His big break

“And now?”

“And now, we wait.”

The cold winter breeze peaked through Taylor’s window and slipped into the conversation discreetly, almost like an uninvited visitor. December was here to stay, and so was his prying flatmate.

Taylor thought Matt to be an uninvited visitor. He would much rather leave the conversation hanging, than having to constantly explain his moves to him. It had become a challenge, a dreaded reminder that things might go right, but they may also go wrong. 

The audition had taken place yesterday, and all Taylor could think about was whether the two hour drive to  Manhattan on the icy, freezing road, plus the breakdown of his car en route, was worth all the trouble. In principle, all he could do was wait. In the mind of an overthinker, distractions were a perfect addition to the recipe.  

He scrolled up and down the dating apps, mindlessly spending his time on the black screen. He opened the fridge two and three times, facing the half-empty containers of yesterday’s chinese and the two week old tomato rotting right beside a carrot. Just like the dating apps, the news, or any other distraction machine, Taylor’s fridge only revealed a familiar sight. Do distractions really work? Or do they actually serve as a reminder of your own dull reality?

—--------------------------------------------------------------

Matt realized his presence was unwanted. Taylor was sitting on the black leather stool, his back fully turned against Matt and his fingers scrolling through his phone in maniacal rhythm. The time was almost 18:00, and Matt found himself searching for ways to bond with his 25 year old flatmate. After all, the move was not at all easy. It involved being accepted into the home of an aspiring actor, as a 40 year old banker who had just moved to the city. Bonus points if you add that the 40 year old banker had just gotten dumped. The probability of bonding with Taylor was slim, but not impossible. He wanted to take his chances.  

He turned to face Taylor again. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but quickly closed it. Matt finally decided to head to the gym, leaving Taylor and his thoughts alone,  in a wide, red neon kitchen.

—--------------------------------------------------------------

Taylor never wanted to have Matt’s life. Never in a million years would he wish to become a tool of capitalism or the result of a failed marriage. He did not wish to be so predictable either. There was something about the way Matt moved, talked and acted that made Taylor’s skin crawl. Whether it was his complete lack of impulsivity or the utter blandness of his, Taylor didn't know. Maybe it was both. 

All Taylor wanted to be was an actor. In terms of his acting skills, he did not worry. Years of theatre practice, failed plays and small acting teams had led him to this moment. His capability was for certain. What really drew him to this world however, was the life that comes with it. He could lie all he wanted, convince himself that he only ever wished to enter the acting world for talent, experience, skills, but as much as Taylor tried to deny it, he could never escape from his truest desires. 

Taylor lived and breathed for fame.

—--------------------------------------------------------------

On Monday morning, Matt received his first hug from Taylor. In a moment of complete elation, Taylor was jumping up and down, smiling, screaming and hugging Matt like a kid in a candy store. It was finally time for his big break. Taylor had secured the role and suddenly, nothing else mattered. 

Matt was happy for him. He knew, deep down, that it was his dream all along, and  prayed from a distance that Taylor could make it come true. Now, standing there like a proud dad, he stood corrected. 

Matt had protective instincts. He always felt the need to protect younger kids, especially those like Taylor. Taylor was a green-eyed brunette, with a tall physique and a charming presence. Although his appearance would get him far, he was not entirely sure about his personality. Taylor was impulsive, careless, self-destructive and dangerously ambitious. Wittingly, Matt knew that these traits were not planning to change just because he thought so.

 He could only hope that Taylor’s new life would be a smooth ride. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------

The room was covered with smoke, a pale, white cloud masking the identities of the room. The music was deafening, a combination of base and repetitive words leading into a transit of utopia. 

Then comes the unintelligible words, the odd conversations, the moves and phrases  that Taylor could not comprehend or put together. It was all happening rapidly and forcefully and all at once, as shadows moved colorfully between each other in rapid motion. 

This was the tenth party he had been invited to this week. Whilst his body moved peculiarly, drink in one hand, cigarette in the other, his thoughts mingled with this new reality, his waist swinging back and forth in cumbersome movements. He was happy, euphoric even, as his skin mingled and danced along the vibrations. This is how it should feel right? A feeling of blissful tranquility.

As he moved, Taylor suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to acknowledge it, to invite this new face into his space, but in a matter of split seconds and without being able to react, the hand dragged him by the shirt and pushed him past some velvet curtains and into a room full of brand new faces.

—--------------------------------------------------------------

20 missed calls and a voice note. Matt was desperately trying to reach out to Taylor, and not to bond this time. It had to be around 14:00 by now, and Taylor had not returned from yesterday’s shenanigans. His phone was off, his whereabouts unknown. Another call transferred to voicemail and Matt would have thought he died. 

About an hour later, Matt was sprinting through the streets of Manhattan. It was the final attempt to find Taylor, the last piece of the puzzle which would solve the mystery. Of course, had he known the phone number of Taylor’s office, he would have called it. That is, if Taylor ever gave it to him. 

There was a break from snow today, and the sun was slightly peeping through the clouds, a tiny glimpse of hope that Taylor would be found. While panting and grunting in between his breath, Matt felt his heart drop in the sudden sight of Taylor across the street. It did not take long to realize it was only his face on a passerby bus, his smile as wide as ever and his eyes shining so bright, they almost looked unreal from all the editing. 

Matt finally arrived at his flatmate’s office, rushing through the door in a frenzy, asking strangers if they had seen a tall, green eyed brunette, albeit the building’s 11 floors and their complete and utter inability to help him. He must have heard the phrase “Sorry I don’t know him” in 40 different variations, while their faces remained fully expressionless and indifferent.  

He knew he looked mad. In the eyes of every single person around him, Matt knew he looked like a lunatic, an outsider standing on the white marble floor of the glorious skyscraper. Nobody batted an eye, nobody knew or even cared about where a 25 year old kid was. I guess it was time  for Matt to realize that he cannot control him, or anyone for that matter. He cannot put sense into somebody who is simply living his life, making wrong decisions and learning from them. That was the point of it all right? To live through the mistakes and go against the grain. To try new possibilities, memories and experiences that Matter never got to live through. I guess his mistake was trying to make Taylor someone that goes by the book.

The saddest part about this was not Taylor’s decisions. It was the fact that Taylor was not even Mat’s kid. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------

Taylor opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the sight of a burgundy wall, some royal-blue velvet chairs and a glass table with hundreds of drugs surrounding it. He tried to stand but his back was killing him. He was laying on one of the royal-blue velvety chairs in a state of utter tiredness and defeat. 

His head felt heavy, as if he had slammed it against a wall ten times and his mouth was dry, dehydrated and chapped. Around him lay thousands of empty bottles, cigarettes, condoms. His inability to stand extended to being unable to react, despite feeling completely shocked and hopeless. 

What happened last night? Why was he feeling like this? Why did he remember nothing?

The night was a mystery to him, and so was his current situation.  

“Hello?” He kept calling for help but nothing.

 “HELLO?” 

 But Taylor’s voice was unable to summon any help. 

Not a single soul was around him, no familiar face stood by his side. 

He finally got hold of his phone, only to realize it was of course dead. He managed to move his muscles, slowly, one by one, and stood up in a timelapse which felt like a lifetime. 

He looked at his reflection in the mirror, a tiny hexagon attached to the burgundy walls. He was covered in sweat, his eyes hidden behind dark circles and his nose covered in dried-out blood. He stood there for a minute, observing the man he had become. His mind spoke before his mouth. 

“This was all you ever wanted right?”