Dear Mr. Brody by A.M. Johnson

Parker

Frantic was the only way I could describe it. Backstage, the kids from Pride House rushed around, getting dressed in their costumes and moving props. Marcos was frazzled, too, and I heard him trying his best to be polite to one of our younger cast members who wouldn’t sit still long enough for him to glue on her fake lashes. Even Chance, our cool and collected director seemed nervous. He asked me about a thousand times if I needed anything and if everything was ready. I got the impression he didn’t like it when he had nothing to contribute. Me, on the other hand, I was one-hundred-percent freaked the fuck out. I peeked out from behind the curtain again and started to sweat. The place was almost full. The crowd was at least double the size from last year. But last year I hadn’t written the play, and the responsibility of everything made me nauseous.

“We have a problem,” Rachel said in her too-calm-shit-is-about-to-hit-the-fan tone. “Denny… is… Parker, he’s having a full-blown panic attack in the bathroom and just threw up all over himself.”

“What?” The room started to spin. “He’s Silas.”

“I know.”

“We start in like twenty minutes.”

“I’m aware of that little tidbit as well.”

“Rach…” Jesus Christ. “I mean, we can figure out the costume, but he’s going on, right?”

She pressed her lips together and winced. “No… he said he can’t do it.”

“Shit.” A tiny part of me wanted to march over to the bathroom and tell him to suck it the fuck up. That he wasn’t a quitter. That he could do this. That we were depending on him, but he didn’t deserve the guilt trip. He worked hard, and I know he was scared from the beginning, but like the rest of these kids, they’d been forced in roles they never wanted their whole lives, and I wasn’t about to add to that trauma over a stupid play. “What are we supposed to do?”

“I heard Denny isn’t going on?” Chance asked, and Rachel and I both deflated.

“He’s going to fire us,” she said under her breath.

“Will you quit it with that.”

Chance stared at us both. “What’s the back-up plan?”

I didn’t have one. “Let me think.”

I paced back and forth a few times and Marcos noticed. “What’s going on?”

“Denny isn’t going on,” Rachel said, and my stomach clenched again.

“Fuck.” Marcos didn’t even try to lower his voice, and I think Chance might’ve actually glared at him. I couldn’t tell. The man was impassive as hell. “Oh my God, Park. You can be Silas.”

“What? No.”

“Why not?” Rachel asked. “You wrote the damn play. You know the lines.”

“It could work,” Chance added, and I wanted to scream. I think Marcos’s drama had started to wear off on me after all these years.

“For one, I have no costume,” I said. “And I’m not kissing a fourteen-year-old.”

“Nix the kissing scene and we’re good,” Marcos said. “I got the costume under control. Chance, give me your pants.”

“Ah…” His thick brows dipped into a severe line. “Why?”

“You’re the only one around here close to Parker’s size.” Marcos held out his hands and the silent “duh” hung between us all. “Besides, those jeans have seen better days, it fits the whole homeless lost boy look perfectly.”

Rachel covered her smile with her hand.

“Marcos…” I warned and he shrugged. “It won’t work.”

“It will,” he insisted and called one of the kids over. “Can you grab me a few of those ivy garlands off the cottage prop. I think two or three will be enough.”

“I’ll look ridiculous standing next to Jake. I’m a grown-ass man. I can’t be a lost boy.”

I wrote the play. I wasn’t a goddamn actor. My gut churned, and the empathy I had for Denny increased threefold.

“Park, what else can we do?” Rachel pleaded and Christ, this was happening.

“Fine. But I want a raise, and you have to promise to never fire Rachel,” I pointed at Chance, and he actually laughed.

“Sure.”

“And I’m not kissing Jake. I’ll just… rest my cheek against his when the time comes.”

“Sounds good,” Rachel said, setting her hands on my shoulder. “Now hurry the hell up, the curtain is supposed to open in ten minutes.”

“Wait a minute,” Marcos said as Chance started to walk away. “I wasn’t joking. I need those pants.”

“I can wear my own jeans.”

“No… they’re too nice.”

“There’s holes in the knees.” Chance pushed his hands in his pockets, looking Marcos up and down. “I think I’ll keep my pants on… for now.”

When he walked away Rachel asked, “Did he just hit on Marcos, or am I high?”

“He did no such thing.” Marcos made a fake gagging noise, and I was too nervous to laugh.

“You’re on the clock, Basulto, make me pretty.”

Back in the dressing room, Marcos quickly turned my jeans into shorts. He cut out a jagged line around my legs, and I was surprised at how well they turned out. Instead of a shirt, Marcos wrapped the ivy from the cottage around my waist and chest.

“I don’t look half-bad.”

“Sit,” he said. “I only have three minutes, I can’t promise you anything fabulous, but close your eyes.”

“Um…”

“Don’t give me shit, mijo.” He snapped his fingers and I sat in the chair. “Thank you.”

“You’re scary sometimes,” I said and closed my eyes.

“Yeah… well, you’re an idiot all the time so…”

I couldn’t see his face, but I knew him well enough to know he was smiling.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“You have no idea,” he said and applied something to my eyelids with a featherlight touch. “Almost done. One more thing.”

“Can I open my eyes?”

“Not yet. Pucker your lips.”

“Fuck that.”

“It’s only gloss, stop being a baby.” He rolled the sticky substance on my lips, and I sighed.

“I hate you.”

“If you hated me, you wouldn’t have helped me finish the assignments I missed in your boyfriend’s class. Which I only missed because I’m a loyal motherfucker.”

“You’re not supposed to mention that.”

“Shut up and open your eyes.”

I blinked at him, and the smile on his face was next-level smug.

“Do I look dumb?”

“You look hot, and it’s freaking me out. I can’t have incestuous thoughts about you, Park. We’ve made it this far.”

I shoved him out of the way, and I didn’t recognize myself in the mirror. “Holy shit.”

“I’m that good.”

I pressed my lips together, the slick gloss shined under the lights. My cheeks were flushed, my eyes ringed in a dark black liner, and he’d smudged some gray on my lids, with a little bit of blue flaring out from the corners.

“I’m kind of pretty.”

“No shit.” Marcos admired his work and my reflection in the mirror. “Van is going to come in his pants.”

“You can’t say shit like that when there are kids around.”

“I’m sure they hear worse at school.” He smacked my shoulder. “You better hurry, I think everyone is getting in first position.”

I jumped up and took my phone out of my pocket, but before I set it on the vanity, I shot Van a quick text.

Me: I have a surprise for you.

The heat from the stage lights had sweat beading on my forehead for the majority of the play, but I was grateful they’d made it next to impossible for me to see the audience. I’d only stumbled on a few lines in the First Act. The Second Act I’d found my stride, and by the third, I was truly feeling it. I didn’t think acting was in my future, but it was incredible to have this opportunity, to have the chance to be one of my all-time favorite characters, even if I’d wanted to puke for at least the first twenty minutes. Knowing Van was here with his daughter, my own real-life Pan, helped to steady me.

The stage darkened as I walked across it. The entire room was immersed in silence as the spotlight lit up Tink’s grave. It was fiction, but as I stood staring down at the tombstone the kids had painted, my throat ached. I thought about last Wednesday, about those terrible nine days when I thought I’d pushed Van away, when I thought I’d lost the chance to tell him how much I wanted him in my life. I thought about all of it, and my lashes brimmed with tears. I told myself it was the emotion of the day, the panic, the weight of all this responsibility crashing down, but it was relief. Pure fucking relief, and when Jake, aka Pan, walked out from the right side of the stage to take my hand, I exhaled a wet breath.

“She’s gone,” he said, and I nodded, wiping carefully under my eyes. Marcos would kick my ass if I messed up his make-up.

“She did this for us,” I said and turned to him. I rested my cheek to his like we’d planned, no reason it needed to get weird, and I felt Jake’s quiet chuckle against my skin. I took two breaths, remembering my lines, and faced the audience. I pointed at the ceiling. “You see that cluster of stars, Pan? The three just below the moon.”

He made a show of looking up at the ceiling in wonder. “I can see them.”

“The bright one, it’s Tink.” I smiled one small smile. “She sacrificed herself for us, and now she will always be remembered.”

“We’ve all sacrificed,” he said, threading his fingers through my other hand. “But we’re lost boys, do you think we’ll be remembered too?”

“I do… The other two stars, Pan… One day they’ll belong to me and you.”

“They’ll belong to us,” he said and rested his temple against my arm.

“And every night the world will know how much I love you.”

The lights shut off and the crowd erupted with applause. I laughed, and Jake jumped up in the air, banging into me like a maniac. “Holy crap, we did it!”

I high fived him as the lights switched back on and the entire cast came out onto the stage. We all linked hands and bowed to the standing ovation. I found Van sitting three rows back, beaming up at me. He bit his lip and shook his head as I blew him a kiss. Adrenaline rushed through my veins, and I had to tell myself not to jump off the stage and maul him with my mouth. He’d put in his notice yesterday, and after finals week, we would be in the clear. I didn’t think I’d ever not feel guilty for the choice he’d made, but as Anne waved at me, and Van laughed again, it was difficult for me to focus on anything other than the love I could see in his eyes.

After we exited the stage, the crew and cast hugged and cheered, and Chance gathered us all into a huddle. Marcos wiggled in next to me and held my hand.

“I might be a little in love with you, but it’ll pass, just give it an hour.” He grinned and set his head on my shoulder. “You were marvelous…in case you’re in your head about everything.”

“Thanks.” I wrapped my arm around his waist as Chance cleared his throat.

“I know we’ve had a lot of changes recently,” he said, his eyes settling on Rachel. “But I think the future of Pride House has always been in your hands. What you have here. What you’ve all accomplished, it’s astounding. You should be proud of yourselves.” The kids whooped and Rachel smiled. “With ticket sales and two very generous donations from Lowe Literary and St. Benedicts Hospital, we raised a little over fifteen-thousand dollars.”

“Holy shit,” Marcos gasped.

Rachel looked at me and started to cry. All the kids, kind of awestruck, stared at Chance.

“I’ve been a lot of places. Worked with a lot of organizations. But what I’ve seen here… I’m grateful to be a part of this. ‘Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.’”

“He just quoted Neil Gaiman,” I whispered, and Marcos lifted his head.

“Who?”

“I did,” Chance said and gave me an actual smile. “What Gaiman said has always stuck with me. We all have dragons we have to slay, and tonight you did it. You worked hard and it showed.”

All the kids cheered again, and I’d never seen them this happy before. After a few more hugs and tears from Rachel, we made our way to the dressing rooms. Marcos packed up his make-up and I pulled on my shirt.

“Hey, Park.” Denny approached me with a weary smile. “I’m sorry, man.”

I clapped him on the shoulder and pulled him into a side hug. “Don’t be. Everything worked out.”

“I guess it did.” He hung his head. “Not ‘cause of me, though.”

“You worked hard on this, Denny, and I would’ve loved to see you on that stage. But only you can set your limits. And tonight, you hit one, and that’s okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, okay… go celebrate with everyone. We all deserve a little fun after all our hard work.”

“You coming to the pizza place?” he asked.

“I can’t. My boyfriend is taking me out to dinner.”

“Oh,” he said, dragging out the vowel with a smirk on his face. “Have fun.”

He lightly punched me in my arm before he walked away.

“Listen,” Marcos said, as he pulled his bag over his shoulder. “I have to take off, but…” He swallowed and exhaled a sharp breath. “Look, I know I don’t say it enough, but I think you’re fucking amazing. I hope you get that.”

“You are in love with me,” I said and grinned when he narrowed his eyes. “What will I tell Van?”

“Fuck you, Mills. This is why I can never say nice things to you.” He waved his fingers at me. “You always get a big head about it.”

“Thank you.” I kissed his cheek and he nodded. “For all your help.”

He started to walk away as he said, “You know, I asked Rachel about becoming a full-time volunteer.”

“Oh… does a certain tree hugger have anything to do with that?”

“Don’t offend me.” He waved over his shoulder. “See you tomorrow.”

I grabbed my phone off the vanity, and as I headed for the auditorium door, I checked my messages. I laughed when I saw I had a notification from the Pegasus app.

@MeAndMyShadow33: I have a surprise for you too.

@MeAndMyShadow33: I think you forgot to teach me a very important lesson.

I pinned my bottom lip between my teeth as I typed.

@TheL0stB0y: You have my attention.

I was about to open the stairwell door when my phone pinged.

@MeAndMyShadow33: Role playing. Is there any way you can take that ivy home with you tonight?

@TheL0stB0y: You’d like that?

@MeAndMyShadow33: More than I should.

@TheL0stB0y: I might be able to make that happen.

@MeAndMyShadow33: Right now, I just want you in my arms.

@TheL0stB0y: On my way.

Eager to find him, I jogged down the stairs. The crowd had thinned, and I spotted Van talking with Ethan and Anders and…

I almost tripped over my own feet. Pen Aster, the author of The Lost Boys was here, standing next to my boyfriend and his daughter. Van turned his head and smiled when he saw me. I didn’t, couldn’t move. He let go of Anne’s hand and walked toward me.

“What did you do?” I asked, and Christ, my voice shook.

“Anders made it happen, I just asked him if he could.”

“He’s here. Pen Aster is here. And… Oh shit… Was it terrible?”

Van pulled me into his warm arms. “He loved it.”

Fuck it all, I got choked up and let him wrap me up in his embrace. My hands flat on his back, I buried my nose in the crook of his neck, and it was all earthy and lavender, and I might’ve almost cried. Almost.

“I can’t believe you did this for me.” I pressed my lips to his skin. “How are you not freaking out?”

He laughed as I lowered my arms and looked into his eyes. “Believe me, when he showed up, I had a moment. I forgot the word hello.”

My shoulders shook as I laughed. “You did?

“Anders will probably remind me of it daily for the next month.”

“Parker.” Anne let go of Ethan’s hand and ran toward me. “That was so cool.”

“You liked it?” I asked and leaned down to hug her.

“My favorite part was when you stabbed King Juno, the blood looked wicked.”

“It was the perfect adaptation.” Pen Aster held out his hand and I shook it. His bones felt fragile. His skin as thin as paper. “I liked the twist you had at the end.”

I stared at his white hair, the wrinkles on his face all smiling back at me. “I, uh… I…”

“Parker and I are huge fans,” Van said, and I leaned into him. “I think he’s a little starstruck.”

“Like you were,” Pen said, his voice wobbling as he laughed. “I didn’t think anyone knew who I was anymore.”

“You gave me something to hope for,” I said, and I had no idea how I found the words. “When I was a kid. Reading about someone like me. It made me feel like I wasn’t alone.”

His hand trembled as he raised it to my shoulder. I didn’t know if he was nervous, or if it was from age. He had to be over ninety years old.

“I’m glad I was a light for you.”

“For so many,” Van said.

“Tonight, you all were a light for me. You sure know how to make an old man feel special.”

I had about hundred questions for him. But instead, I said, “It was an honor to have you here.”

A younger woman I didn’t recognize looped her arm through his. “We better get going, Uncle Pen. I don’t want you to wear yourself out.”

“Don’t fuss over me, I used to change your diapers,” he grumbled, but it didn’t have much of a bite.

“Thank you for inviting him,” she said to Van. “It meant the world to him.”

He shook all of our hands again and pinched Anne’s cheek before he turned to me one last time. “Good job, son.”

My jaw pulsed as I tried to breathe through the sudden onslaught of nostalgia. Homesick for my father.

“Th… Thank you.”

“We’ll walk out with you, if that’s okay?” Ethan asked, and Pen nodded.

“Anne, sweetheart, go outside with Anders, okay? I need a minute with Parker, then we’ll go to dinner.”

She took Anders’s hand as he said, “I want to talk about the play next week. I think we could do something with it. I’ll have Kris call you.”

“Yeah, okay… that would be great,” I said stunned, and he gave me a quiet smile before he walked away.

The room was almost empty as Van cupped my cheek, his thumb passing softly over my skin. “You looked beautiful up there.” He nodded toward the stage. “I felt it in the end. It was real for you.”

“It was.”

His familiar lips were warm as they enveloped mine. He held my face, kissing me like I might break.

“When you walked out on the stage… Parker. I can’t explain it, but it didn’t surprise me. It should have been you.”

“I thought about you the whole time.” I placed my hand on the back of his neck pulling him in. “Every line…” I kissed his jaw, his chin, finding my way to the soft dip above is upper lip. “Belongs to you, to us.”

“And every night,” he said. “I’ll make sure you know how much I love you.”