?

  GABI:

  So … it’s what he wanted! Last wishes and all that!

  CORA:

  He always got what he wanted! Just because he wanted it doesn’t mean it’s right.

 

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