Smoke

49: Bathroom Stall

Running into the bathroom, I could barely hear the stage. If I stayed here it would be like it never happened.

It did, though, and I was mortified. I closed myself into a stall, sitting down on the toilet. I couldn't think about how dirty it probably was. I could only focus on my embarrassment at what happened. I sat in the bathroom, breathing hard. My face was red and my throat was scratchy and dry. I could smell the smoke on me, the burning of the fire.

I pulled my hands to my face, covering it. The walkie-talkie I was holding had static coming from it. I could feel the heat from my skin and the coldness in my hands. I felt dizzy.
I still had more scenes to use the smoke for, but I couldn't. No way would I go back out there.

I breathed and my breath caught. The smoke was coming up again, despite it running out onstage. It's my luck, I guess. I coughed, hearing the silence in the air around me like a vacuum. Smoke puffed out of my mouth and went up. My throat was dry, and my chest was tight.

Mother would probably confront me after the play. She would probably be mad. Everyone would, including Danny. And everyone would know about the fire and how it was supposed to go. I cough again. My heartbeat is up. I can't breathe. The air feels thick despite there being barely any smoke in here. It's probably seeping in from the auditorium, spreading through the building. I breathed again and could feel air in the back of my throat. I coughed, again, and continued. I gagged, out of air.

I finally was able to take a breath, and as I did, the air around me buzzed and suddenly went quiet.

"Cecil?" I heard a static from the walkie-talkie I was holding. I stayed quiet, hearing footsteps.
"Are you in here, Cecil?" I heard his real voice, static-free. It was right outside the bathroom. My breath was caught and I struggled to not cough, to not make a sound. I just wanted this to be over with.
"I can hear you. I'm coming in." He said. No way could he hear me, I was frozen and quiet. He was still reading my thoughts. I heard him coming closer, his footsteps light and steady, walking over tile through the open doorway of the bathroom.

"You can't be in here." I said, heart rate picking up when I heard him come close, when he paused after hearing my voice.

"Cecil," he said and paused, "it's really not- it's not that bad." He said. But it was. Everyone saw the smoke, everyone saw me mess up. Now everyone knew.
"No one would know you messed up. The audience doesn't know what is planned or not." He said. I could hear him walking closer, walking into the bathroom. I wanted him to leave me alone, but even though he should just go, it was a relief to hear his voice.

I was quiet, unsure of what to do. I couldn't go back out there. I was still embarrassed. And i couldn't just stay here, even if I wanted to. I felt stuck, and was frozen, with a burning in my lungs and stomach from the fire.

"And you did great. The haze for the lights was great. And so were your- your other low-lying smokes. That one was just an accident." Danny said. Even with what he was saying, I couldn't get up. "The timing was perfect, too. Even with the fire, it was a great scene. The fire," he paused, breathing, exhaling, "it even added to the scene." He said. My thoughts were starting to lessen and calm, and I think he could sense that.

I slowly pulled myself off of the toilet, hand reaching to unlatch the bathroom stall lock. But my hands froze and I couldn't bring myself to do it. I couldn't face the actors, the audience, the Tech Crew. And I would have to explain it to mom afterwards.

"Cecil," Danny said, voice hopeful. It brought me out of my mind again, and I unlatched the lock on the stall door, facing him. His eyes were bright and met mine, giving me comfort. "Let's finish this and- and make this a great first performance, okay?" He said, smiling down at me. I nodded, feeling my heart beating fast.

I hugged him quickly, the contact giving me a feeling of static and also a release from all of this anxiety, of this loneliness and nervousness. I had someone who would help me out when I needed it, when I was alone, which was something I didn't have at my old school. My friends ditched me at my old school. Danny didn't, even though I messed up.

"Did you know about the fire? Before just then?" I asked, my voice quiet. I watched him think about a response.
"Yes. I tried not to listen in to your thoughts, but..." Danny trailed off, sighing. "I overheard snippets. Every time I tried not to hear your thoughts, they would come back in, and I- I would hear something about the smoke or the fire or me." He said, and my face reddened. He looked down at me. "I'm Sorry. I'll work on it." He said, and I shook my head.

"It's fine. If you, uh," I looked up at him, smiling quickly, and glanced back down. "If you didn't listen in, I don't think we would've gotten where we are. With my progress and everything. You wouldn't have ever sat with me, I don't think." I said quickly.
"I would've, because you're interesting, Cecil, and you're a cool person." He said, looking at me, smiling.

He blinked and looked away. "But- but I see your point." He said, and I nodded, face reddening. "Are you ready to go back out there?" He asked, and I exhaled quietly, feeling the tension in my body.

"Yeah. Alright." I said, nodding.

"You can do this." He said. "Just talk with these if you need any help." Danny added, holding up his walkie-talkie. I held up mine in response, nodding.

"Thank you, Danny." I said, heart stuttering when I said his name, when we turned back to go to the auditorium. He smiled at me.

"You're welcome, Cecil. Any time." He nodded, and we walked back to the stage.

I waited the rest of the play, trying to manage my heartbeat, the twisting of my stomach, until I had to do another low-lying smoke. I watched Ellie up in the cat-walk.
"How's it going up there, Ellie?" Danny asked, his voice static through the walkie-talkie.
"It's fine, but I'm a bit tired." She responded, voice quiet through the static.
"Hang in there. It's almost over." Danny replied. "How about you, Cecil?" He asked, and my stomach turned again.

"I'm alright." I said, trying to manage the feeling in my stomach that I was going to mess up again.

"Okay. You two got this." He said, and the static noise ended.

When it was time to use the smoke, my hands were shaking. I clenched my fists and blew out a breath, seeing the smoke go out easily.

I watched it leave me, a numbness spreading in my body as it pulled across the bottom of the stage. This was the scene where they both died, and I was fine. I survived the first play.

The smoke left me smoothly, light and nowhere near as dark as what signaled that the fire was coming. I was safe. I was alright. I did it.

The scene eventually ended, and all I had to do was wait. I felt a relief over me, and felt a nervousness that remained and buzzed through me. I did it. Nothing happened, despite the fire in the middle of the play. My body felt light and empty, and I was relieved.