No Lucky Star

Kaz’s eyes are locked on mine, soft and warm. His lips graze the mic as he sings about finding his lucky star. My smile is automatic, as practiced as the tender, self-deprecating banter that always precedes this part of the show.

It’s an old song, at odds with the rest of his music. The final, dreamy ballad from Singin’ in the Rain. I know without looking that the band’s faces are  blank, vacant, even as their instruments sigh and swoon. Kaz always jokes that he’d never even heard of the movie until I came into his life, and it’s next door to the truth.

By now, although his face is still turned toward mine, and will remain so throughout the song, Kaz’s eyes have wandered out across the audience. I flex my shoulders and re-cross my legs, letting my own eyes drift, safe in the knowledge that no one is looking at me. Every rapt face is fixed on his; lips parted as they mouth along to the lyrics, or covered with hands as their eyes fill with sentimental tears. I wonder when I stopped being one of them.

I was the girl they all longed to be; the one who proved that a groupie could be more than a one-night stand. The one who went from a grainy “who’s that girl” photo on social media, to the giggling recipient of a casual knuckle kiss in front of clamoring paparazzi, to the anticipated “plus one” on every awards show carpet. When Kaz sang that he was lucky in my arms, it was made all the more romantic by the common knowledge that I was the lucky one. Two years is a long time for a guy like Kaz. Everyone knows that. It’s not like he hasn’t had other opportunities.

Kaz’s eyes are shut now, his hair tumbling over his forehead as he sings the final lines. In his ragged denim and heavy boots, he looks like a fallen angel. I can sense the joy that swirls around the room, a joy Kaz carefully calibrated over weeks and months of planning and rehearsal, and that he now curates every night for a new crowd of strangers; strangers who will feel like family by the time the night is over.

The music swells and fades. Kaz looks up again with a smile, directed first at me, and then out at the audience as their attentive silence fractures into wild cheers. I form a heart shape with my fingers, holding it up like a telescope and peering through it as if I've finally found my hidden treasure. As if this is the first time.

This will be the last time. I’m leaving the tour tonight; catching a plane back home to visit my mom for a while. Kaz will keep on singing for me every night like nothing has changed. He’ll have to alter his speech a little, but that won’t be hard. He’s always been good with words. His fans will keep on believing in true love, if only for a few fleeting minutes as he sings.

Then the tour will end, and the rumors will start. Who knows how it will go from there. Maybe there will be an earnest, heartfelt statement about separate paths and a special place in his heart. Maybe there will be silence until another grainy photo starts making the rounds. I’d like to pretend that it doesn’t matter to me; that I’ll be so far above it all that I won’t know until some old friend asks me “have you heard?”

But I know that’s not how things work. I know I’ll see it on the cover of a magazine as I stand in line at the grocery store, or as a clickbait title that never delivers as much as it promised once it has lured you in. And I know it will hurt. These things always do.

The next song begins, full of energy to wake the crowd up and get them on their feet again. I look around at the girls in the audience. Will it be one of them? Or will it be some new face in the fashion industry, or some little starlet, full of innocent wiliness? I can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy when I think about her being with him. Whoever she is, she will be lucky. For a while, at least.

I know I’ll question myself. In a way, I already am. Should I have tried a little harder? Given it another shot? Who gives up on a dream come true? Even now, my heart swells with pride as I watch him striding up and down the stage; knowing he is doing exactly what he was put on earth to do.

Suddenly, it’s all too much. I get to my feet, squeezing apologetically past the people in my row until I reach the aisle and head for the door that leads backstage. To anyone who gives the matter any thought, it will simply look like I’m going to meet Kaz in the greenroom after the show ends. On my way, I lock eyes with a young girl, maybe fifteen or sixteen. There’s no envy on her face; just a wide-open, honest smile. I smile back, as honestly as I can.

I will be the one to take the fall. I know that. Kaz is beloved. No one will want to question his part in this ending. “After all,” they will say, “he didn’t even cheat.”

They will be right about that. His faithfulness was almost startling. I used to be grateful for it, as I watched woman after woman fall under his bright gaze. Such total devotion is rare in the world he inhabits.

How could I ever explain the change that came when I realized he knew it too? I only became aware of it gradually, through little glances, or off-hand remarks, but when I pieced them all together they were enough. As Kaz let every fresh opportunity pass him by, he felt the sacrifice, and was proud of himself for making it. How could I ever explain that after months of justification and gratitude, I had come to my senses so quickly? I didn’t want to be the one any man made sacrifices for. Being the chosen one doesn’t feel the same when you know there’s a choice being made. There is only so much a person can give up before they break. I couldn’t stay here any longer, watching as my luck ran out.

I burst through one door, then another, and I breathe in the clear, sharp air.