“Go ahead and take a seat.”
He sat down on the small, white cushioned seat. “So, how have the, um, how have the auditions been going?”
“Just fine-so tell me, um-”
“Brennan,” he smiled and rubbed his hands together nervously. “I’m Brennan.”
“Right, so Brennan, do you have any sort of experience doing this?”
“Well, um, nothing really to speak of, I guess. But I do watch a lot of TV. I love my shows.” He smiled and chuckled awkward, unsure laughter.
“Have you memorized your lines?”
He shifted in his seat. “Yeah. Oh yeah. Of course.”
“Well,” the second man said from behind the table, “Go ahead.”
“Well, alright. Here goes.”
I remember the first time I noticed you. It’s clear, it’s vibrant in my mind. You were sitting there in your little black dress, legs crossed, reading something, waiting in that little back room for your turn to go up on stage and dance. I was there, waiting for my cue to head up and sing, nervous because it was opening night. There was an row of open seats, stretching across both walls, and I picked the one right next to you to sit down in. It didn’t matter that I had sat two rows away from you every day in class, or that I had seen you walking around campus before. This was different. Ha ha, lord, I didn’t even know your name back then. But you were beautiful−are beautiful. For some reason Amy’s words rang clear in my ears that night. Knowing that you liked me that much when I had never even spoken to you before, god, I don’t even know how to describe it. It felt good. I felt like the goofy kid that no one really liked. But you, you saw something different.
That first conversation led to many, many more. Soon we were talking every night, spending every moment together laughing and talking about absolutely nothing. The time flew right by and I almost missed several cues because, well because I was just wrapped up in you. It was like nothing I had ever experienced before. And I liked it. Even after the performance ended we kept laughing, kept spending time together, soul searching and looking up into the stars. You were so adorable, so smart and charming and special; you were so enchanting. I never wanted to leave.
A month passed. Everybody said we were perfect for each other. Every time I saw you it was like a cheesy romance novel. You know. Like something that only happens in the movies. Sweaty palms, heart racing, weak knees. I’d see you cruising around town and almost lose my grip on the wheel. I was so swept up in you. But I tried hard to never let it show. Never let you know that you had that much of an effect on me. I thought I might come on too strong. Might say something too soon. Might make a mistake and lose you to my blundering idiocy. But no matter what you always seemed to want me around. Always seemed to enjoy our time together. Always seemed to truly care.
So of course we got together, I mean, it was only natural. With that much attraction and that much chemistry come on, right? And I was so happy. Just looking into your smiling face, walking hand in hand down the street, the snow falling down, just visible in the streetlights overhead, and the distant music of December, just barely audible from the Macey’s down the street‒it was perfect. On that night, a little over seven months after we got together, I knew that you were the one.
On our year anniversary I took you back there. I had to get special permission from the owner of the theater to get access to that little back room, and I had to pay out enough money to make a down payment on a car to get a band to play the song that I sang and you danced to, and procuring a fitting ring involved a very difficult hassle with a pawn shop owner (which you still don’t know to this day), but everything was perfect, just like I planned it. I pretended to break into the back room of the theater and sneak in, bringing you with me. You were reluctant, but I told you to ‘just trust me.’ When we stepped out on stage, the lights came up, and you thought we were in huge trouble. But then the music started. I looked at you, and smiled, and all the tension, the worry, guilt and fear melted right off your face when you recognized the song, L.O.V.E., played expertly by the band. I knelt down on one knee. The tears were falling down your cheeks and your eyes had a special sparkle I had never seen before. You couldn’t speak the word, but you put your hands to your mouth and nodded. Yes.
I placed the ring gently on your finger. And we danced.
We’re walking back to your apartment, still glowing, you from sheer joy and me from an emotional rollercoaster of nerves and apprehension and excitement at my success. It’s cold outside, so you draw closer to me. I can feel your warmth as we walk. The street is deserted, after all, it is after midnight. We walk together, just basking in each other’s happiness, smiling at the life ahead. Kids. A house. Building a life and, eventually, growing old together. I can't wait.
I look down the street and notice a faint fog rolling in, illuminated by the street lights. It’s picturesque in a way, kind of like something you would see in a Norman Rockwell picture, or perhaps on a greeting card. A sudden chill hits us, and you clutch on a little tighter. It makes me smile.
Suddenly you stop and draw in a breath. It’s not a gasp, but it’s just enough to make me stop and look down at you, and when I do my heart jumps into my throat. Your eyes are terrified. Your knuckles are white on my coat. I turn my head to see what you’re looking at, and then I see him.
The man steps out into the circle of light cast by the street lamp from behind a green dumpster. He's close. He has a gun. I don’t know him and he looks scared. He tells me to give him my wallet. I put my hands up and tell him to take it easy, that we don’t want any trouble. He looks over his shoulder and shakes the gun at me, and yells out that he’s not fucking around. I slowly put my hand behind me, and pull out my wallet. I throw it over, and he leans down, the gun still pointed at me, and picks it up. My fiancé shifts and the night’s moonlight glints off her ring. The man sees it, and shouts at us: the ring too, give me the ring too. Then you do something strange. You say no.
He steps toward you and begins to yell but I reach out and strike him. As he recovers I grab his wrists and we struggle, the gun shining in the moonlight. I can hear you screaming, screaming my name over and over again. Then suddenly, in the middle of the struggle, the gun goes off. And I can’t hear you screaming anymore.
The man drops the gun and sprints off but I, I can’t see him anymore. All I can see is you. You lying there, bleeding and gasping for breath. I rush over and slide down beside you. You want to speak, want to say something. Shhh, I say, shhh, it’s going to be alright, it’s going to be ok. Oh god, oh god, help! Somebody! Help! Shhh, honey, honey please, sweetheart, no. Heeelp!
I hear my name. You whisper it. Immediately all my attention is on you. All my focus and tears and love is on you. You try to choke out words, the blood spilling from the side of your pale lips, lips that were once so vibrant, so perfect, so soft. I lean in closer. You speak.
I’m sorry.
Then it’s gone. The life that so profoundly changed my own is gone. I touch your face, my hand shaking, not wanting to believe it’s true. Not wanting to believe that you’re really gone. No. Not like this. Not tonight. Not like this. I pick you up. It feels different than before. It feels wrong. Your body is limp. Your arms don’t reach up to grasp my neck, your legs don’t kick, and there is no smile upon your face. Tears mix with saliva as grief like I have never felt before, invades my body and manifests itself in my face. I cry. Like I have never cried before. I lose control of myself as the sorrow rips and tears my soul. My whole body convulsing and shaking, making your lifeless body shake in my arms. My chest feels empty, like the bullet that took you somehow hit me as well. You are still so beautiful, even in death, and it makes me sob harder. Your blood drips down, spilling onto the ground and staining the pure white snow.
Then out of the corner of my eye I catch something. A glint of metal cylinders. For a second, my sobs stop. Ever so gently I put you down and get to my feet. I turn away and slowly I stumble over towards the thing that with a flash, in a moment, took away what I loved most in this world. I stretch down and grab it. It scrapes the concrete as I pick it up.
I look back towards you. I see your form in the moonlight. Cold. Unmoving. And I can’t bear it. I can’t. I just can’t.
I turn away towards where the man ran away, the man who for no reason took what he had no right to take. It wasn’t his right. It just isn’t right. I feel my blood start to boil, like it’s fighting its way out of my body. A loathing, primal hatred takes control of my body. I step forward and scream. I scream my lungs out, a scream that would curdle the Devil’s blood. That’s just what he was. A gutter rat, a god damn pathetic piece of worthless shit. I raise the gun and pull the trigger again and again but nothing happens. I forgot to cock it. So I take to the green dumpster instead, kicking and punching it as though it’s him. I want to chase after him. I want to make him feel pain. To make him bleed. To make him suffer. I take two steps after him, but I can't leave you, I, I just can't.
I walk back and fall on my knees next to you, arms limp at my sides, the weight of the gun heavy in my hand, the weight of my emptiness heavy on my shattered heart. I lean down towards you and softly kiss your forehead.
Slowly I raise the pistol up. I press the barrel to my temple, the cold metal hard against my head. I reach out and close your eyes. Your skin is still so soft.
Please.
Forgive me.
“So?” He said, “How did I do?”
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