揅ynicism masquerades as wisdom, but it is the furthest thing from it. Because cynics don't learn anything. Because cynicism is a self-imposed blindness: a rejection of the world because we are afraid it will hurt us or disappoint us. Cynics always say 'no.' But saying 'yes' begins things. Saying 'yes' is how things grow.?- Stephen Colbert
FARLEY
Kara and Shauna distract me backstage by sharing some of their favorite pre-show routines. Shauna has symphony music blaring at full volume because she likes to imagine her favorite raunchy songs against their rhythms. We end up composing our own orchestra between the group using the lyrics from the classical My Neck, My Back over the musical stylings of La donna ?mobile. Even Clay joins in, though I抦 pretty sure he only lip syncs.
And even though I抦 aware that it抯 a distraction, it works. I don抰 think I抣l ever not be reduced to tears when I imagine the largest of security guards breaking out into an operatic soprano of 搕hen you roll your tongue from the back to the front,?for as long as I live.
By the time I make it out onto the stage, I抦 as happy and as confident as I typically am, even without Meyer. It抯 a little louder inside my head, my heart drums a bit more rapidly, but it抯 nothing I can抰 handle for the time being.
The material goes over without a hitch. It hits at every climax, the timing rolls through smoothly. I tell the joke where I call a kid a bad, bad name again because that抯 all it is; a joke. It抯 funny, this time.
When it抯 over, some people stand and clap, others hold up their drinks in salute. I feel connected and wonderful, and am reminded again that this is what I am meant to do, and I am not ashamed of any part of it.
I refuse to be, ever again.
As long as I remain true to myself, I know that my silly streams of words have the power to make someone抯 day brighter.
When I exit the stage, I抦 surrounded by six security guards, and I can抰 help but laugh when we make it onto the bus.
揗eyer抯 doing, I take it? I think maybe that was a little overkill,?I say to Clay.
揥ell, you make sure you tell Meyer that. I panicked at the last second and didn抰 know if four would be enough. The last thing I need is him calling me twenty-two times before every show and asking for every detail. I抳e had heartburn for 48 hours.?He pops an antacid for emphasis.
I pat him on the shoulder. 揇on抰 worry. He won抰 be as bad once he抯 here and sees it for himself,?I reply. His eyes round and he coughs. I feel Shauna and Kara抯 laughter die down and their eyes turn our way.
揥hat? I mean, I know he won抰 be at every show, but he抯 not crazy or anything. He knows what happened before was a weird, freak thing. I抣l make sure he doesn抰 drive you guys insane when he抯 gone.?I huff out a laugh that goes unreciprocated.
揑t抯 my understanding that he won抰 be at most of the shows, though, right Clay??Shauna asks, looking between Clay and I.
揥hat do you mean??I shake my head, lost.
揑 thought he would have talked to you by now,?Clay responds, and I feel my eyebrows shoot up.
揥hat are you talking about??They all look silently amongst each other.
It抯 Kara who speaks up, finally. 揊arley, Meyer withdrew from his management contract for the tour. He told us he wasn抰 planning on managing?at all, going forward.?
揌e appointed me as sole tour manager, and left a clause in there for you to be able to find your own should you want it,?Clay says, swiping at his forehead.
I sit at the same time that my phone rings.
I ignore it.
34
NOW
揗y life needs editing.?- Mort Sahl
MEYER
When I don抰 hear from Fee after the fifth call this morning or the tenth text, I know I fucked up. And I know she must抳e found out about the management contract. That抯 the only thing it could be.
I put on a brave face for Hazel, because I am excited and feel almost whole having her back with me, but?It抯 a bit like that time last summer when I set out super early, before anyone else was awake, in order to set our stuff up on the beach and reserve us a spot. I抎 thought I was doing something considerate梥mart, even. But I抎 forgotten that the tide was rolling in.
揑 thought Fee would be picking us up??Hazel asks when the Uber arrives.
揝he just had something come up. Don抰 worry, the bus gets back tonight,?I say after I load the luggage.
But she doesn抰 come by that night, and I outright lie to Hazel and say that it got delayed.
I feel sick.
Sicker when I go to my bathroom and find her toothbrush still at my sink. On my side, even though there are two. She抎 forgotten it in her panic the morning we sprinted to the airport, and we had to pull the tour bus over in a San Jose Target for her to get a new one.
She, Shauna, and Kara ended up spending three hours in there while the rest of us set up camp chairs in the parking lot and grilled hot dogs when we got hungry.
I know it抯 a low blow, but I have to try one more time, and come at it a new way.
I type out the text in Notes. Edit, delete, rewrite it five times before I finally settle on the words.
Me: Fee, I抦 sorry for not talking to you first. There抯 no excuse. But I hope you抣l let me explain myself, please. We promised that we wouldn抰 lose each other and that we wouldn抰 let this hurt Hazel. Please.
The three dots finally pop up and the lurch in my chest has me thinking that I need to make an appointment to have my blood pressure and cholesterol checked.
But then they disappear.
They don抰 come back up.
I pace around my house and find all the places that she抯 touched. Where she抯 already made it her home. I rub my at a spot on my chest when I think about how I asked her to live here, how happily shocked she抎 looked. How, barring a miracle, that won抰 be happening now.
I find my tie from the premier slung over one of the stools at the counter, wrap it around my fist like a tourniquet, the skin above it fading to a bloodless pale.
I end up lying down on the couch, eventually. The bed is still unmade in my room, and I can抰 bear to look at it. Each time that I do I see her through blurry eyes, woken by her kissing a path up my leg, swiping her sweet tongue over my tattoo. I think of her smiling over her shoulder at me after she slung a leg across my middle, planted her hands on my thighs and rode me in reverse, my thumbs pressing into the dimples on her back, the ends of her hair swaying against her waist with every grind and roll of her hips.
I look at the dirty pan still in the sink and don抰 want to wash it. I shred at my soul remembering her and Hazel decorating Easter eggs. Pasting Valentine抯 together for Hazel抯 class, signing made difficult by glue-covered fingers.
I let myself imagine the things I never dared to before, too, punishing myself with them.
Fee with a rounded belly and a smile, putting Hazel抯 hand in a spot to feel the baby kick. Hazel guiding her sister around the pool in a floatie, one of those ridiculous infant sun hats strapped to her head. I imagine us taking Hazel to Europe, maybe to see that play we never got to see. I imagine popping out of my office to ask for her thoughts on whatever it is I want to write, her opinions and feedback critical to me, always.
I slice at my mind梞y heart, over and over again until I exhaust myself with it, until my burning eyes finally close.
WHACK
I startle awake when Hazel slaps my arm. I blink the bright lights away. Hold up a hand to ask for a minute, sit up and manage to open one eye with a wince.
揊ee is here!?Hazel signs.
揥hat??I say out loud, turning toward the door.
揑 tried to call. I rang the doorbell, too, so when no one answered I let myself in,?Fee says. She won抰 even look at me.
揑 don抰棓 I start to say before I slip into sign. 揑 don抰 know where my phone is.?
揙kay. I thought I could take Hazel to breakfast??she replies, eyes barely darting my way, focused on Hazel抯 retreating form, instead.
I can practically see the tension vibrating through her when I slowly step her way. She looks at me, now, expression cool. 揑 want to talk, I do. I just want to focus on Hazel this morning, first, if that抯 okay? We抣l talk after??she says.
I manage a nod, and Hazel skips past me toward the door.
揧ou don抰 want to come??she looks at me quizzically.
揑抣l get everything caught up here. You guys go have fun.?
I do get everything done. Busy myself, my hands, my head with any menial task I can. I even make the bed, but don抰 wash the sheets.
When my girls return, the first thing Hazel does is tip her chin up at me in an angry scowl. The depth of discomfort I feel at this is irrational. If I were wearing boots I抎 be shaking in them.
揇id you have a good breakfast??I ask.