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CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Every time thoughts of what awaits me once the show ends creep into my mind, I sing the lyrics louder and imagine what Drew’s apartment will look like with both of our stuff in it. We always refer to it as an apartment, but it’s really a gorgeous brownstone in Brooklyn, nestled on a rare side street that manages to remain quiet despite the city surrounding it.
As I sing, I imagine the life we will have, and when the song escalates, and I scream into the mic, I realize that moving in with Drew will be the best thing to happen in a long time. I know I can get through tonight so we can have our future together.
The show shoots by in a blur. Despite my aching spirit and the fatigue that’s nestled down deep into my bone marrow, I use all the energy I can muster into the performance. I scream at the top of my lungs, playfully drum alongside Drew, play the air guitar with Brian, and mosh with Sean.
At the end of it all, I fling myself off the stage, into the crowd’s arms and float above their supportive hands until I’m back on the ground.
No funny business happens before the encore. I’m too antsy with the show about to end, and after having Drew in my bed last night, I owe Lizzy whatever respect I can salvage before I end our relationship.
Back at the hotel, I pace the span of my hotel room. Back and forth. Back and forth. Lizette rented a car after she flew to San Francisco, and she will drive directly to Los Angeles after. It’s a lengthy drive, but she’s not a fan of flying, and being on the road is more soothing to her than hiding from fans at the airport. I pray she’s not too distracted after this evening to make the drive.
I type out a quick text to Drew and send it off. I’m not sure if I’ll be up to see him after I’m finished talking with Lizette. Sometimes, it’s better to be alone after things like this. If Lizzy wants to stay up all night talking things out, I won’t say no, either. Despite how run-down I am, I will answer every question she has.
The mini bar has called to me since I came back to the hotel an hour ago, but it’s not an appropriate time for alcoholic beverages. At least, not until after all is said and done.
A light rap sounds at the door, and I practically jump out of my skin. As I make my way to the door, I stop myself and look at myself in the mirror attached to the dresser. I point to my reflection and stare myself down.
You can do this. You have to. You’ve got this. It’ll be okay. You’re okay.
I take a few deep breaths and walk to the door.
It wasas awful as I could have imagined.
Actually, it's worse, because instead of getting so upset that Lizette screamed or threw things at me, she sat at the edge of the hotel bed, as far on the corner as possible without falling off the mattress, and stared at the walls behind me with vacant eyes. Silent tears fell down her cheeks which resulted in dark streaks of makeup from her eyelids all the way down to her neck.
Still, I told her everything. From the beginning to the end. I only left out the explicit details of the affair to protect her well-being.
The worst part was when I forced myself to tell her I’d been with Drew all along. She took my being gay in stride, but after I admitted to my affair, she wailed and curled over into herself. She covered her face with her delicate palms and shook her head, unable to grasp the reality of my words.
Then, the questions came.
Why did you even ask me out? Why did you flirt with me when we first met if you were with someone else? Why the hell would you propose?Thewhysdidn’t stop coming for a long time, and each question had been laced with absolute, unrelenting heartbreak.
She wasn’t angry when she left, but I knew she would be eventually. She had to be. I expected it. Maybe not tonight, but soon.
When I asked her how she wanted to handle things—the media, the fans, all the interviews and photo-ops we had planned—she shook her head and nibbled on her trembling bottom lip. Eventually, we agreed that Mike and her agent would take care of all the interviews and appearances we had scheduled.
The only favor I asked was for us to break the news to the world in a neutral way, one where neither of us was to blame so that I could come out after the media calmed down about the broken-off engagement. I felt like even more of an asshole in asking her, considering all I’d put her through tonight and in the past, but she agreed without having to think about it.
The cherry on top of the shit sundae was when we had to draft our personal statements to share with the world. She typed on her phone as best she could through shaky sobs and uneven breaths. Whenever I tried to console her, it made matters worse. I tried to focus on my statement and give her space, but it took us over an hour to finish writing, and deafening silence had made the hour go by at a terribly long pace.
Lizzy gave me back the ring. I didn’t know what to do—so I told her to keep it. After that, she practically threw it at me before running from the room.
Now, I sit on the edge of my bed, long after she hauled ass out of the hotel room. I stare down at the ring in between my fingertips, lost in the sight of the sparkling gem. My phone buzzes in my pocket occasionally, but I don’t have the energy to take it out and look at it.
Instead, I pour all my hopes for Lizette into the ring. Because I do love Lizette in many ways, and I want what’s best for her. She needs a person who will fall head over heels for her; someone who won’t stop falling. She deserves someone who’s as deeply in love with her as I am with Drew. I clutch onto the ring and pray that someday she gets everything she wants, everything she deserves, and more.
After a while, my bones begin to ache from sitting for so long. I force myself up and to the bathroom. Once there, I take my phone out and strip down while the shower turns scalding hot. I take a look at my notifications.
There are a few texts from Drew checking in on me, and another from Mike with my boarding pass for our flight to D.C. tomorrow. During past tours, I’d always enjoyed our shows in California. Now, I was eager to get back to the East Coast and be close to home.
Before I hop into the shower, I reply to Drew and let him know things are as okay as they can be, and that I’ll see him tomorrow. Tonight, I need to be alone. I don’t feel like being in his presence. Finding comfort in his arms doesn’t feel right after shattering Lizette’s heart.
