Page 54 of The Reunion

‘It’s okay.’

‘No, really. I’m … I am sorry. You’re right, I was out of line. And – I’m sorry for being such a bitch when we were at school, too. I—’ A bitter little laugh cuts out of me. ‘I must’ve been so self-centred, like you said, that I never realised I came off as such a mean girl. So, I’m sorry for … you know, everything I did when we were kids that affected you badly. I didn’t set out to bully you, or anything …’

‘I know.’ His mouth curves in an almost-smile. ‘It’s okay.’

I think he means it, too. He was never the type to hold a grudge or get angry though, I suppose; I must’ve just pushed him to breaking point for him to go off like that. He was always a nice kid. I feel bad that we never gave him more credit for that, back in the day.

‘You don’t have to lurk over there in the doorway, you know.’

Hayden shuffles, but doesn’t come inside, and I snort. I think I mutter, ‘Square,’ out loud, but I only half mean it.

And since he’s apparently so willing to hear me out, and he hasn’t gone anywhere even after calling me on my bullshit, I find myself being as upfront with him as he just was with me.

‘I shouldn’t have said you were projecting your shit onto me. You might think I’m as delulu as they come, but believe me when I say I’m self-aware enough to know I only said it because that’s exactly what I was doing to you. It’s just … Everything was supposed to work out, you know? I had plans. Dreams. I was making them happen. Going to drama school, auditions … I was doing it. And none of it was working. My teachers kept pushing me to work harder, do better, which – now I’m on the other side, that’s, like, their whole job, but at the time it was just tearing me down. Then none of my auditions were working out – I couldn’t even get a bit-part on a chorus line or whatever – and that sapped all my confidence. I just cried. All the time. It was horrible, so – I came home.’

Walking into my childhood bedroom like it was some kind of shrine, remnants of who I used to be and who I thought I was supposed to be scattered everywhere in signed playbills and an old flute and a case of stage makeup. It was the Act Three conflict in the movie of my life, I told myself at the time, watching the whole thing as if it was some out-of-body experience. I’d bounce back. I had to. This was the dark before the dawn – all great heroes had to pass through this moment and so would I.

I just never thought the moment would … last. Forever.

I carry on monologuing at Hayden, who provides a patient and attentive audience.

‘I didn’t quit, though, I just – had to change tack. I tried again. Kept going to auditions. Started getting work as an extra. I thought that was my foot in the door, but that never really paid off. Like the director would pick me out of the crowd in a random nightclub scene for some BBC drama and say, “You! You’re our leading lady!” or something. I got a few minor roles, and that was all. Half of them I had to turn down because I got this job, because – what else was I going to do? I was living at home, sponging off my parents, and they never said anything, but I could tell. You know? They felt sorry for me and I hated that. It … I’m not someone people feel sorry for. I’m someone they look up to. And – nobody was, anymore.

‘So I was like, “Great, okay, I’ll fix this – I’ll get a job, be a productive member of society, stand on my own two feet until it happens!” And, spoiler alert, it still hasn’t happened. I do a few local theatre bits. Some work as an extra in the summer. I send in audition tapes and hear back about maybe one in two hundred. I’m still doing everything right, and I’m still failing, and it’s like – at what point do I have to admit that? And when I do … Once that door closes … That’s it. I’m not an aspiring actress anymore. I’m a failed one.’

I already am, really. But as long as I keep submitting audition tapes, or showing up to rehearsals for some shoddy local production I only half care about … Then it’s still around the corner. My big break, just waiting for me.

I’m not ready to let that go.

I don’t know how much longer I can keep holding out for it; it’s already taken so much from me, I have nothing left to give.

Hayden is quiet, so I shut the filing-cabinet drawer and head over to him. We don’t talk on the way back downstairs – and once we are on the ground floor, my teacher-Spidey senses start tingling. Something is off, trouble is afoot, and I must put a stop to it.

I swing my phone torch around and see the music room door down the other end of the hall is ajar. Someone steps out, a shadow shaped like a man holding a shadow shaped like a blob. His torchlight is aimed behind him and there are voices in the other shadows that move, and I decide that whatever he’s holding isn’t hatchet-shaped enough for him to be the School Reunion Slasher of my imagination.

‘Oi!’ I shout in his direction. ‘What’re you up to? I said, no wandering!’

‘Sorry, miss – uh, Bryony.’ It’s Hassan, Shaun’s friend. A couple of other people join behind him and in the added torchlight as their phones join the fray, I see them all holding instrument cases. Hassan’s got a guitar. He holds it up, looking guilty. ‘Thought we’d get the old band back together.’

‘What?’

‘The band. You know, the school orchestra.’

Thea appears over his shoulder, saying, ‘Yeah, we found some instruments and there’s a bunch of sheet music out, so we thought we’d give it a go until you get the power back up. I think I can still remember “Never Gonna Give You Up” on the clarinet.’

That is the dorkiest shit I have ever heard in my life.

I love it.

Kind of wish I could abandon my responsibilities and go join in. I bet I could still kill that flute solo in our old Swan Lake arrangement.

‘You break it, you pay for it,’ I warn them, and the gaggle of half-lit people nod and promise me they’ll be careful before scurrying off to the school hall again. As they disappear down the other end of the corridor, Hayden gives a snort of laughter.

‘What?’

‘Nothing. Just …’ He scratches his eyebrow, trying hard not to grin and failing miserably. (Happily?) ‘You play the part of “teacher” a bit too well, that’s all. I’m surprised you’ve flown under the radar this long.’

‘Yeah, yeah, I get it. The irony of my greatest performance yet being my boring, rubbish job.’

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