“The toilet is not working properly.”
If I hadn’t discovered ASL Online, I’d have been up a creek.
Mamita had met Anthony and Hucky briefly when she picked me up at The Word Shop Café for a dental appointment, and (like anyone else they smile at) she was absolutely enchanted. So she spent most of December 28 helping me download assorted signing dictionaries from the Internet, and on the 29th we tracked down a subtitled copy of Mary Poppins (“Por qué está flotando ese hombre en el techo, Señorita Poppins?”) in order to translate as much of it as possible with our fingers. I now have a mother who’s learning American Sign Language in Spanish.
“Let us never negotiate out of fear. But let us never fear to negotiate. Love, Anthony.”
I think I’m losing my mind.
Fondly,
Alejandra
P.S. Speaking of Mamita, she and Papa attended Parents’ Night at school. I was deathly afraid that they were going to find out about my secret life as an errant ingénue, and I had good reason: Mrs. Fitzpatrick couldn’t wait to blab to them about Kiss Me, Kate. Fortunately, Papa and Mamita know as much about musical comedy as Augie knows about Max Schmeling and Joe Louis, so when Papa pressed me for more details in the limo on the way home, I assured him that Kiss Me, Kate was nothing more than a kids’ version of The Taming of the Shrew. (Papa approves of both Shakespeare and serious drama—though I never actually said that Kate was either, Your Honor.) I don’t know how long I can keep this up. What if they want to come to a performance??
INSTANT MESSENGER
TCKeller: You really think they’d care?
AlePerez: Of course they’d care! One of these days they’re going to find out that the closest their daughter is ever going to get to an ambassadorship is playing Sally Adams in Call Me Madam.
TCKeller: Who said they wanted you to be an ambassador?
AlePerez: You’re so lame. It’s understood!
TCKeller: And you’re so like back in pre-school if that’s the best you can read parents. Did you see how puffed up your father got when Mr. Landey told him about your science grades? What do foot-pounds have to do with Eurodollars?? He’s dying for you to find another career.
AlePerez: That’s idiotic. Papa and Mamita are two of the most respected dignitaries in any hemisphere—
TCKeller: Right. And how many major countries have you insulted personally?
AlePerez: Is Finland a major country?
TCKeller: Yes.
AlePerez: Eleven.
TCKeller: You see? They’re scared to death of you. You could sabotage the whole empire. If you actually told them you wanted to work at the U.N. this summer, they’d probably have a stroke.
AlePerez: Then why did Mamita bring up an internship at the French Embassy?
TCKeller: So you could run perfume errands for the ambassador’s wife and fall in love with her ginky son. Which by the way is going to happen over my dead body.
AlePerez: Do you mean any of this?
TCKeller: Actually, no. But your ears look like they’re about to blow off the side of your head. Get a grip. You belong in a spotlight. We’ll deal with the other stuff when it happens. Parents always cave in sooner or later.
UNITED STATES SECRET SERVICE
WASHINGTON, D.C.
CLINT LOCKHART
AGENT
This kid’s got your number and he uses it well.
Princess, you’re rehearsing for your first performance as a star at the same time you’re going head to head with the U.S. government over somebody else’s civil rights and asking a fictitious nanny to help a six-year-old boy believe in himself. This from the kid who wouldn’t listen to The Little Engine That Could because she refused to accept that locomotives had vocal cords. What do you think all those trips to the library were for?? To teach you how to do what you’re doing right now, that’s what.
So whether you realize it or not, your last handful of “I can’t,” “I won’t,” and “I shouldn’t” excuses just went out the window. Enjoy it. I know I will.
xoxo,
Clint
Dear Jacqueline,
I was in no mood to be crossed during rehearsals this afternoon, especially since nobody’s learned the second act yet except for the songs, and we open on Valentine’s weekend for a three-performance run. That’s only five weeks from now! How on earth am I supposed to pull it all together by then??
“Get up there on the stage,” ordered Anthony from his customary seat in the front row. “You’ll have it down cold in half that time.”
“Yeah,” signed Hucky from his customary seat by Anthony’s right elbow. “There’s no business like show business.” (Augie taught him that in Vermont. Anthony and I both agreed that if Hucky begins quoting Bette Davis next, we’re not allowing Augie within fifty feet of him. Ever.)
REHEARSAL NOTES
1. We began with my first scene. Fred Graham is a theatre director, and Lilli Vanessi is a star. Even though they’re divorced, they’ve agreed to play Katharine and Petruchio in this production of Shrew—and you can tell right off the bat that there’s still some attraction there. For reasons of her own in choosing our Fred, Mrs. Packer cast Keith Marshall, a good-looking tenth grader who hasn’t brushed his teeth since the Clinton administration. In fact, you can always tell when he’s entered behind you because the aroma precedes him every time he breathes. (Unless my costume is equipped with an oxygen mask, the kissing scenes are going to be toxic.) This afternoon, his bouquet-of-lunch was still so pungent, I didn’t even bother to face him while we were performing “Wunderbar.” Instead, I deliberately sang it out front to Hucky—who grinned bashfully and waved to me. Since he clearly knows nothing about Method Acting or the Fourth Wall, I waved back.
2. Mrs. Packer had to take a telephone call in the faculty lounge, so the rest of us moved out into the auditorium to watch Augie run through “Too Darn Hot.” It’s the only song in the show that’s ready for opening night, but we all get such a kick out of it that there’s at least one command performance at every rehearsal. When Augie stomps his feet and sings, “But I’d be a flop with my baby tonight, ’cause it’s too darn hot” and then winks at Andy, it’s too darn cute. But today there was no stomp and definitely no wink. As a matter of fact, they didn’t make eye contact once. Something is radically wrong.
3. I used my downtime to explain the story of Kiss Me, Kate to Hucky, which was clearly going to be a challenge. The signs that Mamita and I downloaded from the Internet had certainly covered basic English, but I wasn’t sure how well they embraced Cole Porter lyrics.
“Now, the scene you just saw,” I began, pointing to the stage.
“Was about you and T.C.,” he concluded, nodding like he already knew.
“What??”
“She pretends she doesn’t like him and he pretends he doesn’t care.” I had no handy rebuttal to that particular allegation and wouldn’t have been able to come up with one if I’d been given a week’s notice. So I countered with the only safe reply I could think of.
“The toilet is not working properly.”
4. Mrs. Packer called places for my final number, which still hadn’t been staged yet. This was the battle I’d been dreading since the day I’d been cast as Lilli—so while the chorus assumed their positions behind me, I knelt down on the edge of the stage and whispered nervously to my director, who was taking notes on a yellow pad in an aisle seat.
“Mrs. Packer?”
“Yes, Alejandra?”
“Uh—I’m sorry, but I just can’t sing a song called ‘I Am Ashamed That Women Are So Simple.’ I have a NOW card.” From the back of the stage, I heard the always-reliable Lee fanning the flame toward a brushfire.
“Hear, hear,” she mumbled. Mrs. Packer put down her script patiently as though she’d been through this argument before.
“Alé, I understand your concern, but it’s an important part of the scene.”
“Yes, but—”
“Honey, we can’
t work around it.” She shrugged and signaled Mr. Disharoon to cue the number. By now, the other kids had gotten wind of what was going on, and rehearsals promptly stopped dead in their tracks for the next twenty minutes as entire armies formed on both sides of the Continental Divide. Predictably, all of the girls stood behind me and Lee as their leaders, while most of the boys backed up the dentally challenged Keith as theirs.
“But Kate’s right. Men are more complicated.”
“Hellooo? What universe spawned you?”
“Aw, chill out. It’s not like she sings ‘I Am Ashamed That Women Are So Stupid.’”
“Don’t go there. I’m warning you.” This last rebuke came un-expectedly from Mrs. Packard, who realized she’d inadvertently taken sides in a gender war. What else could she do??
5. Once the offending number had been eliminated, we wrapped up rehearsal with a walk-through of “So in Love With You Am I.” This is one routine I know so well, I could perform it under a general anesthetic. But halfway through the second verse, I happened to glance toward the back of the house and noticed an out-of-place yet familiar curly head nodding in time to the Cole Porter rhythm. Carlos?? What’s he doing here? My brother’s unexpected presence so threw me that I went up on my lyrics for the one and only time in my life. Even Mrs. Packer was startled.
“Uh, Alejandra?” she cued, looking up from her script. “It’s ‘in love with my joy delirious.’”
“I know.” I blushed. “Excuse me for just a moment.” While an oblivious Mr. Disharoon continued to play the melody line, I made my way up the aisle and accosted my brother like I’d just discovered what “fratricide” meant.
“You can’t just show up without warning me,” I hissed, leaning down to him in the last row. “You’re not even supposed to be here!” In reply, Carlos turned on one of those easy grins that have made him a regular fixture on several of our larger continents.
“Hey,” he admonished defensively, “if I’m going to go to bat for you, I need to know that you’ve got the right stuff.” Then he glanced up at the stage and turned back to me. If it were anybody else, I’d almost think he was awed. “Sis,” he whispered, “you’re really good!”
Now I know why Hucky believes in chalk pavements pictures. Right now, I’m ready to believe just about anything.
Fondly,
Alejandra
INSTANT MESSENGER
AugieHwong: “Mrs. Packer, I just can’t sing a song called ‘I Am Ashamed That Women Are So Simple.’” In front of my eyes you turned into Helen Lawson. “Get rid of the ballad!” “Fire Neely O’Hara!” “Set up a couple bottles of the grape!” Oh God, you were HEAVEN!
AlePerez: What happened with you and Andy? And why haven’t you told us?
AugieHwong: It’s over, that’s all. He doesn’t get me. Big deal. Slow curtain. The End.
AlePerez: Are you okay?
AugieHwong: I still love him, if that’s what you mean. But Dad says it fades after a while. The weird thing is that I’m not sure I want it to.
Don’t worry. “Good times and bum times, I’ve seen them all and, my dear, I’m still here.”
EMAIL FROM LISA WEI HWONG
Dear Alé,
You’re an angel. I’ve been trying to do something about “I Am Ashamed That Women Are So Simple” ever since I first heard it twenty-two years ago and assumed it was a practical joke.
If you’re keeping a list, the next horror to be eliminated is that ghastly monkey’s paw from Fiorello! “I’ll Marry the Very Next Man.” With lyrics like “Who cares how frequently he strikes me?” and “I’ll fetch his slippers with my arm in a sling,” even Jack the Ripper would have been embarrassed.
Wei
INSTANT MESSENGER
AlePerez: Did you find anything out?
TCKeller: He just says it’s over. I hate it when he puts on his game face with me. What does he think I’m here for??
AlePerez: Who broke it off—Augie or Andy?
TCKeller: Augie did. What’s up with that?? When my brother commits to something, he’s like a puppy who won’t let go of his favorite sock.
AlePerez: I know. And it spills over. Remember his UPI bulletin the week after Thanksgiving, when they’d held hands for the third time? At 12:34 in the morning he e-mailed me a Barbra Streisand song called “If You Were the Only Boy in the World” and promised it would “lull me to sleep faster than five milligrams of Xanax on an empty stomach.”
TCKeller: Why couldn’t you sleep?
AlePerez: I was having trouble making up my mind about something.
TCKeller: Did it help?
AlePerez: No.
TCKeller: Oh.
Alé, would it be okay with you if we could rewind to the first day and just be friends? Without all of my secret plans to make you fall for me? Because I figured out over Christmas that I need to know we can always count on each other no matter what. Okay?
AlePerez: Did somebody actually talk you into trying that old routine??
TCKeller: Uh, yeah. Pop did. He said I’d know when the moment was right.
AlePerez: He was also born in 1952. Things have changed since then. And you both deserve a time-out.
Dear Jacqueline,
Another plot between father and son. “Would it be okay with you if we could rewind to the first day and just be friends?” Honestly. At least the “um” possessed a peculiar sort of subtlety. Even a blockhead like Helena wouldn’t have fallen for this one. Do men really think we’re all idiots?? But if we’re not, why did Anthony suddenly get cuter?
Dinner was supposed to have been about our baseball diamond, but that only took ten minutes. In fact, the hangaburs hadn’t even made it to the table yet.
MANZANAR BATTLE PLAN—PHASE 2
Find out who the leaders of the Japanese American community are and let them know what we’re trying to do. (Anthony has 4 names already.)
Get ahold of a lawyer named Dale Minami in San Francisco who got them their civil rights back in 1983. (Anthony has his address but Alé writes better, so she’s in charge.)
Start tracking down the old guys who used to play for the San Fernando Aces. (Maybe the Hall of Fame can help us.)
Make sure that everything we mail out is CC’d to the Senate and to Fred Hoyt. (Especially to Fred Hoyt.)
It’s time to bring in the heavy artillery and call Aunt Ruth. Since she’s usually willing to start any House of Repre-sentatives committee that pisses off the president, she’ll be our secret weapon when we need her. (Anthony and Alé should both talk to her.)
At his insistence, we met at the Brookline Café so we could sit in the Bobby Kennedy booth. Of course, the waiter had no idea which of the two seats the tantrum-throwing attorney general had actually occupied—but we figured it was probably the one by the window, so that’s where I made Anthony sit. He was welcome to any karma that still lingered, though personally I’d have gotten rid of it all with Lysol. Wouldn’t it be funny if everyone who sat there became whiny and self-centered?
It turns out that the Brookline Café—despite a menu that spells “spinach” with a t—holds a place of honor in the Keller family, since it’s where Anthony’s father took his mother on their first unofficial date together. Anthony is always so hesitant when he speaks of her that when he awkwardly showed me the picture he’s begun carrying in his wallet, I was momentarily startled—though I could see instantly who gave him his blue eyes. She reminded me of a young Emma Thompson, only lovelier. Evidently, Ted and Nikki met at Fenway Park on an October afternoon in 1978 when an annual fluke put the Red Sox one game away from the American League playoffs, as though they actually deserved to be there.
“Pop’s scalper on Kenmore Square charged him $215 for Infield Grandstand Section 20, Seat 103,” confided Anthony, “and Mama’s scalper on Yawkey Way only charged her $125 for Infield Grandstand Section 20, Seat 104. She never let him forget it.” (I liked her already.)
They didn’t say much to each other for the first few innings—s
he brought him a beer and he brought her a hot dog on two separate trips to the concession stand, and that pretty much maxed out the conversation. But as soon as the Red Sox had gone up 2–0, they both began to panic at the same moment—and by the time Bucky F. Dent had come to bat in the seventh inning for the Yankees, with Chris Chambliss and Roy White on base, “Mama and Pop were squeezing each other’s hands like two Titanic survivors who were getting ready to jump off the stern together.”
After the Yankees had won it all by the predictable score of 5–4, Ted and Nikki remained in their seats for another stunned half hour without uttering a sound. (Come to think of it, if I’d just spent $340 on two tickets worth $13.80, I’d have taken my time too.) Then they introduced themselves to each other, and “Pop invited Mama to have dinner with him in Bobby Kennedy’s booth. Mama was sitting where you are.” (I have no information on how she felt about your ratty brother-in-law.)
Ted was a college baseball player with a B.A. from Boston University who wanted to build houses, and Nikki was a Newburyport native with a master’s degree in American history from Brandeis. Boy, did she make him sweat. They didn’t agree on movies, wine, or books, she wouldn’t let him give her flowers, and she never seemed to be at home when he called. (According to Anthony, “She was actually sitting by the answering machine listening, but he didn’t find that out until their second anniversary.”) Finally he couldn’t take it anymore.
“Nikki, this is Ted. These are my terms. I’ll learn to like cabernet, I’ll give To Kill a Mockingbird one more shot, and I won’t send roses. But on Saturday night I’m taking you to see The Buddy Holly Story in Cambridge and after that we’re going out to dinner. You can pick where. So if you’ve already made other plans, break ’em. And meet me at the theatre at 7:15 because I’m not going to call you again.”
She got there at 7:10. And at 11:30, he kissed her for the first time on the corner of Church Street and Mass Ave.
INSTANT MESSENGER
AlePerez: Oh, my God. It’s the most romantic story I ever heard.