I think hard about it for a second, but i figure if i had a place like that, i’d know it right away. but no place really matters to me. it didn’t even occur to me that i was supposed to have a place that mattered to me.
I shake my head.
me: nothing.
tiny: c’mon. there has to be someplace.
me: there isn’t, okay? just my house. my room. that’s it.
tiny: fine - then where’s the nearest swing set?
me: are you kidding me?
tiny: no. there has to be a swing set around here.
me: at the elementary school, i guess. but school isn’t out yet. if they catch us there, they’ll think we’re kidnappers. i’ll be okay, but i bet you’d be tried as an adult.
tiny: okay, besides the elementary school.
me: i think my neighbors have one.
tiny: do the parents work?
me: i think so. tiny: and the kids are still in school. perfect! lead the way.
this is how we end up parking in front of my house and breaking into my next-door neighbor’s yard. The swing set is pretty sad, as swing sets go, but at least it’s made for older kids, not toddlers.
me: you’re not actually going to sit on that, are you? but he does. and i swear the metal frame bends a little. he gestures to the swing next to his.
tiny: join me.
It’s probably been ten years since i sat on a swing. i only do it to shut tiny up for a second. neither of us actually swings - i don’t think the frame could take that. we just sit there, dangling over the ground. tiny twists around so he’s facing me. i twist, too, putting my feet on the ground to prevent the chain from unwinding me.
tiny: now, isn’t this better?
and i can’t help it. i say
me: better than what?
tiny laughs and shakes his head.
me: what? why are you shaking your head.
tiny: it’s nothing.
me: tell me.
tiny: it’s just funny.
me: WHAT’S funny?
tiny: you. and me.
me: i’m glad you find it funny.
tiny: i wish you’d find it funnier.
I don’t even know what we’re talking about anymore.
tiny: you know what’s a great metaphor for love?
me: i have a feeling you’re about to tell me.
he turns away and makes an attempt to swing high. the swing set groans so much that he stops and twists back my way.
tiny: sleeping beauty.
me: sleeping beauty?
tiny: yes, because you have to plow through this incredible thicket of thorns in order to get to beauty, and even then, when you get there, you still have to wake her up.
me: so i’m a thicket?
tiny: and the beauty that isn’t fully awake yet.
I don’t point out that tiny is hardly what little girls think of when you say the words prince charming.
me: it figures you’d think that way.
tiny: why?
me: well, your life is a musical. literally.
tiny: do you hear me singing now?
I almost do. i’d love to live in his musical cartoon world, where witches like maura get vanquished with one heroic word, and all the forest creatures are happy when two g*y guys walk hand-in-hand through the meadow, and gideon is the himbo suitor you know the princess can’t marry, because her heart belongs to the beast. i’m sure it’s a lovely world, where these things happen. a rich, spoiled, colorful world. maybe one day i’ll get to visit, but i doubt it. worlds like that don’t tend to issue visas to f**kups like me.
me: it puzzles me how someone like you could drive all this way to be with someone like me.
tiny: not that again!
me: excuse me?
tiny: we’re always having this conversation. but if you keep focusing on why you have it so bad, you’ll never realize how you could have it so good.
me: easy for you to say!
tiny: what do you mean?
me: pretty much exactly that. i’ll break it down for you. easy - with no difficulty whatsoever. for you - the opposite of ‘for me.’ to say - to vocalize, sometimes ad nauseam. you have it so good that you don’t realize that when you have it bad, it’s not a choice you’re making.
tiny: i know that. i wasn’t saying . . .
me: yes?
tiny: i do understand.
me: you DON’T understand. because you have it so easy.
now i’ve riled him up. he steps out of the swing and stands right in front of me. there’s a vein in his neck that’s actually pulsing. he can’t look angry without also looking sad.
tiny: STOP TELLING ME I HAVE IT SO EASY! do you have any idea what you’re talking about? because i’m a person, too. and i have problems, too. and even though they might not be your problems, they’re still problems.
me: like what?
tiny: you may not have noticed, but i’m not what you’d call conventionally beautiful. in fact, you might say that i’m the opposite of that. say, you know - to vocalize, sometimes ad nauseam? do you think that there’s any minute in any day when i’m not aware of how big i am? do you think there’s a single minute that goes by when i’m not thinking about how other people see me? even though i have no control whatsoever over that? don’t get me wrong - i love my body. but i’m not so much of an idiot to think that everybody else loves it. what really gets to me - what really bothers me - is that it’s all people see. ever since i was a not-so-little kid. hey, tiny, want to play football? hey, tiny, how many burgers did you eat today? hey, tiny, you ever lose your dick down there? hey, tiny, you’re going to join the basketball team whether you like it or not. just don’t try to look at us in the locker room! does that sound easy to you, will?
I’m about to say something, but he holds up his hand.
tiny: you know what? i’m totally at peace with being big-boned. and i was g*y long before i knew what sex was. it’s just who i am, and that’s great. i don’t want to be thin or conventionally beautiful or straight or brilliant. no, what i really want - and what i never get - is to be appreciated. do you know what it’s like to work so hard to make sure everyone’s happy, and to have not a single person recognize it? i can work my ass off bringing together the other will grayson and jane - no appreciation, only grief. i write this whole musical that’s basically about love, and the main character in it - besides me, of course - is phil wrayson, who needs to figure some things out, but is all-in-all a pretty wonderful guy. and does will get that? no. he freaks out. i do everything i can to be a good boyfriend with you - no appreciation, only grief. i try to make this musical so it can create something, to show that we all have something to sing - no appreciation, only grief. this musical is a gift, will. my gift to the world. it’s not about me. it’s about what i have to share. there’s a difference - i see it, but i am worried that i am the only frickin’ one who sees it. you think i have it easy, will? are you really dying to try on these size fifteens? because every morning when i wake up, i have to convince myself that, yes, by the end of the day, i will be able to do something good. that’s all i ask - to be able to do something good. not for myself, you whiny shithead bastard complainer who, incidentally, i really, really like. but for my friends. for other people.