Outtakes Of A Walking Mistake (25 page)

Trekking my cute butt up the narrow sidewalk to the school cafeteria I’m in shock to find little fanfare for the premiere. The reason why there is no hoopla, no flowing red carpet, is beyond me. This is supposed to be my night of a thousand lights. Where are the camera flashes and firework splashes? And better yet, where is Billy?

Left without answers, I follow the red arrow on a bright green poster pointing me to the rear of the cafeteria. Reaching my destination, I’m aghast to discover that instead of being adored by the paparazzi, I have to contend with the likes of Kim. Talk about a buzz kill. Having returned from her photo shoot in Miami, I hope she’ll be in high spirits, but no. Handing an elderly man a program, she releases a shockwave across the crowd, stating that Mr. Dolby will always be a second-rate Steven Spielberg for refusing to cast her in the film. “But have no fear,” she tells the attendees. “I’ll be a star when heroin chic comes back. That’s what my hairdresser, Raoul, says.”

Ignoring Kim, I search for Billy. No such luck. I double-check my surroundings and conclude he’s nowhere in sight. This is not good I tell myself, standing behind an eggplant-shaped woman wearing an orange jack-o’-lantern tee. A minute later I succumb to chatting with Kim in order to seem like I know someone.

“You’ll be thrilled to know I told Raoul all about you,” she says.

I shouldn’t ask but I do.

“What did you tell him?”

“That you’re a bitch. And he said you must be a real fag after all. Isn’t that great? Now we can hang.”

“Great,” I reply. Though insulting, I figure this is the closest I’ll come to receiving a compliment from Kim. I must have made her honor roll after our prior conversation where I reluctantly agreed to let her to copy from me. When I kill time by complimenting her outfit, Kim spares me a thank you and proceeds to inform me about how she lost two pounds in Miami on the Orange Diet.

“It was such a radical idea. I only allowed myself to eat food the color orange,” she says. “So guess what I ate?”

“Oranges?”

“Carrots too. Isn’t that revolutionary?”

Ugh. Thank God I don’t have the chance to reply. Jack-in-the-boxing out of the cafeteria door, Ashley interrupts us by urging Kim to hurry. “Mr. Dolby wants to start in five minutes,” she says, all dolled up in a sequined red dress.

“Whatever, quit bothering me,” Kim replies. “Can’t you see I’m trying to work?”

Ignoring her, Ashley adjusts the red bow holding back her curls. Noticing me, she says hi before informing me that Billy will be running fifteen minutes late. “He’s never on time,” she jokes, like she knows him oh so well.

Me, I fake a chuckle even though my machine-gun eyes penetrate her from behind when she disappears inside. I mean, I can’t believe it! Why does she get to know the time of Billy’s arrival?

I sigh as Kim, irritated with her menial task, orders the remaining attendees inside. “I’m not stupid,” she tells me. “I know why I’m doing grunt work. I’m being punished for taking off to Miami. Mr. Dolby is so mad he won’t even let me inside. Oh, I need a cigarette.”

“You smoke?”

“When I’m hungry,” she says, fingering her leather purse for a smoke. “Let them kick me off campus for lighting up. See if I care.”

Following Kim to a metal bench, I sit silently, waiting for Billy while thinking about what vice I’ll eventually need to make it through life’s rough patches. Let’s see. I can smoke and inhale cancer or drink alcohol and drown in it. Either way, life will end faster, sparing me from the pain of listening to Kim go on about herself.

“Mr. Dolby couldn’t locate a star with a telescope!” she says, waving her cigarette like she’s conducting an orchestra. Not once does she bring the cigarette to her lips. No, she simply waves it back and forth for effect. “I deserved the lead in that film! How could he not see that?”

For another minute, the gripe session continues before Kim reveals that eating oranges gives her hair red highlights.

That’s when Billy comes into view, accompanied by his parents.

Leading the pack, Billy’s father is tall and hunky with a buzz cut. And by the look of his tweed sport coat, you know he crunches large numbers in a posh downtown office overlooking the marina. Billy’s mother, she’s glitzy too except she seems frail. Wearing a red ankle-length skirt and a bandana, she’s steadied by the hand of Billy who assists with each soft, astronaut step she takes.

Making eye contact with Billy, I convince myself not to speak. What would I say anyway? Hello? Do I have his permission?

“Let’s bow down. The king has arrived,” Kim says.

Peeved, I grab the cigarette from her hand and toss it.

“Be nice,” I warn.

“Hey! What the hell?” She lets out a tiny scream.

“Be quiet! I need you to do me a favor, ok?” Kim flinches like the term ‘favor’ has never been uttered in her presence. “I need you to act like you’re in love with me.”

“Yeah, like anyone would believe that.” She rolls her eyes.

“Listen, do you want a role in Mr. Dolby’s next film?”

She stares at me, dully. “Maybe.”

“Well, consider this your first acting lesson. I’ll teach you everything I know. I promise. Just do it!”

Registering the request, Kim complies, most likely considering it easy payment for the time and training it will take to make her flourish as an actress. “You better make good on your word,” she says. Then, no more than a second later, she’s gobbling me up like I’m the latest meal on her diet plan.

Please God, let this work!

“Oh, you’re smokin’ fine for a fag!” Kim says, rubbing my knee. “Why won’t you hook-up with me?”

“Good! Say it again! Louder!”

“You’re super hot! Take me already!” she says, kissing my cheek. “By the way, why am I doing this?”

“Never mind that!” I snap. “The first rule of acting is you must stay in character. Keep it up.”

“Fine, you’re amazing. You’re the most beautiful faggot on campus. Everyone wants you. You’re so many things I’ll never be. Blah, blah, blah.” Losing interest, Kim fingers her purse, reaching for another cigarette. “Are you happy now? Can I get another smoke?”

True, this is bad acting at its finest. But still, Kim’s actions manage to garner Billy’s attention. Not that he says hello to me. Our silent interaction merely consists of an exchange of nods. Then leading his mother into the cafeteria he instructs her to take it slow.

Well, this sucks I tell myself. Billy urges me to attend this stupid event and I get no introduction to his parents. How rude! Seriously, what crawled up his ass and died? I’d like to shake his father’s hand. To praise his mother for giving birth to such a sexy boy, that would be grand. Instead, I’m quiet and hollow. This tight tee, these trendy jeans, they lead you into believing I’m cool and strong. That me, I’m a real fag. But really, “I’m just lonely,” I admit.

“What?” Kim asks, lighting a cigarette.

“Nothing, I’m being stupid.”

“Don’t worry. Stupid is on all the runways this season. It’s in vogue,” Kim declares. “Hey, you want one?” she asks, offering a smoke. I grimace. “I know. They smell bad. But I have perfume that smells like baby wipes to cover it.”

“Thanks, but I’m going inside.”

“That’s my HOT guy,” she says. “You get ‘em!”

That’s the problem: I don’t know what I’m here to get. Am I here for validation? A standing ovation? Love?

Who knows? Maybe I’m here for all the above.

So, here I go….

Opening the cafeteria door, I elevate my chin, striking a model pose. Puckering up, I know that I look ridiculous but when you’re competing with a table of finger foods, one must make sacrifices to get noticed. Not that my plan is working. At the other end of the room, with kids battling parents for bite-size sandwiches, I could piss on the floor and no one would care.

“My film is a study on the complexity of young love,” Mr. Dolby announces, tapping his pudgy finger on a microphone. Before him, a few guests, mainly school board members, sit quietly in three rows of folding chairs.

Beside a projector screen, Mr. Dolby goes on to explain that the film is untitled because he’s bored with living in a world of labels. Still, he doesn’t mind wearing labels. Cloaked in a black velvet suit matched with a gold scarf, he wows the crowd with words bigger than his ego. After a few minutes, his wife, Assistant Principal Dolby, triggers the audience into a clapping fit. Billy sits in the third row with his parents.

Billy doesn’t know it, but at this moment I imagine myself massaging his back. The blond hair on his neck shines like golden arrows, pointing out a smooth area begging for a kiss.

“He looks amazing, doesn’t he?” Ashley says. I don’t know when she got here but suddenly she’s beside me, crunching down on a plate of chips smothered in liquid cheese. “See that black shirt he’s wearing? I told him to wear that. I guess that’s my job as his girlfriend. Oh, I just adore Billy in black. Don’t you?”

“Uh....”

“Don’t worry. I know you like him,” she winks, patting my shoulder. And just like that, cleaning her teeth with her tongue, she excuses herself to sit with Billy.

Me, I’m in disbelief! Let me die! Let it be painful! And let it be on the front page of the school newspaper. It’s better than living like this!

Seriously, I should not have to endure these games. I’m not a freaking mute. I should be able to talk openly about my feelings for Billy. Instead, I have some girl pointing out my feelings for me. How does Ashley know I feel? Do I wear my heart on my sleeve? Did Billy tell her about us? And why doesn’t she seem the least bit concerned about my feelings? Am I so pathetic that I’m not even deemed a threat?

The lights turn off and the guests at the snack table take their seats. Me, I’m all eyes on the screen.

The film leads off with a scene where Billy and Ashley bump into each other at the school library where they opt to chat over a cup of coffee. Soon, they decide that they may have crossed paths for a reason. “This must be serendipity,” Ashley says, attempting to appear astute.

As for me, I think the scene is retarded.Oh, I’m just indignant. This whole romance bit is so tired it needs to be put to sleep. Euthanize it and euthanize me while you’ve got the needle. I’m a loveless fool. No one is here to see me. Not dad. Not mom. Even Billy won’t talk to me. And worse yet, he’s taking Ashley to the dance tomorrow.

On the cusp of a meltdown, I opt to bow out quietly.

Forget the film. My thought is to leave with dignity.

“Going somewhere?” Mr. Dolby asks, guarding the exit door. I’m not surprised he’s there. God forbid someone would disgrace him by walking out early. Careful, careful, I think. You know how he feels about being deserted. Just reference Kim. One short trip to Miami and she’s been banished.

“Uh, I just had a question,” I say. “Is my bathroom scene coming up?”

“Which bathroom scene?” He raises a cup of soda to his wife, who is turned in her seat, watching us instead of the film.

“My scene with Billy,” I remind him.

“Oh, that scene.” Motioning me to follow him outside, Mr. Dolby informs me that cuts needed to be made. The film was going in too many directions. He wanted a more polished piece, something that would genuinely speak to the masses. “Your character Felix was a distraction. You understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Felix, he had to be eliminated,” he states, leaning against the closed cafeteria door.

Wait a minute. Hold up. Tell me this is a joke. First, my kiss with Billy was cut. And now my entire role has been sent to the cutting room? Please, allow me a moment to process.

Oh, forget processing. This is bullshit! Mr. Dolby wants me to find my truth and the truth is he can’t handle having a gay character in the film. It hits too close to home and his wife might hear it knocking at their bedroom door. The school board might have to admit there are gays here.

Reading my inner rage, Mr. Dolby urges me to refrain from taking the decision to heart. He says he’ll be auditioning actors for another film in the spring. “I expect you to be there,” he smiles. Then flipping his gold scarf over his shoulder, he attempts to head inside.

I’m so mad I could spit a rainbow of puke.

“Why should I try out? So I can show you my truth? Please. Like you give a damn about my truth.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me!”

“Soften your speech,” he says.

“Well, you want my truth, don’t you?” Mr. Dolby stares me down with subtle interest. “I’m a gay high school student, both onscreen and off. That’s my truth. You can cut me from your film but you can’t edit me from these halls. No one can.”

“Why, I never tried....”

“What’s your truth, Mr. Dolby?”

Taken back, he struggles to contain himself. “Dear boy, my truth is best left edited. My time has past.”

Sensing his sadness, I can’t help but pity him. Here I stand, a ball of rage for not being permitted a glimpse of the spotlight. Meanwhile, his life has been spent acting in a role that prohibits him from ever truly living.

“It’s never too late,” I tell him.

With this, he smiles before heading inside. “Mr. Morris, you’re quite lucky. Your generation has a chance to seek the truth and survive. That’s why I taught you of its importance. So whether acting or not, you’ll never have to turn into someone who hides like me.”