Page 62 of I Did Something Bad
Her honesty catches me by surprise. “Did you ever tell him?”
“No.”
“Why not?” I ask. My journalistic senses kick in, sirens start blaringscoopin my head. The world would’ve gonenutsat the news of Tyler and May as a couple. Wouldstillgo nuts.
“For a while, it was your run-of-the-mill cowardice.What if I losehim as a friend,blah blah, same old shit. But after a while, I realized he had things he needed to sort out,” she says in a pragmatic way, as though this is a line of thought she’s spent a long time threading together and ironing out. “I know it makes perfect sense on paper. We’re best friends, there’s no one I trust more in the world. Dating Tyler, having him as my partner in every context including a romantic one—it would make things so much easier.”
She keeps talking, but in my head, it’s transitioned to that scene in a movie where the background music gets turned down. For several worrying seconds, I forget that I am a journalist, or that I have no actual stake in this game. To be honest, I even forget that I’m driving (which I rectify by recalibrating my attention to the road immediately).
It takes me another beat to put an overarching name to the series of chain reactions that’s flooded my system: jealousy. I am jealous at the idea of May and Tyler dating. Of the fact that theymake perfect sense on paper; she’s correct, but factual accuracy doesn’t do anything to abate my queasiness.
There is nothing I can do to deny it: I am jealous at the idea of Tyler dating May. I turn the epiphany over and over, trying to come at it from all angles, trying to see it through as many different perspectives as possible like it’s a prism and surely it must be distorted.
And then another, more excruciating thought flies through my brain cells before I can close the gates: I am jealous at the idea of Tyler datinganybody.
The epiphanies fall like dominoes in my brain.
Because I do not want to simply “start dating” again.
Because there is only one person I actively want to date.
“But we never have, I promise.” May’s voice cuts through the warm, heavy haze that’s blanketed all of my senses.
“Wh-why not?” I ask, because I need to know. Why would anyone choose to not date Tyler Tun?
“Because Tyler doesn’t know what he wants in a partner, and as much as I love him, I want to be with someone who does know what they want from a relationship. Someone decisive and who, if it comes down to it, knows where his priorities lie.”
Pulling up at a light, I cock my head in her direction with a generally confused expression.
“Okay, so you know how everyone is juggling a lot of balls, and sometimes you gotta drop some plastic balls to save the glass ones?” she asks.
I nod.
“But with Tyler,everythingis a glass ball. You know he personally campaigned fortwoyears to get this movie made?”
I gape at her. “What?Thisone?”
“Yep. He attended pitch meetings and sat down with the writers afterward to see how they could implement the feedback into the script. He’d fly twelve-hour round trips while he was in the middle of shooting other movies or doing press tours because he wanted to be present for in-person meetings,” she says. “No studio wanted to fund this film. A rom-com starring two Myanmar people, set in Yangon? But Tyler and Yasmin refused to give up. I’ve been trying to get him to chill, but of course, he’s already thinking ahead to publicity time. He and I are both listed as executive producers, but he deserves the title a thousand times more than I do. And this big call he’s got tonight? It’s probably about his next movie, or the one after that, or even the one after that. Knowing him, he’s got his next six films already lined up. Do you know he drinks three coffees every morning?”
I don’t notice that the light has turned green until a succession of loud, angry honks jolts me. “Every morning?” I ask. I guess that explains all the mints.
“Yep. He wakes up, has one coffee, runs three to seven miles depending on how much time he has, showers, has another coffee, repliesto his emails because he has a self-imposed forty-eight-hour response time, and then has one last one before he heads out the door. Every. Morning.”
I’m trying to do the mental math of how long all of that takes. How early does Tyler wake up on the mornings that he has an 8A.M.call time? Guilt warps my insides as I realize how late he’s been staying out with me in the evenings.
“He isexhausted,” May continues. “But if he’s not busy working, he’s busy looking after everyone else. The first big paycheck he got, he used it to build his parents their dream house. He was so excited to hang out with them more while he was here, but after what happened at that dim sum place”—she shoots me a quick look to let me know that she’s not blaming me, but stating facts—“now he’s terrified that people will start hounding them. I know his mom and dad keep trying to tell him they don’t care as long as they get to see him, but he keeps rescheduling meals with them.”
I glance over at my phone to make sure I’m still on the right path. I have no idea how I’ve been driving for the past ten minutes. Shoutout to muscle memory. “And the same is… true when it comes to dating? This juggling act he’s got going on?”
May chuckles, as though this whole time she was waiting for me to circle back to this question. “Yes, unfortunately. It’s so fucking clichéd, but he doesn’t let anyone get close because he doesn’t want to be distracted and accidentally drop a glass ball. But ever since his career kicked off, he hasn’t taken the time to figure out his identity outside of it. As though he’s scared that if he takes even one break, all of it will disappear in a flash. I love him to death, but he’s one of those people who, if you take away his job, doesn’t know who he is. Or what he wants. And like I said, I want a partner who knows what he wants.”
And there we go, yet another item to add to the list of Reasons Why Crushing on Tyler Is a Preposterous Idea that I Cannot BelieveI Am Even Entertaining—because that is exactly whoIam: someone who knows what she wants. If I were to (after drinking a bottle and a half of wine, obviously) ask him out, it wouldn’t be for a one-night stand. No, I already know that if I were to admit out loud that I wanted Tyler Tun, I would want to dive headfirst into the deep end. The problem is,hewould hesitate on the ledge.
Everything May’s saying—has said—is helping cushion the blow of my recent epiphany (although now I’m wondering if I am the last person in this world who has realized that they want Tyler Tun in that sense? Probably). After all, she knows him better than anyone in the world, and if evenshe’saware that being with Tyler can only end badly, thenI’mcertainly not ready to offer up my heart like that. My brain rewinds to another thing she’s said in this conversation, about how hard Tyler’s worked to get this movie made. Becausethat’swhat he’s here for, and in spite of the ever-growing guilt that I hadn’t anticipated when I first got this assignment, it helps me refocus and remember whatI’mhere for. We’re both simply doing our jobs. This time we’re spending together is just that small sliver in the middle of the Venn diagram where we temporarily overlap.
“What about you?” she asks. “Do you know what you’re looking for?”
“No,” I say, the lie pricking my tongue.
