Why did I just think that?
My eyes are just fine.
I’m happy.
“You know what I think?” I ask, rinsing my water glass and placing it in the dishwasher. “This is one of the most important decisions you could ever make and you need to be very careful.”
He ruefully laughs, “Are you saying that to me or to you?”
“Goodnight Logan.”
“Sam?”
“Yes?”
“Talk next Monday.”
“Okay.”
I listen to him hanging up, and stand here with the phone to my ear for a long, long time.
Chapter Thirty-Six
LOGAN
“Y ou don’t want to have children with me,” Ines snaps. She’s back at her suitcase hoping I’ll stop her. I guess I should, and I would, if I really loved her. Living with her, dancing and singing with her, has made me grow. Especially since she’s from another country and culture. It expanded my mind and what I thought I was capable of.
But she’s not Sam.
I might be the dumbest guy who ever walked this earth. I should grab that suitcase and put it back in her closet. I should take her in my arms and tell her to call the friend who said, “You can stay with me as long as you need, Ines.” I should get ready for Turkey, where we arrive three weeks from now. I should continue to embrace this bohemian life and stop thinking about the blonde who teaches kids to dance in a medium-sized city back in still-puritanical America where you can’t show nudity in a film, but violence is acceptable.
“Ines, I’ve been thinking about it, and it would be wrong to have children when I feel like this. We didn’t think we would last anyway. You always tell me that I’m too provincial for you.”
Ines slams her polka-dotted bra into the suitcase. “That was in the beginning. Before I fell in love with you!”
I push off the wall and take a deep breath. She paces in a circle like she wants to escape, but rushes into my arms instead. Embracing her, I whisper, “I’m so sorry.”
She shoves me away, eyes shooting rockets of pain. “Get away from me. Go somewhere. Anywhere. I don’t want to see your face ever again.”
“You’re going to see me at the performance tonight.”
Veins pop as she shouts, “GET OUT!”
Chewing the inside of my lip, I make long strides to the door. She screams things in French that I don’t have to speak the language to understand.
“I’m really sorry,” I firmly say while meeting her eyes. I have to duck away from the high-heel flying at my forehead. It hits the door as I close it and walk down the carpeted hallway of our small apartment in Hong Kong.
The cramped sidewalk is a relief.
So easy to get lost with this population. I keep my chin down and let the flow guide the way.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
LOGAN
Sunday
G uilford taps on my dressing room door that’s open a crack.
I turn around, curious why he’s coming to talk to me after the show.
I did my best out there, didn’t allow myself to run on automatic just because Ines wouldn’t look at me. The way I figure it, all I have is the integrity to my own standards.
Those people paid for tickets.
I’m not going to phone it in just because there’s drama in my personal life.
They deserve better than that.
When I step onstage, I give my all.
If she doesn’t want to do the same, that’s on her.
But her treatment did nothing to make me doubt our break up.
I’m sure our director has heard the gossip, so I’m preparing to tell him that I can still go on with the shows despite the fact our relationship is severed.
Guilford interrupts my planned launch into defensiveness. “Logan, we’ve lost Dieter. He’s quitting.” Gracefully touching one of my costumes that’s hanging from the rack by my door, he goes on to explain, “I wasn’t here when Asher left the production, as you know, but if I had been I would never have cast an outsider and started from scratch. Not when I had you.” He props himself on a stool, more leaning against it than on it, one of his feet up for balance on the rung. “I want you to take the lead.”
The contrast of being offered the lead role in one area of my life on the same day I quit another, makes me stare at him.
Proud at rendering me speechless, Guilford’s eyes sparkle. “You’re surprised. To tell you the truth, I don’t know why you haven’t asked for the opportunity. I have to think you’re used to settling for less than you deserve.” He tilts his head, curious. “Have you not noticed how much you shine during your understudy performances? How the level of applause is louder than when Dieter performs?”
“I don’t gauge things like that.” With a frown, I add, “I lose myself in what I’m doing, pretend I’m really there.”
“Didn’t Ines point it out, the applause?”
“No.”
He nods, thoughtful as he walks toward my door. “I think your time of being the best friend is over. Rise and take your position as the lead in my production.” He disappears.
His statement ricochets.
Not just in the room.
In my soul.
If he hadn’t said it exactly like that, it might not have struck this chord in me. But he did say it. And now I’m pulling down the postcards I taped as a frame around my mirror from all of the countries we’ve played at. My civilian clothes get shoved into my leather bag with them. I toss the makeup in the trash. Leave behind my costumes for the next guy.
Walking up the dark hallway backstage, I rap on the doors of my cast members, my friends, family away from home, hurriedly barking, “Guys, I’m leaving the show!”
Door after door is flung open by shocked hands.
Everyone is shouting, “Logan’s leaving?” “Why?”
