III Faces #2
He drove away. He got onto the highway, driving west, put on Sirius XM radio, and began to play loud music- loud classic rock- and he drove to Iowa before stopping to go to the bathroom and grab a meal at a diner-type place: eggs and bacon and pancakes.
Everything was delicious. He ate the most delicious meal he could fathom.
He had withdrawn a few thousand dollars of cash earlier that day.
He started to get back onto the highway and drove, just drove, waiting to get to a nice place to stop for the evening.
He found a seedy motel and stayed there for the evening.
He felt a tiny bit of excitement: he was trying to do something interesting and intelligent. He was trying to do something to improve his situation. He logged onto the internet with a secure VPN, trying to look for any clue that would help Madelyne solve this.
In the meantime…
Ai stayed busy.
Everyone was at tryouts - auditions - for the school play - her play.
She felt nervous. She considered half a dozen potential problems and immediately spent a few minutes daydreaming about each of them and possible solutions to them, making sure to lose in each of her daydreams - to keep herself sharp.
She worked hard at making certain to try everything possible to make the play the best work of art possible.
She considered killing all of them. She had to do what she could - to listen to the serial killer for whom she worked and yet not kill everyone for that person.
It was a terrible balance, a shifting of the scales.
She tried to save as many as she could - but worried that her soul was long gone.
In order to be released, they made her hurt someone. She had done it.
The auditorium held about thirty people, all nervous and reading lines on their phones and trying to get ready for one of the most important moments of their lives.
Lilian walked up to Madelyne. “So there are two lesbian lovers in this play, and you and Caitlyn and I all want parts,” Lilian said.
“So do about a dozen other people, pet,” Madelyne said. “Who knows who will get the parts? I don’t know yet if I will get this one. But if you don’t get this one, there will be other parts. There will always be others.”
“I can’t imagine I will get a part,” Lilian said.
“Believe in yourself,” Madelyne said.
“Sorry,” Lilian said.
“Have some confidence,” Madelyne said. “You are a beautiful, powerful, young goddess of a lady. Believe that you can do this.”
“Thanks,” Lilian said, more of a whisper than anything else. “I can do this.”
“Good,” Madelyne said. “Let’s nail these tryouts.”
Mr. Simon walked in front of everyone.
“Ladies, gentlemen, welcome to the auditions for the spring play,” he said. “I expect all of you to work very hard at this, at making a work of art, at doing something truly special. We are doing an original play this spring, written by Ai Takeda.
“I want all of you to understand that the arts are brutal. Everyone tries out, and a few get parts, and even fewer get to be the lead. Everyone will get to help somehow, and the seniors will get more of a chance to get the good parts. That’s just how it works.
They’ve paid their dues for three years.
I want everyone to do their best and remember that, at the end of the day, everyone is on the same side. Thanks, everyone.”
Tryouts began.
Student after student walked onstage, nervous as hell and dealing with it differently.
Some people, like Caitlyn Forte, worked very, very well under pressure and nailed it, crying on cue when her character’s lover broke up with her and was stabbed by the slasher killer.
She left for a standard medical appointment after her tryout.
Others, like Lilian, collapsed and flubbed a line and needed to be told to get back on point to get back into the scene - knowing that she had blown it, that she had failed, and that the prettier girls were getting the better parts, and that she felt worthless.
The guys trying out were doing just as varied in quality of performances.
Mitchell’s performance felt flawless but was expected to be flawless - Mr. Simon expected that of him.
It hurt the guys badly that Westfield didn’t try out or have anything to do with the school play - he threw a shit-fit and left and didn’t have anything to do with the whole thing. They texted him twice, but no response.
Turner tried out for the part of the slasher killer and was convincing in the role. He was happy to run around and slash people with a wakizashi.
Clayton went out there and tried to play the gay best friend to the girls, knowing damned well that Mitchell was going to get the part. Clayton tried out knowing that he would fail. He wanted to give it an effort and see how he would do.
Clayton believed that he nailed it - he performed the part with emotion and caring, hitting the feelings of being a gay character in a spring play.
He felt like he was trying everything he could to give himself a chance at winning the part.
He didn’t think much about it - he just tried his hardest at what he thought would be a good performance.
Someone afterward asked if he thought he would get it over Mitchell.
They clearly thought that he had no chance of getting it. He ignored such people.
A couple dozen other people tried out. They gave it their everything to try to be stars for a couple of evenings in late May at New Liberty High School. They wanted this more than existence. This was their world, their Oscars, their Super Bowl. They tried out and mostly didn’t get the parts.
Tryouts came and went, and then everyone left except for Mr. Simon, Ai, and Mitchell.
Mr. Simon had an old-fashioned suit with a nice hat.
He was six feet two inches tall and very skinny, very nice and kind-looking, and with mostly gray hair.
His body moved with a slow limp because it had mostly stopped working.
He sat with Ai and Mitchell to sort out who would get what part.
“I think it’s clear that Madelyne should be the lead,” Mr. Simon said. “She is the clear choice.”
“Good,” Ai said. “And Caitlyn will be opposite her.”
“Good,” Mr. Simon said. “Except Lilian really cared about her performance. I know, she flubbed for a second, but her performance was brilliant. Caitlyn was a wooden, boring, normal take on the character. Lilian was evocative and interesting.”
“Oh,” Ai said quietly.
“I’m sorry if we’re not casting your girlfriend in the right part,” Mr. Simon said.
“No, it’s fine,” Ai said.
“It’s just that we want to reward people who maybe don’t seem conventionally good but who have more heart, more spirit, in their performances,” Mr. Simon said.
“Understood,” Ai said. “I’m not getting laid tonight.”
“I’m sorry,” Mr. Simon said. “We can’t just cast your girlfriend.”
“I know,” Ai said. “I knew before, and I still know now.”
Caitlyn texted Ai then.
Caitlyn: I’m sick. the killer got me. complications.
Ai: I’m sorry hon
Caitlyn: staph infection
Ai: jesus I’m sorry
Caitlyn: looks like I might be checking out my love
Ai: no
Ai walked out of the meeting for the school play. She walked to her car and got into the car. She had a Lexus. She drove without thinking about anything except for driving carefully and safely, making certain not to let her grief affect her driving.
Caitlyn lay in a hospital bed, barely awake. She looked at Ai.
“I’m sorry,” Caitlyn said. “I took a bad shot. Back in the hospital. He stabbed me, and it led to a complication that is killing me.”
“I’m so sorry, my love,” Ai said.
“I love you,” Caitlyn said. “I said goodbye to my parents. I love them more than life itself. Now I’m saying goodbye to the love of my life.
I love you, Ai. Always have. I will always live on in you.
You will always live on and be a part of reality, remembering me, representing me. You’ll live another fifty years. Okay?”
Ai nodded. She started sobbing.
Caitlyn looked around - she was dying. She thought she had a few minutes left. She didn’t know what to do with that time. She looked at Ai.
“I have a little bit,” Caitlyn said. “What do we do?”
“I don’t know,” Ai said. “Anything. Anything you want, my love. Caitlyn. Anything.”
“I want to spend it with the most beautiful, badass, killer person I’ve met,” Caitlyn said.
“I’ll do anything for you,” Ai said.
“Try to stand up to them,” Caitlyn said. “The killers who program you.”
“I will,” Ai said. “I promise.”
“How did this happen to me?” Caitlyn asked. “Why can’t we do anything? I want to live. I don’t want to die. I’m eighteen.”
“I know,” Ai said. “I know. It’s unfair. I know. It’s brutal…I’m sorry. I would do anything that I could for you. I just don’t understand.”
“I’m in pain,” Caitlyn said.
“I know,” Ai said. “I know. They have pain meds for you.”
“I know,” Caitlyn said. “I let them give me some. I don’t want to get too hazy when I’m dying.”
“Okay,” Ai said.
Caitlyn drifted off. She started to sleep then.
Ai was at home. She had forgotten some time - time had passed that she had not noticed.
She didn’t remember a couple of days.
She sat in her home, wearing a black dress.
She had lost the love of her life to a complication from a stabbing done by a slasher killer. She didn’t understand that this was part of life - she didn’t understand how someone could be this incomprehensibly cruel. She wondered why someone had murdered Caitlyn.
She wanted to kill this person.
There was no more helping the serial killer. He would not have her loyalty any longer. Any brainwashing was washed away. She would not support him.
She calculated that she should complain to her dad.
She charged into her dad’s office.
Her dad, Shinji Takeda, sat in his chair at his desk, working.
“I’m at work,” Shinji said.
“Not anymore,” Ai said. “There is a family emergency.”
“Okay,” Shinji said. “My daughter has an emergency. We will revisit this later today. Goodbye.” He turned off his online conference call.