Chapter 26 #2
“Oh my god,” Ashlee murmured, shaking her head.
Then we were all laughing—me, practically until I cried.
My phone kept buzzing. Anyone who had my number, it seemed, wanted to congratulate me.
Nearly everyone from the dinner parties I hated had messaged, and I wondered if maybe I would like going now.
I was more than willing to find out. My costar from The Only One suggested dinner, and I could feel with certainty that it was a date, and even though I was way too heartbroken to pursue something anytime soon—well, I liked realizing that I wouldn’t always be.
Maybe not with her, but there’d be someone, someday.
Rosie and I wouldn’t have to Grey Gardens it after all.
Message from Rebecca Frisch: Iconic. My goddamn hero.
The cast and Kevin took me out for drinks after rehearsal, and I tried to stay there in the moment with them instead of staring at my phone.
I’d been right that the news traveled fast and wide.
Unsurprisingly, people were ready to call me ungrateful and privileged, as much as I’d tried to acknowledge that myself, and some pundits on the right seemed eager to bemoan Princess Platinum’s ability to be a role model now.
Even with all the filters my team had added to my social media accounts, it was impossible to miss some mild disappointment ranging up to full-on slurs.
Mostly, though, people seemed excited at the news. People were warm.
I wasn’t na?ve enough to think that everything in my life would have gone easier if only I’d come out last week, last year, before I signed the contract for All Green Lights.
I wasn’t even na?ve enough to think everything moving forward would be smooth sailing.
And even if everything would have been better—I didn’t have a time machine!
I had right now, and maybe right now was exactly when it was supposed to happen anyway.
Even after a semi-late night, I got up early the next morning because Mallory had been willing to clear an hour in her schedule for me.
It had been a few years since I’d seen her, and though I’d fired her more quickly than any of the other therapists, I found myself eager to chat as the virtual visit screen loaded.
“Hi there, Tess,” she greeted me. Therapists definitely didn’t have rules like assistants and waiters did; I loved that she looked at me straight on, even through the computer screen. “It’s nice to see you.”
“You too,” I said, as Rosie jumped into my lap, and we both laughed. “Rosie says so too, I think.”
I was grateful for Rosie’s intrusion, glad to have a moment before—honestly, I had no idea how this would go.
If I weren’t famous, I could take my time to catch her up on my life, at my own speed.
I’d know exactly what she already knew about me—nothing.
But here we were, and I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to act.
“Well,” Mallory said, “I should let you know that I read your interview this week.”
“Oh my god, thank you for saying so, I thought I’d have to pretend I was telling you like it was all news,” I said, and she laughed.
“No! I promise I wouldn’t have made you do that.
This is a real conversation between two people, and I’ll be honest with you about anything I’ve seen in the news.
I’m curious if this is what made you come back to therapy or if it was something else, if that’s something you’re comfortable getting into. ”
I nodded, focusing on scratching behind Rosie’s ears. “Yeah, this was it. I think I’d shut down a lot of—it’s so weird to say it. But I think I’d shut down who I was, and maybe a deeper connection with my actual body, which sounds nuts—”
“Your body and emotions are often incredibly connected,” Mallory said in an assuring tone. “It definitely doesn’t sound nuts—which, also, not a word I love using!”
“Sorry, no, but you know what I mean,” I said, and she nodded, as if encouraging me to go on. “When I’d seen you before—I don’t think I was consciously like, oh no, if she asks me too many questions I’ll have to talk about being gay …”
“I’m glad it sounds like you’re ready to talk about it now,” she said. “How do you feel about coming out so publicly this week?”
I buried my face in Rosie’s soft fur. “Really good, actually. Obviously, it’s complicated, or I wouldn’t be about to cry on Rosie, but that’s probably mainly because I hate talking about feelings and, here I am.”
“Here you are,” she said, kindly. “I promise we can go as slow as you need talking about feelings.”
“Thank god,” I said, and laughed, which made Rosie bark. “OK, I don’t know what to say now, so maybe you should just keep asking me questions.”
Mallory smiled, through the screen, right at me. “I’m happy to.”
Verne stopped me when I walked into the theatre. “Tess, do you have a minute?”
“For you, yes,” I said, even though I didn’t necessarily feel like my face was in top content mode.
I loved that I wasn’t afraid to stay out late now, didn’t mind having a drink and getting a little messy with people I trusted, never checked blind items in fear something would come out.
That said, mornings came faster these days, and all the crying I’d just done in therapy on top of that? “What content can I provide you with?”
“No, I just wanted to say something.” Verne tucked their phones into their pockets.
“Coming out the way you did was really rad and I can’t believe I know you and get to say that.
To your face. I know we almost always have an artificial wall of two cameras and the internet between us, but what you said in that article reached through all that. I was genuinely, authentically moved.”
“I’m glad you know me and get to say it to my face.” I grinned and did my best not to burst into tears. “Thank you, Verne. It’s been really good knowing you’ve been around.”
“Thanks,” they said, getting their phones back out. “To be honest I do also need some content.”
We only had a short break after rehearsal and before our first almost-public performance, the invited friends and family dress rehearsal. After eating dinner in my dressing room with Kathleen and Ashlee, I got into costume, begged them to OK my stage makeup, and was in place on time.
Rebecca joined us as we gathered, and even though the cast was very much our own thing, I could feel how we still all turned toward her, needing her in this moment and for what was about to happen.
“I’m so excited,” she said, “to sit out there with a real audience and watch this show. At this point every single one of you knows exactly what you’re doing, and I can’t wait to experience it.
Tomorrow we’ll chat—how it felt for me, how it feels for you.
Tonight, though, I just want you all to go out and kill it like you’ve been killing it. ”
She, I could tell, made a point of looking right at each one of us, though I looked away quickly. I could deeply treasure what we’d had and still not want to get lost in those golden brown eyes.
“We had quite a unique situation,” she continued, and I snapped to attention, until I realized she obviously meant Geoffrey Gordan’s resignation and not our doomed affair.
“Though to be honest, at this point it’s hard for me to remember that I didn’t actually cast all of you.
It’s been a privilege. So please show the world—your friends and family tonight, the world comes tomorrow—and I’ll see you all after. ”
The audience applauded as the curtain rose, as I appeared on the stage.
I could sense what that would have felt like before, when I’d been so scared to be seen as Princess Platinum and not the serious actor who was desperate to prove she could still do this.
But it wasn’t before anymore, and it struck me how lucky I was to get that kind of reception, just for being there. Just for being me.
Performing was different with an audience, even a warm one assembled purely from people who already knew us and wanted to be there.
With a production, you could think you knew what it was, but until you added the audience you didn’t truly know—which was thrilling and of course terrifying in equal turns.
Jokes that had earned nothing but mild smiles somehow killed, while moments we’d found riveting met more silence than expected.
You just couldn’t know until you were out there in the dark with them.
Overall, though, those silent moments were rare.
The energy felt suspended between the stage and the house, supported by the people watching us.
This, I’d think in all of my spare moments where it was even possible to think of anything that wasn’t being Casey on this stage in this theatre, was exactly why I was there.
In a film, even though we were the giant faces onscreen, as actors we had almost no control.
I could take or not take a note from the director, and I could make a choice about what to do with a performance, and that was about it.
I couldn’t control how it was seen. On the stage, we were literally on the proscenium inviting the audience to come with us in this world.
It was real, and it was immediate. The story I was telling was the one I wanted to tell.
After the curtain call, Rebecca congratulated all of us and sent us on our ways so we could change and rush out to the courtyard, where it felt like the entire audience was waiting for us.
Since most of my invitations had been for opening night, I only asked Andy and Aisha to also see the show again, a week sooner.
I’d also strongly suggested they hit up dinner beforehand by pretending I’d gotten a gift card from Sylvie’s I wouldn’t get a chance to use otherwise, though obviously I’d bought it myself, jotted a fake expiration date on it, and dumped it on Andy.