Hold Me Closer Read online

  ACT I, SCENE 10

  A dark stage. Tiny once more in the spotlight.

  TINY:

  So that was it. I had fully emerged from my big gay chrysalis and was now a big gay butterfly. I spread my wings. I flew around. It felt gooooood.

  I had great friends. I had a supportive family. I had football. I should have felt complete.

  And yet I didn’t.

  The piano begins. Tiny looks around the stage, as if he’s just stepped outside the shtetl and is about to ask the immortal question, “Papa, can you hear me?” Only it’s not his dead father he’s addressing. For one, his father isn’t dead. For two, that’s already been done, like, a thousand times.

  Tiny should remain in the spotlight throughout. The other characters should emerge from the darkness and then get spotlights of their own.

  [“WHAT IS MISSING? (LOVE IS MISSING)”]

  TINY:

  Something’s missing.

  What is missing?

  It’s like a sense I’ve never used.

  A place I’ve never been.

  A chord I’ve never heard.

  A shiver I’ve never felt.

  Lynda, the lesbian babysitter, emerges from the darkness.

  LYNDA:

  Something’s missing?

  What is missing?

  It’s a thought you’ve never mused.

  A harmony in the din.

  The height of the absurd.

  A card you’ll soon be dealt.

  TINY:

  Something’s missing?

  What is missing?

  The Ghost of Oscar Wilde emerges and completes the trinity.

  THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:

  It’s the heart of the accused.

  The fight you dare not win.

  The sounds that make a word.

  The unfastening of the belt.

  TINY:

  What is it?

  What am I missing?

  It’s like a sense I’ve never used.

  LYNDA:

  It’s a thought you’ve never mused.

  THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:

  It’s the heart of the accused.

  TINY:

  A place I’ve never been.

  LYNDA:

  A harmony in the din.

  THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:

  The fight you dare not win.

  TINY:

  A chord I’ve never heard.

  LYNDA:

  The height of the absurd.

  THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:

  The sounds that make a word.

  TINY:

  A shiver I’ve never felt.

  LYNDA:

  A card you’ll soon be dealt.

  THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:

  The unfastening of the belt.

  LYNDA AND THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:

  Something’s missing.

  What is missing?

  TINY (spoken):

  It’s love, isn’t it?

  Lynda and The Ghost of Oscar Wilde nod, then resume singing.

  LYNDA AND THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:

  If act one in life is about finding yourself,

  then act two is about finding everyone else.

  TINY:

  And love?

  LYNDA AND THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:

  And love.

  THE GHOST OF OSCAR WILDE:

  The pure and simple truth

  is rarely pure and never simple.

  What’s a boy to do

  when lies and truth are both considered

  sinful?

  Now it’s Tiny’s turn to nod.

  TINY:

  I was born this way,

  and this is the way I’ve managed to stay.

  Now I embark on the search for love.

  Yes, now I embark on the search for love!

  END OF ACT I

  ACT II

  ACT II, SCENE 1

  Just in case you think, heading into Act II, that this is going to be one of those boy-meets-boy, boy-loses-boy, boy-gets-boy-back stories . . . the playwright must now point out the comedy of your error. Believe me, he had those notions at the start. He thought all he had to do was send love out into the universe and it would come back to him in the form of a perfect guy. A match. A soul mate. Remember the lesson Lynda gave him early on about halves? In the years since, he’s forgotten it. It’s not enough for him to be gay. He has to have a boyfriend. A you-are-my-everything boyfriend.

  This is the dangerous thing about musicals. Most of them assume that as soon as you find your voice, you’ll use it to sing to someone else. That way, you can get your enchanted evening, your seasons of love, your tale as old as time, your Camembert, your edelweiss.

  The thing is, in musicals there’s not a whole lot of looking (except in the case of Rodgers & Hammerstein’s Cinderella.) In musicals, things happen that throw you into love, whether it’s gang warfare on the West Side, or a Nazi invasion, or needing a neighbor to light your candle.

  Real life doesn’t provide quite so many openings. No, in real life, you’ve got to work a little harder to get to love.

  I was willing to do the work. I was willing to look high and low for the perfect harmony.

  I looked everywhere. I dated a lot of boys.

  And what did I get out of it?

  I got . . .

  The Parade of Ex-boyfriends.

  Yes, this second act has a pretty strange structure (although maybe not as strange as the second act of Follies, right?). Here we’re going to trace my progression as a person through my progression of breakups, because honestly at the time I couldn’t tell the difference between the two. We’re going to lose the Age button now and just go with the high school years as one entity. Because I’m sure that’s going to be how they’ll feel when they’re over. Assuming they ever end.

  The next number calls for nineteen parts (including Tiny). I know that’s a lot to ask of any production. So feel free to double- or triple-cast. Also feel free to give every ex a number somewhere on his costume, like this is the deli counter from dating hell. Whatever works. And, duh, the boyfriends can be played by girls dressed as boys. But you knew that already, I’m sure.

  The key for the actor playing Tiny is to know this: I wanted it. I really, really wanted it. Keep that in mind at all times, even when I’m being foolish.

  When the curtain rises, we see a swing set on the stage. There is a brief overture as Tiny swings on his own. Then the music stops for his opening monologue.

  TINY:

  Love is the most common miracle. Love is always a miracle, everywhere, every time. But for us, it’s a little different. I don’t want to say it’s more miraculous—it is, though. Our miracle is different because some people say it’s impossible. But let me tell you—it’s possible. Very possible.

  Tiny leaps off the swing and lands in what seems to be a heap.

  TINY:

  I fall and I fall and I fall and I fall and I fall. . . .

  The swing set is wheeled off, and the EX-BOYFRIENDS march onstage to the start of their song.

  [“PARADE OF EX-BOYFRIENDS”]

  CHORUS OF EX-BOYFRIENDS:

  We are the parade of ex-boyfriends!

  EX-BOYFRIEND #1:

  You’re too clingy.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #2:

  You’re too sing-y.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #3:

  You’re so massive.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #4:

  I’m just too passive.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #5:

  I’d rather be friends.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #6:

  I don’t date tight ends.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #7:

  I found ano
ther guy.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #8:

  I don’t have to tell you why.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #9:

  I don’t feel the spark.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #10:

  It was only just a lark.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #11:

  You mean you won’t put out?

  EX-BOYFRIEND #12:

  I can’t conquer my doubt.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #13:

  I have other things to do.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #14:

  I have other guys to screw.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #15:

  Our love has all been in your head.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #16:

  I’m worried that you’ll break my bed.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #17:

  I think I’ll just stay home and read.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #18:

  I think you’re in love with my need.

  CHORUS OF EX-BOYFRIENDS:

  Tiny Cooper, have no doubt:

  You’re the one we can live without.

  TINY (in a Sondheimian frenzy):

  What’d I do?

  What’d I say?

  Why did these boys

  all go away?

  I tried hard to be

  who they’d want me to be

  though most of the time

  I couldn’t help being me.

  Was I too loud?

  Too quiet?

  Why work on the package

  when there’s no one to buy it?

  Am I not enough of a gay?

  Not enough of a guy?

  My love life’s a train wreck

  so I might as well fly. . . .

  CHORUS OF EX-BOYFRIENDS:

  Parade!

  Of the ex-boyfriends!

  Any relationship that starts

  inevitably ends!

  EX-BOYFRIEND #1:

  You wanted me too much.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #2:

  I can’t be your emotional crutch.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #3:

  Just look at your size!

  EX-BOYFRIEND #4:

  You don’t make my hormones rise.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #5:

  I’ll see you around school.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #6:

  I hope that we’re cool.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #7:

  I hope I’m not hurting you.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #8:

  I’m happily deserting you.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #9:

  You’re drowning me in texts.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #10:

  I can’t imagine us having sex.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #11:

  I guess I’m more of a slut.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #12:

  I need someone with a nicer butt.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #13:

  I never really thought it would work.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #14:

  Don’t make it sound like I’m the jerk.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #15:

  You’ll never, ever complete me.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #16:

  I don’t mind if you want to delete me.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #17:

  I hate it when you hold my hand.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #18:

  I don’t think you’ll ever truly understand.

  CHORUS AND TINY:

  The only way to learn

  how to make something last

  is to be yanked from your future

  to reckon with the past.

  Parade of ex-boyfriends

  you thought you once knew.

  Parade of ex-boyfriends,

  who are all through with you.

  CHORUS:

  Your love life’s a train wreck—

  TINY:

  —so I might as well fly.

  CHORUS:

  But you must hear our stories—

  TINY:

  —before I can try.

  CHORUS:

  Love is not easy.

  TINY:

  No matter how hard you pretend.

  CHORUS:

  Any relationship that starts—

  TINY:

  —inevitably ends.

  CHORUS (spoken):

  Except.

  TINY:

  Except?

  CHORUS (resumes singing):

  Except the one that transcends.

  TINY:

  Yes, the one that transcends.

  Please send the one that transcends!

  ACT II, SCENE 2

  All the ex-boyfriends leave the stage. Ex-boyfriend #18, WILL, might linger a little bit longer. Because, let’s face it—he’s the most recent, and those tend to linger longer. Which isn’t to say I’m not over it. I am completely over it. Except for those moments when I’m not over it at all.

  But eventually Will leaves the stage. Because that’s what he did—he left the stage. Took himself off. Exit, stage right. (Or stage left—whichever works for your blocking—I’m using this more as a metaphor than as a stage direction here.)

  Tiny is now alone onstage. The parade has passed him by. But now it’s going to return, slower this time, so he can see what’s happened.

  We are going back to the start of his dating life here—the first date.

  As we approach the next song, he should look eager and excited. He’s so naïve that he doesn’t really feel too nervous—he actually thinks dating is going to be easy, now that he knows who he is. Try to capture that. Try to capture what it’s like to have never squeezed yourself into the shape of someone else’s expectations. Try to capture what it’s like not to be thinking in terms of “types.” Try to capture what’s it like to have no exes, to have never failed. Try, if you can, to show that in the way Tiny is getting ready for tonight.

  A mirror appears, and we see him comb his hair, maybe put on a kickass jacket. He’s pulling out all the stops for this first date. Once he’s judged himself lovable, he turns to the audience and begins his tale.

  TINY:

  My first date ever was with Brad Langley, who was a whole year older than me—which at the time meant ninth grade. Word of my outstanding outness had spread through the school like pink wildfire. Brad was bedazzled by the flames and traced them back to their source: yours truly.

  BRAD appears onstage. He is dressed with a kickassness similar to Tiny’s.

  It really doesn’t matter, but he is absolutely adorable.

  BRAD (a little shy):

  Hi. Are you Tiny?

  TINY

  (not getting why this boy is approaching him):

  Do I look Tiny?

  BRAD:

  You look about as tiny as Idina Menzel’s voice.

  Now Brad has Tiny’s attention.

  TINY:

  So if I tell you I appreciate that reference . . .

  BRAD:

  . . . then I’ll know I’m talking to the right guy. Most people here don’t know their Merman from their Martin.

  TINY:

  Heathens.

  BRAD:

  I know.

  TINY (to audience):

  Within minutes of our first conversation, we established all the things we had in common. And we kept having the same conversation for days, because we were enjoying it so much. If we started by talking about musicals, soon we were talking about everything.

  The following is sung at first as a classic call-and-response—like “Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better” only they’re doing the opposite of disagreeing. This is about what it’s like to find a kindred spirit, and what it’s like to know you’ve found that kindred spirit by piecing together all the pop culture references you love. We need to see Tiny and Brad getting more a
nd more excited as this part of the song plays out.

  [“I LIKE”]

  TINY:

  I like seeing Draco in Harry’s arms.

  BRAD (EX-BOYFRIEND #1):

  I like succumbing to the Weasley boys’ charms.

  TINY:

  I like singing in the shower.

  BRAD:

  I like singing at any hour.

  TINY:

  I like daydreaming about Cumberbatch.

  BRAD:

  I like keeping photos of him in my Sherlock stash.

  TINY:

  I like Phantom of the Opera—

  BRAD:

  —and the music of the night.

  TINY:

  I like “Bali Ha’i”—

  BRAD:

  —and when Emile sees the light.

  TINY:

  I like Idina in green—

  BRAD:

  And Judy on yellow.

  TINY:

  I like Patti at don’t cry—

  BRAD:

  —and Barbra at hello!

  TINY:

  I like brown-paper packages—

  BRAD:

  —tied up in string!

  I like the trolley bell—

  TINY:

  —that goes ding ding ding!

  TINY AND BRAD

  (spoken, completely bowled over by the serendipity of their synchronicity):

  Wow . . .

  Tiny pauses to make an observation to the audience.

  TINY:

  Of course, once we saw we had all this in common, we got more personal. Because that’s how it goes, right? You make enough mirror connections and you feel safe to fall below the surface, to get to the deeper truths you don’t think are visible to the naked eye.

  The song resumes.

  TINY:

  I like that my parents didn’t kick me out of the

  house.

  BRAD:

  I like that my stepfather isn’t a louse.

  TINY:

  I like that I don’t have to pretend.

  BRAD:

  I like that I don’t think my life will end.

  TINY:

  I like that I don’t have to worry about flirting.

  BRAD:

  I like that my soul is no longer hurting.

  Tiny addresses the audience again. Brad remains paused in the conversation, oblivious.

  TINY:

  We kept talking and talking. And we didn’t do anything else. I wanted to kiss him, to hold him, to be his boyfriend. But I had no idea what he wanted. This was the only thing we didn’t talk about—the subject of us.