Page 13 of Risk It All

I turn off the bedside lamp and all is quiet.

All except my mind.

I can’t turn it off, can’t stop thinking about the set tonight.I’ve gone over every line a dozen times by now and I still don’t know what I did wrong.Part of me knows that every comic just has nights like tonight but I still can’t stop obsessing over it.

“I can feel you thinking,” Emerson whispers and I roll over onto my side to face her in the dark.

“I can’t stop thinking about where I went wrong tonight,” I admit, hating how weak and needy I sound, even to my own ears.

“I thought that you were great.I mean it’s a little less funny now that I’ve heard the set a few times, but I still laughed.The crowd was just vicious,” she says and I feel the bed shake as she shivers a bit.

“Are you cold?”I ask her.

“A little.The room just needs to warm up a bit.”

I scoot closer to her, telling myself that it’s just to help her warm up a bit.

“Do a lot of your crowds heckle you like they did tonight?”she asks me and I shake my head.

“You get some drunk people every now and then but nothing like tonight.At least not in Los Angeles.”

“Different town, different crowd?”

“Apparently so.”

“How do you move past it?”

“Get back out there.”

“Like riding a bike?”she asks and I nod.

“Something like that.”

“When did you know that you wanted to be a comedian?”

“Since I was a kid.I always loved to make people laugh.”

“I bet you were the class clown,” she says and I can hear the smile in her voice.

“Oh, I was,” I say with a laugh.

“Do your parents like that you went down this path?”

“Yeah, they’re supportive.They just want us to be happy and healthy.What about yours?Are they happy that you got an art degree and started working at galleries?Or did they want you to be a painter instead?”

“Neither,” she admits and I can hear the sadness in her voice.“They wanted me to become a teacher and some guy’s wife.Then I could stay in Idaho and pop out two perfect kids all before I was thirty.They don’t get art, don’t think that it’s a good career path, and certainly don’t like that I live and work in Los Angeles.”

“That sucks.I’m sorry, Emerson.”

I can feel the bed shift and I know that she must have just shrugged.

“We should get some sleep.We have another long day in the car tomorrow,” she says through a yawn and I nod.

“Goodnight Anthony.”

“Goodnight Emerson.”

As I roll over onto my back and let my eyes drift shut, I realize that Emerson has done what I’ve never been able to do.

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