Behind the Curtain

by Jerry Cole

  "Not really," Nick explained patiently, for the third time. "Damien Price owns it. He's donating it to us."

  "You found it, fixed it up, and paid for part of it," his dad insisted. "As far as I'm concerned, you own it."

  "Which is why you're in sales, and not law," Nick's mother said, patting her husband's cheek.

  "There's...something I wanted to tell you guys," Nick set down his mother's suitcase by the bed. "I'm not really sure how to do it, so I figured I'd just get it out of the way as fast as possible."

  Nicholas' heart thudded against his ribs. He was fairly certain his parents wouldn't react badly. Ninety percent sure. Maybe seventy. But that relative certainty didn't make him any less afraid. He took a deep breath as his parents watched him expectantly, looking like the sitcom image of the perfect older parents. His mother, sweet and plump as she was stern and shamelessly frugal. His dad with his dignified salt and pepper hair and his square-framed glasses, casual paternal authority of the type you turned to when the maternal decision on the matter wasn't as lenient as you would like. Nick loved them both, and suddenly felt the echo of Clay's fear about losing them. He didn't have to come out. He could never come out to them. But he couldn't help wanting to, wanting their approval.

  "Well, spit it out son," his father frowned, beginning to look concerned. "What is it? You're not in trouble, are you?"

  "Please tell me you haven't gotten into drugs," his mother said at once, pale.

  "What? No," Nick almost laughed at the absurdity, then looked down at himself in sudden worry. "Do I look like I'm on drugs?"

  "Of course not," his mother said quickly, relieved. "It's just that there's always so much of that kind of thing going on in the city. We worry about you."

  "Well, it isn't anything like that," Nick said, to their immediate and visible relief. "Just something I've kind of figured out about myself lately that I thought you should know."

  "Oh boy," his dad squeezed his mother's shoulder, expression strained, "here it comes."

  Nick paused to take another deep breath, suddenly much less certain this was a good idea. But there was no backing out now, and they were waiting patiently for him to speak.

  "I think—" he started, then stopped himself, realizing this wasn't the time to be unsure. "No, I am. I am gay."

  His mom inhaled a long slow breath and stepped away from her husband to sit on the edge of the bed, her face in her hands. His dad pressed his lips into a thin line and looked up at the ceiling. Nick waited in anxious silence for the verdict.

  "Should I...go?" he asked in a small, unsteady voice.

  "No," his dad spoke quietly. "Just give us a minute. It's a lot."

  "Not really," Nick tried, still speaking like a child confessing to breaking a cherished family heirloom. "Nothing has really changed except who I date. It's not a big deal. Right?"

  His mother nodded, but didn't take her face from her hands.

  "It's not like we weren't expecting something like this," his dad forced a laugh. "What with the whole theater thing."

  "There are plenty of straight actors, dad," Nick frowned.

  "I know, I know..." Nick's dad scrubbed his hands through his hair the same way Nick did when he was stressed. "You're sure this isn't just a phase or something, right?"

  "If I change my mind later I'll let you know," Nick shrugged. "But yeah, I'm pretty sure. Are you disappointed?"

  "Disappointed isn't really the right word," his dad sank down on the bed beside his mom.

  "Of course not honey," his mom sniffled. "We love you. This doesn't change that. We just want you to be happy."

  Nicholas felt like a sinkhole opened up in his chest and the rest of him was slowly collapsing into it. They weren't saying it, but his mom was nearly in tears. How could he believe they weren't disappointed?

  Silence lingered and he wrapped an arm around himself for comfort.

  "Maybe I had better go after all," he said quietly. "Give you some time."

  His father nodded, his mother sobbed, and Nick hurried out without looking back. Why were they so upset? It was like he told them he was dying. They said themselves they had seen it coming, so why? He supposed it could have been much worse. They could have been angry. Could have screamed at him or demanded he take it back, disowned him. He'd heard all the horror stories. It might have been easier if they'd been angry. If they'd made villains of themselves he could feel justified in standing against. As it was, he felt like the villain. He hurt them, and he couldn't even understand why. What did it change? He was still the same person. And in this day and age, he could still get married, still give them grandchildren through adoption or surrogacy. Just what did they feel they had lost? And why did he feel like he had taken it from them? He didn't know what he'd expected. For his dad to laugh and say, “We figured that out years ago!” For his mom to hug him and start trying to introduce him to guys? Why hadn't he expected the disappointment?

  He contemplated calling someone. Walter, maybe. But Walter's coming out had been about a thousand times worse. He felt petty in comparison. His finger hovered over Clay's number. But he wasn't sure how to have that conversation without confessing to Clay too. And he wasn't ready for that, especially not after how things had just gone with his parents. He couldn't handle rejection twice in a row today. He went home instead, alone, and curled up in bed hours before dark, to give up on the world for a little while.

  Chapter Fifteen

  He had a dream. He was standing in the dark wings of the stage on opening night. But he wasn't in costume. No six-inch silicon proboscis bobbed in front of him. But Walter was nudging him onto the stage anyway, telling him it was his cue. The light blinded him for a moment. Nothing was visible beyond the dark edge of the stage. There was no set out and he stumbled, wondering what scene they were in. Clay was walking onto the stage from the other side, also not in costume.

  "There's something you need to tell me?" Clay asked with that adorable confused golden retriever look on his face. "You know you can tell me anything. You're my best friend, Cyrano."

  The name left him confused, but he struggled for a line, any line, and couldn't find any. When he tried to speak there was only gibberish. He couldn't make sense, and Clay's expression was turning more and more sour, hurt and disgusted.

  "That was it from the beginning, wasn't it?" Clay said. "It was never about the play or being my friend. You were just trying to get in my pants from the start!"

  Nicholas shook his head, frantically trying to deny it, but his tongue felt made of lead, his breath stopped in his throat.

  "You're disgusting!" Clay shouted, handsome face twisted with hate. "I can't believe I let you touch me! I don't ever want to see your face again!"

  "You can leave the stage at any time, Cyrano."

  The new voice, calm and quiet, came from the darkened audience. A spotlight lit up Damien sitting in the front row.

  "I'll be here waiting," Damien said. "The minute you're ready to stop acting."

  There was a shuffle backstage, and Nicholas stumbled out of the way as something loomed in the darkness of the wings. Eric Matthers, larger than he ever was in life and wearing Nick's costume, lunged out of the shadows. Nicholas tried to run but his feet couldn't get traction on the polished floor of the stage.

  "You deserve it," Clay hissed as Eric dragged Nicholas to the floor, struggling desperately, unable to scream. "You deserve this."

  Eric held Nicholas down in the center of the stage, a spotlight bright and hot on his face. His parents were in the audience behind Damien, faces wretched with disappointment.

  "I'm right here waiting," Damien said, as Eric's mouth, impossibly large and toothy, closed slowly over his throat. "You just have to step off the stage."

  ***

  He woke with a shout on his lips, tangled in his sheets, and cried for a good hour before he even bothered to check the time. It was three a.m., and this evening he would play the lead in Cyrano de Bergerac.

  He hoped to
find a message from his parents waiting, but there was nothing except a worried voicemail from Walter. There had been a full cast rehearsal yesterday he was supposed to have gone to after dropping off his parents. In his distress, he'd forgotten about it completely. Great. Now he felt like an unprofessional asshole on top of everything else. He got up long enough to take a Benadryl, then went back to bed. His dreams were strange and troubled.

  His alarm went off at eight, and he dragged himself, groggy and miserable, out of bed and into the shower. Once scrubbed clean he felt a little better, and coffee and a donut from his favorite place on the way to the theater helped more. Whatever happened with his family he would manage. It was too late to go back now. All that mattered at this moment was the play. He would do his absolute best and make sure this was the triumphant return of the Green Carnation acting company that it was meant to be. And after...he swallowed hard around a lump of donut. After, he would confess to Clay. Maybe.

  "Oh, thank goodness!" Walter was in the lobby as Nicholas swept in. "I was about to send out the search teams! Don't frighten me like that—My leading man vanishing right before opening night!"

  "I'm so sorry Walter," Nicholas said sincerely, pulling the shorter man into a hug. "I had a momentary lapse in courage. It will never happen again. Let's get started, quickly, there's too much to do."

  Walter didn't look like he entirely bought Nick's forced cheerful bravado, but he didn't question it. There really was far too much to do.

  More than rehearsing, though they would be at that as well, the entire cast and crew were throwing themselves into finishing the last touches on everything else. There were sets that still needed finishing, props that needed to be found or changed, costumes that needed altering, not to mention the entire theater needed to be cleaned and prepared.

  Soon the concert band Walter hired to be their pit would arrive and need help setting up and matching the cues on their music to the play. Charlotte would be gone for several hours getting her hair done. Those kind of piled high French curls were not easily achieved. Nick was grateful his most involved piece of costuming was the nose. It took about twenty minutes to apply, but at least he didn't have to give his lines in a corset and heels.

  The theater was chaos as everyone scrambled to get done as much as they possibly could. Time raced by at frankly unfair speed as the day plummeted toward evening. Nicholas thought it would be impossible to get everything done, but somehow, they managed it. The things that couldn't be finished properly were at least well fudged enough to last through the performance and could be fixed tomorrow. At last, after a final full run through, this time with the band, Nick collapsed into a chair. He felt like he hadn't sat down since he'd arrived. They had a little more than an hour before they had to begin final checks, and not long after that they would begin letting people into the theater. Nick's anxiety was riding high, but there was a thrill to it as well. He loved this, loved the work. He even loved the panicked chaos. There was nothing in the world he would ever rather do. Acting was his whole life.

  He looked up as Clay ran across the stage on some errand and wondered if it should be his whole life. After last night, it had become starkly obvious how few friends he had outside the theater. Perhaps he should try to make a few more non-work friends, get a hobby. He shook his head. It wouldn't happen. He didn't really regret it. He was happy with this being his life. He watched Clay running back the other direction, almost colliding with another actor. They stopped for a moment, laughing, and exchanged words before hurrying on. Whatever his life was centered on, he hoped Clay could be a part of it. That was all he really needed, just for the other man to be around somehow. He could live with that, even if he was rejected for more.

  "Are you ready to talk about where you were yesterday?" Walter asked, sitting down next to him. "Not out seducing more billionaires, I hope?"

  "No," Nicholas laughed a little, but his heart wasn't in it. He took a deep breath and sighed it out, wondering if he wanted to talk about this at all. "I came out to my parents."

  "So soon?" Walter looked surprised. "I expected you to take more time, gain more confidence in your identity."

  "I guess I was excited," Nick shrugged, "I wanted to share it with someone. And they were going to be in town for the play anyway so...I haven't heard from them since."

  "They didn't take it well?" Walter frowned sympathetically and rubbed Nick's back.

  "They didn't yell or anything," he said, "but they were upset. Told me they needed time. They looked so disappointed in me..."

  "You didn't do anything wrong," Walter reassured him. "You're not responsible for how they chose to react. Regardless of how things turn out, it was not your fault. And you'll always have your family here."

  Nicholas nodded, but it wasn't much comfort right now. He wished it could be.

  "Will you be all right for the play tonight?" Walter asked. "If you won't be, it's fine. We still have time to switch to your understudy."

  "No, I can do it," Nick said with a tired sigh. "It'll be good for me. It's easy to forget everything else when I'm on stage."

  "Break a leg," Walter patted his shoulder. "If you need to talk, let me know. But right now, I need to go make sure that trumpet player doesn't tear down the curtains. Ah, monsieur! Please do not put that there!"

  He hurried away, and Nicholas pulled out his script, pretending to study lines. In truth, his thoughts were divided between Clay and his parents. Time ticked down toward the opening, and Nicholas counted every second as he paced through his grim, circuitous worries.

  "Hey, Nick."

  Nicholas looked up to see Clay standing in front of him, shuffling a little nervously. Nick couldn't blame him for being on edge. This was going to be his first time really performing in front of an audience after all.

  "Hey, Clay," he said, putting away his script. "What's up?"

  "Just checking in," he said, looking away. "Uh, are your folks going to be here tonight?"

  "I'm not sure," Nick said honestly. "We kind of had an argument. I don't know if they want to see me."

  "I'm sorry to hear that," Clay said, looking genuinely upset for the other man. "Mine are in town already, but they couldn't get tickets to opening night. I waited too long to tell them. So they're going to see one of the other showings this week."

  "That's good," Nick nodded, distracted. "I'm glad they'll be here to support you."

  "I'm nervous as hell about it, to be honest," he confessed. "I mean, it'd be great if they saw me and said 'You were great! You should just stay and act forever!' But somehow I don't feel like it's going to play out like that."

  "I'm sure it'll work out," Nicholas reassured him. "They love you, after all."

  "Yeah," Clay nodded, trying to believe it. "So, uh...Is that Price guy coming?"

  "I wouldn't know," Nick said, raising an eyebrow. "I assume so, since he paid so much to make sure the show went on."

  "Oh, I figured you'd know," Clay shifted awkwardly. "Since you two are dating or whatever."

  "We're not dating," Nicholas explained. "We just went out once."

  "Oh!" Nicholas could have sworn Clay almost looked relieved. "That's, uh—Well, um, I had better go finish getting ready. It's almost time. Oh! Do you want to get dinner after the show? I'd like to introduce you to my family. I've told them a lot about you."

  "Nothing good, I hope?" Nick laughed, not sure he was up for dealing with families right now, but unable to deny Clay anything. "Sure. I kind of wanted to talk to you about something anyway."

  "What is it?" Clay asked, curious.

  "It can wait," Nick said quickly. "Go and get ready. I'm going to rest a little longer before I have to put that awful nose on."

  "All right, see you on stage!" Clay rushed off, leaving Nick alone. His head fell back against the seat and he sighed tiredly. He really loved acting. It was his whole life. He couldn't wait for it to be over.

  Chapter Sixteen

  "All right everyone! You should all be in yo
ur costumes! If not, get it done, now! Everyone else, get backstage for final checks! If you are not in the pit or an usher get out of this auditorium, now! We are letting people in ten minutes from now!"

  Walter stood on the stage, shouting directions as everyone scrambled into their places. Nick was already backstage getting the final touches put on his nose, but even from there he could hear the chatter of the crowd waiting in the lobby to be let in. They booked a full house for opening night, something that made Walter practically dance with glee. The last minute advertising done by Damien seemed to have really pulled people in. Renee's article still hadn't been printed. She said it had been pushed back. The magazine wanted to publish it ending with a review of the completed production. Nick didn't like it, but it was certainly better than no article in the New York Magazine at all.

  By the time he was released from makeup they were letting people in. He peered through the curtains at the crowd, heart racing. There was no sign of his parents yet, but as he skimmed the front row, he spotted Damien in the VIP section, looking as dapper as anyone could hope for. Nick reminded himself that of course the man would come, he paid for the play. But he couldn't help being glad the other man was there anyway. It was reassuring, even if his parents weren't there.

  "Places, places everyone!" Walter urged in a hushed voice, nudging Nick and a few others away from the curtain and back toward the wings. “Where is the Comte de Guiche's hat? Get that vase out of there, that's not for this scene! Hurry, hurry, it's starting! The overture!"

  From the pit came the hum and twitter of instruments warming up and then suddenly coming together in swelling harmony that crashed and crowed of bravery and adventure, then abruptly softened into romance. Wagner’s Overture to Cyrano de Bergerac was a beautiful piece of music, and Nick was only too happy to stand by listening to it as the last touches were put on the stage and the last adjustments were made.

  Clay appeared beside him and surprised Nick by putting an arm around his shoulders, squeezing him close.