(Shelby)
There are worse things (I could do) wasn't a song that favored technique. There were lines with high notes and range of voice that only trained singers could do well, but the great thing about this song was the interpretation. Teenage Shelby sure could relate to the message pretty well. Poor, dysfunctional family with a hypocritical father and everything else I've already told you. The slut daughter, me, was at the drama club with all school's misfits, I smoked marijuana, and gave it to all the boys. Of course, I didn't go out spreading my legs for everyone, but it's a fact that I gained fame. So, when I sang There are worse things (I could do), honestly, I felt like Rizzo. I understood her perfectly, even though my role model for technique was Barbra Streisand.
The director of the play applauded me at the audition. I thanked him and left the stage to make way for another colleague. I was trying to cast a local production of Little Shop of Horrors, which was to be directed by a professor from my old college. I think I had some privileged consideration, as I was a good student in his class. This professor was the one who taught us the basics of the stage. That's when we learned to move, to understand the markings on stage, posture techniques and body expression. He believed that my singing technique was above average, but I wasn't very good at body expression. As the results of the first cut wouldn't come out until the following day, I went to have coffee with some colleagues at a snack bar that was immediately next to the theater. Then we were approached by Carl, who was joining the production as an assistant.
"You were extraordinary at the audition, Shelby." Carl commented. "Rizzo? I loved."
"Thanks Carl." Thank you. He was a senior in the performing arts school who tried to sleep with everyone. Those who were sure that the theatrical world and promiscuity were synonymous, this guy was one of the reasons why there is this bad reputation. I was well aware of that.
"What are you going to do now? Do you have plans?" Another friend asked me.
"I was thinking about going home, getting something to eat, and then going to work."
"Will you have lunch with me? It's on me." Carl smiled sympathetically and made no effort to hide his true intentions.
I never turned down a good free meal. We walked two blocks, and he took me to a pretty decent Italian restaurant in downtown Cleveland. I knew full well where this could lead, but I wasn't too concerned about chastity at the moment. Carl was a good looking man, I was single and of legal age.
"You did an impressive audition." Carl returned to the subject after we ordered our food.
"Thanks."
"Your voice is different, nasal, with concise technique. Have I told you that?"
"Not yet."
"You have a future on stage if you want it. Have you thought about what you're going to do after you graduate?"
"I dropped college out, Carl."
"Why?"
"Because I couldn't pay the tuition, the rent and eat on a waitress' salary. My plan is to try to accumulate some money to be able to resume next semester."
"Why don't you apply for a scholarship? There must be some opportunities open."
"I had a 50% scholarship and it still wasn't possible to pay college and support myself."
"Don't you think about getting something via the FSA?"
"And be in debt for the rest of my life? No thanks."
"This sucks. In any case, be sure to stop by the secretariat to see if there are open processes for scholarships."
"Yeah…not that I have much better plans." I'm sure my story was the same as hundreds of other people who went through university. "I'll be lucky if I get into Public's Company."
"I have contacts there if you want. I could introduce you to some people. Do you know… will open an audition for The Rocky Horror Picture Show next week. You should do it. I have some friends in the production."
"I appreciate it, but would you also have someone on Broadway to introduce me to?"
Carl laughs, in a loose sort of way, when the person throws their head back.
"Yeah… I did summer class at Tisch." He sipped the beer he'd ordered. "Broadway is Babylon, you know? It's royalty. There are three ways you can get in: one is you graduate from a great arts program that has professors that introduce you to the right people, the other is to get a good agent who has good contacts."
"What is the third option?"
"Nepotism."
"Wonderful."
"You might be able to break in doing small roles and grow naturally in the field. Maybe you have a lottery-winning luck and a director discovers you and casts you in a big production. One way or another, you still need a strong network of contacts. Because the competition is huge. You have to work hard and have a good dose of luck."
"Unfortunately, I never got the chance to leave Ohio, and neither did I have Madonna's balls."
"Ah, you know this is a legend!" Carl smiled. "No one arrives in New York with 35 dollars in their pocket and becomes a mega star without having the minimum structure. Madonna was never from a poor family to begin with, and she knew people in New York. Do you know any?" I just nodded negatively. "I didn't know either. That's why I took this summer class. Afterwards, Madonna would have no chances if the goal was Broadway. Well, if she had $35 and went to Juilliard, I would believe her, but she didn't."
"Then how would a person like me stand a chance?"
"With money to pay an agent and to support you for a while, regardless of whether or not you have another job. New York is a tricky city, Shelby, Broadway is a niche, and America is a big country. You can build a decent acting career in places other than Broadway or Hollywood. You can build a career in Ohio and go to other states. Public is just one of the companies that exist in Cleveland."
I looked right at my colleague. It was the face of a conformist, of someone who'd sounded the ground and felt he couldn't handle the problem. Well, at least I respect the fact that he tried something. Of course, you can build a career elsewhere, but giving up before trying didn't seem reasonable to me. On one thing I had to agree with Carl, however: I needed to come up with good money to keep me in town while doing what I had to do. But at the rate I was going, I was unlikely to make it. The money I managed to get from the diner was barely enough to pay my day-to-day debts. I needed to think of a way out, to get some money, since I didn't know anyone in New York who would be able to give me any help.
...
(Juan)
I was swamped with my work at the hospital. I completed the program in gynecology, and now through the rotation of specialties I finally served Dr. Aaron Parker in general surgery. It was because of this man that I fought tooth and nail to get into the residency program at the Cleveland Hospital. Doctor Parker was a man in his early 50s, and also one of the great references of general surgery in the country, winner of two Albert Camus, which is an annual award offered to licensed physicians in the United States who have developed innovative studies and techniques. Best of all, Parker really liked me and he was very willing to teach me. Obviously, I was a diligent student. But I wasn't so diligent today.
"Are you late for an appointment, Dr. Lopez?" Parker got my attention.
"What?"
"You are more interested in your watch than in practicing medicine."
"Sorry. It's just that my family is coming here from Lima, and I have to meet them. They are here for an important meeting."
"Lima? I didn't know your family is from there. Not with that accent of yours. It's subtle, but it's there. I thought you were from some Cuban or Puerto Rican family that lived in Florida." It took a lot of willpower for me not to roll my eyes at the cliché.
"Actually, my family is Chilean. When we arrived in the US, we spent a couple of months in Florida before settling down in Lima."
"Chile? There's something we don't see that often. What city in Chile?"
"Santiago."
"I visited Santiago once in the 1980s. I visited a wonderful winery at the foot of the Andes."
"There is no better South American wine than the Chilean one."
"I must agree." This time, Dr. Parker look at his watch. "Very well, Dr. Lopez. Finish the reports and go home to see your parents."
I thanked to Dr. Parker, the more so because he didn't ask the reason for my parents' visit: my marriage. I mean, my symbolic marriage. I couldn't help organize the small ceremony, but Rosa, my youngest sister, had been in town with us for a week helping Hiram with the final arrangements. As far as I knew, it would be a simple party with some music. The symbolic marriage blessed by my own mother... in Spanish. Few hospital colleagues knew what was happening to me. I only invited Alicia, George and Matt, who were my closest friends, and because I knew they had no problem attending a symbolic same-sex wedding. Everyone else... well, it was the early 90s, a lot had changed in society, but still not enough. Who knows, maybe my future children would find a more tolerant world where same-sex couples could actually marry? It would be beautiful.
I finished my work for the day and left the hospital to enjoy my three days off. I planned the ceremony to take place on Saturday, and I even excused myself for an extra day to pretend I had a honeymoon. There would be no time to make an interesting trip, so Hiram suggested that we spend two days at a luxury hotel near Cleveland, on the shores of the lake. I thought the idea was brilliant. One day for the symbolic wedding and two days for the honeymoon would be more than enough. Then he would have to sweat to pay for the hanged Monday.
Rosa was staying in our apartment, and my parents were going straight to a hotel, but they had said they would have dinner at my house, hence my concern. My older sister, Maria, was extremely Catholic and therefore against what she called "my way of life". I would understand if she didn't attend the wedding. When I got home, I found Rosa and Hiram laughing as they cooked dinner.
"May I know what is so funny?" I said without really taking the two of them by surprise.
"Rosa is a comedian." Hiram shook my sister. "How exactly does Juan do it?"
"Oh, that's a rookie play, in my day I would run 30 yards without pushing." Rosa was impersonating me with all the mockery she was entitled to, eliciting more laughter from my soon-to-be husband.
"¿No tienes nada más que hacer, Roselita?" I complained. "Puedo conseguir un trabajo pronto para que ocupes tu cabecita".
"Mi trabajo aquí es burlarme de tu cara". She replied in the most innocent face. "Además, Hiram y yo estamos celebrando nuestro trabajo en equipo ".
"Trabajo en equipo... Querré ver eso".
"Mañana, hermano."
"Did this creature give you a lot of trouble?" I asked Hiram.
"You know Rosa is my favorite sister-in-law. By the way, you should learn from your sister how good it is to have a sense of humor."
The time I had to soak my body in water to get rid of the hospital smell was what led my parents to arrive at my modest apartment. My mom immediately hugged me and kissed me on the cheek, and then she did the same to Hiram. My father was curter, and greeted me with a formal handshake. Of course, this coldness hurt a little bit, but I had to let go and be understanding, after all, it wasn't easy for him to digest that I was marrying another man.
"Have you guys talked to the lawyer yet?" My dad said when we were already at the dinner table.
"About what?" Hiram frowned.
"About your marriage." My dad gestured like he was stating the obvious.
"What is there to talk about with lawyers about that? Hiram and I are getting married to affirm our commitment to each other to our family and friends, but unfortunately our marriage is not legally recognized yet. There's nothing to do about it. There are no lawyers needed." I replied.
"Actually, I've been looking into it."
"Are you?"
"Why the astonishment? I am a college professor, therefore a professional researcher." My dad took some pleasure in needling me. I looked at my mother, who was clearly curious. My old woman spoke very poor English, but she understood it perfectly. "You need to look for a lawyer to register a document declaring a stable union. It doesn't have the legal status of a marriage, but it is a document that can support the other if a tragedy happens, and if neither of you has thought to make a will."
"I've heard of couples in California and New York who are doing this." Hiram commented. "But we're in Ohio, Ernesto. If one day American states start legalizing same-sex marriage, Ohio will surely be one of the last states to do so."
"There is case law, Hiram." My father argued. "So take advantage of it. This statement will be necessary, because if you two are going to move this story forward, you're going to have to think about the possessions you're going to acquire in the future, the children, and everyone's financial security. Because if you haven't thought about these practical things, it's better to stop everything right here. I'm not here to see a play."
My old man was absolutely right, and I regretted not having had the same perception and seriousness that my father saw the event. What if Hiram and I want to buy a house together, for example? How would all this look? Marriage wasn't just about love.
"I agree with you. Do you have any suggestions, Ernesto? About who could help us?" Hiram asked my father.
"I took the liberty of warning Christian. He is waiting for your call."
Christian Gale was a professor at OSU who helped our family settle in the United States. My father and he are great friends. Hiram and I exchanged glances, and honestly, what my old man said made perfect sense. If we wanted to get married, we had to do it right. It wasn't enough just a symbolic ceremony to celebrate what basically everyone already knows: it was necessary to equip ourselves with all the legal resources available, even if outside of what the laws allowed us. It was necessary to make wills, stable union records and whatever else was possible, especially if we were actually going to build a family and become parents. We would no longer have viable time to do this before the symbolic ceremony, but resolving these issues would be mandatory for the next few weeks.
…
(Shelby)
"Shel, have you seen my eyelashes around?" Amanda yelled at me from the bathroom.
"Nope!"
"Are you sure?" Amanda appeared in the doorway of the room I shared with Brenda. She was already made up, in a long party dress. Nothing unusual, because in addition to working at the restaurant, Amanda also had a gig with the covers band that played at wedding parties, birthday parties and whoever else hired them. The band had the same musicians, but the vocalists varied according to availability. I've sung with them once and thought it was great fun, but the fee is ridiculous.
"What's the event this time?"
"Two gay guys wedding party."
"Seriously? It should be a fun set list: Madonna, disco and Broadway musicals."
"You know… not so much. The guy went through a pretty eclectic list. He said that his boyfriend was a rock fan, so there's even Nirvana in the setlist."
"Really?"
"And the first dance is Frank Sinatra's song. The way you look tonight."
"Are you sure it's a gay couple?"
"That's what's on the invitation. They must have money too, because I hear they got everything organized in a month."
"Wow? Funny to be in a hurry for something that isn't even legal."
"I think that the reason they could organize it fast. It's just a party with live music!"
Amanda ended up leaving the house without her artificial eyelashes, but still with a little heavier makeup than usual, because it was part of the scenic game. I thought about getting a gig with this band just to practice my singing. At the wedding where I worked, there was the typical guest who drank them all and gave a very embarrassing speech to the bride and groom. Afterwards, the mother of the bride went out dancing at the party with her boyfriend who was the same age as the daughter she had just married. It was a sensation.
I wasn't going to work at the diner that Saturday. Even though it's a day I theoretically get the most tips, I had an audition to do at the Cleveland Public. They were going to put together an adaptation of The Rocky Horror Picture Show as Carl told me last week. Of course, it wouldn't be anything Broadway-level or charming like the movie. It was a local adaptation for a small 400-seat theater, and this was typical of the musical that could be adapted easily in small, low-budget theaters. Well, I'd try for Janet's part and fuck it. I put on clothes and went to the theater. I applied, pasted a photo on my CV and waited my turn.
"Shelby Corcoran."
I walked into that theater like I was giving fuck the world. I was too young for the part, but this wasn't my first audition for a professional play. Obviously, everyone who was considering playing in musicals sang a song from the play in question. I did it differently and sang Tonight, from West Side Story, just because I felt like it.
"Wow!" The director commented at the end of my presentation. "Interesting choice, miss Corcoran. May I know why you chose that song in particular?"
"The songs in this musical are simpler, technically speaking, so I decided to add something more to the game."
"Could you sing Touch-a touch-a touch me?" The director asked.
That was interesting.
"Of course I can. B major, please."