Chapter 8 Miz
8
MIZ
By the time the show ends, summer night has fallen. It’s almost pitch black along the trail out of the park, the occasional streetlamp glowing weakly through the trees and bushes. Betty and I, elbows interlocked, head out with the crowd, guided by dozens of phone lights swinging about like lasers. At the fork in the trail that leads to the backstage area, I stay behind to wait for Kal. Betty wants to wait with me because it’s so dark, but I tell her he’ll be out in no time. “Besides,” I say, “this is literally like my dad’s compound in Ethiopia, minus the armed night patrols.” I wink. Sure enough, this reassures her of my wilderness survival skills, and we say goodbye to each other. Once alone with the crickets, I take a selfie with the flash on to see what’s goin’ on with my face. “Ah!” I yelp at the shock of seeing my sultry Egyptian eyes transformed into those of a terrifying raccoon.
“Miz.”
“Ah!” I shout again, whirling to see Kal suddenly materialize from the dark looking classy in black pants and maroon shirt. “You almost gave me a heart attack!” I call out, walking up to meet him. I smack him lightly on the chest.
He staggers back as if I pushed him with all my strength. “Was I that terrible?” he says, his voice thick, heavy, just like in the show.
“Oh, please! Let’s just say, I’ve never stayed that awake.” I beam at him. “Seriously, though!” I say, hand on hip. “What happened? Explain. Weren’t you supposed to be a whatsitagain?”
“Eunuch. And I was. But I was understudying for this part, remember?”
I bare my teeth into a toothy smile. “Um, yes?” Nope. I had been too distracted by the whole eunuch thing to remember what role Kal had an infinitesimal chance of playing.
“Well, I got called up for duty this past week. It happens rarely,” he says to his feet.
“I know that ,” I say. Why isn’t he looking at me? “No wonder you were double-triple making sure I came tonight,” I say. “Oh! That’s why you became Mr. Unavailable all of a sudden. Oh my god—and there I was, wah-wah-ing about Daniel.” I lean closer, goofily twisting my fists over my eyes like a baby, hoping to at least make him crack a smile. But he continues to stare at the ground, looking as if he has the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“That’s all right. It’s my job to be there for you,” he says softly, more to himself than me.
“Except you went and died on me. Wow, that is one sentence I never thought I would ever hear myself say.” I laugh, downplaying my emotions. We start walking out of the park. “I couldn’t do anything. I had to just sit there and watch you die! It was torture.”
“I’m sorry.” It’s as if he is still in character—he’s so quiet, almost depressed. I guess that kind of immersion would take a while to shake off. Part of his soul is still hung up on Cleo. Great. Used to be Muna, now it’s Cleopatra, who’s not even real. “I apologize for dying,” he says, pausing to offer me a hug, though he looks as if he needs it more than me.
“Apology accepted,” I say, taking it gladly. “Don’t die again, okay?” I croak into his neck, squeezing him hard.
“Promise.”
I lean away, seeking eye contact. “You’ll always be around?”
“To the best of my ability,” he says over my head.
“Why aren’t you looking at me?” I finally ask, pushing away and staring at him. “What’s going on, Kal?”
“I’m here,” he says, meeting my eyes with such an intensity that I feel my knees soften a bit and my mind go briefly offline. I realize I’ve been holding my breath and remember to inhale. Whoa, Nelly.
“I know I’m being silly,” I say, starting to walk again toward the parking lot where we will order a ride to the afterparty. “You just got me rattled, that’s all.” And himself, apparently.
He is quiet, hands in his pockets, eyes still pinned to the ground. This emotional bender is getting to be too much. No more method acting.
“Okay, come on, shake it off. If Muna wasn’t completely history before, she’s definitely been erased tonight, am I right? Delete!” I say, curling my index finger and jabbing an imaginary button. “To think about how long I’ve been on your case about needing to date, when what you really needed was a solid part! I feel like I get it now, like really get it, you know? The attraction of the stage, of acting life out, on a gut level.” But he doesn’t seem to have heard a word I’ve said. “Very belated congratulations though!” I screech, getting in his face, trying to snap him out of it. “I’m so proud of you. You were phenomenal. You’re in the big leagues now.”
He finally meets my eyes and shrugs. “Miz, it was just a fluke that the lead actor got in an accident.”
“But they could have cancelled the rest of the run,” I say. “There was just a week left. But they didn’t. They like you. Because you’re good .”
“Me doing the part has nothing to do with them liking me,” he says. “It’s business.”
“Oh, come on! They like you a lot. They’re into you big time, my friend.” What I don’t say is that it’s about time that he is experiencing this moment. After losing his mom and then putting years of hard work into his itty-bitty parts, he deserves to shine.
“They don’t like me for anything,” Kal says through gritted teeth.
His tone startles me. “Are you okay? Do you need to decompress?” I touch his arm. “We can go to Roncy Village for a quick drink before the party.” But he doesn’t respond. I sigh. “Help me out here. I have no experience with post-major-part Kal.”
He takes a few steps back, anguish now written all over his face. I can’t imagine what could be so troubling, tonight of all nights.
“They’re not sponsoring me anymore,” he says sadly.
I gasp, and the air stops in my chest. Think fast think fast say something helpful say something fix it. “Oh, but…” I start, feeling helpless. “They were so sure about you. Oliver said…he’s been doing this for a long time and knew a keeper when he saw one.”
“He doesn’t have the final say. And the ones that do…” Kal shrugs, his eyes shiny.
“Oh.” This truly wasn’t something I saw coming. Things had been going so well since his graduation, I had relaxed, as had he. But now I have no words and can only blink at Kal’s hollow expression.
“So, needless to say, Miz, I am not in the mood for a party,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “But you can go. You look nice.”
I shake my head. “I’m here for you. Not for myself.”
“Well, I’m going home.”
I nod. We get onto the road that will eventually bring us out of the park. A minute later, Kal takes a breath and hesitates. Please speak, please say something . Because I’m still blank, and I need to know you’re okay.
“Oliver just told me. Something about me not being worth their resources. Why bother developing me if they don’t think I have any leading man potential?” I open my mouth to disagree, but he goes on, talking to himself more than me. “Well, I can say I tried. So many people live their entire lives without going for their dream. That’s the number one deathbed regret.”
He looks so sour I have to step in. “Hey, you promised no more dying,” I say, wielding the only power I feel I have, humour. But even I know that I know shite about having one’s life limited by a piece of paper. I’ve only heard about it second-hand. “Sorry,” I say quickly. Follow his lead, follow his lead . “Look, it’s okay. You tried. I’ve read that somewhere, about regrets. But you did it, gave it your all, so you won’t have regrets.”
This doesn’t feel right in my mouth, and Kal’s brow twitching confirms that it’s the wrong thing to have said. I zip up my lips for the rest of the way out of the park, which we walk in an awkward silence, like a couple post-fight.
We reach Parkside Drive and wait to cross at the light. “Are you hungry?” Kal says over the rush of traffic. “We can grab some dinner to go.”
I’m about to say sure , but I can’t stand the thought of cutting short what had been and promised to be an incredible night, spending it instead with takeout in front of the TV like two losers who have been banished by the powers that be.
“Fuck that!” I spit out, startling Kal. “Fuck them!” I take his face in my hands and force him to look at me. “I get why you don’t want to see them right now. Believe me, I get it as best as I can get it. But hear me out—aren’t there going to be other important industry people at this party?”
“So?”
“Other important people that are in a position to sponsor you?” I can tell by his confused look that the idea of finding another sponsor hadn’t crossed his mind. “Answer me, Kal.”
“Yes. But—”
“You’re going,” I say. “It’s actually more important now that you go to the party. Hold your head up. Make the motherfuckers have to look at you all night. A Son-of-Legesse doesn’t go down so easy!” I beat a drum on his chest and toss my bone-straight hair as if it is a lion’s mane, boasting like a guerrilla warrior about to deploy. “ Zeraf! Bale-gameh ayseram! ”
“ Ayferam ,” he says, mildly amused, emphasizing the f . “The lion-maned one doesn’t fear . You said the lion-maned one doesn’t work .”
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Eff the f . All I care about is the tiniest glimmer of life I see returning to his eyes. They might as well have been blazing fire, for how victorious I feel, as if I’ve brought him back from the brink of a depressive hole. “No fear! Party, schmooze like there’s no tomorrow! Hustle, baby, hustle! Time is a-ticking. Never say die!”
He makes a low fist, still somewhat detached and, I know, only humouring me. But it’s a start.
“All right, paparazzi time. I want to be able to prove that I knew you when.” I aim my phone camera at us for a selfie. Kal curls his lips in more of a grimace.
“Cute couple,” a passerby says. Or it could be the voice of God, since it’s so dark and I can’t see where the speaker is. Not the first time we’ve been mistaken for a couple. We look at each other in the frame and smile. Kal’s is an improvement on his grimace. Thank goodness.
“And also, PS,” I say, my finger over the shutter button. “You were born a leading man.” That’s when Kal smiles a real, if tiny, smile. I capture the moment.