Moonsland (EN)

James (XXVII)

  The first thing I do when I get to my room is throw myself backwards onto the bed, just as I did when I got back from the planetarium. The only difference is the thoughts that come into my head. I realize that not telling people about myself can alienate them, as it shows a lack of confidence. However, going from not telling people anything to sharing the most important things about my life scares me. I trust Emily, which is why I told her everything I told her, but the truth is that I've only known her for a very short time. There's no guarantee that she'll never walk away. I can't let emotion make decisions for me. I can't, but I have.

7th week of change

  I sit on the stool and rest my fingers on the grand piano keyboard. We have just under a month to practice for the second and final act of the play, and starting with the piano solo doesn't help my nerves. I look at the front row where the teacher, Emily and a few other students are sitting, as if asking permission to begin. Emily picks up the megaphone, which she bought in the second week, and says:
- You can start whenever you want, James. Good luck!
  I rub my hands together, jump up on the stool to make myself more comfortable and just as I'm about to start playing, the teacher says through Emily's megaphone:
- Have you noticed that you're the only one she wishes good luck to? I don't think I need to say any more. - He laughs.
- It's nothing! - she says, pretending to be offended.
- Are you sure?
- Okay, you're right. But it's only because James has the most important and therefore most difficult role. - he defends himself, looking at me and winking.
- Of course, Emily Castle. Tell you what, I'll pretend to believe it and you pretend to believe that I did. - says the teacher. Everyone laughs. - Now you can start. Good luck! - she adds, imitating Emily's voice.
- Thank you. - I say, laughing. This moment was enough to reassure me and show me what I've been training for over the last month.

  When I finish the solo, everyone applauds. Little do they know that it wasn't even that hard to learn to play this song. The play continues until the final scene, where I have to kiss the girl opposite me. According to the story, the main characters develop their relationship and love throughout the play and only at the last moment do they both kiss, bringing the play to an end. I really enjoyed it when I read the play for the first time, I just didn't understand why the author wanted the characters to kiss for the first time at the end. What author develops the relationship between two characters in such a way that they only realize what everyone wants to see at the end?
  I mentalize that I'm purely playing a character and wrap my arms around the girl's waist, who in turn wraps her arms around my neck. Just as I'm about to kiss her, I hear:
- CUT! - shouts Emily. - That's great, ten-minute break and we'll be back with James on the piano at the beginning of the act.
- Emily, they hadn't finished the act yet. - observes the teacher.
- They had, the only thing missing was the kiss, and they don't need to practice that every time we do it. - says Emily.
- I understand. You don't want to see your 'friend' kiss someone else, do you? - he asks, making the quotation mark symbol with his fingers.
- Either the teacher knows me very well or I'm very predictable. - she says, thinking I'm not listening to the whole conversation because I have my back to her.
- A bit of both. - replies the teacher, laughing.

  Two days to go until the big day. The day of the presentation of two months' work. These last three weeks have been very hectic. In addition to the tests, we've been practicing the second act like there's no tomorrow. Three days a week, four times a day. All these times I've heard Emily shout 'Cut' whenever she's about to kiss the girl. For me it's great, because I don't feel comfortable, even though I'm a coach. For the girl it must have been a nightmare, because last week she asked me out. However, it must have been this intensive routine that made her confuse her feelings for me, because I don't even know her name.
  To make matters worse for my nervous system, I'm feeling anxious because I'm about to tell my parents that I've joined the school theater and that they're invited to watch on Friday. I didn't tell them earlier, because the right opportunity never arose and it's not that today is the best day, but it's the last. If I don't tell them today, they'll find out for themselves and it'll be worse. I sit at the kitchen island, waiting for my parents to arrive for dinner, and take the opportunity to catch up with Betty.
- The theater is on Friday. - I say.
- Already? - he asks, turning to me.
- Yes.
- Have you spoken to your parents?
- I'm going to do it today. That's why I told you I was having dinner with them. It's not for the socializing.
- Don't say that, James. Your mother loves you very much. - Tell me.
- See? Even you know that my father doesn't like me.
- That's not what I meant. - I'm sorry.
- What do you know that I don't? - I ask.
- Nothing, James. I don't know anything you don't know. - she stutters. Just as I'm about to answer her, my parents arrive and she turns to the bench where she was making the food.
- Hello. - I say hello, without much enthusiasm.
- Hello, James. - replies my father, without looking at me.
- Hello, my darling. How are you?" greets my mother, giving me a kiss.
- I'm fine, thank you.
- What's going on that you're here? - she asks. Just as I'm about to answer, Betty interrupts me:
- James was telling me before you arrived that the tests were over.
- Oh, that's right. Betty's already told us that you're not having dinner with us because you have to study. - she says, when she realizes that I don't understand what they're talking about. I want to say that the reason for not having dinner with them is my father, but if I want to have any chance of them accepting my going to the theater, I have to stop myself and accept Betty's lie.
- Do I still have to wait long to eat? - asks my father, already seated, breaking the good mood that was setting in.
- No, Mr. Wilson. It's almost ready. - Betty replies. I'm mentally counting to twenty so I don't tell her that, if she's in a hurry, she can go downstairs and go to a restaurant.
- I'm here because I wanted to tell you that I've been doing theater at school since October and the big performance will be on Friday. - I'll let you know. I couldn't hold out any longer.
- What grades are you going to get this term? - asks my father, impassive, without losing his characteristic posture.
- I have my doubts about gymnastics, but for the rest I get top marks. - I answer. - Why is that?
- And we're supposed to see your presentation? - he asks, ignoring my question and picking up his cell phone.
- I wish they were, yes. - I answer, looking at my mother who remains silent.
- What time does it start?
- Eight o'clock at night and it lasts just over an hour, because of the break between acts. - I reply.
- We'll be there. - he says, putting down his cell phone. - Where do you buy tickets?
- It's free for students and parents. - I reply.
- Of course it is. - she says, in a mocking tone. I ignore his teasing and give my mother a hug. I've missed doing that.
  Minutes later we're sitting at the table being served by Betty. 'Of course, it is' are words that still echo in my head. I can't ignore it, so I ask:
- What did he mean by that?
- What are you talking about? - my father asks.
- When I said that admission was free, he replied 'Of course it is', in a derogatory tone. What did he mean by that?
- I wanted to say that I expected more from your school. A school of your level shouldn't have big free events for anyone to enter.
- Why not? Why is a person who gets paid less than you inferior to you? - I ask. If I didn't know my mother, I'd ask if I really am the son of this person I call father.
- When you grow up, you'll understand that people of our social class aren't made to live with the rabble, like your friend.
- She's admitting to being inferior to her mother. - I say, looking at her, who gives me a disapproving look. - You're judging people by what they're paid. According to the average salary, your paid half of what Mom is paid every month, even though you've had a career two years longer than her.
- You're stretching, James. - That's all he says. He's lost the argument.
- That's what you said.
- Don't make me talk. - Answer.
- I'd love you to talk, actually. They always get home late and sometimes even leave earlier than me in the morning. What lawyer and judge works from six in the morning until eight at night? - I ask.
- You must have forgotten something, James. - he says, looking at me for the first time today. - Here, I'm the father and you're the son. If I want to, I'll come home at eight, midnight, two in the morning or sleep in a hotel. What I do or don't do is none of your business. Focus on your work and I'll focus on mine.
- Mom, what are you hiding from me? - I ask, looking at her.
- James, listen to your father. Please.
- You weren't like this before Tyler... - I say, stopping mid-sentence. I regret saying it as soon as the words come out of my mouth.
- Enough, James. You've gone too far. - shouts my father, getting up from his chair.
- It's all right, Ward. James didn't mean any harm. - she says, placing her hand on my father's.
- Get out of here. - he tells me. I get up from the chair and wrap my hands around his neck. I push as hard as I can, making him look me in the eye while I choke him. I wake up from my thoughts.
- Didn't you hear? Go to your room. Go away, get lost. - He says. I get up and as I'm leaving the room I decide to turn back and say:
- And by the way, Dad. My 'friend' isn't as low-class as you said, and even if she were, she'd still be more important to me than you'll ever be, because she does love me unconditionally.
  Before he can think of an answer, I turn away and go to my room until I hear my mother following me.
- One day I'll tell you everything, I promise. - she whispers to me.
- All of what, Mom? - I ask.
- When the time is right. - she adds, returning to the living room.

  'What is she going to tell me and when?' iswhat I'm thinking as I close my bedroom door. So many years have passed sinceTyler's death and we never talk about it. We don't talk about our move toMoonsland, or the move from the other house to this apartment. But what doesthat have to do with them never being home? Does it have to do with me andthat's why they won't tell me why? If it was something trivial, they'd tell me,wouldn't they? But I can't think about this now. I need to focus. The play isin less than forty-eight hours. I sit down on the stool and rest my fingers onthe piano keys. I take a deep breath, clear my mind and start to play.