Hold Me Closer Read online

  As we started a second month without clarifying the whole are-we-dating-and-are-we-going-to-kiss? thing, I found myself getting closer and closer to the edge of bringing it up.

  The song resumes.

  TINY:

  I like to stare for hours at Cate Blanchett.

  BRAD:

  I like to watch as much Sandra Bullock as I

  can get.

  TINY:

  I like to watch reruns of Buffy when I’m

  feeling huffy.

  BRAD:

  I like to turn on Doctor Who when I’m

  feeling blue.

  TINY:

  I like salted caramel ice cream.

  BRAD:

  I like Darren Criss and “Teenage Dream.”

  TINY:

  I like Liza in Berlin—

  BRAD:

  —and Rita on the West Side.

  TINY:

  I like Nemo with his dad—

  BRAD:

  —and Simba with his pride.

  TINY (suddenly blurty):

  I like all of these things,

  it’s true.

  But I also like

  your body and

  your smile,

  your jacket

  and your shoes,

  your sweetness

  and your jokes,

  your style

  and your smell.

  In other words

  what I guess I’m saying is

  I like you.

  Yes, you.

  I really like you—

  so much, too.

  Yeah, it’s true,

  I really, really like you.

  I mean,

  I really, really, really like you.

  BRAD (spoken):

  Oh. Um . . . oh. Thanks?

  TINY (sung):

  I like you I like you I like you

  I like you!

  I like you!

  I liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-ike you!

  BRAD (spoken):

  You really don’t have to do that.

  TINY (getting really into it, not hearing Brad):

  I liiiii-ike you.

  Oh yes.

  Oh really.

  I like you so so so so much.

  BRAD (spoken):

  We’ve only known each other a month.

  TINY (sung like “Tomorrow”):

  I like you,

  I like you,

  I may love you,

  But now I like you . . .

  BRAD:

  I can’t do this. I’m sorry, Tiny. But you’ve got to stop.

  TINY (sobering now, more plaintive):

  But I like you . . .

  I really like you . . .

  BRAD:

  I’m going to go now.

  TINY (spoken now):

  But I like you.

  BRAD:

  I’m sorry. Really, I am. But I can’t be that. I can’t

  do that. I really have to go now.

  Brad exits the stage.

  TINY (calling after him):

  I like you!

  This last one is the one that’s going to haunt him, the one that even he realizes is one too many, one too late. Brad isn’t ready, and Tiny isn’t ready for Brad not to be ready. So what might have been an amazing friendship gets dashed against the wall by romantic hopes. It’s weird to look at now, to see that although I felt we were the same, we really weren’t in the same place. I learned an important lesson: that just because a boy can recite the full tracklist to the [title of show] cast album, it doesn’t mean that he necessarily knows what the title of his own show is going to be.

  Of course, this lesson didn’t come until much later. Right then, I didn’t feel taught. I felt tricked and trapped and traumatized.

  Which makes it time to send in the Friend Brigade.

  Phil Wrayson enters from the side where Brad just left. Dialogue below is spoken, not sung.

  PHIL:

  It’s okay. There are plenty of other boys out there. I’m sure you’ll like one of them, too.

  TINY:

  But I like him.

  PHIL:

  I’m sure there’s a better way to say this, but because that better way is just not occurring to me at the moment, I’m going to say it this way: He doesn’t like you back. Not the way you want him to.

  TINY:

  But that’s not fair!

  PHIL:

  I have absolutely no experience in this realm, but my gut instinct tells me that fairness isn’t really what breaking up is about.

  TINY:

  Breaking up? Is that what just happened?

  PHIL

  (looking to where Brad left, then turning again to Tiny):

  Unless he comes back here in the next five seconds, I would say so.

  They both count out five seconds. Tiny uses his fingers. At five, he releases a big sigh.

  TINY:

  Does it get easier?

  PHIL

  (looking and sounding like he has no idea what he’s talking about):

  Sure! Of course!

  Phil walks offstage. Which is really easy for him to do, considering.

  TINY:

  I thought I would be able to put Brad behind me and find someone better, smarter, more charming, and—most important—someone who liked me as much as I liked him. As the end of the school year came around, I dove right into the blue-eyed gaze of Silas, one of the other gay kids at our school. We didn’t have much in common, but I thought that being gay in common would be enough. I overlooked the fact that when I started talking about Les Misérables, he asked me if it was in French. Or when I mentioned “Memory,” he asked me what show it was from, and then found it hysterical that I would like a song that was sung by a cat. He’d talk to me, too, about things like politics, but I wasn’t really listening. I was thinking of something else. Or, more accurately, someone else.

  SILAS, Ex-boyfriend #2, comes onstage and sits at a table—clearly, a date. Tiny sits at the table across from him. Looks him lovingly in the eye. The audience probably thinks, “Oh, this is going well.” Then Tiny opens his mouth.

  TINY (to the tune of “I LIKE”):

  Braaaaaaaaaaad! Brad Brad Brad Brad Brad. Brad Brad Brad.

  Brad Brad.

  Braaaaad.

  Braaaaad!

  Silas looks at him like he’s crazy and leaves.

  ACT II, SCENE 3

  Lynda the babysitter enters, followed by The Ghost of Oscar Wilde.

  TINY:

  What are you doing here? Haven’t you gone off to Oberlin by now? And who is that with you?

  LYNDA:

  This is more of a thematic interruption than a realistic one. And this is Oscar Wilde.

  TINY:

  What is Oscar Wilde doing here?

  LYNDA:

  He’s proof that you can be a genius artist and still be a fool for love.

  TINY:

  I don’t think I’m ready for that lesson yet.

  Lynda dismisses The Ghost of Oscar Wilde from the stage. He goes without saying a word.

  LYNDA:

  You need to learn to put things in perspective.

  TINY:

  You say that, and all I hear is, “You need to stop being so crazy, Tiny Cooper.”

  LYNDA:

  That’s not what I said.

  TINY:

  But it’s what I heard! And I’m not crazy. The issues with my ex-boyfriends aren’t all my issues. They have issues, too.

  LYNDA:

  I know.

  TINY (as if she didn’t just agree with him):

  Don’t believe me
? Send out exes #3, #12, and #16. They all broke up with me for basically the same reason.

  LYNDA:

  And what was that?

  TINY:

  My size.

  EXES #3, #12, AND #16 come out singing their lines from the parade. They seem disjointed out of the context of the song, like Cinderella and the others singing through the forest in the second act of Into the Woods.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #3:

  You’re so massive.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #12:

  I can’t conquer my doubt.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #16:

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

  EX-BOYFRIEND #3:

  Just look at your size!

  EX-BOYFRIEND #12:

  I need someone with a nicer butt.

  EX-BOYFRIEND #16:

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

  The audience should feel uncomfortable here, because these are not comfortable things that the ex-boyfriends are saying.

  Tiny stops addressing Lynda, who goes offstage as Tiny talks to the audience.

  TINY:

  You might ask: “Didn’t they know what they were getting into from the start? It’s not like you suddenly grew to be this size overnight!” To which I say: True. And I’m sure there were some people who were frightened away before they ever got to know me. Ex #3 was someone I met at the mall—we didn’t really date. I just made sure to get invited to a party he was going to be at, and when I made my move, he called me massive and said, “Just look at your size,” and that was the end of that. He counts as an ex because he made me feel dumped even without making me feel loved first.

  Ex #12, Curtis, was different—I think he kept seeing me as his friends saw me, and wasn’t strong enough to tell them to shut up. When it was just the two of us, when we could block out the world, it was fine. But no relationship should rely on you blocking out the world. The world will always get in. And if the world is going to make you self-conscious about dating a big-boned boy, that big-boned boy is going to notice.

  As for Ex #16, Royce—he flirted with everyone. But if you ever liked him back, forget it. Some boys—not many, but a few—are like that, getting their own strength from finding your weakness and poking it. There’s something weirdly transfixing about their confidence, like even as they’re condescending to you, you’re secretly hoping that their strength will rub off and suddenly you’ll be as confident as they are. But that’s not how it works. Being strong at being a jerk isn’t really strength—it’s just being a jerk. It may make these guys great Future Business Leaders of America, but it makes them really crappy boyfriends.

  Now, about the number that’s going to soon unfold. Even though there are plenty of people like me who worship at its altar, musical theater is not particularly kind to its larger-of-frame characters. In opera, we get arias, romance, intrigue. In musical theater, we’re comic relief (when we’re allowed to be there at all). When the fat boy dances, it’s usually to get a laugh. But not here. Not in my show.

  Here is what I want you to do. This is really two songs in one . . . but the audience won’t know that at first. For the first part, make it as campy as you want. Let them see the fat boy dance! But when the second part starts, strip that all away. Make it sincere. Think about what they were able to do in Kinky Boots. At first it’s all “hey, drag queens, ha ha ha”—but then at the end Billy Porter gets his big number and he sells it like he’s getting a commission. There’s no ha ha ha. There’s just a beautiful woman rising above her pain and all the shit she’s been given her whole life. What I’m writing here isn’t as good, but try to give it that power.

  It’s exactly what Ex-boyfriends #3, #12, and #16 would not want you to do. Imagine them sitting in the audience as you’re singing this. Imagine them laughing at you at the start. And then try to imagine them realizing they were wrong about you.

  At first, Tiny looks wounded. But then he stares them down as the music starts to swell. He’ll be singing this one to them, until the chorus comes in. Then he’ll be playing to the audience, until the final turn.

  [“THE SIZE OF THE PACKAGE”]

  TINY:

  What, you think you know me?

  Nothing funnier than the fat boy.

  What, you think you got this?

  Who am I to even think of love?

  This part’s the disco windup. The Jennifer Holliday/Hudson swell. The chorus comes onto the stage to back Tiny up.

  Well, your love’s the empty calorie here.

  You say I’m so huge but you don’t see me at all.

  So wipe those smirks from each one of your

  faces—

  ’cause I know I’m big-boned and beautiful in

  all the right places.

  TINY AND CHORUS (in full disco tilt):

  It’s not the size of the package,

  it’s the size of the soul.

  It’s not the body you have,

  it’s the life as a whole.

  It’s not the size of the package,

  the moves make the man.

  It’s not the weight of the words,

  it’s that you say what you can.

  TINY:

  I was once a little boy—

  oh no, I was never a little boy!

  I have always lived large

  and in charge.

  And if you can’t carry that

  I’m going to drop right out of your life!

  TINY AND CHORUS:

  It’s not the size of the package,

  it’s the size of the thrill.

  It’s not the tip of the scale,

  it’s the lift of the will.

  It’s not the size of the package

  that’s the source of your pride.

  It’s not the stretch of the belly,

  it’s the fire inside.

  TINY:

  I was once a little boy—

  oh no, I was never a little boy!

  I have always lived large

  and in charge.

  And if you can’t carry that

  I’m going to drop right out of your life!

  A fun dance interlude follows—fat boy dancing ha ha ha—although please be sure Tiny maintains his dignity throughout. As it’s happening, he realizes the exes are watching. And as much as he wants to win them over . . . he’s not winning them over. The last refrain is less assured than before. The chorus, fading into the background, keeps looking at the exes.

  TINY AND CHORUS:

  It’s not the size of the package,

  it’s the size of the heart.

  It’s not the body you see—

  Tiny stops at the third line, looking at the exes. #3 and #16 are laughing at him. #12 looks embarrassed to have seen what he’s just seen.

  TINY

  (plaintive now, to the exes, the tempo slowed considerably):

  What, you think you know me?

  Nothing funnier than the fat boy.

  What, you think you got this?

  Who am I to even think of love?

  That last line should linger through the theater. People should understand what the exes’ laughter means to Tiny. Even if he’s proud, he’s not invulnerable to doubt. If you think one musical number gets rid of all his insecurities, think again. He knows what’s right and what’s wrong. But he doesn’t feel it yet. And while it’s great to know the right words, in order for them to become your truth, you have to feel them, too.

  Fade to black.

  ACT II, SCENE 4

  While Tiny changes costumes very quickly, Phil Wrayson comes onto the stage.

  PHIL WRAYSON:

  I am not proud of the fact that Tiny’s fourth ex-boyfriend was my fault. And I would like to publicly apologize to Tiny for everyth
ing that happened.

  TINY (offstage):

  Apology accepted!

  PHIL WRAYSON:

  It was my cousin. Well, not really my cousin. But my mother’s sister’s best friend from college’s son who was in town for three days. So, cousin-ish. Maybe not even first cousin-ish. Second cousin-ish. Like, if I were King of Illinois and I died, this guy would be something like three hundred ninety-fifth in line for the throne.

  TINY (offstage):

  You’ve made your point! Now get to the good part!

  PHIL WRAYSON:

  The good part is that for two of the three days he was here, this guy dated Tiny Cooper.

  TINY (offstage):

  Now get to the bad part!

  PHIL WRAYSON:

  The bad part is that this guy only dated Tiny Cooper because he was bored out of his skull staying with us, and when he was given the choice of going out on two dates with Tiny Cooper or staying in and playing Scrabble with me and my parents, he chose to go on the dates with Tiny Cooper. Tiny did not know this at the time.

  TINY (offstage):

  I thought it was love!

  PHIL WRAYSON:

  He thought it was love. When, in fact, it was like three hundred ninety-fifth in line for love. When it was time for this guy to go, he didn’t even ask for Tiny’s e-mail address or phone number or mailing address. In the intervening year and a half, we’ve all forgotten his name.

  TINY (offstage):

  It was Octavio!

  PHIL WRAYSON (to audience):

  It was not Octavio.

  TINY (offstage):

  It’s Octavio if I want it to be!

  PHIL WRAYSON (to Tiny offstage):

  Is that even a name?!?

  TINY (offstage):

  . . . (stubborn silence)

  PHIL WRAYSON (to audience):

  For the purpose of this play, he shall be known as Octavio. Octavio, please come out here and take a bow. Let’s hear it for Octavio!

  Phil Wrayson starts clapping. This hopefully leads the audience to start clapping. It becomes a little awkward. Ex-boyfriend #4 does not show up.

  TINY (offstage):

  He’s already left!

  PHIL WRAYSON:

  This seems somehow fitting. Shall we move on to Ex-boyfriend #5?

  Ex-boyfriend #5 appears onstage. Like many of the boys Tiny’s attracted to, he’s an actor. (If that last sentence raised a big red flag for you, that means you’ve tried to date an actor.) Now, it could certainly be said that I’ve spent a good portion of my days going through life like it’s my own musical. But I think that’s okay, since it’s my own musical. JIMMY, on the other hand, tended to think he was at the center of his own Shakespearean play. He was pompous and pretentious and I still would have iambed his pentameter for five acts or more if he’d let me.