Tuesday, July 3, 2012

True West

I was never supposed to tell this story
This is, like—I’m not supposed to be telling you this
But I’m dead, so whatever
Most of us are

I haven’t been dead all that long
But that’s not the point
The point is, when you’re dead
The first thing you do
Is unload all your secrets

So here’s my secret:

In 1980, the Orpheus Theater started that stupid Education Alliance
That continues to this day

It’s won awards
It’s taught kids about art
It’s so wonderful—blah blah blah

Truth is, everyone who started that program
Wanted to put a gun to their heads
As soon as they realized what they got themselves into
Especially Beau, our Artistic Director

The whole thing was the Board’s idea
Because they wanted to do outreach stuff

Beau said if you want to teach kids about theater
You have them DO theater

That’s when he got this brilliant idea
To have high school students
Help out with shows
Like some sort of apprenticeship
Which is theater terminology
For slave labor

So he goes out and finds this gorgeous
Seventeen-year-old girl
To help out with our production of True West

Now I’d like to stress that she was seventeen
But I’d also like to stress that she was not eighteen

And if you think my confession is that I slept with her
Then you’re wrong

I tried to sleep with her
But she wasn’t having it

Instead, she slept with the guy playing my brother
And he and I got into it one night
Backstage

He said screw it
Got in his car
Put the girl in the passenger’s seat
And drove off

Nobody ever saw him or her again
And I had to go before the Board
To tell them what happened

So what did I say?

I told them I had an affair with her
That the two of us did
Me and the guy playing my brother
And that she chose him
But that she and I had still…

Well

That’s my secret

I lied about an affair
I never actually had
That got me thrown out of the company
And pretty much run out of town

Why?

Because everybody in that damn theater was saying
I made a fool out of myself chasing after that girl
But once she was gone
Who was going to tell anybody
That I hadn’t gotten her?

I mean, what does it say about a man
When he can’t even convince a seventeen-year-old girl
That he’s fun and interesting?

I went into theater for the girls

To get attention
To get laid

And it never happened

It never fucking happened, you know that?

Never

Pardon my—whatever

Yeah, it cost me my job
That lie

And yeah, it’s making some of you look at me right now
Like I’m some kind of pervert
But you know what?

When I walked out of that board meeting
And out of that theater

Every guy I walked by
Every single actor in that company
Applauded me

Oh, not with their hands
But with their eyes

I could feel it

And for the first time in my life
I felt like an actor

Like a real, goddamn actor

No comments:

Post a Comment