I'm (Not) Sorry

Chapter 13

As I walked into the theater, I felt like I was rocking from side to side. I had been feeling sick for ages. Jasmine was in the hospital, and Alysha kept having to fill in for her. Chances were that her and I would have to leave the show for good. I didn't exactly want to do that quite yet, but with a baby on the way and a girlfriend recovering from an abduction, what choice did I have? I saw the concern on everyone's faces and immediately figured out that I really was swaying. Carleigh was the first to approach me.

"Oh my God, Anthony," she said quietly. "You look like hell..."

"I just got back." I kept walking after proudly making my Heathers reference, headed to my dressing room. It was nice to see it all again, but I was tired. I was almost too tired to perform. Almost. 

Let me tell you something about theater. Intermission is blissful. Jasmine sleeps through most of them, since she's ready to go on as Maria by the time Dear Theodosia is over. I decided to take after her and got into my Act 2 costume as soon as the Laurens Interlude was over. Well, as soon as I stopped crying. That song always strikes me emo. Once I was ready, I headed to my dressing room and crashed.

Until my phone started ringing. Just my luck.

"Hello?"

"Hey..."

It was Jasmine.

"Got a phone, I see. Different number?"

"Changed it, and my counselor says you should do the same. How's the show going?"

"I'm exhausted," I told her. "Feels good to be back, though. You planning on coming back any time soon?"

"I don't know, baby," Jasmine sighed. "I mean, I gotta wear a corset for the shows, and pressing my stomach down doesn't seem like the best idea."

"Alright, I get it..." I leaned back in my seat, a little upset. I was really hoping Jasmine would be able to come back and we could go to the way things used to be. At the same time, though, I wanted what was best for my girl, so I let her call the shots. She's been through enough, anyway.

"Hey, babe, I got a question for you."

"Go for it."

"How were you when I was gone?"

I furrowed my brows a bit. "What d'you mean?"

"Like, were you taking care of yourself?"

"I tried to," I said with a sigh. "It was hard, though... I just worried so much about you, everything else, I forgot about."

"I take it you weren't eating or sleeping that well?"

She was using the Voice. Not the TV show. The "I'msuddenlyyourmotherandnolongeryourgirlfriend" Voice. She always uses the Voice to intimidate me.

"No..." I admitted quietly. "I guess I wasn't..."

"Anthony," Jasmine groaned. "Please, take care of yourself. I won't be in the hospital for much longer, and we only got a week 'till the trial. Eat. Sleep. Take a shower when you get home. Do what you need to do. Okay?"

I sighed and looked down. Jazz always knew how to make me feel guilty.

"Okay..."

I took Jasmine's advice. Tried to, at least. When I got home that night, I crashed onto the couch and stared up at the ceiling. I tried to fall asleep, but I couldn't. I thought about going to the hospital and seeing Jazz, but she'd kill me if she saw me still awake. How is a guy supposed to sleep, though, when his girlfriend is pregnant in the hospital for I still don't know how long it was? I just sort of laid there and stared, hoping my eyes would get tired at some point. It didn't happen. I was awake all night.

Here's another thing about theater for you. You never get a day off unless it's a sick or vacation day, and, just like any other job, those are limited. (I know; Broadway's an actual business and actors are workers. It's a crazy concept.) So, I went in the next day, too. People kept commenting on how pale I looked, and I believed it. I felt it. I felt nauseous and dizzy and like I was gonna pass out at any minute. I had a headache, too. Maybe a sick day would've been the better option. I had a lot of those left back then.

Pippa came in around lunchtime to say hi to everyone. She made sure to stop by my dressing room and visit me. She was my mama backstage, too, y'know.

"How's Jasmine?" was the first thing she asked me.

"I haven't seen her in a couple days," I said. "But we talked on the phone last night. She seemed okay."

"Good... And you?"

I just kinda shrugged. She came over and felt my forehead.

"Why're you sweating?"

I shrugged again and tried to change the subject. "I dunno. How's that new play going for you?" Pippa was just starting Amélie at that time, and she made sure to let the entire cast of Hamilton know. We were all pumped for her.

"Anthony." She wasn't as willing to talk about it as I was. "Why're you sweating?"

"I was singing and dancing around all morning," I said a bit sourly. "Y'know how many times I got shot today?"

Pippa rolled her eyes. "I'm serious." She felt my forehead again. "You feel warm, too... Are you feeling okay?"

I shook my head. "Nauseous. Head hurts, too."

"Why are you here, then? You need to take better care of yourself."

I slumped down in my chair and sighed. Self care. I can never get away from those two words. I'll be lucky if I'm ever able to get through a day where someone doesn't tell me, "Take care of yourself, Anthony!" I just don't wanna be a let-down. What's so wrong with being committed? I swear, everyone babies me anymore. Even Jasmine.

"I just wanna be here, okay?"

"Well, sorry, but you have to go home and relax. I don't think I've ever seen you do that."

I was thinking some very bitter things at that point. Maybe it was the sickness that was making me think so negatively. Of course, though, I was being an idiot and did an idiot thing and stayed at the theater like the idiot I am. I say idiot because, well, I'm an idiot, and something that would have people buzzing for at least a week happened. During I think Yorktown, I just collapsed onstage. I should've seen it coming from the way I was swaying. The first half was going pretty good, but then it happened.

Everything just went black.