Page 81 of The Dramatic Life of Jonah Penrose
“I get that, but I didn’t need the guilt trip to go along with it. It’s why I have an agent, so you can talk to her when I’m not able to answer those questions. My dad had just died. I didn’t care about this place. At all.”
“Fine.” She held her hands up in surrender. “But the other stuff? Social media is a tricky thing, people follow you because you’re in the show and they want to know about your life. Plus, it’s not like I asked you to lie, is it? You and Dexter seem perfectly happy to me.”
“You’re missing the point.”
“What’s the point, then, Jonah?”
“It’s not right to make someone feel like they’re constantly walking on eggshells. I’ve never felt so insecure in a position before. It’s the weird mind games—”
“You really should choose your next words carefully if you want to ever work with me again, Jonah.”
“Idon’twant to work with you again, Colbie.” He knew admitting it to her face would blacklist him with her production company, CPTG, forever, but fuck it, he couldn’t let himself be treated the same way ever again. Not by her. Not by anyone else. “You won’t change. Why would you?” He waited for her to say something, but when she didn’t, he sighed and pushed out the chair to stand. “I’m guessing we’re done here, then?”
“I guess so.”
“I still love this show,” Jonah said seriously. “And I’m never going to look back on it with anything other than the best memories, because I’ve worked with some of the most talented and nicest people in the industry.”
“Good for you, Jonah,” Colbie said and waved her hand in the air, brushing away his words. “Get out of my sight and let’s finish off these last few months so I can see the back of you.”
Jonah let out a short, bitter laugh. She looked at him, her face unreadable. He thought he might have seen a flicker of regret there, but to expect any such emotion from Colbie was like finding the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Colbie Paris. The woman with fire for hair, who no longer dazzled Jonah like she used to, would now just be a shadow in the wings.
There must have been a time when Jonah didn’t feel exhausted, when his body didn’t cry out for sleep and his feet weren’t covered in blisters. Going from rehearsals forCabaretto the shows at the Persephone seemed fine in theory, but actually doing it for the past few months was absolutely not fine. It wasn’t like he wasn’t enjoying himself; he was, he loved the days in the studio with the people who were going to be his new theatre family; he loved working with Julianna, her professionalism and attention to detail beyond anything he could have imagined. He got to work long hours with Omari, who’d also secretly auditioned for the show and would be joining as one of the Kit Kat Club dancers. A beautiful ensemble role he would absolutely shine in. Which meant he received even more daily reminders to stay away from dairy and to cleanse his skin each and every second he wasn’t rehearsing. His mind and body were exhausted. But he also loved going to the Persephone after rehearsals, putting on his costume for Achilles, and belting out song after song to sold-out audiences while sneaking in kisses with Dexter any moment he could.
Being at the theatre also meant he could comfort Sherrie, who seemed to burst into tears every time she saw him. She did the same to Bastien and Omari, her emotions surrounding them leaving far too great for her to handle. Jonah did his best to reassure her they’d still be friends, but he could see the uncertainty behind her eyes. Jonah knew theatre schedules could be notoriously unkind to friendships between shows. But they would make it work. At the very least, he knew he would be there to listen to her updates on her continuously baffling relationship with Romana. And in return, Sherrie promised to listen to Jonah talk about Dexter, though their romance contained far less drama than hers, which Jonah was eternally grateful for.
They somehow managed to settle back into their relationship quickly, invading each other’s dressing rooms and heading back to Camden together after the shows. They split their nights between their homes, Jonah’s clean but untidy place on Castle Road and Dexter’s show-home level of organization and cleanliness over on Lawford. Some nights they said very little on their way home, both too tired; but just being together, palm to palm, created a deep sense of comfort. He craved more time with him, time to go on dates, time to run away and get lost in each other for hours on end, and time to talk into the early hours of the morning. Time they simply didn’t have. For when Jonah was rehearsing forCabaret, Dexter put in the hours forCrazy for You, and the blisters on his feet were even worse than Jonah’s.
“I think... I think my toes might actually fall off,” Dexter said one night after they got back home and he pried his shoes from his feet. “I can’t feel them. Can they fall off, is that a thing?” Then, after spending ten minutes on Google and convincing himself he had the start of gangrene, Jonah talked him out of going to the hospital to request his toes be amputated. The two of them sat on the edge of the bathtub and bathed their feet until one in the morning while sipping on glasses of wine.
Now, though, as they took to the stage forThe Wooden Horsefor the final time, Jonah pushed aside the pain in his body and physical and emotional exhaustion; this would be his farewell to Achilles, to the role that made him an Olivier winner. The role that introduced him to the absolute whirlwind known as Dexter Ellis and gave him the confidence to know he was better than what Colbie Paris thought of him.
“I don’t know if I’m ready for this,” Bastien said from the wings as he dabbed the sleeve of his costume against his eyes. “Goddammit, I’m crying already.”
“Stop it,” Omari hissed as he started to cry. “You’ve set me off, you bastard.”
“I’m right here with you, okay?” Jonah whispered and took Bastien’s hand into his. “Patroclus and Achilles forever, right?”
Bastien’s face crumpled as more tears fell from his eyes. “Don’t say shit like that, Jonah. For God’s sake, I’m an emotional mess, why are you making me cry more? You’re such an arsehole.”
Jonah laughed and pulled his friend into a hug. “Save the tears for later, okay? Let’s go out there and give the best performance we’ve ever done, yeah?”
“Deal,” Bastien mumbled, then pulled away to take a deep breath and fan his hand in front of his eyes. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.”
But he cried, he cried more than Jonah thought humanly possible. The moment Bastien stepped out onto the stage the audience erupted into applause, and he stood for a few seconds, not able to say his lines because of the deafening sound of cheers. Jonah smiled from the wings as he watched his friend try to subtly wipe the tears from his eyes, but the audience didn’t care. They only clapped more until finally dying down to allow the show to continue. They offered the same respect for all the cast members who were due to take their final bows that night, and when Jonah made his entrance, the world stopped for a minute. He looked out at the crowd, their faces beaming, and for the briefest of moments, he thought he saw his dad in the same seat he sat in opening night. He could see his sea-blue eyes and wispy hair, the smile on his face showing nothing but pride for his son. He wanted to reach out to him, to tell him how much he missed him. But even though Jonah knew it wasn’t him, he allowed himself to believe it until the cheering went quiet and he started to sing. His father remained in the seat until the song ended, then he turned back into just any other man. Jonah thanked him silently for being there, for always being there.
Performing Achilles for the last time wasn’t as gut-wrenching as he expected, probably because he knew it wasn’t just him leaving; most of the cast were moving on, leaving only a couple to stay for the next year. The next time the curtains opened at the Persephone there would be a new Achilles, and he would be played differently, with different movements and mannerisms. Jonah didn’t mourn the Achilles he knew; he was part of him now, and the legacy Jonah left behind was not something to despair over, just the end of a chapter in a book, ready to be taken over by a new main character.
As the cast took to the stage for their final bows, Dexter smiled brightly at Jonah and he reached for his hand, so they bowed in unison with therest of the cast. When they stood, every single member of the audience got to their feet, and Jonah tried to take in every one of their faces no matter how impossible that was. He saw his mum in the stalls with Aunt Penny and Sally, her hands clapping above her head as she whooped and cheered for him, the skeletal woman he knew her as a few months ago replaced by a beacon of health. He knew the path she walked would forever be a rocky one, but one she didn’t walk alone. He waved at them, and they waved back, cheering even louder, and he laughed as Sally and Penny danced happily in the small space in front of their seats.
He turned his head to look at Dexter, to watch him reveling in the applause, but Dexter was looking at him, his eyes glassy, and he gently cupped Jonah’s cheek and pulled him close to kiss him, center stage, in front of everyone. He first kissed him on this stage, not that he considered it their first real kiss, but this was where it started, Jonah knew it. The crowd cheered again, as did the cast, who were hugging and laughing around them, the happiness surrounding them beyond anything Jonah could have possibly imagined. He tried not to cry, but Dexter was there, his arm wrapped around him, and the lump in Jonah’s throat grew until he was blinking back tears and trying his hardest to remember he needed to breathe.
At some point the backstage crew came out with flowers, handing them to the cast members leaving, and Jonah tried to juggle his massive bouquet as he pulled out a scrunched-up piece of paper from the belt of his costume, all while being handed a microphone to speak. He cleared his throat and the audience went quiet, as phones came out to take photos and videos of the speech he was about to give. He didn’t actually want to give the speech; the graduating cast wrote it one night while hanging out late at The Roundhouse, and voted Jonah as their spokesperson despite his protests. And now, standing in front of his friends and the hundreds of people who came out to see them, he suddenly felt nervous, as if he were walking to the stage to collect his Olivier all over again.
“Thank you so much for the love you’ve shown us all tonight,” he said as Bastien wrapped his arm behind his back and Dexter smiled fondly at them both from behind his own bouquet. “For a lot of us, this is our finalnight here at the Persephone performingThe Wooden Horse. This show is special to so many people. It tells a story of love, betrayal, family, and hope. The message of everlasting love is still relevant today, and we can look at Helen and Paris, and Patroclus and Achilles and see ourselves in them, in the way they loved so fiercely that we still tell the story of the face that launched a thousand ships to this day. The characters we play are from Greek mythology, but their emotions and actions are as real as we are standing here up on this stage.” The paper shook in his hands as he spoke, and he felt Bastien press closer to him, his anchor, as always. “So, thank you for being part of this journey with us. And thank you to everyone involved in the show. We will always hold our memories here at the Persephone close in our hearts, and we hope you remember our voices for years to come.”
As they walked offstage, he saw Sherrie in the wings as she pulled Romana into a kiss, the two of them fitting together perfectly, almost like a harmony written just for them. If they could make it work, they could be beautiful together, and he hoped the Persephone would be kind to them. He looked over his shoulder one last time at the audience in the beautiful theatre. The red velvet, the sparkling chandeliers, and ornate coving and paintings on the ceiling all looked back and bowed to him, and there, in the wings, he bowed back and said his goodbye to the stage of the Persephone.
Thirty-Three
