Chapter 13 #2
We fall into the natural formation the cast have created for dance warm-ups over the last week, with me and Tarun always right at the back.
For me, it’s so that I don’t block anyone’s view of Elaine, and Tarun does it so he can hide as much as possible.
He’s improved a lot over the last week, though he wouldn’t admit it.
He’s always going in the right direction now, but Elaine’s trickier combinations still trip him up sometimes.
Our bodies warmed up, Elaine releases us to Marty, who asks us to do some voice sirens by ourselves. Once everyone’s going and the stage sounds like an a cappella recreation of a hundred emergency service vehicles racing to a disaster, Marty catches my eye and beckons me over.
‘Mooooorning,’ I say, going from low to high as I greet him.
‘You are relinquished from doing sirens while we chat,’ he says, droll.222
‘Cheers,’ I say, having been unsure. ‘What do you want to talk about?’
He pushes his long hair back. ‘I wanted to give you a note after the runs yesterday, but Elaine released you all before I got chance.’
‘Hit me! I’ll take any pointers before the final that I can.’
‘That’s the right attitude. It’s your hands. You’re moving them too much.’
‘Oh?’ I say. ‘In any specific bit?’
‘Just … generally. Even when you enter the stage, it’s distracting from your performance. Makes you look camper than you need to. Just something to keep in mind, otherwise you’ll have the same problems you would have had singing the song from The Merman.’
I swallow. ‘I didn’t realise… It’s that bad?’
‘Don’t overthink it,’ he says, casual. ‘I’m letting you know so that there are no obstacles to your success. Your acting through song, your singing, they’re all top notch. Just keep it stiller, like Hugo or one of the straight guys would. Oh! And try to reduce the sibilance of your esses.’
‘My esses?’ I ask, aware for the first time that they’re not crisp, they hiss instead.
‘Yeah, they’re a dead giveaway that you’re gay. Tighten them up and you’ll be fine.’
I nod, thinking of the implications. Even singing 223straight material, apparently I’m still going to disappoint people if they see the big, strapping man and then I give away I’m gay.
‘I’ll work on it, I promise. Thank you for telling me.’
‘Just want the best for you,’ he says, patting me on the shoulder, before turning back to the rest of the stage. ‘Great sirens everyone! Let’s get going on some scales.’
I retreat to the crowd, aware of how loose my arms swing as I walk. I try straightening up – in both meanings of the word – and walk more rigidly.
‘What was that about?’ Zeb whispers as I land back at his side. ‘And why are you walking like you’re constipated?’
‘He wanted to give me a note,’ I say, choosing my words carefully to avoid any that end with ‘s’.
Zeb wrinkles his nose. ‘Why are you acting weird? Do you really need a shit?’
‘No,’ I say, shifting my body to face Marty rather than Zeb, focusing on humming scales up and down the octave.
Because I’ve been foolish. It’s not enough to just avoid gay material. If I want to be a leading man, I have to convince the entire audience that it’s Christine rather than Chris that I’m infatuated by. I can’t slip up now.224
Tarun
‘If you could lift up your shirt for me, mate,’ asks the sound person with an expensive looking mic pack in his hand. ‘I’ll get this on you in a jiffy.’
He loops the microphone over my ears before running the thin wire under my collar and down my back to the pack, which he straps round my waist in a pouch.
‘These are so much smaller than the ones we used for Les Mis,’ I say. ‘The bit that goes to the mouth was huge, like Britney Spears back in the olden days.’
‘You mean the headset?’ scoffs Hugo, waiting in line to have his put on. ‘You should really know the name of that, mate.’
‘Uhh … of course. Sorry…’ I say, dropping my eyes to the floor.
‘That’s you all done,’ the sound guy says, giving me a pat on the elbow, meaning I can go back on stage where everyone is waiting for us all to be put into mics.
Olly’s in the corner, muttering to himself as I approach.
‘She sells seashells by the seashore… She sells seashells by the seashore…’
‘Haven’t heard that one since primary school,’ I say, sitting down next to him.
‘Did you know I was gay as soon as you met me?’ he asks.225
‘Uhh, I guess? I definitely assumed you were,’ I answer honestly.
His face screws up, deeper into thought. ‘What was it that made you assume?’
‘I guess how free and comfortable you were? Being expressive, talking with your hands and all that? Most straight boys are too busy scratching their balls to be interesting communicators.’
‘Fuck,’ he says, screwing his hands up into fists. ‘Marty’s right.’
‘About what?’ I ask, going by instinct to touch his leg, before realising how public we are and stopping myself.
‘That the judges won’t take me seriously as a leading man if I act like myself. It wasn’t just the song choice for the final six, it’s me,’ he says, eyes down at the stage floor, more to himself than to me.
‘What? You’re brilliant…’
He looks up and shakes himself out of his funk. ‘Sorry. I’m getting in my head.’
‘That’s okay. It makes sense to be nervous today. But I really don’t think you need to worry about … all that.’
He looks quickly around, before shuffling closer to me and squeezing my hand between us, where no one can see.
‘I know it’s boring, but I need to be analytical about everything I present on that stage tonight.
I can’t talk to 226Zeb about this, so I appreciate you bearing with me while I prattle on to figure this out. ’
‘Can’t talk to me about what?’ Zeb asks, standing a metre away. Olly instantly lets go of my hand, but I think Zeb is more concerned with his words than any contact going on between us.
‘Nothing! Don’t worry,’ Olly says, jumping to his feet. ‘Need to grab a drink of water before this run…’
And he’s gone, leaving only me for Zeb to look puzzled at. ‘What’s all this about, Tarun?’
‘I … uh … it’s not my place to say…’ I stutter, still surprised that Olly hasn’t spoken to Zeb about this himself.
He purses his lips. ‘Keeping his secrets? I see…’
He watches Olly head into the wings, but doesn’t follow him, instead heading to sit with Gabby and Jas.
‘Penny for your thoughts?’ Ella asks, plonking herself down next to me.
‘Musical theatre’s a lot more complicated than they make it out to be.’
‘How so?’ she laughs, resting her head on my shoulder.
‘Nothing in particular…’
‘No, help me understand! For me, performing is the easy bit. Real life is a lot more complicated… Like, my mum has been determined to make it to the show tonight despite me and dad telling her there’s no pressure, and 227now she’s got herself worked up because she’s had an anxiety flare up.
In a musical, she’d pull through at the final moment and be here. But life’s not like that.’
I swallow. She’s right. Things are more convenient in the narrative of a musical, and I came here because playing Marius felt liberating.
Simple. But to see before my eyes how a boy as brilliant and brave as Olly can be made to make himself smaller for the approval of others…
That he can’t even talk to his best mate about what the creatives want him to be. It feels wrong.
All the politics as well. The power Oisín nearly had to rig the competition in his favour by flirting with me; the way everyone is being told who they should be and how to come across on stage.
And the fact I still don’t know all the things I’m meant to, like Hugo was able to point out with the microphones.
It feels like every man for himself today, and I could mess one thing up and spoil the competition for someone without even knowing.
‘I’m sorry…’ I say, meeting Ella’s eyes. ‘I hope it all does turn out alright tonight.’
‘It will,’ she says with an admirable certainty. ‘After all “the show must go on”.’
I smile at her, but my fingers feel tingly with the stress of it all. My guitar’s back at the hotel, so all I can do to calm myself is breathe in and breathe out.228
But there’s not enough time to slow the racing of my heart.
‘That’s everyone in mics! Get set to run act one!’
With one final exhale, trying to eject all fear from me, I get to my feet. Uncertain I have what it takes.