Chapter 6 #2
His acting is earnest; there could be more nuance in his choices. The song’s lyrics aren’t exactly Sondheim though. He’s almost there, like a stunning sculpture made from wet clay. All he needs now is to be put in the kiln and fired into something brilliant.
As the backing track ends with a piano flourish, he stands in front of me, still in performance mode, making my heart hammer. He’s sturdy and (a little too) sexy, his chest rising and falling with the confident adrenaline of nailing a big song.106
But then it all disappears. ‘That was bad, wasn’t it?’ he asks, the dimples on his cheeks going hollow as he sucks in air, his face absent of any self-belief. ‘I got the words wrong.’
‘Tarun, your voice is amazing!’
He waits, expecting a punch line, as if I would be cruel enough to say that and then pull the rug out from underneath him. ‘I can sing a little, but I’m nothing special…’
‘Nothing special?! I’d kill to have the strength in your mix! I should have guessed from how good you were on the guitar that you’d be a full-out rock tenor.’
Tarun sits down on the bed with a thud. He picks up his pillow and hugs it close to his slim frame. ‘You really think that? You don’t need to be soft on me. If I was bad, I want to know.’
‘No honestly, I don’t rave easily – ask Zeb about the feedback I gave him when he wanted to post a video of him singing “TiK ToK” by Ke$ha mashed up with “Tick Tock” from Company.
There’s stuff you can improve on, but are you not even thinking about applying for drama school? You’re such a natural performer.’
He winces. ‘I mean … I don’t know. Surely performing eight times a week isn’t a very sensible career for someone with as bad anxiety as me?’
I wait a moment, wanting to word my next question sensitively. ‘You’re fully diagnosed with…’107
‘Anxiety, yeah. I used to take pills, but my therapist and I have found … other ways to handle it now.’
‘A fellow therapy queen! We stan.’
‘You have a therapist?’ he asks, and I’m not sure whether he’s more shocked by my confession or my use of gay lingo. ‘I didn’t think happy, confident people like you needed therapists…’
‘I’ve been seeing Fiona since my mum died,’ I say as casually as I can. ‘She really helped me process everything.’
Tarun gives me the ‘your mum died and I’m sorry and awkward to find this out’ look I have grown accustomed to since the age of nine. ‘I had no idea… I’m so sorry.’
‘Don’t be. We hadn’t even spoken two days ago, and I prefer to lead with “Enthusiastic Stagey Boy” rather than “Dead Mum Boy” when I’m meeting new people. It’ll be ten years next year, which is mad. I’ll have spent more time without her than I did with.’
‘So, is it just you and your dad now?’
‘It is indeed, and he’s great. For a gruff Yorkshire bloke, he’s never shown me anything but love and support, whether for my sexuality, love of musicals, or the time I drew a Liza Minnelli tattoo on my arm in Sharpie that wouldn’t come off for a month.
He’s become the butchest showbiz dad after all these years ferrying me to and from rehearsals and shows. ’
‘And he hasn’t remarried?’108
‘Nah. He’s a paramedic, so his life’s on pretty inconsistent hours. He dated the choreographer of my am-dram a few years ago, but they were never serious. It’s been the two of us for ages now.’
‘Well, he sounds like a great dad. He’s let you be exactly who you are. I … think that’s cool.’
I blink, surprised at how kind Tarun’s words are. ‘It is. He’s great.’
But it also makes me wonder what his relationship with his dad is.
He said yesterday he’d only been ‘allowed’ to take part in shows for the last year, which I think is about the time his parents divorced.
I hope it’s not like that… I’ve been very lucky to have been raised to be one-hundred per cent myself.
Which might not be a hetero, ripped leading man, because like Oisín said, I’m not that. But maybe that’s not a weakness; Tarun seems to think it could be a strength. I’ve been given the tools by my loving parents to be my own kind of leading man.
Tarun
The image of people’s lives you build in your head is weird, isn’t it?
I’d thought Olly the type to have a perfect family: mum, dad, a little sister who bakes fluffy pancakes 109for everyone.
I thought it was only families like that who produced confident kids like him.
The fact he’s such a driven, optimistic person despite the loss of his mum is impressive.
A silence passes over the room, but whereas I would have been over-analysing every second yesterday, now it doesn’t feel too bad.
‘You said there are things I could work on, with my song. What were they?’
He considers what to say. ‘Honestly, perform like you did tonight, and everyone will be so impressed. If there’s one thing; I didn’t fully believe the words. It wasn’t clear how much pressure you felt under, if that makes sense?’
That was never a problem in the show tonight. I knew at every moment what they were feeling and how much it meant. ‘I need to mean it more, don’t I?’
‘Yeah,’ he says, passion burning in his eyes.
‘Think about something in your life that pressures you. When I used to sing that song, before my voice settled, I thought about the pressure of coming out of the closet. I don’t know what would work for you, but I find it helpful to have something from my life to think about. ’
‘That makes sense,’ I say, very able to relate with the same point of pressure.
Mum would be begging me right now to come out to Olly, open up and share my whole truth with him.
But I don’t want to come out just for the 110sake of it.
I’m not ready to unpack all the chaos within me without good reason.
‘But the thing I liked best when I played Marius was that I wasn’t myself.
I was him. All my usual … worries got drowned out by his. ’
‘You’re right. That’s one of my favourite things about musicals too.
When you play a character, or even watch a show, you get to step into someone else’s head for a few hours.
But you always bring the essence of yourself into the character you’re experiencing the show through.
That’s how you relate and empathise and understand. ’
I get him now. ‘So, you’re going to do that tomorrow with your songs? What are you singing?’
‘Well, I think you’ve helped me make my choice.’
‘What? How have I helped you with song choices? We’ve spent all evening talking about mine!’
‘I’ve been weighing up which of my two options to have as my first choice.
There’s one that’s more what people expect from me, an old-school charm song, but then my other song is from an earlier show by the writers of Sisyphus Rising and it feels more authentically me.
Like I can take what I was telling you and more easily apply my own life and heart to the song. ’
‘Cool,’ I say. ‘It seems like good advice to me, so I agree, it’s probably worth you following it too.’
‘Alright,’ he says with an easy smile. ‘That’s settled then. I will.’111
There’s a knock and I get up to answer the door.
‘Everything alright here, boys?’ Sabrina asks, doing her nightly check-up of the rooms. ‘I heard some very good last-minute rehearsing earlier!’
‘Yup, all good,’ says Olly, taking charge as I freeze up at the idea of Sabrina – and whoever else walked by in the corridor – hearing me singing. ‘We’re headed to bed.’
‘Fab,’ she replies, content. ‘If you need someone to sing “Stay Awake” from Mary Poppins to get you to sleep, please ask anyone but me. Night!’
Olly yawns as she goes, and I check my phone. It’s way past twelve.
‘Sorry, I’ve kept you up with changing my songs and all that,’ I say, guilt creeping in.
‘No more being sorry. You feel prepared for tomorrow? To sing in front of everyone?’
I’m under-rehearsed and lacking the sheer talent of my competitors, but I nod. ‘I do. You’ve really helped me, Olly.’
‘It was nothing! Do you want to change into pyjamas in the bathroom, and I’ll change here?’
‘Good plan,’ I say, grabbing my long bottoms from my drawer and heading into the bathroom to change.
It feels a bit redundant, this performance of not undressing in front of each other after I’ve seen him topless already.
Maybe he thinks he’s helping the ‘straight boy’ not feel 112like his gay roommate is watching him.
Or he’s just noticed my teeth retainer on the sink shelf and is giving me space to put it in.
Looking at my reflection in the mirror, I try to see myself as Olly sees me.
I can only imagine he sees the boy from yesterday panicking on the floor, struggling to breathe, a mess.
But tonight, he genuinely suggested I was good enough to think about drama school.
How could he have seen the physical manifestation of how I feel inside most of the time – anxious to the max – but also see me as someone strong enough to stand on stage professionally?
Popping the clear mould of my teeth in my mouth, I wonder if I could ever achieve the brave things he seems to think I could?
The first hurdle is to sing in front of everyone tomorrow and remember the tips he gave. I want to really try being the best version of myself.
That’s got to be better than being the mediocre version.