The Day We Met Again

I didn’t feel like meeting with Drew through no fault of his own; I was simply tired. More tired than I had been the day before. I couldn’t sleep because of chatty Georgie. I loved Georgie, inarguably the best roommate of my entire life: we were kindred souls. Unfortunately, our chatter seemed to know no boundaries and he kept me awake until way past 5 a.m. that day.

 Laundry, luggage, groceries for my other two, mentally unstable roommates; rent in NYC was too expensive for it to just be me and Georgie; it was a vicious cycle that plagued my generation. I couldn’t just wait for Drew to respond to me; I had errands to run before my big move. It was poetic irony. Headed back to LA after I swore I’d never return there. Nonetheless, I was determined to chase some dream that kept blurring itself between finding a man I hadn’t seen in years to becoming the man the world wanted to see.

“How about we meet at the venue?” Drew finally responded to me; I was nowhere near done with my errands.

“I’ll text you when I’m on my way,” I responded.

After finishing my grocery-run with Georgie, I made my way to the L-line. I boarded the subway, congested with different faces but the same stench that I had somewhat grown accustomed to; another poetic irony as I never became accustomed to the stench of my other two unstable roommates.

Maybe I was mentally unstable myself; I had felt relentlessly driven the day before: from self-tapes, virtual auditions, to scheduling virtual interviews; I was hustling yet avoiding the grueling process of applying at restaurants, bars, or any other soul-crushing job that paid a livable wage. This evening, I was simply tired and didn’t apply my energy towards anything other than mindless errands.

I walked through the city for about nine minutes, taking in the skyscrapers, bustling people, and general aggressiveness between 8th and 10th avenue. I couldn’t release the ifs and maybes of…maybe I should stay. To stay or go. I had a dream! If only the vision could stay consistent. I reached the hotel soon enough…

“Go up to the fourth floor, make a right, make another right, and give my name to the guy at the box office.”

I read Drew’s text message, but delayed my entrance for a few minutes. I looked at the view from that fourth floor; skyscrapers, Manhattan skyline: the New York City dream. Was this a part of my vision worth committing to? Was returning to LA the devil in disguise?

“Hello, Drew,” Drew said to me. Both our names were Andrew; he asked to be called Drew by everyone. I loathed being called Drew by anyone, him included.

I got there early enough for us to catch up, even though it had only been a week since we last met. Drew was a kind yet neurotic soul, though in his mind, he was simply a perfectionist. I told him about my past Sunday, and the man I had met. Not the man occupying my thoughts at that moment; this man was worthless to me, just like I had been worthless to him after our transactional date consisting of various fluid exchanges.

“What a jerk, I’m so sorry,” Drew responded as I finished my anecdote of my time with this man. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t feel used; for as worthless as this man was to me, I did give him something, even if I didn’t know what this something was.

“Are you familiar with a cabaret?” Drew asked me two minutes before the show started as if I had been raised in some remote cave; Drew also had touches of condescension to complement his neurotic, kind soul.

“I am,” I answered as the lights dimmed. The man performing, Joey, came onstage. He looked at all of us, a joyful gleam in his eyes. He sparkled, either because of his musical spirit igniting as his fans looked in anticipation, or due to the makeup and sweat blending together. Regardless, all eyes were on Joey, including my own.

I listened to Joey for the next seventy minutes, even when the program promised us seventy-five; I listened and heard every word of every lyric he recited, and nonetheless, I was looking at a completely different man. Not the man I had a transactional exchange with a week back; I was looking at a man I hadn’t seen in years; a man I kept seeing in countless men that day.

I enjoyed the performance as it allowed me to disengage from those around me without being held accountable. I didn’t feel particularly moved by Joey’s performance, not even when he, teary-eyed, dedicated a song to his dead sister—his best friend. At least he could say he had a best friend, or friend period, in a family member. It did, however, remind me of my grandma, who if the dates lined-up, I had lost around the time Joey lost his sister. If only my grandma passing could consistently fuel my art the way it did for Joey. Perhaps it was because, unlike Joey, I unconsciously awaited the day my grandma and I would meet again.

“Did you enjoy that?” Drew asked me, eyes filled with prim zealousness, only seconds after the performance ended.

“I did, it was wonderful,” I fibbed. I sat, needing to pee but afraid of offending Drew in doing so immediately after the show. I did, however, need to make it to a virtual job interview, the interview that served as a catalyst to my return trip to LA.

“I’m going to hangout here for a bit. I want to say high to Joey, but don’t want to overwhelm him. Let me introduce you to the Harry Potter-looking guy over there,” Drew said, taking charge as I stood up and followed him. Little did Drew know I followed his lead because I was too tired not to—not because he had power over me.

“Hello, Ethan and Christopher,” Drew said, quickly forgetting to introduce me to both men. Ethan reminded me of my friend Tim back home, who also pursued the New York City dream at one point but became disillusioned by the elite, seemingly shallow aspect of the social circles he ran with; ironically, Tim would actively seek this out in LA to the point where it defined his personality.

The Harry Potter-looking guy, this man, we had met before. He looked identical to the man I hadn’t seen in years, almost a lifetime ago. The man bred in New York City who found his way to LA so we could meet. Both men were one and the same; same height, same black, wavy hair, and a charming smile. With only one exception; Christopher’s eyes exuded life, while the one before him exuded the heaviest grief imaginable. Even so, this was the day we met again. “Hi, I’m Christopher,” he finally introduced himself—reintroduced himself.

“I have to get going, family call,” Drew said as the remaining guests crowded around Joey to congratulate him on his performance; Drew refused to inhabit a space that no longer fostered his possessiveness.

“I have to do that virtual interview, I’ll walk you out,” I said to Drew, despite my eyes begging me to stay besides Christopher. I wanted nothing more in that moment. I couldn’t let go of that man after finding him again.

“We’re going to a nearby bar, a queer establishment, I believe, to celebrate Joey,” Christopher said, seductively, as Drew and I were about to say our goodbyes. “We will walk you to the bar,” Drew said, extending all of our time together, even if it was only one man there who I longed to spend the entire night with. Alone yet together.

“You know, Christopher is in that movie you wanted to go see tonight before I bought tickets for Joey’s show,” Drew whispered in my ear as we all crowded the elevator—my first taste at body contact with Christopher. I had indeed suggested a movie, because I would always suggest a movie over any other performance; I was born and bred in LA, after all.

Curiosity got the best of me and I googled Christopher—Christopher Page. Not only had Christopher been in two box offices successes that year, he had slowly built a name for himself in a Netflix miniseries only six years after starting his Tony-winning career in Broadway. One of that information mattered; the only detail that made my eyes widened was his birthday, one shared with the man before him.

“This is where we bid you goodnight,” Drew said as the group was a few feet ahead of us while Christopher, Drew, and I had walked elbow-to-elbow. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet. Not again. I couldn’t let life circumstances take me away from this man again. I couldn’t let the falsehood of a job that would allow me to actually work in my career field drive me away from a greater passion; being with the man I loved.

 Yet, I did. Drew and I walked away as Christopher drifted off to rejoin the group, drifted off just like the man before him.

 “Maybe I can take this virtual interview here and join them at the bar,” I thought to myself before voicing my compromise to Drew less than two minutes later.

“No, no, we do not rejoin the group after leaving—that is not the vibe,” Drew said firmly. I repeated the possibility to myself as I bitterly obeyed Drew’s direction; I was wrong: Drew had absolute power over me that night.

We parted ways once we reached the 42nd and Bryant Park subway line. Even as I waited for the notoriously slow A-line, I couldn’t help but reconsider my mistake. Who was Drew to dictate the vibe! It was too late, though. I couldn’t recall the name of the bar they were going to. Fear washed over, because I knew, undoubtedly, that Christopher Page would forget my name by the end of the night, if not sooner. Meanwhile, every attribute of his being now lived inside me, next to that man before him.

“A preliminary interview!” I thought to myself as I almost cried myself to bed that night, in the tent I rented from Georgie; a tent that had housed me after a series of unfortunate events that had brought me and Georgie together. The same tent that was partially responsible for my return trip to LA.

“A preliminary interview!” was what I had opted for in place of that man. “What brought you to New York? Oh, you’re also an actor. Let me connect you to my agent. Here’s my number. You have beautiful eyes. Want to go back to my place? What if you stay here instead of returning to LA?” I could only imagine and regret the scenarios that could have unfolded had I stayed with Christopher. Perhaps they would have been preliminaries to the start of something beautiful.

The truth was, I would never see Christopher Page again. I would never see the man before him again, either; that man who fused with Christopher to create one. My only comfort was remembering every detail of the day we met again.

I