almost all the ex-boyfriends are like this - never really three-dimensional, but it soon becomes apparent that this is deliberate, that tiny’s showing how he never got to know all of their dimensions, that he was so caught up in being in love that he didn’t really take the time to think about what he was in love with. it’s agonizingly truthful, at least for exes like me. (i see a few more boys shifting in their seats, so i’m probably not the only ex in the audience.) we make it through the first seventeen exes, and then there’s a blackout and the swing set is moved to the center of the stage. suddenly, tiny’s in the spotlight, on the swing, and it’s like my life has rewound and is playing back to me, only in musical form. it’s exactly as i remember it . . . until it’s not, and tiny’s inventing this new dialogue for us.
me-on-stage: i’m really sorry.
tiny: don’t be. i fell for you. i know what happens at the end of falling - landing.
me-on-stage: i just get so pissed off at myself. i’m the worst thing in the world for you. i’m your pinless hand grenade.
tiny: i like my pinless hand grenade.
It’s funny - i wonder if i’d said that, and if he’d said that, then maybe things would have played out differently. because i would have known that he understood, at least a little. but i guess he needed to be writing it as a musical to see it. or say it.
me-on-stage: well, i don’t like being your pinless hand grenade. or anybody’s.
but the weird thing is, for once i feel the pin is in.
tiny’s looking out into the audience right now. there’s no way for him to know i’m here. but maybe he’s looking for me anyway.
tiny: i just want you to be happy. if that’s with me or with someone else or with nobody. i just want you to be happy. i just want you to be okay with life. with life as it is. and me, too. it is so hard to accept that life is falling. falling and landing and falling and landing. i agree it’s not ideal. i agree.
he’s talking to me. he’s talking to himself. maybe there’s no difference.
I get it. i understand it.
and then he loses me.
tiny: but there is the word, this word phil wrayson taught me once: weltschmerz. it’s the depression you feel when the world as it is does not line up with the world as you think it should be. i live in a big goddamned weltzschermz ocean, you know? and so do you. and so does everyone. because everyone thinks it should be possible just to keep falling and falling forever, to feel the rush of the air on your face as you fall, that air pulling your face into a brilliant goddamned smile. and that should be possible. you should be able to fall forever.
and i think: no.
seriously. no.
because i have spent my life falling. not the kind that tiny’s talking about. he’s talking about love. i’m talking about life. in my kind of falling, there’s no landing. there’s only hitting the ground. hard. dead, or wanting to be dead. so the whole time you’re falling, it’s the worst feeling in the world. because you feel you have no control over it. because you know how it ends.
I don’t want to fall. all i want to do is stand on solid ground.
and the weird thing is, i feel like i’m doing that now. because i am trying to do something good. in the same way that tiny is trying to do something good.
tiny: you’re still a pinless grenade over the world not being perfect.
no, i am a pinless grenade over the world being cruel. but every time i’m proven wrong, that pin goes in a little more.
tiny: and i’m still - every time this happens to me, everytime i land, it still hurts like it has never happened before.
he’s swinging higher now, kicking his legs hard, the swing set groaning. it looks like he’s going to bring the whole contraption down, but he just keeps pumping his legs and pulling against the chain with his arms and talking.
tiny: because we can’t stop the weltschmerz. we can’t stop imagining the world as it might be. which is awesome! it is my favorite thing about us!
when he gets to the top of his arc now, he’s above the reach of the lights, screaming down at the audience from the darkness. then he swings back into view, his back and ass rushing toward us in the audience.
tiny: and if you’re gonna have that, you’re gonna have falling. they don’t call it rising in love. that’s why i love us!
at the top of the arc, above the lights, he kicks out of the swing. he is so goddamned nimble and quick about it, i can barely see it, but he lifts himself up by the arms and pulls his legs up and then just lets go and grabs onto a rafter. the swing falls before he does, and everyone - the audience, the chorus - gasps.
tiny: because we know what will happen when we fall!
the answer to this is, of course, that we will crash right on our ass. which is exactly what tiny does. he lets go of the rafters, crashes down right in front of the swing set, and collapses in a heap. i flinch, and gideon grabs my hand.
I can’t tell whether the kid playing me is supposed to be in character or out of character when he asks tiny if he’s all right. whatever the case, tiny waves the imitation me away, motions to the conductor, and a moment later, it starts - a quiet song, all piano keys spaced far apart. tiny recovers his breath during the intro and starts to sing again.
tiny:
It’s all about falling
you land and get up so you can fall again
It’s all about falling
I won’t be afraid to hit that wall again
It’s chaos up there. the chorus is desperately clinging to the chorus. they keep singing how it’s about the falling, and then tiny steps forward and says his lines over them.
tiny: maybe tonight you’re scared of falling, and maybe there’s somebody here or somewhere else you’re thinking about, worrying over, fretting over, trying to figure out if you want to fall, or how and when you’re gonna land, and i gotta tell you friends that to stop thinking about the landing, because it’s all about falling.
It’s incredible. it’s like he’s lifting off the stage, he believes in his words so strongly. and i realize what it is that i have to do. i have to help him realize that it’s the belief, not the words, that mean everything. i have to make him realize the point isn’t the falling. it’s the floating.
tiny calls for them to bring up the houselights. he’s looking around, but he doesn’t see me.
I gulp.
gideon: ready?
the answer to this question is always going to be no. but i have to do it anyway.