Hold Me Closer
Page 9
Each time I swore it was real—and it was real. A real disappointment. A real disaster. A real emptiness. I was less than a half, because I felt I couldn’t even be a half.
But I thought about what Oscar and Lynda had told me. If I didn’t have a boy, at least I had plenty of stories about boys. And honestly? Some of the stories were better than the boys themselves.
So, I thought, what could I do with these stories? Some people have poetry, or comics, or movies to make. Me? When I thought about it—really thought about it—I had songs.
I started to think of life in terms of a musical—this musical. I started to lose myself in writing it. It was about my life, and it was becoming my life.
The ring of ex-boyfriends leaves the stage.
TINY:
I was feeling low. And then I found something interesting:
Someone who was feeling even lower than I was.
A spotlight goes on and we see WILL, nearly catatonic on a curb. (If you can’t get a curb, a turned-over milk crate will do.) He is small and sad and clearly in pain.
Do not underestimate the attractiveness of this. Nellie Forbush, Anna Leonowens, and Maria von Trapp all fell for it. Granted, they all fell for widowers. But Will was like a teenage version of a widower—only it was his own life he was mourning. Something about that made me want to swoop in and make everything better, adopt his children, save his homeland. (Metaphorically on those last two.)
Back to the action onstage. Tiny walks over and considers Will for a second. Will doesn’t even notice . . . until Tiny speaks up.
TINY:
Hello there. I’m Tiny.
Tiny offers his hand. Will isn’t in a shaking mood, but he holds out his hand, too. Instead of shaking it, Tiny yanks him up to his feet. Because that’s what Will needs.
TINY:
Did someone die?
WILL:
Yeah, I did.
TINY:
Well, then . . . welcome to the afterlife.
Tiny turns to the audience for some exposition.
TINY (to audience):
Something really awful had just happened to Will. I’m not going to tell you what, because that’s his story, not mine. What’s important is that he needed someone—and I guess I needed to be someone’s someone. Even though he was a near-total stranger, I wanted to be there for him.
Tiny turns back to Will. And let me be clear here: Will is NOT into it. To a degree that Tiny doesn’t even come close to realizing. Because in Tiny’s mind, this is how things work—you meet cute, you stay cute, and you love cutely forever and ever, amen.
WILL:
You don’t have to stay with me. Really. I’m sure you have better things to do.
TINY:
What, and leave you here to mope?
WILL:
This is so far beyond moping. This is out-and-out despair.
TINY:
Awwww.
You may ask what’s going through Tiny’s mind right now. I know I asked myself that many times afterward. Here is this desperate, depressed boy, and all Tiny can see is how much he needs love. One of the great things about being large-bodied is you can believe you can bend a situation through sheer physical will, that your embrace has more power than, say, a twig like Will’s.
Tiny embraces Will in a big-ass hug.
WILL (choking):
I’m choking.
TINY (patting his hair):
There, there.
WILL (pushing Tiny away):
Dude, you’re not helping.
TINY (hurt):
You just duded me!
WILL:
I’m sorry. It’s just, I—
TINY:
I’m only trying to help!
WILL:
I’m sorry.
Tiny looks at Will, takes in all of his pain. It makes Will completely uncomfortable.
WILL:
What?
TINY:
Do you want to hear a song I’ve written?
WILL:
Excuse me?
TINY:
It’s from a musical I’m working on. It’s based on my life. I think one of the songs might help right now.
There is this amazing scene at the end of the first act of Once when Guy gets on top of the bar and starts to play “Gold.” The crowd is hostile at first, but one by one, they start playing instruments and dancing, and soon the whole stage is alive with music, as Girl wanders among the crowd, her face beaming with awestruck wonder at the remarkable thing that this song is doing. It’s a perfect picture of what we musical devotees believe—that the right song at the right time can stop all the clocks, wipe away all the cares, and gently make you see the world in a new way. We believe this because we have felt it. We believe this because ultimately this is what we have to offer. Music. Words. Songs. A little light choreography.
It may seem ridiculous for Tiny to burst out into song here. Will certainly finds it ridiculous. But in Tiny’s heart, it makes perfect sense.
Tiny closes his eyes, opens his arms, and belts out “IT WASN’T YOU.” He is full of all the injustice that he’s suffered at the hands of thoughtless ex-boyfriends. And he assumes this is why Will is feeling so bad, too. Plus, he’s trying to impress the guy.
[“IT WASN’T YOU”]
TINY:
I thought you’d make my dreams come true
but it wasn’t you, it wasn’t you.
I thought this time it would all be new,
but it wasn’t you, it wasn’t you.
I pictured all the things we’d do
and now I feel my heart is through—
but it isn’t true, it isn’t true.
I may be big-boned and afraid
but my faith in love won’t be mislaid!
Though I’ve been completely knocked off course
I’m not getting off my faithful horse!
It wasn’t you, it’s true
but there’s more to life than you!
I thought you were a boy with a view,
you stuck-up, selfish, addled shrew.
You may have kicked me ’til I was blue
but from that experience I grew and grew.
It’s true, frock you,
there are better guys to woo—
it won’t be you, comprende vous?
It will never be you!
At the end, Tiny expects applause. And hopefully he gets some from the audience. But Will? Will stares at him, stunned.
WILL:
Who are you?
TINY:
Tiny Cooper!
WILL:
You can’t really be named Tiny.
TINY:
No. That’s irony.
WILL:
Oh.
TINY (tsking):
No need to “oh” me. I’m fine with it. I’m big-boned.
WILL:
Dude, it isn’t just your bones.
TINY:
Just means there’s more of me to love!
WILL:
But that requires so much more effort.
TINY:
Darling, I’m worth it.
Tiny gestures to a bench that has mysteriously appeared onstage. (Okay, maybe the audience will see that it’s brought onto the stage at this moment. That’s okay.) Tiny gestures for them to sit. They do.
TINY:
So tell Tiny your problems.
WILL:
Can Tiny talk normal?
TINY (in his best Anderson Cooper voice):
Yes, he can. But it’s not nearly as fun when he does it.
WILL:
You just sound so gay.
TINY:
Um . . . there’
s a reason for that?
WILL:
Yeah, but. I dunno. I don’t like gay people.
TINY:
But surely you must like yourself?
WILL (incredulous):
Why should I like myself? Nobody else does.
TINY:
I do.
WILL:
You don’t know me at all.
TINY:
But I want to.
WILL (freaking out):
Shut up! Just shut up!
Tiny looks hurt. Which is a very understandable reaction to such an outburst.
WILL:
No, it’s not you. Okay? You’re nice. I’m not. I’m not nice, okay? Stop it!
Now Tiny is sad for Will. Because Will honestly believes this.
WILL:
This is SO STUPID.
Will clutches at his head while he cries this out, like he feels he is going completely out of his mind. For once in his life, Tiny is the steady one. He just watches Will, waits. And the longer he watches, the more he cares. When Will finally lifts his head and stops being angry at himself, they hang in a strange, intimate moment.
TINY:
I never kiss on the first date.
Will looks at him with total incomprehension.
TINY:
But sometimes I make exceptions.
It’s as if gravity conspires to push them toward each other. They kiss, eyes closed. When they’re done, Tiny looks happy and Will looks scared.
TINY:
This is not where I thought the night was going.
WILL:
Tell me about it. (His tone softens.) But . . . I’m glad that you exist.
TINY:
I’m glad to be existing right now.
WILL:
You have no idea how wrong you are about me.
TINY:
You have no idea how wrong you are about yourself.
WILL:
Stop that.
TINY:
Only if you stop it.
WILL:
I’m warning you.
TINY
(standing from the bench, ending the scene, and addressing the audience):
Of course, when a boy gives you a warning, you should listen to it. Not because he’s necessarily right. But because he genuinely thinks he is. And most of the time, that’s more important.
Will leaves the stage. Phil and Djane enter, and Tiny flags them down.
TINY:
Guys! I’ve got so much to tell you!
ACT II, SCENE 10
Tiny is very, very excited about Will. As a result, he babbles uncontrollably to Phil and Djane. “DRUNK ON LOVE” is their take on this situation—and a resolution to the unbearable sexual tension between them that their friends have been enduring for weeks. Tiny should basically be talking the whole time, with his voice fading out as Phil and Djane sing. When he talks, he should sound very, very drunk. In parts where he doesn’t want to talk, he can also do a happy This Fella’s in Love dance. He should seem completely intoxicated by this new relationship—soon to be the most serious one he’s ever had.
[“DRUNK ON LOVE”]
TINY (spoken drunkenly):
So I’m sorry I didn’t go back to Frenchy’s to meet you, but I figured you’d guess I just took a cab, which I did, and anyway, Will and I had walked all the way down to the Bean and, like, Wrayson, I know I’ve said this before but I really like him. I mean, you have to really like someone to go all the way to the Bean with him and listen to him talk about his major major problems and also I sang for him . . .
DJANE (sung to PHIL):
Oh my God, who would’ve thunk?
PHIL (sung back):
Our dear friend Tiny is drunk . . . on love.
DJANE:
Get the Breathalyzer
and cue the synthesizer!
Our dear friend Tiny is drunk . . . on love.
TINY:
And I get texts from him like every forty-two seconds and he’s a brilliant texter, which is nice because it’s just a little pleasant leg vibration, just a reminder-in-the-thigh that he’s—see, there’s one. (checks phone) Aww.
PHIL:
It looks like our pal is out of his funk.
DJANE:
Tiny Cooper, drunk . . . on love.
PHIL:
His spirits are higher
than those of a frequent flier.
Tiny Cooper, drunk . . . on love
TINY:
It’s been eight days since I met him, and I haven’t technically liked someone who liked me back for eight days in my entire life, unless you count my relationship with Bethany Keene in third grade, which obviously you can’t, since she’s a girl.
PHIL:
Good ol’ Bacchus
needs in on this fracas.
DJANE:
Aphrodite’s throwing a fest
and Tiny’s the honored guest.
PHIL:
Look at him frolic.
Look at him skip.
It makes me wonder
if we should sip.
The music abruptly stops. Tiny stops. Djane stares. Did Phil really just do what she thinks he just did?
DJANE (spoken):
Did you really just do what I think you just did?
PHIL
(continuing the song, moving closer to Djane):
I’m not promising you
it’ll be a slam dunk,
but, Djane, I’m thinking
we should get a little drunk.
Uncork the bottle and
drown the monk.
We won’t know if it’s sink or swim
’til we’ve swum or sunk.
DJANE (moving even closer):
You know what I have to say to that?
PHIL
(even closer—they both kinda know what’s coming):
What?
An explosive kiss between them. It’s impossible to tell who kissed who first.
They take it offstage.
TINY (to audience):
Now, that’s what I’m talking about. And that’s what Will and I had. Only, we had other things, too. Like fear. And vulnerability. And uncertainty. I tried to shine my way through all these things . . . shine us both through all these things. But sometimes it’s not that easy.
The bed gets wheeled in again, with different sheets on it. We’re in Will’s bedroom now. It’s very much like the inside of his head—part childish, part intense. Although the sheets weren’t actually black, they might as well have been.
Will and Tiny have been dating for a couple of weeks now. Tiny is SO into it, and he feels that Will is, too, even if Will isn’t as open in expressing his enthusiasm. But that’s okay. Tiny has learned to understand that his emotional volume tends to be a little louder than other boys’, and he wants Will to be his complement, not his twin. It’s okay that they’re different, in no small part because Tiny thinks his buoyancy can lift whatever’s weighing Will down. They’ll balance out.
Will enters the bedroom and joins Tiny.
TINY (to audience):
This is the first time I ever got to see Will’s room. You can tell a lot about a guy from his room. In Will’s case, I was searching for signs of life.
Tiny approaches a goldfish bowl next to the bed. You do NOT have to have goldfish in it. This is acting. And no goldfish should have to swim under a spotlight.
TINY:
Goldfish! What are their names?
WILL:
Samson and Delilah.
TINY:
Really?
WILL:
She’s a total slut.
Tiny leans over for a closer
look at the fish food and finds a bottle of pills instead.
TINY:
You feed them prescription drugs?
WILL:
Oh, no. Those are mine. (pause) It’s a depression thing.
TINY (lighthearted, not really getting it):
Oh, I feel depressed, too. Sometimes. (pause) Which one’s Samson and which one’s Delilah?
WILL:
Honestly? I forget.
TINY (as if he’s just seen it for the first time):
Look! A bed!
With an almost-shy grin, Tiny sits gingerly on its edge.
TINY:
Comfy!
Will takes one look at Tiny sitting there and laughs happily. It’s a wonderful sound when he laughs happily, especially because it surprises Will whenever it happens.
TINY:
What?
WILL:
There’s a boy! In my bed!
Will joins Tiny in the bed. They share a tender kiss, then Will lies in Tiny’s arms. It’s very sweet. And I wish we could end the scene here. With all my heart, I wish we could end the scene here, and Will could let this be exactly what it seems to be. But Will can’t accept it. He pulls out of Tiny’s embrace, sits up.
TINY:
What? What is it?
WILL:
Look, Tiny—I’m trying to be on my best behavior, but you have to understand—I’m always standing on the edge of something bad. And sometimes someone like you can make me look the other way, so that I don’t know how close I am to falling over. But I always end up turning my head. Always. I always walk off that edge. And it’s what I deal with every day, and it’s not going away anytime soon. It’s really nice to have you here, but do you want to know something? Do you really want me to be honest?
Tiny nods. Of course he wants Will to be honest. When you’re falling in love, you always think honesty is the right answer.
WILL:
It feels like a vacation. I don’t think you know what that’s like. Which is good—you don’t want to. You have no idea how much I hate this. I hate the fact that I’m ruining the night right now, ruining everything—
TINY:
You’re not.
WILL:
I am.
TINY:
Says who?
WILL:
Says me?
TINY:
Don’t I get any say?
WILL:
No. I just ruin it. You don’t get any say.
Tiny touches Will’s ear lightly, tries to lighten the moment.
TINY:
You know, you get all sexy when you turn destructive.