Chapter 7 #2
I didn’t think that would be a big deal. People assumed I was gay before I even knew what ‘gay’ or ‘attractiveness’ were, just because I loved singing, dancing and acting.
‘You really think so?’
‘It’ll make it harder for people to imagine you in other roles. On stage, you present as a big strapping baritone. That normally puts you in line for the romantic lead in the golden-age shows, or a brooding villain, not “the gay one”.’
‘But I thought it would be good to show my range? That I can play the moody hetero MT man in “Music of the Night” and do something contrasting… Something authentic to me if I make the final six.’
‘It’s certainly good to showcase multiple facets, but I have to agree with Marty,’ Elaine says, jaw tight. ‘There are still some … less open-minded individuals in positions of power within our industry who’ll hold it against you for subverting their expectations.’
‘You know Marie Benton from Ashford is in her seventies? It’s different for that generation. She might stop seeing you as your type casting if you sing a song so … open about all that.’
I look at Marty, confused. I thought I’d have the backing of someone queer at least. Sure, I don’t usually 122play queer roles, but that’s because there’s a surprising lack of them.
Working on this song with my singing teacher for the last few months is the most I’ve connected to any material I’ve performed.
‘I just… I really thought that song showcased me well…’
‘It does! But it’s … riskier than other choices. And we know how much you want to impress drama schools this week. It’s different with you preparing to be a professional. It’s not like Zeb, who’s here to have fun before going to Cambridge. You’re here to take the next steps in your career.’
I nod, even though my belly hurts with what that means. I think back to Elaine telling me to ‘dance with strength’ yesterday. Was that code for ‘don’t look gay’? ‘
Sometimes that means knowing what lane you fit in in the industry and … focusing less on the others,’ Elaine adds, I think with sympathy, but it’s hard to tell with her stern face. ‘What’s your other choice of song?’
‘It’s “Lucky to be Me” from On the Town…’ I say, knowing it’s nowhere near as good a showcase of my depth as a performer as ‘Safe from the Waves’.
‘I think that’s a safer option. An old-school charm number will show off your ease on stage, and it’s still a contrast with Phantom. But it’s your decision to make. Think properly about what we’ve said, okay?’ Elaine concludes, making clear the conversation is over.123
‘Yeah, I will,’ I say, running my fingers through my hair. ‘I’m sorry for not thinking about everything you’ve said before.’
‘Don’t be sorry,’ Marty says. ‘It was a great performance, just not for this competition, when you’re on the precipice of a professional career. You can tell us tomorrow what you want to do.’
I back away from them, unsure what I feel. I respect them both so much, so I hate that I’ve disappointed them by not being savvy enough to have thought through the implications of outing myself on Saturday night. Oisín said everyone will be able to tell anyway, though? I’m confused.
But the whole reason I’m here this year is to impress Marie Benton.
If being openly queer is going to limit what she thinks I can do on stage, then I shouldn’t do it, right?
The world is getting better for queer people, but maybe I can’t be the one to change the archaic, traditional ideas of casting.
If I want to please the creatives and the woman who holds the keys to my future, I should follow their advice.
I need to be the version of Olly they want, not the version I am.124
Tarun
Everyone is being so nice to me about my performance. It would feel better if I wasn’t in a never-ending queue waiting for the bogs. Each time I say, ‘Thanks, you too,’ in response to someone’s praise, the risk of me wetting myself and sounding less sincere goes up significantly.
‘Tarun!’ says Oisín, beckoning me away from the queue with a smile. I point to the toilet, which I do need to use, but he winks and mouths, ‘I’ve got you.’ With the queue not seeming to move, I trust him and head his way.
‘Hey!’ he says, not wasting any time in setting off, expecting me to follow him. ‘I don’t want my secret getting out, but I found a separate toilet off one of the studios we don’t use. I don’t need to go, but I’ll show you where to find the hidden bathroom.’
‘That’s too good of you. I promise I won’t tell anyone.’
‘Good stuff. Us Derry boys have to look out for each other, don’t we?’
He walks at a fair lick through the maze of corridors I haven’t learnt my way around yet, before taking a sharp left into a small studio. True to his word, there’s a door to a toilet cubicle in the far corner. He reaches for the handle to open the door, but it doesn’t budge.
‘Someone must be in there,’ I offer, winning the award for most obvious statement of the week.125
‘Ah well,’ he says, stretching with a yawn and slouching against the peeling white wall behind him. ‘Gives me a chance to say how impressed I was with your song today.’
‘Thanks!’ I say, before adding, ‘You too. You were great.’
‘I had to do both my options! You hit it out of the park on your first attempt.’
I breathe in, my stomach flipping over. ‘Oh, well… It was a fluke, I’m sure.’
‘No … I didn’t see you perform solo back home, but it’s clear you’re properly talented.’ He steps towards me, my heart hammering against my rib cage as he runs his finger down my arm. ‘You’re a real contender, aren’t you?’
The toilet flushes, my response to his intimate touch cut off whilst Oisín steps back from me, and we wait for the quick whirr of the sink and click of the lock to end. Zeb exits, wiping his wet hands on his tiny Lycra shorts.
‘Don’t mind me! Carry on,’ he says, walking away from the toilet door, before turning back to us. ‘I must warn you though, Tarun, if last year’s anything to go by, Oisín seeing you as a “contender” for a place in the top six is a clear sign to watch your back.’
Oisín laughs. ‘Ignore him, Tarun! He’s just salty because I made the final round last year and he and Olly didn’t.’
‘Not without some interference though, am I right?’
‘Pfft, not this again! It’s not my fault Olly is a sore loser. If he needs to come up with justifications for why he didn’t 126make the top six, when there are several large reasons why the judges thought Olly wasn’t cut out to be a leading man, that’s his problem.’
I’ve been watching all this like I’m at Wimbledon, but once Oisín makes a big belly with his hands on the word ‘large’ – prompting me and Zeb to gasp at the audacity – the argument turns from civilised tennis into a boxing match as Zeb launches himself at Oisín, screaming, ‘What did you say?’
‘You heard!’
‘Stop!’ I don’t realise the word has come from me until I’ve said it aloud. They both turn to look at me, frozen in a moment: Zeb reaching up to Oisín’s throat, Oisín pulling at Zeb’s sweatshirt with A Strange Loop written across the chest.
Silence fills the air. Oisín goes to speak but I stop him. ‘Look, I don’t know what happened last year, but you can’t keep making digs about Olly’s size, Oisín. It’s not on.’
He lets go of his hold on Zeb to protest. ‘It was just one time—’
‘Not according to about ten other competitors who’ve quoted you as saying you think Olly is “too fat to fancy”,’ Zeb replies, for which I’m grateful as I don’t have the stats to back me up.
Oisín shifts weight, awkward for the first time since I’ve known him. ‘Oh?’127
‘Olly’s a good guy. He’s really supported me this week. All he wants is the same as you: to do well and have a good time. Instead, he’s having to hear comments that make him feel like pure shite. Why can’t you just play nice?’
‘It’s just competition banter,’ Oisín says, causing Zeb to go to throttle him again. ‘Okay! Okay! Fine, I’ll stop!’
Zeb takes a step back, making me less worried that Oisín isn’t under immediate threat of death. ‘Well praise be!’
‘Let’s call a truce, so Tarun can go to the toilet.’
Zeb begrudgingly nods, and Oisín says, ‘Catch you later, Tarun!’ heading back to the corridor.
‘Cheers for that,’ Zeb says, before I can make my way to the toilet. ‘Olly tries to put a brave face on it, but weight stuff sticks in his head. He’ll be grateful if Oisín stops chatting crap about his size, and it’ll have had more effect on Oisín hearing it from a friend like you.’
I shake my head. I never thought I’d speak to Oisín like that. ‘It … it was nothing.’
Zeb looks me up and down. ‘About what I said on Monday… I don’t know your back story, but it doesn’t matter that you’re a straight newbie with only a few shows under your belt. You’ve more than proven that you’ve earned your spot.’
‘Uhh … that’s alright,’ I say, still not sure where Zeb has got the idea I’m straight. Yes, I’ve not told them 128anything to the contrary, but both he and Olly seem confident I’m not queer.
‘If it isn’t my best mate and my roommate gossiping in a secret studio!’ says Olly, taking us both by surprise as he pokes his head around the door.
‘I hope your ears were burning!’ says Zeb.
‘What could you possibly have to say about little ol’ me?’ Olly demands as he jumps into the studio and tickles Zeb. He screeches like a hawk as he wriggles free.
‘Little my arse! Everything okay with Elaine?’ Zeb asks as he regains his composure.
‘Oh yeah, all good. Congrats on your performance, Tarun. You smashed it,’ Olly says, giving me a more delicate nudge with his elbow than he managed in the theatre yesterday.
‘Thanks. You were amazing. Everyone could see you meant every word of that song.’
He smiles his big smile. ‘Well, it’s a cracking piece of writing. It’s from a version of The Little Mermaid where under the sea everyone is straight, but the main character is a gay merman who dreams of going up to land where being gay is the norm.’
‘Well, it was beautiful. It … resonated a lot with me.’
Olly and Zeb glance at each other, their foreheads screw up as I take a deep breath.
‘I’m gay too and I thought it was really cool of you to express all those things we feel 129inside.
’ They look at me with different expressions: Olly’s nose wrinkling as he smiles, while Zeb’s jaw fully drops.
‘And now, I really need to go to the bog, otherwise I’m going to piss myself. ’
I nod to both of them before running to the toilet cubicle and locking the door behind me.
I’ve come out, but I know they were good people to tell. I don’t feel free, like Olly’s merman, but I feel safe. And it feels good.