Epilogue
WILL
The telecast cut to commercial, and I was tempted to dash to the restroom. But I couldn’t go now. My category was next, and if I wasn’t there to smile for Bradley, I’d look like a sore loser.
James laid his hand on my shaking leg. “I still think you’re gonna pull off the upset. In fact, I’m willing to bet big on it.”
While the truth coming out had turned me into a hero and Tony into a villain, especially after his very public trial and conviction, this was one bet I was sure to win.
I was up against Daniel Day-Lewis, who’d come out of retirement to delight audiences with his portrayal of charismatic funnyman Dick Van Dyke in The Centurion; Denzel Washington, who starred opposite Cate Blanchett in a remake of The Lion in Winter; Jim Broadbent, who was Peter Pan in the least problematic version of that story ever told; and the frontrunner, Bradley Cooper, who’d shed sixty pounds to play a coked-up former ballet dancer in Periwinkle.
In other words, I was safe from giving any more speeches.
I’d already given one on Dad’s behalf, standing there awkwardly while the whole Dolby Theater got to their feet and brushed tears from their eyes.
The Academy liked to spread the wealth, and our film—Between the Boy and the Body, the new title after Sundowning was deemed too obscure—had already taken Best Supporting Actor, Best Adapted Screenplay, and Best Director.
They weren’t going to give us Best Actor, too.
Besides, I’d been perfecting my loser’s smile all awards season and was eager to show it off. So far, Bradley Cooper had won the Golden Globe, the Critics’ Choice, and the SAG. I’d won that BAFTA, sure, but only because Bradley hadn’t been nominated.
Mom had warned me this might happen, even after I swept most of the regional critics’ awards, including New York and L.A.
“Sometimes, it’s not about giving the best performance,” she’d said, “but about whether it’s your time.
You’re barely thirty. You’ll have plenty of other opportunities to win, and everyone knows it. Just be glad you got nominated.”
The nomination was amazing, but it paled in comparison to the real prize—a fuckload of new movie offers. Still, while life was pretty damn awesome, there was room for improvement. And I knew exactly what I wanted next, and it wasn’t an Oscar.
“Okay, how about this?” I said. “If I win, I’ll hike the PCT with you this fall. But if I lose, you and Theo have to move to the Hamptons with me.”
“Hey, don’t drag me into this,” Theo said. “I don’t wanna live way the fuck out there.”
“No, it’s gonna be awesome,” I said, eager to protect Theo’s budding music career from the many perils of being young, hot, and reckless in New York. “We can even build a recording studio in the basement, if you want.”
“Can we lose the desk and put a pool table in the library?” James asked.
I tried not to roll my eyes. There was already a pool table in the game room. James just didn’t want to drag his ass all the way downstairs. Relationships were about compromise, though, so I said, “Sure, but I get to pick the felt color.”
“And can we get a dog? Like a real one, at least sixty pounds?”
“Yeah, but it has to be a rescue.”
James grinned, and we shook on it. “Okay, it’s a bet.” He leaned in and whispered, “And whoever loses has to bottom in the limo after the ceremony.”
“I can fucking hear you!” Theo plugged his ears. “And if we’re moving to the Hamptons, I’m getting goats, like the little pygmy ones with the sweaters.”
Theo was just bitter because he’d lost Best Original Song to Beyoncé.
The commercial break ended, and Saoirse Ronan glided onto the stage in a sapphire blue gown to present Best Actor.
James squeezed my sweaty hand. “For our anniversary, I’m gonna get you an ultralight trowel for digging shit holes in the woods.”
“Yeah, well, I’m going to get you a tortoise that’ll live a hundred years and shit all over your closet.”
“You do realize you’re ruining romance for me, right?” Theo said. “Why can’t you just be normal and buy each other bath bombs and drones and shit like that?”
Saoirse stepped up to the mic, and even though I knew I had no shot, my heart fluttered in my chest.
“The best performances have the power to scare us, move us to tears, make us laugh, and remind us to hold our loved ones a wee bit tighter. These five brilliant actors have shown us the staggering breadth of the human experience, from the bleak hollows of loss to the tears shed in moments of pure joy. Here are the nominees for Best Performance by an Actor in a Leading Role.”
The clips rolled, including one of me singing Theo’s song in a sterile hospital room, my son on my lap, my father’s corpse beside me.
“And the Oscar goes to . . .” Saoirse’s finger slipped under the seal, and her eyes went wide as she opened the envelope. “William Chapman.”
The whole crowd gasped, and somewhere overhead a voice said, “This is the first nomination and first win for William Chapman,” but I wasn’t listening because everyone around me was cheering and touching me and congratulating me. James leaned over and kissed me smack on the lips.
What the hell was going on? Did I have another concussion?
“Get up there,” James said, shoving me out of my seat.
Somehow, I made it onto the stage without falling over or shitting my pants.
“Wow!” I accepted a hug from Saoirse. “Are you sure?”
She turned the envelope to face me.
“Okay, well, this is unexpected.” I smiled down at my fellow nominees and locked eyes with Bradley. “I’m so sorry,” I mouthed.
I took a breath to steady my nerves, then rattled off thank-yous as fast as I could.
I started with Michelle and went down the list: Ryan, Miles, Tiffany, Andy, Nandi, and Enrique. Then I found James in the audience and grinned down at him.
“I know you hate taking credit for anything, James Richard Young, but this belongs to you more than me. None of this would’ve been possible without you, not the book, not the screenplay, and not the performances. And Theo, thank you for writing such a powerful song and for letting me sing it.
“But most importantly, I want to thank the real Travis Young. This is all because of you, all because you wanted something more for your son and wrote him a book.
“I’ve been in exactly two movies now, and my mom got me both parts.
It’s embarrassing, but true.” I locked eyes with Mom.
While our relationship remained complicated—and probably always would—it was a hell of a lot easier to put up with her shit now that life was going my way.
“Thanks, Mom, for being the first person to believe in me.”
I stopped to look down at my Oscar—my Oscar—and then up into the lights where I imagined my father standing and smiling.
“And I want to thank my dad. When I was a little boy, I used to run scenes with him, and he’d say things like, ‘Stop acting and just be,’ and I’d be like, ‘But, Dad, I’m not actually a dog,’ and he’d say, ‘Not with that attitude you’re not. ’”
I promised myself I wouldn’t cry. But who was I kidding? I was a Chapman. Of course I was going to cry. So I gave in and let the tears flow.
“My dad was a masterful actor, and I know he didn’t belong just to me, that I wasn’t his only protégé. I know this because people keep coming up to me and telling me how much my father has taught them. And I’m like, ‘Oh, no, please tell me he didn’t make you piss on a fire hydrant, too?’”
Everyone laughed, and I smiled, stemming the flow of tears. I was almost done.
“Lastly, to all my students, I miss you, and I love you.”
I was escorted backstage, but there was no time to process my win because, defying the odds yet again, Between the Boy and the Body took Best Picture.
I was hauled right back up on stage and pushed toward the front, where my mother and Michelle stood. Ryan, Derek, Andy, Nandi, and Theo crowded around me.
There wasn’t time for long speeches because the ceremony had run over, but Mom and Michelle stood at the mic, trading thank-yous as the crowd whooped and cheered.
There were hands on my back and hands in my hair, and someone picked me up. Fucking Enrique. And then I spotted James in the front row with tears in his eyes. Why wasn’t he up on the stage, too? He fucking co-wrote the book.
James mouthed, “I love you.”
I started to mouth back, “I love you, too,” but then decided fuck this and ran off the stage.
I returned a moment later with the real man of the hour and kissed the fuck out of him in front of everyone. It was the happiest moment of my life, right up until he drew back and said, “Don’t worry. You’re gonna love shitting in the woods.”
The End