by Tommy Murphy
ERIC. We don’t.
TIM. And Mum said if I don’t grow out of it, I’ll have a sad and very lonely life. I got Father Lewis to talk to them.
BISCUIT. Lewis?
ERIC. Oh, he’s not one, is he?
TIM. No. Maybe. He told Mum to make some new house rules and now John sleeps in the sunroom and we wait for them to be asleep before he sneaks into my room.
RHYS. And they’re okay now?
TIM. I thought so until Dad goes, ‘Please don’t do this to us’ and dripped tears all over my homework.
DERGE. What’d you do?
TIM. Nothing. I just sat there and rubbed his arm. What could I do? I’ve never seen my dad cry. And he kind of wiped his tears and said sorry and went out.
DERGE. Well, the circle-jerk brothers don’t mind. You and John. We don’t care.
BISCUIT. Yeah. You and John.
ERIC. Yep.
TIM. Thanks, boys.
BISCUIT. So do yez arse-fuck and stuff?
Ten
Conigrave home. DICK and MARY-GERT are waiting up. A cask of Riesling is handy.
DICK. Could you come in here, son?
TIM. Just a minute, Dad.
MARY-GERT tops up her glass of wine.
DICK. Can we see you, please?
TIM approaches his parents.
You and John can’t see each other any more.
TIM. Yes we can.
DICK. His father was in my office this morning, waving a pack of letters at me and yelling that you had corrupted his son, a good Catholic boy, trying to make him homosexual.
TIM. Where the hell did he get our letters?
MARY-GERT. While John was staying here last night, Mr Caleo went through his room. He obviously expected to find something. He accused your father of being a party to the whole thing.
TIM. He has no right to go through John’s stuff.
DICK. Don’t you understand? You’re not to see each other. The man’s threatening court action.
MARY-GERT. Who knows what he’ll do next time?
TIM. And do you support him?
DICK. You listen, Tim. You know we’ve never been happy with this lifestyle you’ve chosen. We’ve tried to stay out of it, but this morning was the most humiliating moment of my life. You hear?
TIM. We’re adults now. We’re at uni.
DICK. Living under our roof.
TIM. You can’t stop us.
MARY-GERT. Of course we can’t. We can’t stop you, Tim. But John won’t be staying here any more and you won’t be invited to the Caleos’.
DICK. And you can’t use the phone to contact him.
TIM (aside). Sometimes you smash doors and furniture. But sometimes you grit your teeth and say with quiet disgust… (To MARY-GERT and DICK.) Fuckin’ poxy traitors, I hope you get cancer. (Aside.) And that’s what I did.
Eleven
Catholic Women’s University College. Enter JULIET, above.
TIM. Juliet… Juliet…
JULIET. What?
TIM. I need to use your phone.
JULIET. Tim, the nuns will shit if they find you here. They’ll think you’re from the boys’ college.
TIM. Do you have a phone in your dorm?
JULIET. Come in.
TIM. It’s an emergency. It’s John.
JULIET. What’s wrong?
TIM. I need you to ring him. Our parents have banned us.
JULIET. Arseholes.
TIM. I need you to call him. They won’t suspect a girl.
Enter BOB before JOHN.
TIM. It’s dialling.
BOB. Hello.
JULIET. Hello, it’s Juliet calling. May I please speak to John, please?
BOB. One moment, Juliet.
JOHN (softly). Hello?
JULIET. Tim just told me. He wants to talk to you.
TIM. Are you okay?
JOHN tries to say ‘yep’.
We’ll get through this.
JOHN tries to say ‘yep’ again.
We’ll be okay. I… I love you.
JOHN. I love you too. I’d better go.
TIM. Bye.
JOHN. Bye.
JOHN exits.
TIM. Oh shit.
JULIET. Come on. I’ll sneak you out through the chapel.
Twelve
Quadrangle. LEE, who we will soon know as a campus activist, reads from the Monash University Student Newspaper.
LEE. Lot’s Wife: Monash Uni Student Rag, 1978.
Dear Editor,
I am gay and the current level of anti-gay thinking on campus surprises me. Gays are just like everyone else. My boyfriend is gay and he was captain of the football team at school. He isn’t like the gay stereotype. Us being together for the last three years has never hurt anyone. Don’t they know we love each other? – Paris. First-year medicine.
TIM sits with LEE and WOODY. They have milkshakes. A student named ROSE is also nearby. She doesn’t have a milkshake. TIM has the student newspaper.
WOODY. I just wish members would stop casting themselves in Shakespeare and propose a show that would actually challenge the status quo.
LEE. Bourgeois shits.
WOODY. Academia versus practical revolutionary theatre. You know what I mean?
TIM. Have you read this letter in Lot’s Wife?
WOODY. Completely politically naive.
TIM. Isn’t it.
LEE. So, how’s Blithe Spirit going, Tim?
TIM. I’m just operating the poltergeist effects but everyone can see me running around in my blacks. I hope I get a role where I’m supposed to be seen soon.
LEE. You will. Student theatre’s totally democratic.
TIM. Thanks for the milkshake, Lee.
LEE. ’t’s-okay.
TIM. I wrote that letter in Lot’s Wife.
WOODY. You?
LEE. I thought you were doing science.
TIM. I didn’t feel brave enough to sign my real name.
LEE. Some poor first-year med student just got outed.
WOODY. Are you really in a relationship like that?
TIM. Exactly like that.
LEE. Must have been a baby when you met. It’s so sweet.
WOODY. It’s so encouraging. It’s what we’re fighting for.
TIM. Where?
WOODY. At Gaysoc.
TIM. What’s Gaysoc?
WOODY. I thought that’s why you were sitting here.
LEE. Haven’t you come here for the meeting?
TIM. What meeting?
LEE. Campus Gays. You must join.
TIM. If it means I’ll meet other gay people, because I only know you guys from the drama society.
WOODY. Well, there is some crossover with the drama society.
LEE. It’s just me and Woody.
WOODY. And Rose.
LEE. Oh yeah. Have you met? This is Rose.
TIM. Hello.
WOODY. So, the minutes should show we started at one thirty-four p.m.
LEE.…With the struggle for the betterment of gay and lesbian life on the table –
WOODY. Woody presiding, Lee as secretary –
LEE. And where’s the miniskirt I was promised?
WOODY. Don’t be sexist.
LEE. Was I?
WOODY. Borderline. And Tim. We have our new member, Tim. Welcome.
TIM. Thanks.
LEE. And we all have swamp-water milkshakes because I’m so generous.
WOODY. Lime and chocolate, who would have thought?
LEE. Thank you.
WOODY. Keep the receipts.
LEE. They’re on me.
WOODY. Good. So. Sexuality week.
LEE. We would like to have a couple kissing in the lift in the Menzies building.
WOODY. But we don’t have one.
LEE. Rose knew some girls. But they broke up.
ROSE nods.
And they say they won’t now.
ROSE sighs.
Woody? You and Peter?
WOODY. My
boyfriend? The nurse? Like he’d do anything radical?
LEE. Well, there has to be someone. What about Tim and his boyfriend?
TIM. No. I don’t think so.
LEE. Well, there are eighteen thousand kids on campus and if we believe the statistics of one in ten that means nearly two thousand gay guys. And girls. So where are they? And don’t say the library toilets.
WOODY. It’s too confronting for them to come to a group like this.
TIM. That guy over there? Maybe he’s here for the meeting.
WOODY. Probably a breeder on a dare.
TIM. He’s waiting for something. We’re not very visible –
LEE. Except for your jaw on the floor.
WOODY. Rose’s big beef is lesbian invisibility.
ROSE has something to say but –
People forget that lesbians also have a very bad time being gay. When she told her parents, her father asked her if she wanted to be a man.
TIM (to ROSE). That’s outrageous. You poor thing.
ROSE. –
TIM (to the group). You know what I think would be good? People need to talk to each other. We’re all having a bad time. Should have it together.
WOODY. Rose thought about having a hotline at the union office.
TIM. I know the union counsellor. She could train us. We could answer calls.
ROSE leaves.
LEE. Will we still have a quorum?
WOODY. We’ve never had a quorum.
TIM (aside). My very first meeting and already I was elected deputy chair of a subcommittee.
Thirteen
JULIET’s house. JOHN runs to JULIET and TIM.
JULIET. Here he is.
JOHN. Fuck.
TIM. John? Where have you been?
JULIET. We didn’t know where you were, John.
JOHN. I ran.
TIM. You’re sweating. Did you run the whole way?
JOHN. I ran. I bolted. I’m dead. I’m fuckin’… Dad and I had a fight. What am I doing here? He’ll work out I’m here. He knows you’re here, Tim.
TIM. What can he do?
JULIET. My mum’s making you dinner.
JOHN. I should go back. He knows you’re a friend of Juliet’s. He’ll work it out, Tim.
JOHN kicks something.
TIM. John –
JOHN. I just cracked. I’ve never spoken to him like that, never spoken to anyone like that. I called him an arsehole, Tim. I told him if he can’t accept you and me, I don’t want him to be my father and then I just took off.
TIM. I think that’s good.
JOHN. It’s my dad. Don’t say that. It’s my dad, Tim.
Enter MARIE, pursued by BOB CALEO.
BOB. Is this Juliet?
MARIE. This is her mother speaking. Hello.
BOB. This is Robert Caleo. John’s father.
MARIE. Oh, hello Robert. Now we’ve found John. He’s standing right here.
JULIET signals.
But. No. He’s not.
BOB. Is Tim there?
MARIE. Tim? Oh.
The signals grow.
Lovely. Well…
BOB. Do you realise there are homosexuals at your dinner table?
MARIE. Oh. Look, I don’t think it’s any of your business, Robert. You’re being a fool. My beetroot soup is ready to serve and I’d prefer that you didn’t ring here again. Goodnight.
BOB exits.
Well… I’m sorry, John, but your father is a very rude and irritating man.
JOHN. Sorry.
MARIE. No. That’s all right, love.
JOHN and TIM are clinging to each other.
Oh. Juliet, you make up the spare room. It’s only a single bed, boys, I’m sorry.
MARIE exits.
JOHN. I won’t be able to stay, Juliet.
JULIET. You must stay. You’ve done the hardest part.
JULIET exits.
JOHN. Dad’ll be waiting up.
TIM. Serves him right, don’t you think?
JOHN. I know it’s wrong, but I really enjoyed giving him the shits today.
TIM. Stay.
Silence.
JOHN. Okay.
TIM. Will you marry me? Err, why did I say that? That just fell out.
JOHN. It’s nice. You’re a dick but it’s nice, Timba.
TIM. Timba? I like that. (Aside.) That night we fucked on Marie’s divan like we were reclaiming old territory.
Fourteen
A union office. WOODY and TIM share a beanbag.
WOODY. Might be a problem with the phone.
TIM. I tested it.
WOODY. It might take some time before people feel empowered enough to call.
TIM. Oh, okay.
WOODY. Yeah.
TIM. I told John about the Homosexual Conference.
WOODY. Oh, good. Will he come?
TIM. He’s even keen to get a homo group started at his college.
WOODY. Gay group.
TIM. Oh, okay. I think it’s his dad. He’s getting political – and empowered.
WOODY. My boyfriend doesn’t get it. I thought Peter doing nursing was somehow political but it’s not; he just wants to be a nurse. Peter thinks activists are just angry people. I organise rallies; he invites friends to tennis parties.
TIM. John’s sporty. You don’t hear of many sporty gay guys.
WOODY. Gotta keep fit.
TIM. Woody, you know when you’re making love…?
WOODY. Do you mean fucking? You’re talking about anal sex?
TIM. Have you done it?
WOODY. Many times. I think it’s important. Men being intimate or being penetrated challenges the patriarchy.
TIM. Oh, okay. Yeah…
WOODY. Have you?
TIM. John screwed me for the first time last night and I found it painful. I’d done it to him but this time he did me and it would hardly go in and it felt like I needed a shit.
WOODY. It takes practice, my friend. You’ve just got to relax… I get Peter to chew my earlobe. It distracts me and before I know it, he’s in.
TIM. Weird. John too.
WOODY. Might have to meet this John.
TIM. Thanks for that.
WOODY. It’s a counselling line after all.
TIM. Wish the phone would ring.
The phone doesn’t ring.
One more thing, my bum wouldn’t close and the cum kept dribbling out for about half an hour.
Yuck. WOODY calculates his response.
WOODY. Your sphincter was probably in shock. It’ll get used to it.
TIM. It’s a bit sad to have lovemaking with John reduced to dick-in-the-bum mechanics.
WOODY. Fucking. Call it fucking.
TIM. Oh, okay. I would like you to meet John.
WOODY. I don’t believe it’s fair to expect our lovers to fulfil all our needs.
TIM. But does your boyfriend agree?
WOODY. Peter likes to play tennis and I don’t, so he plays with other people. It’s the same with sex.
TIM. Where do you meet gay guys?
WOODY. University. Gay bars. I think you’d like Peter. Sinewy and lithe – a seriously sexy man.
TIM and WOODY are gradually drawn close as they fantasise about their boyfriends.
TIM. John is the most beautiful man I have ever seen. His chest is round and his eyes are like chocolate.
WOODY. Mine’s Mediterranean too.
TIM. I don’t think I could ever go to Italy – it might kill me.
WOODY. Catholic boys’ school must have been interesting. Did you have a sexual relationship then?
TIM. Yes.
WOODY. Do you remember the first time?
TIM. Of course.
WOODY. I had an erection for most of my schooling.
TIM. Father Wallbridge organised a retreat to Barwon Heads. John and I put our sleeping bags together and nuzzled noses. He smelled so sweet. I remember exchanging breath and his puffing. I made him cum twice and he said he felt like he’d played a
grand final. I wrote a poem the next day about two suns exchanging atmospheres, drawn into each other, spiralling into each other.
WOODY. Can I kiss you?
TIM. Sorry. You can’t.
WOODY. Okay.
Fifteen
A gay bar. JOHN and TIM approach the DOOR-BITCH. TIM has a newspaper.
DOOR-BITCH. Hi boys. Hold on to your raffle ticket; there’s a lucky door prize.
TIM and JOHN venture in.
(To his colleague.) Daisy, tell me you saw those eyelashes. And they’re real.
Gays for days.
TIM. My God. JOHN. My God.
TIM. I didn’t expect it to look like this.
JOHN. Where do we sit? There?
TIM. No, they’re kissing there.
JOHN. Don’t stare.
TIM. Shit.
JOHN. Over near the bar.
TIM. They’re actually all gay men.
JOHN. Well, yeah.
TIM. Let’s start talking to people.
JOHN. What, ‘We’re Tim and John and we’d like to be your friends’?
TIM. I want to go up to them and say, ‘So, do your parents know?’ ‘How did they take it?’ ‘Tell me about your life.’
JOHN. Looks like a lot of their parents wouldn’t be still alive.
TIM. They even had this in the foyer. (The newspaper.).
JOHN. A poofter newspaper?
TIM. Gay newspaper. That’s what you say. Or homosexual.
A QUEEN has approached.
QUEEN. You boys new here?
TIM. Yes.
QUEEN. Didn’t think I’d seen you. I’m sure I’d remember.
TIM. Maybe there are other clubs.
TIM searches for a listing in the newspaper.
JOHN. Stay.
TIM. Here?
JOHN. Stay over tonight.
TIM. No way.
JOHN. Stay. Mum and Dad don’t get back from the beach-house until Monday. You can if you want. Bring your newspaper.
TIM. Come off it. (Reading.) Look, there are other gay bars… and gay dentists.
JOHN. Stay.
TIM. There’s an advert here for a gay plumber. And what’s Gay Cancer?
JOHN. Boring. So, are you going to stay?
TIM. No. I’m not. What if they come home early?
JOHN. They never do. Please.
TIM. Oh, let’s just do it in the car.
JOHN. It was your grandma’s, so no. And I injured myself on the gear stick last time.
TIM. Incorporate it.
JOHN. Just stay.
TIM. No. I’m buying you a drink.
A BARTENDER pops up.
