The truth is that he is the dream of millions of women. His Instagram account has over a hundred million followers. His Twitter isn’t far behind, with more than eighty million. Crazy, right?
—Xander Granderson —I mumbled his name.
God! I should stop that. My mother said it wasn’t healthy to idealize someone the way I did. My boyfriend Matias had, in more than more occasion, recommended me to see a psychiatrist, but I didn’t think much of it, because I assumed that as a doctor just out of college, everything was pathological for him, and also, jealousy played a major role. Any man is uncomfortable that his girlfriend has feelings for another, even when that other person is a celebrity, whose possibility of meeting in person is almost null. I think that is what they call male ego. Or is it?
I arrived at the Bellas Artes station. The theater where Randy was rehearsing his next play was just a few blocks from there, so I walked.
When I arrived at the venue, I could see that they were in the middle of rehearsals. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I sat in some seats at the end of the room, hoping that the custodian would not notice my presence and would end up asking me to leave.
Seeing Randy and his classmates rehearsing made my imagination fly far away, to the United Kingdom, next to that man I admired so much. I mostly fantasized about seeing him perform live.
My cell phone rang, taking me out of my beautiful dream, it was Matias.
—Baby. Where are you? I was just at your house and your mother told me you were out.
—Hi honey —I said—. I’m at the theater.
—How come? —Since when do you like the theater?
I rolled my eyes at my boyfriend's comment. Matias was a good man, but he had no sense of art. Everything that was linked to the theater, to music or to any artistic manifestation, did not attract his attention. I could barely get him to accompany me to the premieres of the year's most anticipated films. For him, it was more practical to have an "academic" profession, as he said, and not some silly bohemian fantasy. I don’t know who had put it in his head that artists were a bunch of starving people who never managed to be anyone in their lives. Oh, yes! His father. My father-in-law was a bit cruel when expressing his ideas. For him, being a singer, actor, painter, writer, were options for losers who didn’t achieve to be licentiates, doctors or engineers. And I don't blame him. In Venezuela, who do art, it is for the love of art (sorry for the redundancy). Artists are very poorly paid, unless they work for the highest political levels, but that's another issue and I'm not going to tap it.
— I'm here to see Randy. See you tonight for dinner? —I answered.
— I went to bring you the movie you lent my little brother. I'm on call tonight. See you in two days. —he told me.
—Okay love, have fun saving lives. I love you.
I ended the call and saw as Randy coming towards me.
—Hey! What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting to see you until Sunday —my friend told me with great enthusiasm.
In fact, every Sunday we met at his house to watch movies and discuss how good or bad they were.
—I need to talk to someone —I said.
—What is wrong?
—I’m not happy with my life —I said without hesitation. Randy looked at me a little worried, I figured something crazy was going on in his head and I immediately added —, I’m not thinking about killing myself — we burst out laughing in unison.
—Good. It is a relief to know that I won’t have to use that ugly suit that I only use for funerals —we laughed once more. Although his comment was bizarre and cruel, that was what I loved about my friend, that he made me laugh so easily—. If you are bored with your life, you must do something different —he advised me.
—Like what? —I asked.
Randy was silent for a few seconds. His face lit up; it was the face he always made when he was planning something “macabre”.
—Come, get up. You will be an actress today —he said getting up and putting his hand out towards me. I looked at him with distrust and remained seated with no intention of getting up from my seat—. Come —he insisted.
I saw he was serious, and I got scared, I hadn’t acted in front of anyone in my life. I had always done it in the loneliness of my room, where the Xander Granderson posters and the occasional Brian Littrell photo were the only audience.
—Oh, come on Shirley! You complain that your life is boring, that you want to do something different and I give you the chance to do it, and you just sit there?
My friend was right, but I was very scared of doing it poorly.
—I don’t know. I am not sure I am good —I shrugged.
—If you don’t try it you will never know if you are good or bad at it.
Doubts took hold of me. I was about to panic, but Randy’s radiant smile made me feel at ease. After a few minutes of nagging from my friend, I agreed. I got up from my seat, breathed in deeply and let myself go. I decided to live in the moment.
Randy led me to the back of the stage, and I could see some girls putting on makeup. Some boys were walking around with scripts in their hands. They seemed to be doing a quick review.
—Here —Randy said while extending a script in my direction.
—What is that? —I asked.
—The script —he commented as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. I took it.
—What is it about? — I inquired without even bothering to look at it.
—It is about a tragic couple in love, whose families are enemies. The Montagues and …
—The Capulets —I interrupted him—. I got it. Romeo and Juliet.
—Exactly —he exclaimed—. You know the play, right?
—I think it’s not a good idea —I stammered—. I do know the play, but act it? That is something quite different. There is a plot, a background, a variety of characters and interactions …
Randy glared at me.
—I have seen you learn an entire Backstreet Boys album in under ten minutes, don’t tell me you can’t learn a few lines in half an hour because I wouldn’t believe you.
—Half an hour? —My eyes almost popped out of my sockets—. Have you gone mad? You can’t compare a couple of songs to a literary work…
—You read Romeo and Juliet about a thousand times —my friend said—. This will be easy for you.
—That is not true. I read it once for school and saw Leonardo DiCaprio’s movie …
—The worst adaptation they made of the poor thing, by the way —said Randy, sneering.
—Whatever. It’s nonsense —I argued—. You must have rehearsed a long time for this and … —I shook my head under the inquisitive gaze of my friend. —. Yes. You are right, I must do something different with my life, but I don't think this is the best thing.
—Stop! —Randy spat and I flinched—. Stop giving buts for everything. But this, but that, but that. Aren’t you tired of complaining all the time?
—But… —I tried to talk.
—See? —He raised his hand, showing some frustration—. For once in your life take a chance. If you do it right, all right, it'll be a nice experience to remember. If you do badly, then you get back up again and move forward. Live the experience of doing something spontaneous. Improvise. Show me you can do that and much more —he paused—. Besides, it's a practice run today. Something for us, to correct the odd details. We want to try the new light installation and make sure that the curtain doesn’t get stuck like it did last week …