Hold Me Closer Page 3
The longest one ever in captivity was Medusa, a
twenty-five-foot python.
TINY (sung):
And?
PHIL (sung):
And Medusa’s diet included rabbits, hogs, and
deer!
TINY (beaming, and loudly sung):
That’s the coolest thing I ever did hear!
Phil seems surprised by this sudden burst of friendship. At this point, the other team members, all in uniform, come back and mill around. Phil’s book disappears, and a notebook appears. The other team members leave, and Phil opens up the notebook.
All dialogue is sung from here on in, until end of song.
TINY:
Hey, whatcha doing?
PHIL:
I’m trying to get through math.
TINY:
Math was invented by a psychopath.
PHIL:
A psychopath who never takes a bath.
TINY:
A stinky, smelly psychopath—
that’s who invented math.
Both boys are very proud of themselves and their repartee. But now there’s an awkward pause. Until Phil unexpectedly (to both of them) jumps in.
PHIL:
Hey, whatcha doing?
TINY:
Just thinking, you know.
PHIL:
I know what it’s like to be thinking.
TINY:
I’ll be standing in the outfield, staring at the sky . . .
PHIL:
. . . but what I’m really seeing are the thoughts
that travel by.
TINY:
I pretend the clouds are in a soap opera . . .
PHIL:
I make friends with blades of grass.
TINY:
There are clouds in love, clouds in lust . . .
PHIL:
I’m afraid the coach will kick my ass.
Singing this line makes Phil downcast, and Tiny notices. The other players return, and again the stage is full with the comings and goings. Tiny steps downstage to address the audience.
TINY (spoken):
Phil became a decent first baseman. I found that my talents at basketball and football—two sports that appreciate size—were not transferable to the baseball diamond. Very quickly, I held the league record for being hit by pitches.
Nothing can cement a friendship like a common enemy. And in Little League we found that in a certain Fascist-forward despot named Coach Frye. I haven’t changed his name, because I would love to see Coach Frye try to sue me. Bring it on, Coach Frye. There’s not a jury in the world that enjoyed gym class.
Tiny sits down on the bench, itchy and restless. The other teammates sit on the bench, too.
COACH FRYE comes out. He’s ugly and out of shape. You know those gym teachers who force you to do ten thousand sit-ups even though they themselves haven’t seen the lower half of their body in twenty years? The ones who blow their whistles like they’re the master and you’re the dogs? Yeah, that’s him.
COACH FRYE (spoken):
Alright, you pansies. I don’t want you to sissy up the field, understood? This isn’t a softball team—I want you unloading artillery out there. Billy, you’re up.
One of the boys leaves the bench and goes offstage. The kids’ eyes follow him. They start to cheer him on.
COACH FRYE (yelling):
Come on, Billy! Did your mom teach you how to hold a bat? This isn’t gardening. Wait for your pitch and don’t just stand there.
Then Tiny’s cheer drowns out all the others.
TINY (exaggeratedly effeminate, even flirtatious):
Hey, batta batta. THWING, batta batta!
BULLY PLAYER #1:
Idiot. Our guy is batting. You’re distracting him!
PHIL (coming to Tiny’s defense):
Tiny’s rubber. You’re glue. Whatever you say bounces off him and sticks to you.
BULLY PLAYER #2:
Tiny’s gay.
COACH FRYE:
Hey! HEY! No insulting teammates.
PHIL (valiantly):
It’s not an insult. It’s just a thing. Like, some people are gay. Some people have blue eyes.
COACH FRYE:
Shut up, Wrayson.
BULLY #1 (loud whisper):
You’re so gay for each other.
PHIL:
We’re not gay. We’re eight.
BULLY #1:
You want to go to second base . . . WITH TINY.
TINY:
Second base?
Tiny stands up and takes a step downstage, in front of the coach, who seethes. “SECOND BASE” is about to begin.
This is Tiny’s number, but everybody’s going to be looking at the boys in uniform. This should be the most homoerotically charged baseball dance number since “I Don’t Dance” in High School Musical 2. As Tiny sings, the guys in the chorus—including Phil—pull off a hilariously elaborate old-fashioned, high-stepping, highly choreographed dance, their bats used as canes and their ball caps as top hats. Midway through, half the guys swing their bats toward the heads of half the others, and even though it’s totally faked, when the other boys fall backward dramatically and the music cuts out, the audience is going to gasp. Moments later, they all jump up in a single motion and the song starts up again. (Or, if you can’t do all that, just make it fun.)
At first, Coach is startled. Tiny is taking over his team, winning them over with his song. Once he realizes this, he storms off.
At another point, Billy should probably run back from the batter’s box and join in. We wouldn’t want him to lose out on the fun just because he’s up at bat.
The key thing here is that, as should be obvious from the lyrics, Tiny has no idea what he’s talking about. He’s not identifying as gay to his teammates—he’s just asking a question. And it’s clear that he has no answer. He hasn’t thought about sex much. He’s eight.
[“SECOND BASE”]
TINY:
What’s second base for a gay man?
If you can’t tell me,
I’m hoping somebody can.
When I hit the field,
I want to know where to run.
Don’t want to be tagged out
before the fun’s begun.
What’s second base for a gay man?
Is it tuning in Tokyo?
I can’t see how that would feel good,
but maybe that’s how it should go?
CHORUS:
Hey, batta batta!
Swing, batta batta!
TINY:
Is it spooning or sporking?
Parabulating or torquing?
Hot or cold, fast or slow,
holding close or letting go?
CHORUS:
Hey, batta batta!
Swing, batta batta!
TINY:
Is it carnal or karmic?
Pastoral or tantric?
Is it Ontario or Saskatchewan?
Eyeing Iceland or petting Pakistan?
Send the answer in a bottle
or beam it in from outer space—
just somebody please tell me
how a gay man gets to second base!
Largely instrumental interlude for homoerotic baseball dance number. Containing the refrain:
CHORUS:
Swing low, batta batta,
coming forth to carry us . . .
home!
Swing low, batta batta,
coming forth to carry us . . .
home!
TINY:
Do I glide to second base
or slide in headfirst?
Can I steal when no one’s looking
or is that asking for the worst?
I’ve checked my Bible and skimmed Sedaris.
I’ve even consulted my Deathly Hallows.
Please please please—I haven’t been to first yet
but I’d sure like to know what follows!
CHORUS:
Swing low!
Swing hard!
Swing low, batta batta!
Swing hard!
At this rousing finish, the audience will hopefully drown you in thunderous applause. Use this as an interval to clear the stage. Only Tiny remains. He should take his AGE: 8 button off before he speaks.
TINY:
Even if Phil didn’t have answers to all of my questions, like the location of second base for a gay man, he still became the most important person in my life. In middle school, I ended up punching Coach Frye in the nose in Phil’s defense. Meanwhile, Phil’s defenses of me were a little more . . . subtle.
He was my best friend. But still there were some things we couldn’t talk about.
Phil comes walking out onstage, wearing the clothes of his seventh-grade self. He gives Tiny a badge that says AGE: 12. The following exchange is spoken.
PHIL:
Hey, whatcha doing?
TINY:
Not much, what’re you doing?
PHIL:
Not much. (Pauses. Looks at Tiny.) Look, Tiny. If you ever want to talk to me about boy stuff, you know you can, right?
TINY:
Boy stuff? Like snakes and airplanes and war?
PHIL:
No, like . . . boys. Just because I don’t crush that way, it doesn’t mean we can’t talk about it. I mean, I groan about girls to you all the time.
TINY:
I have no idea what you’re talking about. Did you see the Bears game last night?
Phil looks disappointed and leaves the stage. Tiny, meanwhile, turns to the audience.
TINY:
It’s always easy to blame other people for holding you back. But sometimes, the only person holding you back is . . . well . . . you.
ACT I, SCENE 5
The batboy comes out and gives Tiny a new button, which reads AGE: 14.
TINY (spoken):
Sometimes a long, dark night of the soul can last for weeks, months, or even years. In my case, it was weeks, but still. Those weeks had years behind them. Because even though I was born gay, and grew up gay, and liked boys in that way and didn’t like girls in that way, there was something holding me back: that one simple word—gay—spoken out loud.
It was a glass closet. Everyone could see me inside. I waved to them all the time. But I was trapped nonetheless. I had supportive parents, but I’d never really had the conversation with them. I had a best friend, but I’d never had the conversation with him, either. I’d never had a boyfriend. I’d never really tried. I’d lost myself in football, in school, in jokes and fashion. But by being lost in these things, I was losing myself.
I know it’s hard to believe, but it took me a while to actually say it. Sometimes it’s hard, even when it shouldn’t be. And sometimes it’s hard because it is.
That’s what this song is about. Normally in a coming-out story, the big scene is when the main character tells his parents. Or his best friend. Or the boy he loves. But ask anyone who’s ever been through coming out—and I’m not just talking about coming out as gay here, I’m talking all kinds of coming out. We all know: The first person you have to come out to is yourself. So this scene is just me alone on a stage. Because that’s how it was. Me alone, singing to myself, and finally hearing it.
Piano, please.
Cue piano intro.
[“I KNOW IT, BUT WHY CAN’T I SAY IT?”]
TINY:
Ever since way back when,
I’ve played with Barbies
and dreamed of Ken.
I’ve read Vogue from cover to cover
like an unrequited lover
waiting for his ticket
to the midnight ball.
My room is full of hoardings
of original cast recordings,
singing to me of somewhere,
and glory, and hope.
Even a blind man can see
what is going on with me . . .
but when I reach for the words
they’re not there.
I know it, but why can’t I say it?
Why am I hiding
the thing I know the most?
Who am I trying to be
when I’m denying I’m me?
Why is the truth
so stuck inside?
Hiding.
There’s not much chance of hiding.
And still I’m not confiding,
afraid of something I can’t name.
Careful.
I tell myself,
be careful.
But sometimes
careful
cares too much
about what people think
and what they might say
their careless remarks
about you being—
Tiny stops. He can’t say the word. In the silence, the CHORUS comes onstage. It is a chorus of gay kids—some of them the boyfriends from the second act, some of them young lesbians, including Lynda, the lesbian babysitter. One of them, to appear again later, is THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE.
CHORUS:
I know it, but why can’t I say it?
Why am I hiding
the thing I know the most?
TINY AND CHORUS:
Who am I trying to be
when I’m denying I’m me?
Why is the truth
so stuck inside?
Hiding.
There’s not much chance of hiding.
And still I’m not confiding,
afraid of something I can’t name.
Careful.
I tell myself,
be careful.
But sometimes
careful
cares too much
about what people think
and what they might say
their careless remarks
about you being—
TINY:
gay.
There’s a pause in the music as the word is felt. Tiny is both scared and exhilarated to have said it out loud. The chorus chimes in.
CHORUS:
If they’re truly your friends, you won’t lose them.
If they don’t get it at first, you’ll excuse them.
If they love you, they’ll want you to love.
If they love you, they’ll want you to be loved.
TINY:
I know it.
CHORUS:
So you must say it.
TINY:
I say it.
CHORUS:
Because it is your truth.
TINY:
Hiding.
CHORUS:
There is no meaning in hiding.
TINY:
Careful.
CHORUS:
Don’t be careless with your heart.
TINY:
If they’re truly my friends—
CHORUS:
—you won’t lose them.
TINY:
If they don’t get it at first—
CHORUS:
—you’ll excuse them.
If they love you, they’ll want you to love.
If they love you, they’ll want you to be loved.
TINY:
I know it, and so I will say it.
No more hiding
the thing I know the most.
I am trying to be
the me I know I can be.
So starting today
I will be openly
CHORUS:
Openly
TINY:
Openly
CHORUS:
Openly!
TINY:
Gay!
At the end of this song, Tiny should look very relieved.
ACT I, SCENE 6
The lights go out. When they come back up, we’ve returned to the stage setup we saw in the “Religion” scene—this time Mom and Dad are sitting on the bench, and Tiny is in front of them.
For this number, Tiny speaks all of his lines, Mom sings hers, and Dad remains silent.
[“STATING THE OBVIOUS”]
TINY (spoken):
Mom. Dad. I just wanted to let you know . . . I’m gay.
MOM (sung):
Oh, Tiny.
Our Tiny.
We know, Tiny.
It’s okay.
TINY (spoken):
I dream of boys. I fantasize about boys. When I jerk off, I think of boys. I mean, not that I jerk off or anything.
MOM (sung):
The strongest kind of love
is unconditional love.
The moment you were born,
I knew unconditional love.
TINY (spoken):
And while I’m coming out, I might as well tell you that time I told you Djane must have stolen your lipstick when she was over? Well, that was me. But I didn’t really like the way I looked in lipstick. At least not that color.
MOM (sung):
You are so complicated.
I can see.
But you’re good at heart.
And that’s what matters to me.
TINY (spoken):
I cheated at algebra. There’s a reason your vodka tastes watered down. I feed my peas to the dog every time you serve them. I just don’t want to hurt your feelings.
MOM (sung):
We’ll always love our Tiny
And we’ll always love your Tiny, too.
We can’t wait to witness
All the big, gay things you’ll do.
TINY (spoken):
I download porn on the family computer, but I burn it to disk so it won’t actually be on the hard drive. And you know how I told you I worked at the library at school to pay for my subscriptions to Vogue and Details and Men’s Health? Well, that was actually the birthday money Grandma sent me that she wanted me to spend on my “religious education.”
MOM (sung):
Look at this Big Gay Baby of ours—
not something you read about in Dr. Spock.
Look at our Big Gay Baby—