Chapter 16
Sixteen
“Turning tables, the sun burns on the horizon and we ride to our deaths.”
—“The Battle,” The Wooden Horse, Act One
The wails from Jonah’s father haunted him the entire journey home. The image of him slumped on the floor of his new room,
body contorted at odd angles as he cried out to Jonah and his mum, replayed over and over again in his head. His father couldn’t
understand the space, his mind reeling at the change, a change Jonah didn’t think he would even notice; but he underestimated
the power of the mind and the pitfalls of the disease plaguing his father. The nurses at the home were brilliant. They knew
exactly what to do and how to calm his mum, who cried hysterically outside the bedroom door, overcome completely with guilt
and remorse.
“It’s for the best, Mum,” he told her, but even he didn’t believe his words. He replayed the day as he stared at the vacant
seat opposite him on the train and contemplated the idea that maybe he shouldn’t have intervened in his parents’ lives; he’d
caused an untold amount of distress, something he would never forgive himself for.
When he got back to Castle Road, his body cried out for rest, for a reprieve from the waterfall of guilt, but he couldn’t relax.
The Persephone Theatre called out to him, the evening performance waiting, an audience ready to be swept up in the tragedy of Troy.
He kept his head down as he traveled through London, his phone on silent, all distractions taking up too much of his attention, draining him even further.
His dressing room did nothing to comfort him, and neither did Bastien, who barely said a word as he signed in then closed himself into his own room, leaving Sherrie to help Jonah get ready.
“So, I finally saw Romana over the weekend. It was amazing, we had the most mind-blowing sex, seriously, but then I’ve not heard from her since,” Sherrie said, swiping a makeup brush
over Jonah’s face. “She acts like I don’t exist, then picks me up when she wants me.”
“What do you want out of this . . . thing with her? A relationship? You’ve never been too fussed before.” He was glad Sherrie
was in the mood for talking; hearing about her dating life took the spotlight away from his father sobbing on the floor.
“That’s because I’ve never met someone like her before. She’s stunning, obviously, and she’s funny and does this cute thing
with her nose when she laughs. And when I’m with her it’s like we’ve known each other for years, you know? But now . . . well,
now I know I’m nothing more than a booty call.”
“Well, don’t be a booty call. Leave her hanging.”
“Coming from the man who is painfully single and seriously needs to get laid.”
Jonah scoffed and batted his hand at her. “I do not need to get laid.”
“Babe, I’ve seen how tense you are since you broke up with Edward. Haven’t you met with anyone on FullStack?” She went back
to inspecting his face before putting her makeup kit away. “You’re a cutie, you should have dozens of guys messaging you on
there.”
“They do message me.”
“Then go fuck one of them!” she exclaimed as she helped to fix the microphone wire in his hair. “Get the tension out of your
system.”
Jonah allowed the image of Dexter on his knees with those beautiful lips of his to cross his mind, then shook it away. “We
are talking about your love life, not mine.”
“Well, my vagina’s going to be as dry as a desert from now on. It’s closed, and Romana won’t be getting access ever again,
so I have nothing further to report.”
“Too much information, Sherrie.”
“What? Do vaginas scare you, Jonah?”
“No, but I don’t want to hear about how dry yours is.”
She tutted, then sighed loudly. “I just want Romana to admit she’s in love with me so we can get a dozen cats and live in
happy lesbian bliss until we die. Why is that so hard?”
A message from Dexter flashed on his phone.
“Bit soon for the L word isn’t it?”
“Lesbian?”
“No, love, you idiot. Have you tried talking to her about it?” Jonah asked, swiping to read what Dexter had to say.
The Penis Destroyer: Can’t do Thursday. Sorry.
No kiss. No explanation. Brilliant.
“She doesn’t listen,” Sherrie said. “Hey, what’s with the frown?”
“Oh, nothing.” He placed his phone back on his dresser. “Just . . . family stuff.”
“Shit, yeah, sorry, Bastien said you went up to help your dad. How was it?”
“Fine.” He lied just as his phone lit up again; this time a notification from Instagram sat on his screen. He reached for
it and swiped up to unlock the screen, only to see he’d been tagged in a photo by Dexter. It must have been taken a while
ago. Jonah’s hair was shorter than it was now, which reminded him he needed to book himself in for a haircut, and he stood
onstage, his hands clasped together as the rest of the cast stood behind him. It would have been taken just as he came out
for his bow at the end of the show. He wondered when Dexter took it, the faceless person with his phone held up taking photographs,
and why Dexter felt the need to keep it and then post it after what must have been weeks.
Jonah looked down to the caption beneath it: So lucky I get to call this star my friend. He stared at the words with such intensity the letters ran around on the screen, muddling the meaning entirely, and a rather
large part of him wanted to remove the tag while also removing himself from Dexter’s apparent damage control. Dexter made
out with him, ghosted him for a week, then canceled their drink plans just to post this crap? Jonah groaned and slammed his
phone down, causing Sherrie to flinch.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, eyeing his phone suspiciously. “More family stuff, or is it Edward?”
“Why would you think it’s Edward?”
“Bastien told me he’s been texting you, begging to get you back. Kinda romantic, don’t you think?”
Jonah stood from the chair in front of the mirror and went to the rack with his costumes. “No. Not really. He left me for
the guy he was cheating on me with, and now it seems he wants to see me again while also seeing him.” His words came out as
bitter as he intended. “I swear to God, I’m done with men. All the good ones are gone.”
Sherrie stepped by his side and rested her head on his shoulder. “Maybe we should just marry each other. We could get a dog
and a hamster and live happily ever after? A sexless marriage, of course, but sometimes I think sex is overrated.”
“I don’t.” He pulled his first costume from the hanger. “I think that’s the problem.”
“You need some hanky-panky.”
Jonah laughed and moved from her so he could take his top off and drape it over the back of his chair. “Has the old woman
who sometimes possesses Bastien moved onto you?”
“Oh, shut up.” She smiled. “Let me set you up with someone. Please? I have a friend who is also recently single, and he’s
cute as fuck and would totally be up for a date.”
“Maybe,” he said, despite the little voice in his head screaming at him, telling him it was a bad idea, and the even smaller
voice whispering Dexter’s name that he did his best to stamp out. “Let me think about it.”
Edward stood by the wall opposite the stage door.
Jonah saw him as soon as he stepped outside, his body tensing, breath staggering in his throat.
He looked . . . rugged, a vibe he never really went for before; he needed a shave, the stubble he sometimes had now a full-on beard.
It didn’t suit him. He locked eyes with Jonah, and Jonah, much to his surprise, didn’t feel weak at the knees like he used to whenever Edward’s eyes found his.
Instead, he gave his undivided attention to the people waiting for autographs and photos, taking longer than he usually would with them, talking with them, listening to them speak about the show and how much it meant to them.
The interactions were humbling, and he decided he would try to stay as long as possible in the future; they loved the show as much as he did.
Eventually he ran out of programs to sign and he ended up face-to-face with Edward, who smiled at him then pulled out a program from inside his jacket.
“Can I get a signature?” he asked, voice low and quiet. It used to be seductive. “You were amazing tonight.”
Jonah gently placed his hand on Edward’s arm and guided him away from the line by the door, not wanting to be overheard. “You
came to the show?”
“You’ve been ignoring my texts. I was worried you were sick or something.”
“Why are you worrying about me? We aren’t anything to each other anymore,” Jonah said, looking over his shoulder to see Bastien
watching them with a grim expression. “You need to leave me alone.”
“I love you, Jonah,” Edward said. “I love you. I was an idiot. I didn’t know what I had till I messed everything up, and I’m
regretting it. Please forgive me? We can make this work. We were good together, weren’t we?”
If Edward presented him with this speech a week after their breakup, Jonah would have probably believed every word and gone
home with him. Now, though, he saw a man who wanted the world despite not deserving it. The definition of having his cake
and eating it too. Whatever that meant.
“We weren’t good together, or you wouldn’t have cheated on me,” Jonah spoke under his breath, knowing a few wandering eyes
were caught on the two of them. “I can’t believe you thought me ignoring your messages meant you could come to my work. It’s
out of order, Edward.”
“Have you met someone else, is that it?” Edward asked, his voice rising as Jonah’s fell.
“You know what, Edward?” Jonah took a step back from him. “If I had met someone else, it’s none of your business. You need
to stop contacting me, and you can’t come here again.”
Edward opened his mouth to say something else, but Bastien stepped forward with a member of the security team, Matt, beside him. “Everything all right here?” Matt asked, sounding like he belonged on a long-running daytime TV police drama. “Jonah?”