Drama Queers! (25 page)

At first, I thought he was joking around, saying the same thing everybody else keeps telling me: “It’s a hard business.” “Only a small percentage of actors actually make a living.” Da-dah da-dah. Too bad the bitter tone in Christopher’s voice made me realize just how serious he was.

“But you been on Broadway,” I reminded him, lighting my own Marlboro Light. Around us, the din of pre-show diners made me wonder if anybody would recognize my companion from his
Torch Song
days. Secretly, I hoped they would.

Christopher scoffed, “Five years ago,” fiercely sucking on his cig.

Five years?
I didn’t realize it’s been so long.

“Well, what have you done since?”

I watched him stab at the olives in what I think was his third martini.

“Oh,” he sighed, “a little temp work here, a little cater-waitering there…”

Clearly the man was
not
happy with his current career path.

“What about TV?” I wondered. “Can’t you get a job on a soap?” I knew they filmed
Days of our Lives
in LA, but what about all the other shows like
Loving
and
Another World
?

“Sure…I’ll just give ’em a call and let ’em know I’m available.”

“Don’t you have an agent?” I assumed a professional actor must.

This was the point where Christopher laid it all on the line.

“I don’t know if you know this,” he began, “but I’m gay.”

Like I said, I had a feeling this might be the case, but I didn’t wanna insult my host by being all like, “Oh, yeah…I could totally tell you’re a fag.” Instead, I said, “You are?” doing my best interpretation of surprised.

“In this business, everybody’s gay,” Christopher confided. “Actors, agents, casting directors, you name it.”

“Well, that’s cool,” I replied, never stopping to consider. I mean, I knew Rock Hudson was gay, and I always assumed that guy from
The $1.98 Beauty Show
, Rip Taylor, had to be a homo.

“The thing is…
Nobody
talks about it.”

This didn’t make sense to me. “Why not?”

Christopher lapped up his last drops of vodka. “Because if you admit you’re a fag,” he explained, signaling the waiter, “nobody will hire you.”

Again, I didn’t get it. “Why not?”

Contemplating the bottom of his empty glass, he commented sadly, “That’s show-biz.”

Boy, was Jack gonna be happy!

This was the
exact
same thing he said Sophomore year when I first told him I’m a homo: “Aren’t you afraid people are gonna find out about you?” As far as Jack Paterno was concerned, everybody knows famous people can’t be gay and famous.

“What about Rock Hudson?” I remarked. “He was famous
and
gay, and everybody knew it.”

“And look what happened to him.”

At the time, I thought Jack was totally overreacting, but here was Christopher, a (quote-unquote) professional actor, backing him up.

Now what was I gonna do?

We sat in silence, smoking our cigarettes, waiting for the check.

“I don’t mean to discourage you,” Christopher said sincerely, after a moment. “You seem like a nice guy.”

I nodded and smiled, unsure where this conversation was heading.

“You’re cute, you’re intelligent, obviously you’re talented or Ray wouldn’t recommend you for Juilliard.”

For a second, I had to stop and think about who Ray was…Then I remembered he’s Mr. Dell’Olio.

Christopher stubbed out his smoke. “Let me ask
you
a question…”

Again, I nodded and smiled.

“You wanna be an actor?”

“More than anything.”

“Why?”

I thought long and hard.

Like I said, it all started when Mrs. Malloy assigned us the
What I Want to Be When I Grow Up
paper during first semester of Sophomore English. At the time, I never considered how I wanted to spend the rest of my life. Being a C student, I didn’t think I’d get into college, let alone about what I might study.

The only thing I enjoyed up till that point was playing my trombone, and I didn’t wanna become a professional Band Fag! Maybe le
français?
Sure, I enjoy speaking it, but what would I do with a degree? Teach high school to a bunch of brats and wind up like Mrs. Carey standing in front of an empty classroom? The only other thing I enjoyed doing was watching TV and going to the movies.

Hence my decision to become an actor.

From that moment, I began to eat, sleep, live and breathe Drama. I checked out and read all the plays in the HPHS library. This didn’t amount to many:
A Streetcar Named Desire, You Can’t Take It with You, The Matchmaker
, which is the nonmusical precursor to
Hello, Dolly!

I started attending the Theatre on a regular basis. Not the Fisher, downtown, I couldn’t afford it. But I took in
Two by Two
at Stagecrafters in Royal Oak, and saw many a show at the local area high schools:
Kiss Me, Kate
at Lamphere,
Guys and Dolls
at Berkley, and
Oliver!
at Ferndale, which was probably my fave.

The lead actors did an okay job, but the girl who played Mrs. Sowerberry, the undertaker’s wife, really stole the show with “It’s Your Funeral.” Her name I’ll never forget: Miriam Shor. You can bet she’s gonna go far!

Of course, all that happened before I ever even stepped on a stage. Once I got a taste of what it feels like to appear in front of a live audience, to hear their response to something I did, to make them laugh and possibly cry…That feeling is nothing short of magic, and one I can
not
live without.

“Then remember what I said,” Christopher replied once I told him all of this.

After everything I went thru with Jack, after all the time I spent trying to get him to come out, I promised myself I would
never
live my life in The Closet.

Why do I feel like now, I don’t have a choice?

Next, we headed over to this half-price ticket booth called TKTS, located in the middle of Times Square, between the giant Coca-Cola sign seen in all the movies and where the ball drops every December 31
^st
on
Dick Clark’s New Year’s Rockin’ Eve
. For $50 (plus service charge) we got two tickets to see the 1987 Tony Award–winning Best Musical,
Les Misérables
.

Christopher highly recommended we see it since he knows some of the actors in the cast. The story is all about this French guy, Jean Valjean, who goes to jail for stealing a loaf of bread, but eventually rises up to become the town mayor, and adopt this little orphan girl after her whore of a mother drops dead from syphilis or something.

I guess it’s based on a book by some guy, Victor Hugo, from like 1800-something. I should probably know this since the story takes place in France, and we know how I like all things French…Why don’t I play French horn?

I gotta say, it totally surprised me when I found out
Les Miz
(as they call it), is one of the few shows actually playing
on
Broadway. Apparently, the term has nothing to do with the actual road. Most of the theatres are located on various side streets throughout the Midtown area.

Regardless, the show was awesome. Afterwards, we got a backstage tour, so we could see the turntable and barricade up close. Talk about cool! I can
not
wait till I get a chance to appear on a Broadway stage—hopefully sooner than later, you know what I mean?

This is where I met the guy I been hanging out with for the last two hours…

“Where’d you go?”

My new friend appears holding two plastic foam-filled cups, which he paid something like $4 for—apiece. Talk about a rip-off! Back in Hazel Park, you can get an entire six-pack up at Kado’s Market for less than that.

“Isn’t it Last Call yet?”

I do
not
need to be drinking anything else right now. In fact, I can’t even remember the guy’s name I’m talking to, that’s how wasted I am.

“Not in New York,”
Les Miz
Guy informs me. “Bars are open till 4 o’clock.”

Just what I need to hear!

Actually, he’s a friend of—

Shit!

The guy I’m staying with…What’s
his
name?

Christopher!

The guy I’m at the bar with is an actor friend of Christopher’s.

Speaking of…

“What happened to Christopher?”

I just realized I haven’t seen him in like over an hour.

“He wasn’t feeling too good,”
Les Miz
Guy reports. “He said he’ll see you in the morning.”

“I hope it wasn’t something he ate.”

Now that I think of it, I feel a tad sick to my stomach myself. But maybe it’s from all the beer I been drinking.

LMG shrugs. “He probably had to take his pills.”

This confirms my suspicions:
Christopher has
AIDS.

I had a feeling this might be the case.

When I first arrived at his apartment, before heading out to the bookstore, I excused myself to the little boys’ room. Of course, I couldn’t help but sneak a peek inside the old medicine cabinet. I don’t know why, it’s just something I always do whenever I’m in a new home…Call me curious!

Sharing the space with the tube of toothpaste, mini-bottle of mouthwash, and cinnamon-flavored floss, I found a collection of amber-colored containers. You know, the plastic prescription bottle kind with the childproof “Keep Out of Reach” caps. Only instead of familiar contents like
penicillin
printed on the labels, these held something called
azidothymidine
.

This immediately called to mind the 1985 made-for-TV movie starring Aidan Quinn, Ben Gazzara and Gena Rowlands,
An Early Frost
…

Michael Pierson (Quinn), a successful-but-closeted lawyer, learns he has AIDS after his lover reveals he cheated on him. Soon after, Michael returns home to break the news to his parents (Gazzara and Rowlands), and his bitch of a pregnant sister (some chick from
A Nightmare on Elm Street 2
, Sydney Walsh).

In typical father fashion, Michael’s dad does
not
deal well with the disclosure. At first, he refuses to speak to his son, but eventually breaks his silence, telling him, “I never thought the day would come when you’d be in front of me and I wouldn’t know who you are.” Michael’s mother, God bless her, attempts to persuade her family to accept her offspring for who he is. After all is said and done, Michael winds up in a hospital where he eventually withers and dies.

How’s that for an
up
film?

Poor Christopher…Why does something sooo terrible have to happen to somebody sooo nice? Talk about a buzz kill!

“I should probably get going…”

Five hours and counting till it’s time to rise and shine for the big day!

My original plan was to head back to the apartment right after the play and go directly to bed, “Do not pass GO, do not collect $200!” Like I said, I got my audition at 10:00 AM up at 66th Street and Columbus Avenue, and I don’t know how long it’s gonna take me to get there on the subway.

“But it’s still early…”

If this guy (what
is
his name?) wasn’t sooo cute, I would
not
entertain the idea of staying one second longer. Why does he totally have to be my type: dark hair, dark eyes, SWB? I think I remember him saying he’s twenty-two, which I suppose isn’t that old. Not to mention he’s got this totally sexy New York accent, which has gotten progressively thicker (and sexier) as the night’s dragged on (and the more he’s had to drink).