I Can Emote With The Best of Them!
By: Erin (Kate)
I stomp into the apartment, very drunk and very pissed off. I throw myself dramatically onto the couch and let out a loud groan of discontent but it doesn't do a thing.
Possibly because Pookie's still sitting in the Life Café with the rest. Probably with her mouth still hanging open. That fish-look of hers.
Possibly because I left her there, after my suitably dramatic exit. After which, I, of course, got suitably drunk and danced with a suitable amount of guys and girls and got a suitable amount of phone numbers to make her jealous. Which probably would have worked better if she had been there to see me.
Possibly I'm acting this way because she was a horrible horrible girlfriend and told me I didn't know how to feel emotions.
No, wait, that last one should be definitely. Silly me.
I let out a drunken giggle, then immediately let the pout settle back over my face. Can't get distracted.
How dare she tell me I can't feel emotion? I can emote with the best of them! That's why I'm an actress-excuse me, performance artist-and she's just a stupid lawyer. I bet she's never even been in front of an audience! And definitely she would never have had to make herself have to cry in front of said audience. Ha ha, who's emoting now?
A wide smile immediately settles over my face, but it disappears just as quickly as I realize she never saw that performance. Well, I'll just have to prove my emoting-ability in another way. But how?
Hmmmm...
Hmmmmm...
Hmmmmmm...
Okay, enough of that. I have an idea! I will wriiiiiite leeeeeetters to everyone! That will prove Pookie wrong. I will write to everyone saying the one major emotion they make me feel and... yes. Emotion-ness.
The idea briefly flickers through my head that perhaps I should wait until I'm no longer drunk, but I quickly dismiss it as drunk-thought.
Now, all I need to do is figure out which emotion I relate to each person. The first few will be quite easy.
Roger: Love
Mimi: Admiration (Oooh, big word!!)
Collins: Worry
At that point I run into the thought of Benny. Benny... Hmmm... Well, if Roger's love, then Benny must be lust. But, if Roger's love and Benny's lust then what the hell is Mark? I frown, then decide to come back to him.
Now, what about Pookie? I stare blankly at the paper for a moment, before sticking my tongue out at it. I don't need to tell Pookie how I feel. She sees me every day, she knows it without saying. Besides, I'm still mad at her. She doesn't get to accuse me of things!
I frown desperately at that thought, wishing there was someone there to see me. Within seconds, I force myself to push away the frown. Focus on the letters. Letters are the way of the moment! Giggling, I get up and grab my purple stationary, clicking on my CD player on the way. I dance around a little, before settling down to keep writing. Erhm... to start writing.
Roger,
Darling, if you aren't the sexiest man alive on this planet in this day and age who hasn't been airbrushed on a thousand magazine covers. Any girl who's seen you perform would immediately fall in love with you... This girl included. How could I not? The hair... the eyes... the hips... Oh, and that VOICE. Sweetheart, you've got talent and you can't ever let it go... Otherwise, I'm going to have to refuse to fall out of love with you. And then I might elevate to stalker level. Oh, I love you! But I think you've known that, even before this letter arrived in the cardboard box you mistakenly call a "mailbox". And at this point, I would scream, "Let me have your babies", but you know me-I'm not gonna be mainstream like that.
~Maureen Johnson
Mimi,
Mimi Marquez, sweetie, I admire you more than anyone else. I know you don't believe it, but you are so strong and I wish I could be more like you. You've lived on your own since 17, taken care of yourself-kinda-, overcome a drug addiction-with Roger's help, the King of Self-Hurt-, pulled away from the second sexiest man in New York, and snagged the sexiest man in New York for your own. And yet you've been able to walk away from him when it was too much. And then you snagged him back. God, I wish I could be you.
~Maureen Johnson
Collins,
Darling, I know this isn't what you want to hear, but I worry about you. I worry my ass off about you. That's why it's so tight. I don't wanna lose you, though. My best friend, my surrogate daddy. The man who took me off the street (granted, I was there for two hours) and introduced me to the man who would be my boyfriend for two years. Oooh, and took me to my first gay bar! And went out with me, pretending to be my "sugar daddy" when people got the wrong idea about our relationship. God, that was so much fun. But the fact remains, I worry about you, because you're not allowed to die because I'll die without you. I need you. Advice, friendship, kinship, everything.
You're also not allowed to go to MIT or any other such far away place anymore. I can't afford to keep collecting AirMiles anymore.
~Maureen Johnson
Benny,
I already told Roger that he was the sexiest man on the planet, so I can't tell you that. I know you won't be satisfied with second place, 'specially to "him", so just keep working towards the top! Have I mentioned how much I wanted you when we lived together? I must of, based on how many times I got you. If you ever get tired of Muffy, you know Joanne's hours. You know the perfectness too-no love to mess everything up. That's the whole problem with Mimi, isn't it?
~Maureen Johnson
I smile in satisfaction at my letters, folding them up and dropping them into matching purple envelopes. In nice, flowery, sparkily script, I write the addresses on them with a flourish. Unfortunately, this immediately brings me back to earth where I realize that I need to write to Mark's. I sit, listening to the CD, until suddenly it comes to me.
Mark,
You scare me to death.
God, what else can I say? You have a gift... a genius... and it scares the crap out of me. You see people for what they really are. And then you capture it with your camera. And I'm scared that one day you're gonna look at me and see how black I am inside. I treated you like shit, I slept around, but if it helps your art... remember everything you hate about me.
Even if it's hard.
Make it, Marky. Not for me, make it for yourself. You know you can.
~Maureen Johnson
I quickly seal and label the envelope before I start to sober up and regret what I wrote to Mark. Never admitted that to anyone, least of all him.
But I guess that proves to Pookie just how deep my emotions can run!
I skip downstairs and drop the letters in the mailbox, only tripping a few times.
I then go back up to the apartment and pass out on our bed, waiting for Pookie to come home.
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Author's Note: Alright, this is just a random thing that kept popping in and out of my head during vacation. I'm not sure if I'm going to continue on or not... I might, lol, depending on if it seems worth it. Hopefully I'll have more of School Hard up soon, I have two days before going to Calgary... ;)
Disclaimer: The characters all belong to the genius that is Jonathan Larson. Not me... and I doubt anyone'd connect the word 'genius' to me... lol.
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