Chapter 11
Hunter
It’s a beautiful place for a farewell. Standing in the wings, I can only see part of the Menier Chocolate Factory’s gorgeous proscenium arch, but you can feel the history in these floorboards.
There really is nowhere like London to perform.
I haven’t had nearly as many chances to be on stage here as I would have liked, but it’s time to go out with a bang.
As I hear the applause for the previous number, my heart starts to race, but that’s a good thing. Nerves always make a performance better. The lights go down. The audience falls quiet.
I take a deep breath, then step into the spotlight.
The theater dissolves around me as the first few notes of Being Alive ring out from the piano. My voice is raw and trembling at first. As I sing about wanting someone to hold me close, it catches on something painful. Damn you, Stephen Sondheim.
The song is a slow unfurling, a confession of loneliness wrapped in the plea to be seen, to be held, to be known. As the song builds, my voice gains strength, aching and resolute at once.
I close my eyes as I hit the final note, my voice cracking but all the more powerful for it.
The room is silent.
I hold my breath until I hear the first claps, a ripple that quickly swells into a tidal wave of applause punctuated with wild whoops that I know are from Thiago. Usually, I love this moment – what performer doesn’t? – but after that, I feel spent.
Those words I sang were too close to the truth even for me, capturing what I long for more than anything, the kind of love I don’t believe I’ll ever find. I peer into the crowd, searching for my friends, wanting to see their smiling faces.
Then I see Max.
From the moment our eyes meet, I don’t need to ask why he’s here. I can see it – he’s on board. He looks at me, searching for a reaction. I nod at him. He gets up from his seat and starts walking towards me.
That wasn’t what I meant, but what the hell. If we’re going to do this, we might as well go for it. The audience is starting to notice him getting up on stage, but they don’t know what’s going on.
Until he gets down on one knee.
There’s a collective gasp. I look down and see Max removing a signet ring from his finger.
‘It’s only temporary,’ he says. ‘I didn’t have time to buy one.’
People are losing their minds, filming on their phones and squealing.
‘Hunter,’ Max says, ‘I don’t want you to leave. I want to finish what we started.’
He takes my hand and offers me the ring.
‘Will you marry me?’
The audience holds their breath, but my eyes remain locked on Max. What passes between us is more than a pact. There’s an understanding. A connection. Something neither of us could describe but both of us feel. I pull him up to a standing position.
‘Sure, why not? Fuck it. Let’s get married.’