“Oh, no,” he mumbled, more to himself than to me. He sat back down in a hurry and ran his hand across the top of my hair. “Augie, listen to me. If I’d had a kid who liked football, we’d have driven Mom crazy eight years ago. I got exactly who I wanted.”
“Even if—Even if I never heard of a play-action pass before?” I stammered.
“You dopey rock-head. That’s what son-in-laws are for! Now, is there anything else that’s not bothering you?”
“No,” I admitted sort of sheepishly. “That was all.” When he switched off the lamp and kissed me good night for real, I turned over on my side—just the way Hucky does with Shut-the-Door—so he wouldn’t see how relieved I was.
“I love you, Dad.”
“I love you too.”
So just before Andy showed up a week later to watch the Pats and the Colts with us, Mom and Dad decided they were going to teach me the basics once and for all—but in a language I understood.
hang time
Kate Fothergill holding a high C for sixteen bars of “I Got Rhythm”
fumble
Joan Crawford trying to sing
turnover
what happened to anyone who upstaged Ethel Merman
option play
whether or not to take a ninth curtain call
offending team
what the Sharks thought the Jets were in West Side Story
end zone
where the chorus stands during the finale
dropback
what Katharine Hepburn did after Cary Grant pushed her face in The Philadelphia Story
handoff
Jane Powell taking over the lead in Royal Wedding when June Allyson got pregnant
Why didn’t someone tell me that football was such a no-brainer?! The Colts went for the extra curtain call but then Crawford sang for them and Marvin Harrison got in the way of the Merm. Friesz’s kick held the high C for six seconds and forty-three yards, Ellison was waiting on the chorus line, and the Pats won 21–17.
www.augiehwong.com
PRIVATE CHAT
AndyWexler: I’m so proud of you!!
AugieHwong: “Please don’t play governess with me, Karen. I haven’t your unyielding good taste.”
AndyWexler: All About Eve?
AugieHwong: How did you know that?
AndyWexler: You’re not the only one who’s been studying. Am I off the hook yet?
AugieHwong: You’re pretty close.
AndyWexler: Did anybody ever tell you that loving you is hard work?
AugieHwong: NOW you’re off the hook.
But I still owe him a kick in the ass. Just like you owed Mickey Rooney a couple of your own. Any ideas?
Love,
Augie
Lee,
After yesterday’s rehearsal, it’s clear that once Kiss Me, Kate opens, I’m going to be typecast as a guy for the rest of my life. What a savage irony in a savage world. No one will ever remember my Countess Aurelia or Mrs. Miniver.
—Augie
Augie,
They wouldn’t anyway.
—Lee
Lee,
You’re so not helping. I need a favor. Sort of a swan song to my former life. Literally. I want to sing “Always True to You in My Fashion.”
—Augie
Augie,
That’s not a favor, it’s an annexation. No.
—Lee
Lee,
Don’t be a gink. It’d just be for one rehearsal and we still have ten of them left. And I’ll be dressed like me, not Bianca, in case that was the next item on your “Forget It” list. Besides, this isn’t just about “Mr. Thorn once cornered corn and that ain’t hay” (even though I hate you every time you get to deliver that line and I don’t). This is about randomly picking another boy to sing it to.
—Augie
Augie,
Randomly=Andy?
—Lee
Lee,
Yes, but ssshhh. After what he put me through, he’s got it coming. In public and in front of an audience. It’s going to be my first declaration of love, and he’s the only one who’s going to know it.
—Augie
Augie,
A bag of concrete would know it.
—Lee
INSTANT MESSENGER
TCKeller: Assuming he doesn’t kill you, that’s actually one of the few ideas you ever had that wasn’t at least 60 percent crackpot. If I could sing, I might even use it on Alé.
I can’t believe you thought Dad would rather have had a football kid than you. Where have you been hiding out your whole life??
AugieHwong: Down in the Depths on the 90th Floor. (Cole Porter wrote that one too.)
TCKeller: It’s a good thing you told him that you were afraid he wanted a different brand of son—because if you hadn’t, I would have.
AugieHwong: When did you tell him?
TCKeller: About 4 hours before you watched him figure it out for himself. I knew you wanted me to. When you made me promise to keep it a secret, you said it in your “Betray me” voice.
AugieHwong: I didn’t think you’d make me wait 6 days, you rock-head!! What time do you want me to pick up Hucky?
TCKeller: 1:00. I usually keep him out until 4:00 and then take him back to the Residence. Warning: He’s going to invent 30 minutes of excuses to make you stay, so factor that in. Pop says I can’t go outside until Monday. The cough is better, but he thinks I’m still contagious. By the way—except for holding my hand on Plum Island for unrelated reasons, Alé’s not letting me get away with anything anymore. Even a casual-looking arm-around-the shoulder thing triggers a military alert. Is she really going to give me a second chance after the “just friends” scam or did I screw it up beyond repair?
AugieHwong: You want an argument or an answer?
TCKeller: Groan. That’s what I was afraid of. I’m going to have to pull this off as an honest man. Without any subterfuge. How do I do that?
AugieHwong: Now you want an argument.
TCKeller: Hey, is “rock-head” new? Because I like it.
AugieHwong: Actually, I think it’s retro. But I like it too.
Dear Jutes,
While Hucky and I were working our way through Chicken McNuggets at McDonald’s, I tried to put together a responsible itinerary that might get past a six-year-old. I should have known better. It sounded like a battle plan for a divorced dad when he was stuck with his kid for the day.
“Want to see Spy Kids 3-D?”
“No.”
“Want to go bowling?”
“Why?”
“Children’s Museum?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Then suddenly it hit me just as I dropped a french fry into my Coke. Oh, duh. Like Tick and I had never been in his shoes before. What did happen to my brain?
“Okay,” I said, fishing through the ice for the drowning fry. “I have an idea. But wipe the ketchup off your face first.”
“I like it this way. Wipe your own off.”
“And eat two more bites of your hangabur or we’re not going anywhere.”
HUCKY AND AUGIE
Schedule
Pirates: We bought eye patches at the 99¢ shop, said “Aye, matey” a lot, and ordered Phyllis to walk the plank. She chased us into the café with a saber disguised as Angela’s Ashes.
Aliens: We came from the planet Twylo and we hatched out of walnuts. (Hucky thought the whole concept was idiotic, so this one didn’t last long.)
Cops: Between lunch and cookies we arrested Clifford the Big Red Dog, Maisy the Rat, Elmer the Patchwork Elephant, and Dad. (He went quietly to jail without putting up a fight. He was no match for Hucky.)
Dino Hunters: We were trapped inside Jurassic Park after the last helicopter had taken off. So we had a picnic lunch with Barney and then we shot him. But while we were deciding where to stash the body, I realized that Hucky hadn’t been tugging on his hair all day. Instead, he’d been playing with one of his front teeth.
?
??Does it hurt?” I asked, automatically thinking “cavity.”
“No. I want it to get loose. What’s taking it so long?”
“You’re already six. The Tooth Fairy’ll be here any minute.”
Hucky glared suspiciously into my eyes as though I were pulling a fast one. “Who??”
“The Tooth Fairy,” I repeated. “Haven’t you ever heard of her before?” Well, he hadn’t. But I’d really opened a can of worms by asking, because when he found out I wasn’t kidding, he forgot all about Barney’s corpse behind the couch and began beating me up with questions.
“Who’s the Tooth Fairy? What does she do? Is she wicked or nice? Where does she come from? Does she melt?”
Jutes, you’re the actress. You probably could have improvised some kind of an answer without even breaking a sweat. But all I have to my credit so far is “Too Darn Hot” and a pair of blue tights. I don’t know how to think on my toes yet. I stink without a script. I need lines! What’s there to tell about the Tooth Fairy?? She flies through the window, leaves cash, and peace out—she’s gone. It’s not like she ever had a Who’s Who bio in Playbill. So how was I supposed to answer him?! But then Hucky gave me just the clue I’d been looking for.
“Tell me about the Tooth Fairy,” he demanded. “All about the Tooth Fairy. Please?”
Jackpot. “All About the Tooth Fairy.” All About Eve.
Thank God for Bette Davis.
ALL ABOUT THE TOOTH FAIRY
By Augie, for Hucky
Once upon a time, there was a forty-year-old Tooth Fairy who was filled with fire and music. Each night (and on Wednesday and Saturday matinees), she would fly around the world to visit all of the children whose teeth had fallen out so she could leave them shiny silver dollars under their pillows. Oh, how they loved the Tooth Fairy. But the Tooth Fairy was sad because she thought she was too old to marry her prince, and that all she’d wind up with was a book full of clippings. It’s a funny business, a woman’s career.
One night while the Tooth Fairy was having a little party after work, her best friend came to visit her. She said, “I have a surprise, Tooth Fairy! Outside I found a young girl who wants to do good things for people—just like you do! She’s gone all across the country, back and forth and back and forth, to watch you visit the little children. Oh please, Tooth Fairy, won’t you let her come in and say hello?”
Well, of course the Tooth Fairy was one of the kindest fairies in the world, so she said to her friend, “The heave-ho!” (which means “Please bring her in” in fairy talk). So her friend brought in the young girl, who was so sweet and so polite and who told such an unhappy story about her gloomy life that when the Tooth Fairy found out she didn’t have a home, she invited her to stay in her castle. That way she could learn everything there was to know about being a Tooth Fairy. She even gave her a new name. “Miss Worthington.”
Now, what the Tooth Fairy didn’t know was that Miss Worthington was secretly mean. She didn’t really like the Tooth Fairy at all. She thought it was about time that Tooth Fairies were young and pretty, and it was her evil plan to become the Tooth Fairy herself. So while she pretended to be nice, she was really studying the Tooth Fairy like she was a play or a book or a set of blueprints, just waiting for the day when she could take away the Tooth Fairy’s job and the Tooth Fairy’s prince from her.
The good news is that the Tooth Fairy found out in time. One morning she heard footsteps on the ceiling and knew it was her Fairy Godmother Cora—who flew right in through the skylight and said, “Tooth Fairy, get rid of that girl. She is a louse.” Tooth Fairy was shocked. “Miss Worthington?” she asked, hardly believing her ears. “That’s what I said, bub,” replied Cora (which means “yes”). So Cora turned Miss Worthington into a venomous fishwife and everyone lived happily ever after.
Altogether, I maybe knew 25 percent of the words in ASL. The rest of it I either had to finger-spell or act out in pantomime. Did you ever try to play a blueprint or a fishwife?? But even if I wasn’t exactly on the money, I put the main points across anyway. Hucky’s eyes opened wide when they were supposed to open wide, he got sad on the right cues, and he knew Miss Worthington was a little witch before I even hit that part.
“I SO don’t like her,” he signed on our way back to the Children’s Residence. “Not even at the beginning. She lied.”
I still had an hour to hang out, so we went upstairs to give Mateo the eye patch we’d bought for him. Right after he put it on, he stood in front of the mirror and made Captain Hook faces, and probably could have spent the rest of the day doing it—but the minute he saw Hucky’s reflection turning on the VCR, he lit out of there as fast as a pair of short legs could flee. (I don’t blame him. I know every word of Mary Poppins by heart, and the only other movie musical I ever memorized from the ground up was Funny Girl. And that was on purpose.) But I had other things to take my mind off the tea parties on the ceiling. While Hucky and I sat on his bed during the opening credits, I glanced around the room and noticed that the wall above his desk was covered with drawings—and most of them were of Tick, me, and Alé. All together, we outnumbered Mary Poppins 8 to 1.
“Augie?” asked Hucky, looking up from “Chim-Chim-Cheree.” “Can I be your brother too, like T.C. is?”
“You already are,” I told him, reaching over to pat Shut-the-Door. “Sometimes things like that happen all by themselves.”
Incidentally, this morning his tooth fell out and he told the social worker to make sure the real Tooth Fairy got it and not the opportunistic bitch who was trying to take her place (well, that was the subtext anyway).
He’s definitely ready for Snow White and the Little Foxes.
Love,
Augie
INSTANT MESSENGER
AugieHwong: Before I forget, Tick’s birthday is right after Kiss Me, Kate, and I don’t want it to get lost in the shuffle. I was thinking about a surprise party and a pair of box seats to a Red Sox/Yankees home game—but I don’t know any scalpers. Does Clint?
AlePerez: I’ll check. But I’ve already picked out something on my own. There’s an online registry where you can pay to name an actual star. So now there really is one called “Anthony Keller.” They’re FedExing me a photo of it with a certificate, and I’m having both of them matted and framed. Do you think it’s too much?
AugieHwong: I think it’s so spot-on that the only way my Red Sox tickets are going to compete is if they let him pitch. But that’s okay because he deserves something special—particularly from us. If it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be playing Lilli Vanessi, I wouldn’t have Andy, most of Brookline wouldn’t know ASL, and Hucky would still be crying himself to sleep. My brother’s a dreamer who doesn’t like giving up. And it’s contagious.
AlePerez: Did he tell you we were holding hands on Plum Island? It was only the second time since I’ve known him that he wasn’t plotting his next move. So how could I resist?
AugieHwong: Actually, Hucky signed me the news while it was still breaking. Sort of like live coverage on CNN.
Dear Jutes,
I accidentally rewrote the last half of Meet Me in St. Louis, and you couldn’t have played it any better yourself—even if you’d thought of it first.
www.augiehwong.com
PRIVATE CHAT
AugieHwong: I was awake last night worrying.
AndyWexler: Tell me something new, Wonderboy.
AugieHwong: No, this is serious. Valentine’s Day is in two weeks. What if we buy each other the same thing by accident?
AndyWexler: So what?
AugieHwong: So maybe we should go present-shopping together. That way we can make sure we each hit different kinds of stores.
AndyWexler: I never guessed that life could be so complicated.
AugieHwong: You want to reexamine your other options before it’s too late?
AndyWexler: I picked my option back in the fall when you kept falling on me during soccer practice. So it’s already too late.
We f
igured out that the smartest thing to do was plan an afternoon at the Pru. They have a good 2½ million shops in the mall there, which automatically meant that (a) we’d definitely find a pair of unconflicting valentines for each other, and (b) we’d be together for at least four hours. That was actually the whole point, but you can’t just come out and say, “Dude, I want to spend a day with you.” According to Alé, “Never give it away up front like that.”
It only took me an hour and a half to get ready, which is ten minutes off my previous pre-date-with-Andy record. I couldn’t decide between the tan slacks or the taupe ones (Dad said, “Go with tan”), and it was 50–50 on the blue shirt/yellow shirt crisis too (Mom negotiated for the blue team and won), but we all agreed on Alé’s brown sweater from Christmas. So while I stood in front of the Brookline Village T station waiting for him, I was confident that the cover of GQ was the next stop.
Then disaster. Again.
I knew as soon as I saw him crossing Washington Street that something was definitely wrong. Usually he’s sort of bouncing on the balls of his feet whenever he’s on his way to meet me, but today his shoulders were slumped and his head was down. I didn’t even get his supernova smile when he saw me.
“Hey, Aquaboy.” I grinned nervously.
“Hey,” he replied, without any expression at all. “Let’s hit it.” He brushed right past me as we started down the steps into the station, and by the time we’d bought our tokens I was already on guard—especially after the D train pulled in and we found seats next to each other without our usual argument about who got the window. (Like there was ever anything to look at except each other.) Instead, Andy stared straight ahead at an MBTA map, and we rode all the way to Copley Square in silence. I had it narrowed down to four possibilities: