Malory
“We are in so much trouble,” Kyle says to me, over my shoulder.
He almost lets go of me, but I squeeze him tighter.
“Don’t let go of me,” I say. “Just... stay here a little bit longer.”
“The show’s over, Malory. The audience is leaving. People backstage are going to think we’re weird.”
“I don’t care... just... let me hug you for a second more.”
“I know this isn’t the right conversation to have right this instant,” he says, “But are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m good. I’m great. It’s all great,” I say.
It’ll be okay now. It’ll all be okay. It’ll be over soon. It’s already over.
“Let’s go,” Kyle says, finally becoming free of my grasp. “I won’t ask you unnecessary questions. You had a long day.”
***
The final night of the play arrives, and for once, everything runs smoothly. Kyle and I perform before the audience from beginning to the end, and nothing goes wrong.