Paz
2:54 a.m.
This might not be the Hollywood Sign, but I’m gonna die in Hollywood.
Growing up, I swore every inch of Hollywood would be glamorous, but this city is as covered in makeup and injections and expensive
dresses as the stars who benefit from it. There’s the high rent that no one can afford, but if you don’t sacrifice everything
to make it work, you’re told you don’t wanna be here enough. There are celebrity names on brass stars to distract you from
the homeless person on the curb asking for help. There are all the unspeakable favors to make your dreams come true. And there
are doors to dreams that can never be reopened once shut, no matter what you do, no matter what you believe.
My gun is pressed to my head, and I’m ready to die in this dream-killing city.
“, please don’t do it,” Alano says, slowly approaching.
I back up. “I’m sorry,” I say, switching the safety off.
One pull of the trigger and it will be over, but my finger is frozen.
“Give me the gun,” Alano says, his hand reaching out. “I’ll do it.”
“No you won’t, you’re gonna run away or something.”
“You honored your word, and I’ll honor mine,” Alano says, turning up to the stars.
Does he still think we were fated to meet? Has he accepted he’s meant to kill me?
Alano slowly approaches, and I don’t move away. He’s close enough that I see the pain in his eyes, the sweat running down
from his forehead to his lips. I can feel the many breaths he’s still catching and the brushing of his fingers as he takes
my gun for the second time tonight. He doesn’t run away. He takes one step back and puts the gun between my eyes. My heart
is racing so fast it might give up before the bullet can leave the chamber.
“Close your eyes,” Alano whispers.
I take one last look at Alano before closing my eyes. I stare into the darkness and wait for that to vanish too.
Any moment now I’ll be dead, maybe even this moment, or this one.
“I’m proud of you for choosing your life tonight,” Alano says.
I don’t open my eyes, I just listen to his voice, wondering if he’s telling me a story to make me feel less alone, like Mom
would when putting me to bed.
“You not only saved your life when you climbed down that Hollywood Sign, but you protected your life when you relinquished
that gun and didn’t kill that Death Guarder. You could’ve ruined everything, but you didn’t because you’re not a killer at
heart.”
I begin to wonder if he’s eulogizing me since I’ll never get a funeral.
“After hearing your beautiful obituary, I have to beg one last time for you to choose life.” His voice cracks as he fights to get his last words out. “Don’t make me stand over your body tonight when I can be at your bedside eighty years from now.”
I can’t believe a stranger wants me alive this badly, that he sees someone that’s worth being alive, but it releases lifelong
tension in my body.
I don’t know what time it is, if it’s too late for me to die today, if I even have the choice to survive, but I don’t wanna
know. I just need to know that tonight, Alano’s desperation to see me in the future is inspiring me to choose life.
I open my eyes, my vision still crossed because of the gun until I grab it. Alano doesn’t let go. “It’s okay,” I say, slowly
taking the gun away, switching on the safety, and setting it down on the ground. “I’m okay.” That’s the best way to describe
myself. I’m nowhere near happy, but more important, I’m nowhere near hopeless.
Alano breathes out all the air in the world and clutches his heart and falls to his knees. I swear he’s dying until he lets
out the happiest sob. “Oh my— Ugh! I want to thank God or someone, but I’m not religious. I really thought you... that
I was going to have to...”
Now that the gun is on the ground, I can’t believe how much Alano and I have been through tonight with that damn thing. I
also can’t believe that he was willing to go through on his crazy promise.
I kneel down and squeeze his shoulder. “I’m sorry I put you through that.”
“Better this than the alternative.”
I picture Alano standing over my body. Then I picture both of us old. “Look, I’m not sold on this faraway future, but I wanna
try... I’m gonna try.”
“All you have to do is take it one day at a time. Eventually you’ll get there.”
“And you’ll help me?” I quietly ask.
I don’t tell him that I can’t picture living without him.
His help, I mean.
“I’m all yours,” Alano says, which doesn’t slow my heart down at all. “Anything to make the life you wrote in your obituary
a reality. I know where we should start.”