The Final Act (23 page)

“I need to tell you something, too,” Tom said quietly.

Denny’s heart dropped. Here it was. The bullet he’d dodged so far was about to hit him in the heart. “All right.”

“I haven’t been honest with you about why I didn’t come to Philadelphia.”

“Yeah?” He could hardly get the word past the lump in his throat, and braced himself to be dumped.

“I thought I was protecting you, but I’ve done some soul searching these past weeks and realized I was wrong. I wasn’t shielding you, only screwing things up between us really badly.”

“Protecting me from…?”

“It’s not what you think.” There was a shimmer of amusement in Tom’s voice. “Denny, you’re so easy to read. There
is
no one else. I told you that already.”

“What?” Denny hadn’t realized he was holding his breath until he let it go in a whoosh. “You’re… What then?”

“It’s something else.” Tom paused. “I’m sick.”

AIDS!
Denny’s mind raced, recalling all the unprotected sex they’d had. They were in a committed relationship, they'd been tested, so it had seemed safe. Fear swelled in his gut, and he hated himself for thinking of his own health when Tom had…

“Cancer?” he asked.

“Cancer.”

Denny felt a mingled relief and fresh fear. “Oh my God. How are you? How long have you known? What kind is it? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Shortly after I lost my job. Great timing, eh? I’m covered by COBRA, but the premiums are outrageous and I sure as hell can’t get new employment with insurance in my current condition.”

Denny couldn’t believe he was talking about insurance. “But how are
you
? Is it bad?”

“I didn’t say anything because I knew you’d want to come home and be with me. You’d break your contract if you thought I was sick, and I didn’t want to ruin your big chance. I didn’t want you to walk away from it or be distracted worrying about me while you’re on the road. I thought it would be best if I dealt with this on my own.”

“Jesus, Tom. Tell me how bad.”

“It’s prostate cancer—stage two. Could be worse.”

Sudden anger surged through Denny. “Stage two! What does that even mean? How could you keep something like this from me? I can’t believe it!”

“I know. It was stupid. Of course, I should have told you. The doctor even said to discuss it with family before making my decision, but… I just couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t say it.”

“And now…” Denny trailed off. If Tom had just told him about this, his fling with Paul never would have happened. Was he actually blaming Tom for his infidelity? “I just wish you’d told me. What’s the treatment plan? Are you going to be okay?”

“In stage two, the cancer still hasn’t spread to other organs. I elected not to have surgery and I’m on a course of radiation. Now I just have to wait and see if it’s effective.”

“God, Tom.” Denny was at a loss. The conversation had veered so far from his vision of it: a confession, a blow up, tears and, hopefully, forgiveness. Suddenly they were in the realm of life and death instead of a sexual indiscretion. So much more was at stake there was no way he could confess to Tom about his cheating now.

“So, that’s what’s really been going on with me.” Tom paused. “How about you?”

“I was so pissed about you not coming to see me, and here you were going through all this alone.” Denny sidestepped the question. “I’m sorry.”

“You couldn’t know. It’s my fault. I left you hanging and wondering.”

It seemed they were going to play the self-blame game.

“Well, you were right about one thing,” Denny said. “I do want to come home. This is a family emergency. I’m sure I can take some personal days.”

“Really? If you think you can, I’d like that.” Tom sounded tired, his voice weaker, and lighter than its usual deep bass. “I’ve missed you so much, and there’s still a lot we need to talk about.”

You have no idea
. “I’ll see when I can get some time, then I’ll call and let you know.”

They talked a little longer about Tom’s health and treatment options, then spoke a few moments about household expenses.

“Are you doing all right financially? Do you need me to kick in more?” Denny asked.

“No. Please. You already do more than enough. I’m fine.”

“There were plenty of times when you carried me. I’m happy to finally be able to take care of you.”

Tom refused again. He caught Denny up on what was happening in all their friends’ lives before concluding the conversation. “Are we okay then? You’re not still pissed at me?”

“No. How could I be?” Actually, he
was
angry that Tom had protected him like a child too young to cope with the truth, but how could he tell him that, especially given his own nasty secret?

“God, when I think of you handling this all by yourself because you didn’t want to worry me… I’d never be so altruistic. I’d want you by my bedside holding my hand all the way through it.”

“And I’d want to be by your bedside doing that,” Tom said. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” The words felt like sharp rocks in his mouth. “I’m sorry I…didn’t trust you, and I’ll come home just as soon as I can.”

After ending the call, Denny stared at the phone for several moments. He could almost pretend things were back to normal between them. Except they weren’t. Tom’s illness hung over them like a guillotine blade, and Denny’s secret was right behind it, ready to cut if the first blade missed.

Scene Eleven: Fallout

Gretchen sat on a chair in the Green Room and waited for places to be called. She was dressed and ready to go. No one could fault her for not being ready. She’d made sure of that ever since the day she’d overslept. The other cast members moved around the room, chatting and laughing. She felt like a mossy rock in the middle of a rushing stream. They all seemed too busy, too fast, while she was calm and solid. Nothing could affect her. Anxiety was held at bay by an invisible force field called Xanax.

What would she do when her supply ran out now that she no longer had Jake?
No longer had Jake
, her mind repeated several times, testing the sound of it. Maybe Steve or Rashid could hook her up.

Gretchen rejected the memories that kept trying to intrude on her peaceful state. She wouldn’t allow herself to remember the sight of Jake lying on his bed, locked in a half-naked embrace with another woman. Gone. Banished. The picture was expelled from her mind. This was a new era—life post-Jake. Very much the same as life pre-Jake, except now she was aware of the piece missing from her life. There was a huge, Jake-shaped hole in it.

Corralling her thoughts, she concentrated on running lines. It was another opening night in another city. Which one, she couldn’t even remember. The itinerary of their trip had become one long blur of cheap hotels, smelly Green Rooms and sweating under the spotlights. But it was her job to inject fresh enthusiasm into her performance each time, even when all she felt like doing was curling up under a blanket and sleeping the rest of her life away.

“Are you all right?” Renée stopped beside Gretchen’s chair and brushed her hair back from her face. “You look so pale. I have a cover-up stick I could lend you for those circles under your eyes.”

Gretchen glared at her. “Thank you. I think my make-up is fine.”

“Well…all right. If that’s what you think.” Renée’s mouth puckered. She started to walk away then turned back. “By the way, you need to enunciate better during our argument. When you deliver your lines so fast, the audience only catches my half.”

The hair on her nape actually rose as she watched Renée walk away. If she were a cat, her claws would be extended, ready to rip the bitch a new one. Gretchen tried to resume her peaceful state, relaxing her clenched hands and closing her eyes. It was useless. Renée’s comments had opened the door, allowing self-doubt and tension to creep back in.

She walked from the Green Room, heading for the back exit for some fresh air. When she walked through the door, the humid, late summer air hit her like a wet washcloth to the face. The door screeched closed, announcing her arrival. All the smokers in the alley looked up.

There was Jake, lounging against the wall, a cigarette, or maybe a joint, between his fingers. He gazed at her from under ragged bangs and blew a thin stream of smoke from between his lips.

Gretchen felt gut-punched. Of course he was there, as she’d known he would be, but it was like being drawn to a traffic accident—part of her had wanted to see him. She froze in the doorway, the memory of the night she’d caught him cheating crashing over her like a tsunami.

She’d barely knocked before entering his room, which had pretty much become “their” room with Rashid off somewhere most of the time. It took several long moments of staring at Jake and the woman lying together for Gretchen to process what she was seeing.
What’s wrong with this picture?

Then she’d surged toward the bed, cursing and screaming, hitting at both of them and pulling the girl’s hair. She’d clawed at the bitch like a tigress claiming her mate, and all the while a voice of reason inside told her, “It’s not her fault. He’s the cheater.”

The shocked girl grabbed her shirt, covering her breasts, and fled from the room while Gretchen raged at Jake, clichés pouring from her mouth. “How could you?” “Why?” “Don’t you love me?” She was humiliated to even hear herself ask, “What did I do wrong?” As if any of it was her fault!

Jake rose and stood before her, stoically accepting her slap across his face. Finally he answered her litany of questions in a quiet voice. “I’m sorry. We never said we’d be exclusive. I thought you understood.”

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“It was nice.” His green eyes stared just over her shoulder. At the time she’d been too furious to register anything except the blood rushing in her ears and the feeling she was about to pass out. Later, she realized he’d seemed too resigned, like a condemned man receiving exactly what he expected. The fact he’d brought the girl to his room and left the door unlocked when he knew Gretchen was coming was an intentional sabotage of their relationship—his way of breaking up without actually having to say the words. It was a coward’s way out, and she despised him for it.

All in a moment, the painful memory rushed through her like a forest fire, leaving her ashen and empty, still standing in the alley, staring at Jake. Their eyes locked for a moment, although it seemed much longer, and then his gaze slid away.

Gretchen retreated into the building, closed the door and leaned against it, fighting tears. She’d cried enough over the past weeks. She would waste no more time or tears on Jake. Searching through her purse, she found another Xanax and dry swallowed it. In a little while, she knew the knots in her stomach and mind would start to unwind, the sharp edges soften.

She floated through the first act of the play and at intermission sat in a chair gazing at a spot on the wall.

Denny dropped onto the chair beside her. “What are we looking at?”

“Just zoning out.” Gretchen forced a smile, quashing her annoyance at being disturbed. “What’s up? How’s Tom?”

“His test results are inconclusive. I told Peters I have to take a couple of days and go home. He was actually human about it. I was shocked.”

“That’s good. I mean, that you’re going.”

“How about you?” Denny bumped his shoulder against hers. “Are you okay? Really okay, not just putting on an act?”

“I’m fine. I wish everybody would quit asking. Jake and I broke up. No big deal. People do it all the time.” Gretchen’s face felt permanently fixed in a smile. She didn’t think she could get rid of it if she wanted to.

“’Cause if you need to talk, you know I’m here for you, sweetie.”

“Thanks.” She smiled harder, willing Denny to leave so she could continue contemplating the wall.

He rose from the chair. “All right. No more father hen, I promise, but if you change your mind, I’m here.”

She breathed a sigh of relief when he walked away. For a moment she considered one more Xanax, but the tablets were running low. She needed to conserve what she had left. After the show was over, she’d go back to her room, take a hot bath, pop a couple of sleeping tablets and crash for the night. Oblivion was good.

Michael let himself out of Elena and Renée’s room, feeling like a traitor for leaving his girlfriend alone with Renée. The woman had been bitching non-stop since the evening’s performance. They would have gone to Michael’s room, but Logan had hung the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the doorknob.

God, he was sick of living with no privacy, no space and no place that felt like home. Moments in Elena’s bed came closest to what Michael thought home should be—more than anyplace he’d ever lived in his life.

Once he had suggested to Logan they switch roommates. He’d live with Elena while Logan took Renée.

“If I can keep her in a ball gag and handcuffs, maybe,” Logan had said. “She’s hot and I wouldn’t mind banging her if I just didn’t have to listen to her bitching. I can hear it now: ‘Logan, you’re not doing it right. Too fast. Too slow. A little more to the left’.”

Michael smiled at the memory as he walked down the hall.

Actually, Renée had been surprisingly agreeable about giving Elena and Michael time alone in the room, but tonight they were the audience for her litany of complaints. “Gretchen was absolutely unprofessional tonight, and it isn’t the first time I had to cover for her mistakes. She stumbled over lines and would’ve tripped during the wedding scene if I hadn’t caught her arm.”

“That wasn’t her fault,” Elena argued. “A prop was left out. Could’ve happened to anybody.”

“Why do you make excuses for her? We all know she has a problem and it’s getting worse. Well, after tonight, Peters will make sure something gets done.”

“There’s no reason to go to management. We can take care of it.”

“Everyone’s tried talking to her. She won’t admit there’s anything wrong,” Renée said.

“Gretchen isn’t that bad. She just needs her friends to help her.” Elena looked to Michael to back her up.

He happened to agree with Renée, so he simply shrugged, earning Elena’s frown. He decided to leave the two women to fight it out.