Hold Me Closer: The Tiny Cooper Story Read Free

awesome.
    Cue music.
    [“THE BALLAD OF THE LESBIAN BABYSITTER”]
    LYNDA:
    Come over here
    and give me a hug
    because my soul’s been treated
    like a threadbare rug.
    Me and Heather
    were meant to be forever,
    but now she’s into leather
    and Red Bull dykes
    who keep her out all night.
    TINY:
    Is there anything I can do?
    LYNDA:
    Just rub my shoulder
    because I’m feeling so much older.
    Rub my back
    and drain me of the black that’s left
    when a relationship ends.
    He rubs her back.
    Now hand me my sketchbook
    so I can use this pain
    to pull my hopes
    back out of the drain.
    Watch carefully, Tiny,
    how to disable your rage
    by unleashing it onto
    an empty page.
    TINY ( to audience ):
    It didn’t matter that I was five—
    I saw her pain come alive.
    Just like a sorcerer
    fighting a deadly foe,
    she met it eye to eye
    and wouldn’t let go.
    Drawing the girls who always hurt her,
    sketching the loves as they’d desert her.
    All the drama became less troubled
    once the hard words had been inked and
    bubbled.
    LYNDA (TO TINY ):
    Look forward to the moment
    when it all falls apart.
    Look forward to the moment
    when you must rearrange your heart.
    It might feel like the end of the world—
    but it’s the beginning of your art.
    Lynda sketches during an instrumental, then puts down the book, sighs, and sings the next verse to Tiny.
    LYNDA:
    Come over here
    and give me a peck
    because my faith in people’s
    a miserable wreck.
    He kisses her cheek.
    Me and Leigh
    were meant to be,
    but now she wants to flee
    into the arms of a maître d’
    at a boulangerie—
    and she doesn’t even like
    to French.
    TINY:
    Is there anything I can do?
    LYNDA:
    Just rub my feet,
    ease my defeat.
    Rub my neck
    so I’m no longer the speck that remains
    when a relationship ends.
    Now hand me my sketchbook
    so I can use this pain
    to pull my hopes
    back out of the drain.
    Watch carefully, Tiny,
    how to disable your rage
    by unleashing it onto
    an empty page.
    Are you listening?
    TINY:
    I am listening.
    LYNDA:
    Are you watching?
    TINY:
    I am watching.
    LYNDA AND TINY:
    Look forward to the moment
    when it all falls apart.
    Look forward to the moment
    when you must rearrange your heart.
    It might feel like the end of the world
    but it’s the beginning of your art.
    Lynda rips out a page and gives it to Tiny, who folds it carefully and keeps it. (He still has it.)
    The song ends, but the advice continues. (He still remembers it.)
    LYNDA:
    Don’t get trapped into thinking people are halves instead of wholes.
    TINY:
    People are halves?
    LYNDA:
    They’re not trying to sell you on it yet, but believe me, they will. The idea that two is the ideal, and that one is only good as half of two. You are not a half, and you should never treat someone else like a half. Agreed?
    TINY:
    Agreed!
    She hugs him. End scene.

A CT I, SCENE 4
    As the stage goes dark (and the scenery is changed), Tiny steps forward, again in the spotlight.
    TINY:
    Having a babysitter and two parents in your corner is great—but what I really wanted was a best friend. I had plenty of friends—there was no shortage of birthday party invitations in
my
cubbyhole—but I had yet to find my co-conspirator, my co-adventurer, the right-hand man who I’d give my left arm for.
    And then Phil Wrayson came into my life.
    Now, I’m sure that I joined Pee Wee League because I wanted to play baseball. But soon I found that the best part of Pee Wee League wasn’t the playing—it was all the time when we weren’t playing, when we were just hanging around in the dugout or on the field. Phil Wrayson and I went to school together, but it wasn’t really until Pee Wee League that we got to know each other.
    At this point, a kid dressed as a batboy should walk out and give Tiny a baseball cap and a button that reads
AGE: 8.
    When the lights rise on the stage, it’s been turned into a dugout. Right now the only kid sitting there is
PHIL WRAYSON
, deep in thought. An open book is in front of him,