Drama Queers! (18 page)

The curve of his lats
.

The hollow of his spine spilling down to his
…

“Be right back.”

I realized I should excuse myself to the bathroom. Not because I’m shy or anything, but…

“What’s-a matter?” Richie jumped to his feet, huffing. “You got a hard-on or something?”

How the hell did he know?

Needless to say, I didn’t get a whole lotta sleep that night laying in bed beside him. And not just because I was smashed up against the wall with his ass in my side!

Back in the HPHS dressing room…

“What are
you
staring at?”

Richie totally catches me gawking.

“Nothing,” I lie, thinking how totally fucked up this situation is…And how hot the tops of his pecs look poking out from his V-neck undershirt.

“Just sit there and read your program,” Richie teases. “And keep quiet.”

“Fuck you!” I spit, totally sarcastic.

He responds, “‘No, Dad…What about you?’”, à la Judd Nelson, and we both burst into hysterics.

“Hey, hey, hey!”

For a second, it’s like we forgot there’s somebody else here in the room with us.

“Sorry.”

Miranda stares down her nose over the top of her tortoiseshell frames. “Time is money,” she spouts, even though nobody’s being paid anything to be here.

Richie’s eyes meet mine.

Those beautiful blue eyes!

Like a game, we hold our gaze.

Why is he teasing me like this?

With Miranda here, the last thing I wanna do is sprout wood.

I can’t take it anymore!

Immediately, I focus my attention back to my program—I mean,
TheatreGoer
.

“What are
those
for?” Richie whines, causing me to look up and over at him again.

Obviously Miranda’s not done working her magic yet. With an eyebrow pencil, she draws a line from Richie’s nostrils down each side of his mouth.

“They’re nasal-labial folds,” she declares with the utmost confidence.

Sure enough, according to
Stage Makeup
by Richard Corson, which Miranda’s got open on the table beside her, that’s indeed what they’re called. Of course, I can’t help but cringe when I hear the word
labial
…Bogue!

After tracing each dark line with a light one “to create highlight and shadow,” Miss Resnick gently powder-puffs Mr. Tyler’s face, making sure everything sets, and
voilà
…

I barely recognize the old man I see before me.

“
Now
you’re done,” Miranda confirms, closing the book with a snap.

The strands of long gray and white hair poking out from beneath the old-fashioned top hat on Richie’s head add the finishing touches to his costume. I didn’t think it was possible, but he really
does
look like Ebenezer Scrooge.

Miranda hugs us both, adding the customary “Break a leg!”

“You, too!” I say, even though I don’t know if it’s something one tells the Sophomore Student Director or not.

Richie replies, “Bah, humbug.”

To quote Sally Brown from
Peanuts: “Isn’t he the cutest thing?”

I can’t help but feel sorta jealous watching The Sophomore about to go on stage as the star of the show. I mean, I’m totally happy for him and proud of the work he’s doing. Yet at the same time I keep thinking,
I wish it was me
…Does an actor ever get over this feeling?

“Father!”

At that moment, Billy Paterno bounds into the dressing room looking for his stage dad—namely me.

I ask, “Is your family here tonight?” after we do a quick run-thru of our lines.

Billy adjusts his little newsboy hat. “Just my mom and dad, and my sister.” Next, he checks himself out in the mirror, tightening the scratchy scarf around his neck.

“Where’s your brother?”

This is what I
really
been wondering.

“He went with our uncle Roy to see Judy Tenuta,” he replies, acting like it’s no biggie, yet sounding a little hurt.

Okay, now I’m pissed!

I don’t care if Jack doesn’t consider me his Best Friend anymore. Or if I got a show tonight so I totally couldn’t go with him anyways…He knows how much I (capital) L-O-V-E Judy Tenuta! Why the hell wasn’t
I
invited?

Of course, I’m not gonna let on to Billy that I’m mad.

Calmly I question, “Where’s Judy Tenuta performing?”

Jack’s uncle is a comedian, too, and I know he sometimes works at The Comedy Castle in Royal Oak.

“Someplace called Ann Arbor,” Billy reports.

To tell the truth, I’m surprised he even knows who Judy Tenuta is!

Not that it’s any of my business, but I ask, “Did they go by themselves?”

Billy hops up onto the makeup counter, his short little legs dangling in their navy blue britches. “Jackie took some guy with him.”

“You mean Max?”

I thought Max had to work at Farmer Jack’s tonight. That’s what he told me when I invited him to come see the play.

“Nah…Some guy, Tim.”

Tim?

As far as I know, Jack doesn’t know anybody named Tim…And then it hits me.

“You mean,
Tom?”

“Maybe,” says Billy. “He wears a jacket with a letter on it.”

He’s gotta mean Tom Fulton.

What the fuck?

Since when is former Band Fag Jack Paterno, hanging out with Jock Jerk Tom Fulton? I mean, I know Tom’s going with Betsy Sheffield and she’s friends with Jack and all, but last I knew, Jack (capital) H-A-T-E-D Tom, and vice versa.

Like I said, ever since we were in 7
^th
grade, Tom Fulton’s been nothing but a Total Asshole to Jack and me both. Except for that one time we went over his house with Max and we got him to call the phone-sex party line pretending he was a girl…Now that I know Tom is hanging around with Jack, it makes me call his heterosexuality into question even more.

“Red-leather-yellow-leather.”

Time for some warm-ups!

“Rubber-baby-buggy-bumpers.”

Luckily, I’m not the only one making a fool of myself.

“She-sells-sea-shells-by-the-sea-shore.”

Oh, the cacophony backstage, with thirteen teenaged actors plus one 9-year-old, all dispersed in various corners, running thru an array of tongue twisters and other vocal exercises.

“Five minutes!”

Miranda pops her head around the flat I’m standing behind, scaring the bejesus outta me.

“Thank you, five…” I reply, holding my racing heart.

Why is it that
every
time I’m about to go on, I gotta pee?

Hopefully we got a big house tonight. The non-musicals are always a harder sell, you know what I mean? From what I can hear beyond the curtain, the auditorium sounds pretty full. I can’t make out any specific voices, but I know Mom, my sisters, and Grandma Victor are all out there, probably in the front row. They never miss an Opening Night. My dad, on the other hand, is a totally different story. He hasn’t been to a play of mine since I started my Drama Queer career…I didn’t bother inviting him to this one.

Both Ava Reese and Carrie Johnson said they were coming tonight, and afterwards they’re gonna join me and Audrey up at Big Boy’s for the post-show celebration. Normally, I wouldn’t wanna hang out someplace I work, but Shir always saves us our usual tables in the smoking section by the salad bar, and she always treats us right no matter how rowdy we may become.

“Places, please!”

Why is it that
every
single time I’m about to go on, I crave a cigarette?

Crossing stage right, I take a seat at my (Bob Cratchit) desk. I say another silent prayer, hoping I don’t forget my dialogue, and more importantly, that none of my fellow actors do!

Richie follows suit, taking his place center stage. Only he doesn’t look at me as he’s now totally in-character. Did I mention how hot he looks, even as a crotchety old geezer?

Squeak!

The squelch of the sound system sends a shiver up my spine.

Tap-tap-tap!

Below the hem of the curtain, I see a familiar pair of brown suede shoes. Once I regain my hearing, I recognize the sound of Mr. Dell’Olio’s voice on the mic…

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.”

I can picture Dell standing out front in his standard gray plaid suit, balding head nervously nodding, giving his customary curtain speech. I do my best to tune it out. Until he gets to the part where he reminds all the friends, family and faculty, “This is what our kids
should
be doing!”

Meaning, staying outta trouble by putting on plays, as opposed to off somewhere smoking cigarettes (no comment!) and/or doing drugs or God-only-knows-what-else…Having S-E-X, maybe?

Da-dah da-dah.

A thunderous round of applause indicates that Dell has at last stepped out of the spot.

Lights fade.

Here we go
…

Cue music.

“Hark the herald angels sing…”

Curtain up.

God, I gotta pee!

My dad hates me.

Okay, maybe he doesn’t
hate
me (I hope not), but I always felt this way, ever since I was little. In fact, sometimes I think I’m the reason my parents ever got a divorce, you know what I mean?

Maybe it’s because at age two, I wet the bed.

Maybe it’s because at age four, I was scared of the dark.

Maybe it’s because at age six, I wanted to be a girl.

I mean, I didn’t necessarily
want
to be a girl. But being the only boy in a family of four kids, I tried my best to fit in. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit it was confusing sometimes. When you see your three sisters all asking Santa Claus for a giant Barbie head, why would you possibly care about GI Joe?

When Dad wasn’t busy walking his beat, he spent all his time down at Wayne State studying for his degree in PE. At home, it was always just me, my mom, and my sisters.
Bradley and the girls
.

This one time, when I was like nine or ten, Dad was off at either work or school, leaving poor Mom stuck at home with me, Janelle, Nina, and Brittany…

“Let’s play Beauty Parlor!”

Guess who unanimously decided this for everybody else?

I’ll never forget the hair dryer Mom used to have. Not a blow dryer, like by Conair, but an actual
hair
dryer you put on top of your head and sit underneath in rollers. Made out of a light bluish purple plastic-y material, the thing reminded me of a shower curtain. It wasn’t big or bulky like the ones Wilma and Betty use on
The Flintstones
. It was totally collapsible, with its own little matching faux-velvet carrying case.

Of course,
I
got to sit there and watch my three sisters take turns getting their hair Wella Balsamed, and wound in pink plastic sponges, before Mom placed the purply-blue hair-dryer-hat on each of their curlered heads. I distinctly remember crying out at the injustice of being a boy, watching Mom tuck the hair dryer away on the tippy-top shelf of the hall linen closet.

“I want a turn!”

Wanna know what Mom said?

Not
Bradley, you’re a
boy…
Boys don’t put curlers in their hair or sit under hair dryers
.

In typical Laura Dayton fashion, she looked down at me, all smiles. “Honey,” she said, “You’ve already got curly hair.”

“So does Janelle
and
Brittany!” I wailed, pointing out the obvious.

As far as I was concerned, Nina was the only one with hair in need of enhancing…And she was only like six or seven, so who cared what
she
looked like?

Next thing I knew, there I sat, hair dryer crown atop my tiny head. The thing weighed a ton, and the motor on top roared in my ears.

I watched Mom disappear a moment, returning with her Kodak Instamatic 126 camera. She removed her wire-framed glasses, held it to her face, and told me, “Say cheese!”

This is what I
assume
she said. I still couldn’t hear her.

A spectrum of stars shot out with the pop of the Magic Cube. Patiently, I waited for the timer on the Amana Radarange to ding so I could witness my results.

I looked exactly the same.

At least
I
thought I did.

Mom had a different opinion.

“Don’t you look beautiful?” She held her pink plastic hand mirror-mirror up where I could see myself. “Doesn’t Bradley look beautiful?” she beamed, turning to my siblings.

I remember 5-year-old Brittany suppressing a giggle. “He looks like a
girl
.”

“He does!” Nina agreed, totally cracking herself up.

That’s okay, it didn’t bother me. I thought I looked glamorous.

Mom turned to Janelle. “Go find your church dress…The red one.”

Next thing I knew, there I stood, looking exactly like Little Orphan Annie.

“The sun’ll come out…”

I knew all the words by heart and sang the entire song for them.

I remember thinking Andrea McArdle was sooo cute when I seen her the year before on
The Captain Kangaroo Show
. When Christmas rolled around, you can bet I asked Santa to bring me the
Annie
Original Broadway Cast recording on 8-track.

“You’re only a day a-way!”

My audience of four burst into applause. Mom snapped another picture, first of me solo, then one of her
four
girls, fresh from their Beauty Parlor makeover.

We gathered around the full-length mirror in Mom and Dad’s bedroom, posing as Annie and the other little orphans living “The Hard Knock Life” in 1930s “NYC.” Too bad Mom could never afford to take us to see the show when it played the Fisher Theatre downtown.

Just then, we heard the back door open…

“Honey, I’m home!”

Immediately, me and the girls ceased our infernal singing. We looked at Mom all like,
What do we do?

Without saying a word, she ushered her only son into the bathroom, closing the door behind us, locking it. Looking down at me, she held a finger to her lips, giving me the international sign for “Shut the fuck up.” I’m kidding! Mom would
never
say the F-word, she’s a Christian.

On the other side of the wall, we could hear Dad’s footsteps as he made his way from the back door, past my vacant bedroom, and into our orange
Brady Bunch
kitchen.

“Laura!”

He called from just outside his and Mom’s room where Janelle, Nina, and Brittany still remained, awaiting his arrival.

“Daddy!” they cheered in gleeful unison.

I could picture the girls throwing themselves at our father, wrapping themselves around his thighs, pleading to be picked up and coddled, all the while helping their only brother bide his time while their mother stripped him of his Little Orphan Annie dress.

Mom spun me around and went to work on doing just that. I could sense her frustration as she tugged forcefully on the stubborn zipper.

“Damn!” she cursed under her breath.

You can bet this was the first (and last) time I ever heard Mom swear.

Knock knock!

“It’s locked,” Mom told Dad, even though he could obviously tell since the door wouldn’t budge no matter how hard he jiggled the handle.

“What are you doing in there?” Dad demanded.

“What do you think I’m doing in the bathroom?” Mom gave another yank on the YKK, but to no avail. She twirled me back around, whispering, “Arms up.”

I obeyed her instructions, feeling quite the whirling dervish…Whatever the hell that is!

“Laura?”

Mom sighed, sounding totally frustrated. “Give me a second, okay?” Like a banana, she peeled the dress over my head with one quick motion. “Inside,” she ordered, pulling back the pink shower curtain.

I loved the sound the plastic rings made when they clinked together. But I still had my Superman Underroo bottoms on, the ones I wore to the Central Freewill Baptist Halloween party, my red bedspread tied around my neck. Imagine the horror when Lefty Kerr (the bully) noticed the little flap in front and informed everybody, “Bradley’s wearing underpants!”

As much as I wanted to protest, I followed Mom’s lead. I knew the second she turned on that tap, the water would come cascading down, totally flattening out my Little Orphan Annie ’do…Too bad I had no other choice than to hop on in.

“Damn it, Laura!” Dad swore loudly from the safety of the other side. “What are you doing taking a shower
now?
”

The world around me darkened as Mom shut me in. The water felt a tad too hot, I looked like I peed myself, but still my big concern was not quenching my coif.

“All right, James…” Mom unlocked and opened the door. “You can take your turn.”

“Why is the shower still running?” Dad’s voice grew louder as he stepped inside the room. “You know how expensive our water bill’s gonna be?”

This was a constant
discussion
between Mr. and Mrs. Dayton as of late. If it wasn’t the H
₂
O, it was the heat. If it wasn’t the heat, it was the “electricity, e-lec-tri-city!”
(School House Rock)

“Little Brad is taking a shower,” Mom reported. She used to call me this sometimes, since my grandpa Dayton is also named Bradley.

I heard my dad cry out, “Son!” He used to call me this sometimes, and still does…on the rare occasions that I see him.

I tilted my head back. The warm water splashed against my bare body. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be taking a shower for real or what.

“Hi, Daddy!”

I picked up the blue bar of slippery soap. I loved how fresh and clean it smelled, and the fact that they called it (quote) the eye opener (unquote).

Beyond the pink plastic, my parents’ shadows put on a show.

“I’ll leave you to your business,” Mom told her husband.

He replied, “I’ll wait till Little Brad is done…A man needs his privacy.”

Next thing I knew, they departed, leaving me to myself.

Looking back, I’m not sure if Dad meant that I needed
my
privacy while taking a shower or that
he
needed his in order to pee. I hate to think my own father would think I might try to sneak a peek at his willy while he took a whiz.

It didn’t help when six weeks later, Mom asked Dad to pick up the pictures she recently dropped off for developing at Perry’s…

“Aren’t your daughters beautiful?”

From behind her post at the film-processing counter, the saleslady complimented Dad. One by one, she flipped thru the photos of James and Laura Dayton’s wonderful family: Christmas morning…Easter morning…The Hazel Park Memorial Day parade.

“They most certainly are,” Dad boasted with paternal pride.

“Oh, my…I didn’t realize you had
four!
”

Neither did Dad.

Sure enough, there they were in full Focal color after a night of playing Beauty Parlor with their mother. Janelle, Nina, Brittany, and…

Who’s that other one in the middle wearing the red dress?

You can bet Dad let Mom have it when he got home.

“Damn it, Laura!” he cursed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Upstairs, me and the girls played with our giant Barbie heads. We had a pair. One, Santa brought the girls two Christmases ago. The other, Mom got special for me—much to my father’s dismay. I shared mine with Brittany.

“You can’t go dressing our son up like he’s a goddamn girl!”

As per usual, we pretended we couldn’t hear our parents fighting down below. Instead, we continued with our Barbie makeovers, unable to take in Mom’s response. She always argued in hushed tones.

Whatever the outcome of that particular fight, it didn’t stop Mom from reading the headline in the
Free Press
a few weeks later:

HOLLYWOOD SEARCHES MOTOWN
FOR LITTLE ORPHAN.

Yes, it seemed somebody was making a movie version of
Annie
, starring Carol Burnett as “I love you, Miss Hannigan,” and some guy I never heard of, Albert Finney, as Oliver “Daddy” Warbucks. They were coming to Detroit as part of a nationwide casting call, looking for the star.

“I think we should go,” Mom told me, not even aware that I had any aspirations of becoming an actor one day, because I don’t think I did at the time.

“But Annie is a girl,” I remember telling her, even though she already knew that.

“So…?” Mom replied, ever the positive thinker. “It’s acting…What difference does it make
who
plays the part as long as they can sing?”

I loved Carol Burnett! Me and Janelle used to watch her TV show with Mom every Saturday night, cuddled up together on the couch. My favorite episode of all time has gotta be the one where they spoof
Gone With the Wind
…’member?
Went With the Wind
, featuring Carol as Starlett O’Hara, Harvey Korman as Rat Butler, Tim Conway as Brashley Wilkes, and Vicki Lawrence as the maid, Sissy, with special guest star Dinah Shore as Melody Hamilton.