Page 123 of If Ever

I give her a toothless grin.

She cringes. "Where's your new tooth?"

"We figured it wasn't worth the time to build a temporary one when I'll be getting the crown in the morning anyway."

"They can do it that fast?"

"Call it the magic of show business. When money's involved, anything can happen."

The subway is quiet this time of night, mostly shuttling people on their way home from working the late shift. We ride in silence but get off a stop early to hit the all night pharmacy and fill a prescription for painkillers. The moment we're home, Chelsea insists I take a one.

"It's not bad," I say through a numb upper lip.

"And we're going to keep it that way. You need to sleep." She fetches a glass of water.

"But I've gotta get up in the morning to prepare for a meeting."

“Under the circumstances don’t you think you should cancel it?”

“If I can I will, but this is a very important…meeting.”

She sighs and holds out a pill and the glass of water. “Here.”

The next morning Sean calls to say he couldn't change my call back, so I prep for it while on my way to the dentist. By the time I arrive at the audition three hours later, my upper lip is tingling as the medication wears off.

I knock out the audition, try to say all the right things to the assembled team, and hope I'm what they're looking for. Whipped, I catch the subway home. If there were frequent flier miles for subway rides, I'd have earned myself a trip around the world by now.

***

Monday afternoon Tom walks in as I’m sliding a roast in the oven. Despite losing his tooth after a kick to the mouth, he went right back to the show and was out all day. His shoulders sag as he slumps down on the couch. “You’re cooking. It smells good.”

“It’s the garlic and onions. Long day?”

He nods. “I’m winning the battle, barely, but losing the war.”

When he’s not at the theatre, he’s constantly preparing for or at another audition, but I’m learning not to ask about it. His non-stop schedule is insane and having me around probably makes it worse. I join him on the sofa. “Tell me about it.”

He kicks off his shoes and stretches onto his back with his head in my lap. “Eight shows a week for a year is kicking my ass. My throat is killing me and I feel a cold coming on. I bet Paige gave it to me. She was sick last week.”

I cringe. If he’s catching a cold from stage kisses with Paige, then will I get it? “Do you want some pain killers?” I run my fingers through his hair, pushing it off his forehead.

“I just took some an hour ago.”

I know how worried he gets about his voice. If it gives out, he can’t perform. His brow is creased. I massage my thumb and forefinger along his brow line.

“God, that feels good.” He closes his eyes and sighs. “I don’t know how much longer my body can hold up.”

“Can’t you call in sick tomorrow?”

“No.” His eyes pop open. “My name is on the marquee. People pay a lot of money expecting to see me, not my understudy. It’s one thing when a kick to the teeth forced me out, but the audience always feels let down when they don’t get the headliner.”

“Yeah, I suppose. But I hate watching you run yourself into the ground.”

He sighs. “The only way I know how to perform is to give everything I have. And I will keep showing up and putting my heart and soul on that stage until I physically can’t.”

His eyes connect with mine and his dedication is admirable and frustrating. He continues. “But that’s also why I can’t keep doing this show. I love it, but it’s killing me. At least I’ll have Christmas week off, and then I only have a few more weeks until I can take a real break for a bit. Then I can finally give you all my attention.”

“But you have all these auditions.”

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