I found love that lasts even when the screen fades to black.
Charlie’s docuseries put me on a collision course with Oscar Oliveira. It made me confront feelings and confusion about my sexuality that I let fester for too long.
Leaning more on his crutches, Charlie tells me, “And that’s even if I could accomplish the task. Ernest is foul, but he’s not a complete moron. He stifles his worst behavior whenever he sees me.” He softens his gaze, and I know he’s being sincere.
Charlie doesn’t put on a facade for anyone.
“I still want to do the show, Jack,” he expresses. “That hasn’t changed.”
I still want to do the show.
It should make me feel better, but all the walls are closing in on me. “The only reason you’re agreeing to continue filming is for me. This no longer feels like a partnership, Charlie. It feels like I’m exploiting you.”
“I’m letting you.”
I run a hand through my hair. That definitely doesn’t make me feel better. Charlie lets people beat the shit out of him. He’ll surrender himself to pain because he doesn’t care about his own life. I don’t want to be the kind of producer that’d use that to my advantage. I care. Maybe I care enough for him.
Empathy. Don’t lose it. Use it.
I don’t want to lose it. I just don’t.
Charlie must see me boarding up this project. Shipping it off to the land of unfinished and scrapped pilots. He quickly says, “Please don’t make a decision now. At least think about it.”
“I agree with Charlie,” Oscar says. “Highland, it’s been a long night. You literally hit your head and knocked yourself out. Just take a day. Maybe a couple more.”
I hear his fear. For me. My dreams.
What does it all mean if it comes crashing down? I haven’t pieced together that answer yet. All I know is that this might have been my one-and-only opportunity to have my own show. To have a subject as interesting and compelling as Charlie.
Charlie agrees to stay in my apartment while I steal a moment with his bodyguard.
Side by side, our legs dangle off the metal grates of my building’s fire escape outside my living room window. Oscar and I share a bag of kettle corn and watch Philadelphia below.
“I know,” I start out, “you think you’re not a good brother, Os.” Our eyes lock for a strong beat. “But you were right to take care of yourself and go to Yale. You were right to figure out what you wanted and who you are, and Quinn is right to feel how he feels. And I hope now that he’s opened up and you know he was bullied, therapy will be better for you both.” I flash a warm smile. “I believe in the Oliveira brothers.”
Oscar sniffs, then says, “Do me a favor, Highland.” He grabs a water bottle. “Next time you give me a pep talk, warn me so I don’t choke on popcorn.”
We laugh.
He wipes his mouth with his bicep and nods. “I believe in the Oliveira brothers too.”
I slide an arm around his waist. His ankle brushes mine as they hang in the nighttime air, and it’s calming. Being with Oscar in a city. Even after a chaotic night—no, especially after a chaotic night.
“I asked Charlie if he’d even want me to air footage from Vienna,” I admit to Oscar after I swallow a handful of sweet kettle corn.
“The footage from the elevator?” he asks.
“Yeah.” I nod.
“Let me guess, he said, yes, air it.”
Oscar would guess right. I nod with a short breath. “Yeah. His exact words, show it if you want. I don’t care.” I shake my head, conflicted. “I’m not sure he wants people to relate to him or even see him in a vulnerable state. He’s not doing this for himself. He’d be doing it for me.”
And again, it feels…wrong.
“You want him to say, I need this,” Oscar realizes.
“Yeah.” I look to him. “I love being a part of We Are Calloway because I’m able to help magnify peoples’ truths that are usually drowned out with hate, but this pilot, this show, doesn’t feel like it’s purpose is for anything other than my ambition.”
“Is that so bad?” Oscar wonders. “You don’t have to give up on it.”
I study the hard lines around his eyes. I slide him a warmer smile. “What are you, scared to see me fail?”
“Yeah, I am.” His grin is a shadow that concern overtakes. “It feels like you’re trapped in