“Come on, we have to,” he presses, but I ignore him, crossing my arms and leaning back to close my eyes. “Oh my god,” he groans dramatically before clicking his tongue. “You’re doing that thing again.”
I frown, hating that I know where he’s going with this.
“What thing?” I pause. “No, I’m not.”
He scoffs and sits silent long enough to make me reopen my eyes and stare back at him.
“What?” I toss out, annoyed.
“You do this every time you’re out of a job for too long, and we have to do something skanky ... You’re having an existential crisis.”
“I’m absolutely not doing that.”I might be doing it a little.
“Yes, you are.”
“No. I am not.”
“Yes. . . you are.”
I sigh, uncrossing my arms and slightly tossing them up in the air as Benny shakes his head, speaking first.
“How many times do I have to tell you that acting isn’t for you?”
“Dude. You literally have a magnet on our fridge that says,Friends support each other’s dreams.That sentence was the opposite.”
He looks at me like I’m dumb. “I bought that for our lesbian neighbors in the hopes they’d let me become a third. Pay attention.”
Before I can tell him what a degenerate he is, he wags his finger in the air. The way he always does when he’s about to tell me the truth.
“Your show getting tanked was a blessing—”
How unemployment is a blessing basically sums up the kind of rationale only Benny can understand.
“Last month you turned down two auditions just so you could hang out with those feral little rug rats at the community center. What were you doing? Oh yeah, teaching them how to do a dramatic pause, a.k.a. looking like they’re holding in farts.”
My face turns to the little old lady across from us so I can mouth an apology.
Benny doesn’t even notice. He’s too busy getting up from his seat because we’re almost at our stop, all while still running his mouth.
“You gotta stop believing the BS that people who can’t do, teach. I think people who are good at something should teach. You’re an amazing actor but an even better teacher. You love it.”
I sigh, standing too, waiting for the doors to open. He’s not wrong, I do love it. It was unexpected, but the Children’s Community Playhouse is always the best part of my week. The problem is that it barely pays enough to keep me coffee’d up.
“Can we just focus on today and not the rest of my life? I only have the patience for one. And you still haven’t given me all the details for today ... What’s the final song list?”
He shrugs noncommittally as the train slows, and Fiftieth Street is announced through a crackling speaker nobody can understand.
“Benny ...” I press as the doors slide open.
But he walks out quickly.Son of a ...And this is why you don’t let your best friend find side hustles on Craigslist.
“What’s the final song list, Benny ... You said I needed to prepare three and you’d pick one ...”
He’s taking three steps at a time out of the subway, but I’m right on his heels, just in time for the crisp midmorning air to hit. The only saving grace for today is that it’s miraculously not snowing in February.
“Benny,” I yell at his back one more time, watching him stop in his place and turn around with a smile. People weave around us, passing by as he tries for nonchalant.
“You know what, come to think of it ... I forgot to tell you there’s been a tiny change of plans. We’re not singing ...”
