Castration Celebration

by Jake Wizner

  “Maybe.”

  She came in and sat down on Olivia’s bed. “You want the short version or the long one?”

  “The long one,” Olivia said, winking at Mimi. “And don’t leave anything out.”

  “I was in tenth grade,” Callie said. “I had this friend Lane, and we spent most of our time criticizing everyone else in the class behind their backs. We both knew we didn’t fit in, but I never really wanted to admit why I was so unhappy. I had known for a while that I was attracted to girls, but I didn’t know any lesbians. I was living in the South, in the suburbs, where you didn’t just go around announcing you were gay unless you were some kind of sadist. So one time I was over at Lane’s house, and we’re sitting on her bed looking at some magazine or something, and all of a sudden she just leans over and kisses me. I’m totally shocked, but I don’t say anything and I start kissing her back. And then we just go crazy, because we’ve both got all this pent-up sexual energy. It was unbelievable.”

  “So what happened?” Olivia asked.

  Callie shook her head. “After a few weeks, Lane dumped me for Mark Praeger, the quarterback on the football team.”

  “Oh my God,” Mimi said. “That’s so sad.”

  “It was worse for Lane. He ended up giving her herpes.”

  Olivia laughed.

  “Are you serious?” Mimi asked, wide-eyed.

  Callie smiled. “No, but it would have served her right.” She got up from the bed. “Anyway, if things hadn’t ended with Lane, I wouldn’t have become obsessed with Brooke and signed up for the drama club and realized how much I liked acting and ended up here this summer.”

  “So did you and Brooke start dating?” Olivia asked.

  Callie shook her head and started toward the door. “I don’t even know for sure if she’s gay.”

  “You never asked her?”

  “It’s not the kind of thing you ask your teacher.” She raised her hand in farewell. “I’ll see you guys later.”

  “I love her,” Olivia said when Callie had left.

  “Oh my God, totally,” Mimi said. She popped up and began examining herself in the mirror. “So what about Max?”

  “What about him?”

  “He really likes you.”

  Olivia shook her head and chuckled. “He likes anything with breasts.”

  “That’s not true,” Mimi said, turning to face her roommate. “He didn’t kiss me when he had the chance.”

  “He didn’t push you away, either.” She came over and stood next to Mimi. “I’m telling you, between Max and Bruce, I think I might just hide out in my room for the rest of the summer.”

  “They’ll come looking for you, you know.”

  Olivia thought for a moment. “Well, just tell them that I have a rare infectious disease and if they come too close their penises will fall off.”

  Mimi laughed. “What about going to class?”

  “Trish can fill me in on what I miss. And you guys can all sneak food for me from the dining hall.”

  “You’re crazy,” Mimi said.

  “Good. Every great writer is a little bit crazy.” She walked across the room, sat at her computer, opened to a blank page, and began to type.

  “You’re not really going to skip dinner, are you?” Mimi asked.

  “Yep,” Olivia said, not looking away from her screen.

  Mimi watched her, waiting for her to say something else, but Olivia continued to type without turning or speaking.

  “So you want me to bring something back?” Mimi asked at last.

  “That would be great.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Whatever. Just a sandwich would be good. And maybe a can of pepper spray.”

  Mimi left, chuckling, and Olivia continued to type without looking up.

  CASTRATION CELEBRATION

  Act 3, scene 1

  (Two days later. Jane, dressed all in black, sits on her bed reading The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. Amber knocks on the door. Jane ignores the knock and keeps reading. Amber knocks again, and again Jane continues to read without looking up.)

  AMBER: I know you’re in there, Jane.

  (Jane does not look up or respond.) AMBER: I brought cookies. Homemade chocolate chip.

  (Jane does not look up or respond.)

  AMBER: You can’t stay in there forever, and I’m not leaving until you let me in.

  (Jane does not look up or respond. Amber begins to sing “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” very loudly. After several rounds, Jane puts down her book with an exasperated look, walks to the door, opens it, then returns to her bed and resumes reading.)

  AMBER: Jesus, it’s like a sauna in here. Let me open up a window and get some air circulation. (Opens window. Jane continues to ignore her. Amber sits down on the bed and looks at what Jane is reading.) Sylvia Plath, huh? Didn’t she, like, kill herself?

  JANE (without looking up): Yes.

  (long pause)

  AMBER: How’d she do it? JANE: Cooking gas. AMBER: Not very original.

  (Jane does not respond. The silence hangs heavy.)

  AMBER: So what is this? You’re going to spend the rest of your life shut up in your room reading books about death?

  JANE: Do you have a better idea?

  AMBER: What about school?

  JANE: What about it?

  AMBER: You can’t stay out forever.

  (Jane goes back to reading her book.)

  AMBER: Well, Dick was looking for you today. He’s going crazy trying to talk to you. He said he’s left you like fifty messages on your cell phone. (Amber waits for Jane to respond. Long silence as Jane continues to read her book.) You’d think after a while he would realize you don’t want to talk to him.

  (Jane continues to read her book.)

  AMBER: He gave me a note to give to you. Do you want it?

  (Jane reaches out, takes the note, and rips it into pieces without reading it. Then she returns to her book.)

  AMBER: Oh, don’t be so melodramatic. You’re upset. Dick cheated on you. You should be upset. But come on. Guys cheat on their girlfriends all the time. My dad’s cheated on my mom more times than I can count. (pause) Look. I know this probably doesn’t make you feel better, but it’s just a fact of life. Even guys with good intentions end up screwing around. The penis has a mind of its own.

  JANE (putting down her book): That’s your theory? That guys have no control over their penises?

  AMBER: Pretty much.

  JANE (angrily): Bullshit. There are plenty of guys out there who don’t cheat on their girlfriends.

  AMBER: But they all want to. Some just have more self-control.

  JANE: That’s so depressing.

  AMBER: I know.

  (long pause)

  JANE: I wish I were a lesbian.

  AMBER (laughing): It’s never too late to change.

  JANE: Have you ever tried it?

  AMBER: What? Being a lesbian? No.

  JANE: You’ve never kissed a girl?

  AMBER: Why, have you?

  JANE: When I was little. My friend Sally and I would pretend to get married. We would have a wedding ceremony and at the end we would kiss each other.

  AMBER: Any tongue?

  JANE: Gross. We were in first grade.

  AMBER: You know, there is a lesbian club at school. Lola Crest started it last year, and they’re always looking for new members. She’s tried to get me to come a couple of times.

  JANE: I don’t think so.

  AMBER: Why not?

  JANE: I’m not a lesbian.

  AMBER: But you want to be. You just said so.

  JANE: I was kidding.

  AMBER: Well, I doubt you have to be a lesbian to join. It’s probably enough if you hate men.

  JANE: Do lesbians hate men?

  AMBER: Well, they hate penises.

  JANE: I should have known better than to date a guy named Dick.

  (There is a knock on the door.)

  JANE: Who is it?

 
; SAM: It’s me.

  AMBER: Wait. Don’t come in. I’m in my underwear.

  JANE (quietly to Amber): You’re horrible. (loudly) It’s fine, Sam. You can come in.

  (Sam enters awkwardly, stealing a glance at Amber and blushing deeply.)

  SAM: Mom wanted to know if you would be coming down for dinner tonight.

  JANE: What are we having?

  SAM: Spaghetti and meatballs, I think.

  AMBER: Meatballs. Yum.

  SAM: You can stay. I mean, I’m sure it’s fine if you want to have dinner here.

  AMBER (smiling): Only if I get to sit next to you.

  SAM (blushing): Okay.

  JANE: Tell Mom we’ll be down when dinner is ready.

  (Sam nods, steals a final glance at Amber, and walks out.)

  JANE: You have to stop tormenting him.

  AMBER: I’ll tell you, Jane, if he was a couple years older—

  JANE: How do we keep him sweet and innocent? I don’t want my brother turning into a typical teenage guy.

  AMBER: Nothing you can do, sweetie. And let me tell you, he’s going to be a heartbreaker.

  JANE (shaking her head resignedly): Fuck me.

  AMBER: See. Maybe you are a lesbian.

  (Curtain)

  “Olivia’s really boycotting the dining hall?” Max asked when she did not appear for a second day in a row.

  “Not the dining hall,” Callie said. “Just you.”

  Trish laughed, and Mimi gave Callie a disapproving glance. “Don’t be so mean,” she said.

  Callie shrugged. “It’s true.”

  “Wait,” Max said. “You’re saying she’s not coming because of me?”

  “Pretty much,” Callie said, nodding.

  “She’s just totally focused on her musical right now,” Mimi said gently. “I’m sure she’ll be back soon.”

  “Did I do something to piss her off?” he asked.

  “I don’t know,” Callie said, raising her eyebrows. “Did you?”

  “Not that I know of,” Max said, willing himself to keep a straight face even though the implication of Callie’s question was clear. “She was IMing with me yesterday, and she didn’t say anything.”

  “If you say so,” Callie said with a sarcastic edge.

  Max looked down at his plate, pushed his food around a bit, and then absently took a bite of spaghetti.

  “This is stupid,” Mimi said, turning to Max. “You like her, right?”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “You have to show her,” Mimi said.

  Max shook his head. “What’s the point? She’s already said she’s not interested.”

  “Then make her interested,” Mimi said earnestly.

  “Sure,” he said, nodding at each of the girls before returning his attention to Mimi. “I mean, she’s only turned me down once this summer, and decided that she’d rather starve to death than sit through a meal with me, so it shouldn’t be too hard to convince her.”

  “Speaking of starving to death,” Callie said, looking meaningfully at Trish.

  “I’m eating,” Trish said, holding up her apple. She took a bite and turned to Max. “Where’s Zeke tonight?”

  Max took a sip of juice. “He said he didn’t feel like eating.”

  “Is he okay?”

  He shrugged. “I think he’s dealing with stuff back home. Do you know his friend Devin?”

  “Kind of,” Trish said, frowning slightly. “They used to be in a band together.”

  Max took a bite of his buttered roll and chewed without tasting. How could Olivia dislike him so much that she didn’t even want to see him anymore? That was it? She was just going to cut the strings and walk away? There was no way he could deal with that. There was just no way.

  “Is Olivia back at the dorm now?” he asked.

  Mimi nodded and smiled.

  He looked at the food on his tray and realized he had no interest in eating any of it. “Maybe I should go talk to her,” he said.

  “You should,” Mimi said encouragingly.

  Callie shook her head. “It’s your funeral.”

  When Max knocked, Olivia was writing about lesbians. She went to the door and, after hearing Max identify himself, rolled her eyes and let him in.

  “I brought you a brownie,” he said, handing over a lumpy napkin.

  “That’s so sweet,” she said, extracting the brownie and taking a bite. “Come on in.”

  He sat on one couch and she sat on the other, and he looked at her in her sweats and T-shirt, looked at her red hair and her freckled face, looked as she took another bite of her brownie and caught the crumbs in her hand, and he felt something stir inside him.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, wiping around her mouth with the napkin. “Do I have chocolate on my face?”

  “No,” he said, smiling and shaking his head.

  When she finished her brownie, she got up to throw her napkin away and to steal a glance in the mirror to make sure her face really was clean.

  “Did you see Mimi, Trish, and Callie in the dining hall?” she asked, sitting back down.

  “Yeah, they’re still eating.”

  “So did they tell you why I haven’t been there?” she asked.

  He hesitated. “Callie said you’re avoiding me.” He tried to keep his voice light.

  “Not just you. Boys in general.”

  “Oh,” he said. “A boy boycott.”

  “Pretty much,” she laughed.

  “What about Bruce, or whatever his name is?”

  “I can’t believe you thought I liked him,” she said.

  Max held open his hands. “I’m sorry. It looked like you guys were together.”

  “Yuck,” she said, screwing up her face. “Do you know what I did after class today?”

  “What?”

  “I told him I was a lesbian.”

  Max laughed. “Did he believe you?”

  “Who knows?” she said with a shrug. “At least he didn’t try to follow me back to the dorm again.”

  Max readjusted himself on the couch. “So this boycott,” he said, pausing. “Is there any room for negotiation?”

  She chuckled and shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Really? There’s nothing I could do to make you reconsider?”

  “No,” she said. “Not unless you’re willing to consider castration.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “That’s a pretty steep asking price.”

  “Those are my terms,” she said with a shrug.

  He cupped his chin and nodded slowly, making little noises of deep contemplation. “Just to be clear,” he asked after a moment. “You’d only take the testicles, right, not the whole kit and caboodle?”

  “Just the testicles,” she said impassively.

  But before he could respond, voices rang through the hall outside and then a loud knock resonated through the room. “Is it safe to come in?” Mimi called.

  “Hurry,” Max yelled. “She’s got a knife.”

  “I knew it,” Callie’s voice boomed. The door flew open, and Max and Olivia smiled from the couches.

  “She was threatening to castrate me,” Max said.

  Olivia got up and shook her head. “I’m going back to work. Thanks for the brownie, Max.”

  He didn’t stay long after that. When he got back to his room, Zeke was gone, but the familiar smell of marijuana permeated the air. He found a piece of paper, sat down, and began to write.

  He ran upstairs and slid the note under the girls’ door, figuring that even if Olivia wasn’t interested, it would be almost impossible for the group of them to resist his offer.

  And he was correct. A little more than an hour later, the response arrived. It read:

  Max smiled as he read Olivia’s note, then scribbled his reply and slipped it under her door.

  The first part of the test was the easiest. He was an actor, he had written and performed monologues before, and he loved the sp
otlight. The fact that his subject was castration did not daunt him in the least. He just needed to be sure to get it written and memorized quickly to make Olivia’s cutoff.

  It was amazing how many sites came up when he Googled castration. Well over three million. He scrolled through: Is Castration Right for Me? Castration Blogs, Photos, and Videos. Police Investigate Botched Castration. Dog Castration. Chemical Castration Bill Becomes Law. Thankfully, this last one was satirical.

  He heard the door open and looked up from his computer to see Zeke walking in. “Hey,” Max said.

  Zeke walked over to his bed, sat down, and began to unlace his sneakers. “What’s up?”

  “Listen to this,” Max said, turning back to the computer screen. “In Europe, they used to castrate boys to keep their voices from changing at puberty, because girls weren’t allowed to sing in church choirs.”

  “What the hell site are you on?”

  “I’m doing research on castration,” Max said.

  “Well, I don’t need to hear that shit. It’s bad enough I have to go to church on Christmas and Easter.” Zeke finished taking off his sneakers and carried them to the closet.

  Max couldn’t tell what kind of mood Zeke was in, but decided it was safest to keep things light. “You ever been molested by a priest?” he asked.

  “Ever had your penis sliced by a rabbi?” Zeke shot back.

  Max laughed. “It’s called a mohel. But that gives me a good idea.” He clicked open a Word document.

  “I’m going to take a shower,” Zeke said, grabbing his towel and walking out.

  Max began to type and found that the words came easily. Almost too easily. He wondered what his therapist might have to say about that. Just before midnight, he put his computer to sleep, and after class the next day he put the finishing touches on his work, read it aloud, and made a few revisions. Before dinner, he practiced performing for Zeke, who told him that he was seriously disturbed. At six-thirty he stood on his chair in the dining hall, and the girls at his table banged their spoons against their glasses. “If I can have everybody’s attention,” he called out in a booming voice, “I will now perform an original monologue about castration.”