Page 92 of I Did Something Bad
Those are the four words I’ve had thrown my way the most frequently over the past few months. Everyone wants to know whatheis like.
“Who? Oh, you mean Tyler?” I sometimes reply casually.
When my editor first offered me this assignment, I was very aware that this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity; and while some things that initially feel like once-in-a-lifetime opportunities can turn out to be boring or regretful, shadowing Tyler Tun for two months has not been one of them.
Those two months were the first time he was back in Yangon after one and a half years away. He’s here to shoot (part of)Guns, Bars, and Getaway Carswith his costar and real-life best friend May Diamond—which, if somehow you missed the million or so announcements about it, is the latest action-slash–romantic comedy film on his résumé. It is a movie that is big and fun and exciting and leaves you grinning as the cinema lights come back on and you brush stray popcorn kernels off of your jeans. In other words, it is the film equivalent of Tyler’s personality.
Because the thing about Tyler Tun is, you get exactly the person you imagined, but also you don’t, because you getmore. He is the perfect casting choice for any action flick or romantic comedy, the actor that walks into the room andthe casting agent immediately goes, “Yes. Him,” before instructing their assistant to get rid of the other waiting hopefuls. Because there is no point in seeing who else will walk through the door.
I think that’s it: “Yes. Him,” is precisely what you think when he walks through a door, that door, or even this door, or any door. Yes. Him. Of course. Who else could it have been?
Yes.
Him.
Him, who is as handsome and charming and kind as he appears on your TV or laptop screen or whatever your streaming device of choice is, and also him who is sarcastic and silly and, frankly, easily tipsy. He is the diamond of every season, but he is also the friend who asks if you want to ditch the party and drives the two of you to the nearest McDonald’s. He is soft with his emotions and hard in his convictions, generous with his time but careful with his trust.
Yes, naturally, him. Always him.
I get it now. It’s been over two months since I last saw him, and all I can think about still is him.
Tyler is the kind of person that, when he looks you straight in the eye and tells you, “I’ve got you,” the words imprint in your mind for hours that become days that become weeks that become months, because it feels like a lifetime promise, one that you can cash in anytime, anywhere.
To know Tyler Tun is to wonder how you ever moved through this world unaffected by his existence. To know him is to love him, love every single part of him, from the etched crow’s-feet on his ridiculously perfect face, to the way hisshoulders shake when he belts out a laugh, to the fact that his favorite song is Tina Turner’s “The Best.” Loving him is warm and slow, not in a stilted way, but sweet, warm honey taking its time melting and spreading; it is love that grows and grows, and just when you think you cannot be any more infatuated with a single person, grows some more when he does something that you thought only fictional men in romance novels did. I suspect he is the type of person who texts you “good morning” every day without fail because you once mentioned that you think it’s cute when people do that. I suspect if you fall asleep on his shoulder in a taxi, he carefully holds your head steady so that you’re not jostled awake by a speed bump. I suspect he picks you up at the airport and pulls you into him with a “There’s my girl,” regardless of how delayed your flight is. That if he has to leave town early in the morning, he unloads the dishwasher so that you have clean mugs ready for your morning coffee. I suspect he never lets you down, not once.
Perhaps this is a conversation I should have with my editor, but frankly, I don’t know how to distill Tyler Tun, and specifically the Tyler thatInow know, into a single article. I could have spent three more months to three decades with him, and it still would not be enough time, because every time I learned something new about him, I would once again be overwhelmed by the fact that a person like this exists. After all, scientists have spent centuries studying the sun and yet they are not done, they will probably never be done, never get to a point where they go, “Okay, we know all there is to know.”
It is only fitting, then, that the world revolves around him,because that’s what Tyler is: the sun. Warm and bright and beautiful, commanding attention wherever he goes. When he walks into a room and the whispers of “Is that—?” start, the only thing I now think isOf course. Who else could it be?
Yes. Him.
Twenty-three
“I didn’t think you’d pick up,” I say, startled.
A beat. “I almost didn’t.”
“How are you?” I get up from the couch and power walk over to the window, then make a U-turn and head for the dining table. “How’s LA?” I ask. In retrospect, I should’ve prepared for what to do if shedidanswer.
“What do you want, Khin?” May’s tired sigh makes it clear that there’s a timer on this conversation, and I’m guessing it’s not very long.
“I need to talk to him,” I say in a breathless rush.
She barks out a laugh. “Why? Because you need more gossip for your article?” I don’t have a response. “Why are you callingmeanyway?”
“Oh come on, that’s the oldest test in the book. Thou shalt not reach out for reconciliation without first getting best friend approval.”
There’s another pause during which I want to say I can hearher smile, but that could very well be wishful thinking. “This isn’t up to me.”
“But you know him better than anyone. If you don’t think I’m good for him, then I’m not.”
“How do you expect me to respond to that?” May scoffs. “That I’m still rooting for you two? That I’ve been waiting around for you to call me and ask me exactly this so I can orchestrate some big romantic reunion for you? You used him.”
I watch my reflection blink back tears. “I know I messed up. When I took this assignment, when he met me, whenyoumet me, I was in a bad place, although I didn’t want to acknowledge it. And I’m not making excuses for myself. I kept telling myself that Tyler would understand because he was an actor, a celebrity, that this was his job. And I was a journalist, and this wasmyjob.”
“He’s notjustan actor, Khin,” May snaps. “You think it was bad to have your friends and family judge you for your divorce? Try having the whole world judge you anytime you mess up, even just a little bit. And try doing that with the weight ofrepresentationon your shoulders. Actors like me and Tyler aren’t allowed to say the wrong thing, or make one drunken mistake. Even on our worst day, we have to act like we’re the happiest, most resilient people in the world. Every. Day,” she says, sounding like she’s talking through gritted teeth. “We have to act like we’resograteful for what these white producers and casting directors and magazine editors have given us.”
“May—”
