Dreamspinner Press Year Three Greatest Hits

by Jenna Hilary Sinclair

  “My name is Stanley Littrell,” he said in a smooth, well-modulated tone. “I represent not only myself but the members of the Calvary Baptist Church. We thank the board for giving us the opportunity to express our views on the production of Rent at Gunning High School.”

  Here was trouble. Littrell scanned the seven board members, catching each of their eyes, engaging them in what he had to say. Then he picked up the paper and began to read.

  “While Rent is commonly referred to as ‘the AIDS play’ because of the number of lead roles who suffer from that disease, it also presents characters who practice homosexuality openly, who are drug addicts, and who engage in criminal activity. The play is filled with profanity. It is made clear that individuals engage in sexual relations outside the bonds of marriage.”

  He glanced at the board members, pushed his glasses up higher on his nose, and kept reading. “It might be hoped that each of these aberrant activities are condemned within the play and held up as anti-social and anti-Biblical. They are not, even though morality plays have been a time-honored theatrical tradition for hundreds if not thousands of years. Instead, they are glorified in song and dance, and the classic modes of theater are perverted as love songs are exchanged between characters of the same sex, and as religion is mocked in the song ‘La Vie Boheme’.

  “To make matters worse….” Littrell drew a dramatic breath and paused. “To make matters worse,” he continued, “playgoers will be treated to the sight of our young people re-enacting homosexual behavior on stage.” He stopped again, gripped the sides of the podium, and addressed the board directly. “Members of the board, I don’t know about you, but I would never want to attend a play presented by my local high school, or any play, only to see men embracing men, and women doing the same, and even worse. Imagine if there were children in the audience.”

  He pulled back, having made his point. “To conclude. The members of the Calvary Baptist Church of Gunning, Texas, find Rent to be a play objectionable in content and presentation. A public institution such as a school should not be in the business of putting on a play that is so contrary to the values of the community of which it is a part. We respectfully request that the board suspend the production and perhaps establish another show in its place. Thank you.”

  He left to enthusiastic applause, although there were noticeable groups of people who were silent. The gray-haired man next to me, who’d sat on his hands when the woman on my other side had clapped vigorously, leaned over and said, “Sweet-talking devil, wasn’t he?”

  I didn’t even nod. Three speakers in a row against the play had me wondering if the deck had been stacked, literally. But the fourth person to speak was Danielle Robertson. Kevin had spent so much time over the weeks working with her. He straightened in his seat as she approached the podium; I couldn’t help noticing. I noticed everything about him. He hadn’t spoken to Julianne since I’d arrived, though he’d leaned over and said something to Channing and Robbie together.

  “Hello,” Danielle said as she smiled at the board and reached to pull the mike down, since she wasn’t much over five feet tall. “Maybe I need a stool to stand on,” she joked, and a breeze of laughter swept through the room. I didn’t join in. I was strung tight. But inside I cheered for her, because that light approach was just what was needed, I thought.

  “It’s really hard to speak after the eloquence of Mister Littrell,” Danielle began, “but I’ll give it a shot. My name is Danielle Robertson. My husband Gus and I are the proud parents of Johnny Robertson, who is playing the role of Mark in Rent. We happily support this play, and request the board to allow the production to move forward.

  “Before any decision is made, I would ask that you take into consideration the time and effort that the students have already put into the play. Rehearsals take place four days a week from three until six o’clock, and they’ve been going on since mid-September. Behind the scenes work often goes on during the weekend too. Costumes are ready, scenery is in place, props have been gathered…. It’s a big undertaking.

  “Now, let me tell you all a little about my family,” she said with a smile that showed who Johnny had inherited his charm from. “We are musical theater devotees. Yes, I know that’s unusual, but what can I say? We’ve probably watched every musical available from Netflix. We’ve even been known to go to Houston for their Theater Under the Stars to see a show or two.

  “So I know musicals. And I can tell you that Rent is one of the most profound and moving musicals ever written.

  “It is true that the play is shaped around unusual subjects for a musical: heroin addiction, love between people of the same gender, and terminal illness. But the playwright uses those jumping off points to explore universal themes that are good to contemplate. People who go to the play and pay attention will see a lot of beauty. They’ll see beauty and a lot about supporting each other in tough times. They’ll see that the play preaches that it’s good to reach out to one another and to persist in sharing love.

  “Our director, George Keating, ably assisted by assistant director Tom Smith—”

  I jerked in my seat to hear my name, and biker-man threw me a quizzical look.

  “—is not sensationalizing the content of the play and he is not exploiting the cast. He’s doing a marvelous job, and I can’t wait to see the finished product.”

  Danielle lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know what else to say. Except… please don’t cancel this play. It’s beautiful, it has a great message, and it speaks directly to the youth of today. In the end, we’ll regret it if we miss out on this kind of production that opens our minds and hearts. Thanks for letting me speak.”

  Danielle didn’t go back to her seat right away either. Instead she picked up a shopping bag I hadn’t noticed she had with her, and she took it up to the board members. “These are for you,” she said with a laugh that I could hear even in the last row without amplification. She handed out what looked like plastic bags of something or other, and a stir went through the audience. I couldn’t see exactly what they were, but somebody down front laughed and turned around to say, “Homemade cookies.”

  I sat back in my chair, suddenly tired. It killed me that she’d said my name, but now I wanted to pump my hand in the air and say, “Go, Danielle!” Except I had to remind myself that I wasn’t for this play. Cancellation would only help me, wouldn’t it? It would let me go back to the life I’d led before Rent. Maybe to a life-before-Kevin too? I’d be safe. Safe and… without Kevin. I stared at the back of his head, wanting even tiny bits of him, because that might be all I’d get.

  “Musicals!” the woman next to me harrumphed, and I cut my eyes away to some other man, a man who meant nothing to me.

  The next person up was Mrs. Hunnicutt, wife of the reverend. I tuned her out and did allow myself to slump a little. This was going to go on forever, and I couldn’t help but think that the board had already made up its mind one way or the other. Wasn’t that the way these things worked? This citizen input was for show. The real decisions were made in out-of-sight consultations. Hiram had told us that a decision wasn’t likely to come down tonight anyway.

  Thirty minutes passed and then an hour and then an hour and a half. People talked without much skill but with a lot of passion. Every part of Rent was ripped apart, but the one thing everybody mentioned time after time was the homosexuality.

  “Perversion!”

  “Disgraceful!”

  “I’m a Christian and….”

  “Not suitable for teenagers.”

  “Anti-family.”

  “Left-leaning ideology!”

  The first speaker had started a trend. Almost all of those against the play threatened to vote the school board members out if they let Rent go on.

  “Not representative of the community as a whole.” That was the one I couldn’t help but agree with. It’s why I lived the way I did, and nothing was going to change that, especially not some high school play. How had George thought he cou
ld get away with this?

  The kids visibly sagged as the night wore on. “This play pretends that two men love one another!” one of the more emotional speakers raged. At that, Steven twisted round in his seat and looked up where Robbie and Channing were huddled together. The anxious look on his face was heartbreaking. Whatever kind of friendship he and Robbie shared, sexual or not, the feelings he had for the dark-haired boy he kissed in the play were genuine.

  I wasn’t counting how many pro and con, but Channing was. I heard her when she stage-whispered, “Eighteen against, and only seven for!”

  “It’s okay, it’s okay,” Robbie soothed her.

  “No, it’s not okay!”

  I wondered if he knew she was pregnant. That was another friendship that had come as a surprise to me. Was it because Channing was already accustomed to relating to a gay man?

  The stack in front of Mayfield wasn’t close to disappearing: it looked like at least another hour, maybe two, would pass as the same opinions were expressed over and over again. I wished that the board would call it quits. They’d heard what they needed to hear, surely. A few people here and there had left, but most of the crowd seemed determined to stay.

  “Jose Garza, Margarita Podnozky, Jane Gogan, and Kevin Bannerman.”

  My head snapped up. Kevin?

  I couldn’t take my eyes from him as he got up from his seat, buttoned his suit jacket, and found his way down to the floor. He was easily the most handsome man in the hall, but then maybe I was seeing him through eyes nobody else had. He looked up into the audience as he stood there, and Channing in front of me lifted her hand to him in acknowledgement. But then his gaze shifted, and it was me he wanted. I’d tried to deny that for weeks because I didn’t understand it: how could he want me? But he did.

  I wrested my eyes away. It seemed all night that was all I’d been doing: looking and then not looking, at him, at the kids, at everything. Furiously, as I stared at my shoes, I told myself that I should be a blind man, shouldn’t I? Maybe that’s what I should do, just poke out my eyes, and then maybe I could go out in public again.

  I bit the side of my mouth quite deliberately, because I couldn’t allow bitter thoughts like that to take over. I was Teacher of the Year and all that. Remember? I had that precious, tiny, Kevin-less life I needed to protect.

  “Hey, man, are you okay?”

  That was biker-man again. I hadn’t realized I was leaning forward with my hands welded together, shaking. Christ! What kind of spectacle was I making of myself?

  I sat up straight in a hurry. “Fine. Thanks.”

  Kevin wasn’t looking at me anymore. He was saying something to the woman who would speak before he did. Kevin could afford to make a public statement. No one would question him the way they could question, even crucify me. He’d been married; he was a father; his daughter was in the play. I couldn’t do the same, not even to support a play with Tom Collins and Angel in it.

  And for the umpteenth time, I reminded myself I didn’t want the play to go on.

  “That was only four,” somebody from down front yelled. Others said the same thing, and Mayfield looked over at the four people waiting their turn to speak.

  “Four? Oh, sorry.” He picked up one last card. “Robert Sutton.”

  Robert Sutton? Robbie? What more could happen?

  “Don’t,” Channing said loudly enough for me to hear.

  “I’ve got to,” he said. “You know I do. I’ve got it all planned.”

  Panicked, I watched them hug, and then he left her to go stand next to her father.

  “Now, folks,” Mayfield said. “Let me have everybody’s attention, please. It’s almost eleven already, and it’s a workday and a school day for most of us tomorrow. We’re pleased to have such hearty attendance at one of our meetings, and your elected school board members are always happy to hear from you. But I’m going to cut off this conversation about the Rent play after, uh,” he consulted the card, “after Mr. Sutton speaks. He’ll be the last one. If anybody else has something more to say that hasn’t already been covered, please feel free to e-mail any one of us on this board, and we’ll be more than happy to read what you’ve got to say. All right now? Mr. Garza, please step forward.”

  I had no idea what the other three said. I’m sure they were well-meaning people, sincere in what they believed, but the night had narrowed down to Kevin and Robbie. I heard no one until Kevin stepped up to speak.

  “Good evening, everyone. Members of the board. My name is Kevin Bannerman. I’m a citizen of Kenneton, so I can’t vote for or against you, but my daughter Channing has the role of Maureen in the play, and I’ve been volunteering to help with scenery when I can.” He was trying to speak especially clearly, I could tell, so that his voice could still be heard despite his constant hoarse handicap. I heard him fine up in the top row, but then, I’d heard him when he whispered.

  “I’m glad I slipped in under the wire and have the chance to let you know what I think about Rent. I don’t have a lot to say, just two things, really, so I won’t keep you long.

  “First, I think a lot of people against the play are attempting to shelter children from what they perceive to be bad things. Others see it differently. I can’t imagine trying to keep the real world from my daughter. I think that’s part of my job as her father: to prepare her for the future. I haven’t done as good a job at that as I would have liked to, but I don’t think forbidding her from acting in the play would help. It would have the opposite effect. Channing’s role is thought-provoking, and the thing is….” He paused and looked down the line at each of the board members. After hearing so many, they were trying hard to pretend they were paying attention. “The thing is that there really are people like Maureen and Joanne and Angel and Collins. We might not know much about them here in west Texas, but they are part of our world.”

  I was paralyzed. I felt as if any blink, any breath would reveal how moved I was by what he was saying and how proud I was of him. I had no right to own that pride because I didn’t have the guts to be with him, but oh how I admired his courage. My Kevin, my pickup from the bar. What a joke. What a sorry, ironic joke the fates had played on Tom Smith.

  “So, you can tell I’m for the play continuing. But I have a second reason for supporting this production of Rent, and here it is. It’s about love and friendship. And in my opinion, love and friendship are what make life on this planet worthwhile.”

  Kevin looked down at where his hands were grasping the edge of the podium, and somehow I knew what he was going to say. My throat got tight.

  “Without those two things, life is hardly worth living. That’s what gets us through the hardest times in our lives, times when we don’t think we can get through another day, or times when we’re asked to do the hardest things, things we can’t imagine ourselves doing. But if we’ve got love backing us up… we can do it.”

  He looked back up at the board members. “I know you’ve heard from a lot of people tonight who are against the play, and I’m afraid of what your decision will be. So if you don’t mind, I want to take this opportunity to publicly say thank you.” Kevin turned to face the audience and raised his voice, since he didn’t have the mike anymore. “Thanks to the cast and the crew of Rent, who have shown me how high school students can make great art. Thanks especially to Mr. George Keating, the director of the play, and to Mr. Tom Smith, the assistant director, for letting me in, and providing me with an incredible experience that I won’t soon forget.”

  He turned back to the board. “That’s it. Please let this play go on.”

  The crowd had long since stopped clapping for the speakers, but there was a smattering of applause as he went back to his seat. Channing hugged him, and Julianne did too. I sat three rows behind him, mute and motionless.

  “And now the last speaker for the night, Robert Sutton.”

  It flashed through my mind that when this night was over—one of the most nerve-racking, difficult nights of my life—I would
be going home to my house alone. The only way I would have to de-stress would be opening the refrigerator and reaching for a beer or finishing the bottle of Jack Daniels I’d cracked open the night before. I had no one to complain to, no one to share my anger with. I didn’t even have a dog to howl at the moon with me because of what Robbie had said in some misguided attempt to convince the board to let the play proceed.

  I feared what he was going to say, mightily.

  “Hi,” he said at the podium. “I’m Robert Sutton. I play the role of Angel in Rent. Angel’s gay, and he’s a drag queen too. Pretty weird, huh?”

  Robbie jammed one hand in his pocket. His voice was trembling, and he seemed even younger than seventeen.

  “Angel has AIDS in the play, and he’s the one who dies. He has a great death scene where he goes offstage in a white sheet, off to heaven. At least I like to think it’s heaven, though I bet not everybody here thinks so. Some of you probably think he’s going to hell. But I don’t see that Angel does anything bad, really. He’s a good guy. And he loves Tom Collins. They’ve got a song they sing together, and after it, they kiss.”

  The hall was so quiet you could have heard the pages of a church choir book being turned. Robbie touched his lips with his fingertips, as if to remember that kiss. With a shock, I recognized the feeling behind that touch. He was afraid the board would close Rent down, and so he’d never rehearse with Steven again, and they’d already had their last kiss.

  Our last kiss, Kevin’s and mine, had been an angry one. I’d told him it didn’t make any difference, but I was wrong. Kevin’s kisses had changed me… just not enough to make me the man he wanted me to be.

  Robbie went on. “A lot of people have talked about how awful it is, that kiss. But I agree that love is what the show’s about, and without that kiss, well, it would be, like, faking it. You can’t have one without the other, not the way those two characters feel about each other.