January, 1983
Dear Lázaro,
I am ecstatic! Romero and I are together practically every night. Besides the show, I mean. He is absolutely incredible. What energy!
I usually drive him home afterwards 'cause his car needs a little work. I'm going to see about having it fixed. Besides I always take him to dinner afterwards.
The other day he asked me to accompany him to the bookstore to get some textbooks for his political science class. He was short on cash so I bought them for him. Then I saw the most beautiful shirt inside a window, so I bought it for him also.
Dainty, of course, is already up in arms about the whole thing.
"You are becoming a pathetic old queen at twenty-five. What else are you going to buy that boy? A house? Honey, even an eighteen year old cock ain't all of that!"
"You are disgusting! I like to give things to people I love."
"Well then sweetie, Mama needs a couple of new outfits 'cause she's going to compete in the Miss Florida pageant."
"I said people I love. You I can't even stand."
"The truth hurts, baby."
"That boy is too young to be pulling a scam, okay? Not everybody in the world is cynical and out to use people."
"Clutch the pearls! That boy knows he's hot. That he has a tight, muscular body, a butt you could eat breakfast on and the dick of death."
"Pig!"
"Sojourner sow to you sweetheart! He knows that all he has to do is wave his magic wand in front of your face and you'll buy him the
He makes me so mad. Romero isn't forcing me to do anything. I'm doing it because I want to. He hasn't asked. And what's wrong with looking like he looks? Yes he's gorgeous. Is that a crime? Does that make you a bad person? Is every pretty person in the world out to get something from his looks?
February, 1983
Dear Lázaro,
The director of the show has seen the movie version once too often. If he could have us fade into the scene he would. He really wants this play to look like film.
During the dance at the gym, he has us chainé-ing in the dark towards our positions on line. Poor
Then for the rumble sequence, he wants the playground to appear as if by movie magic. So he has us grab a section of the fence and, again in the dark, stick the poles in holes that he has drilled on the stage. Yes the holes have glow tapes so you can see them but let me tell you, we never can. All you hear is a lot of banging about in the dark.
Then when the fences are finally more or less in place, the Jets appear inside and he has the Sharks entering. Well the first two Sharks are Romero and another trim, little guy. They climb the fence and jump over the top. Then Dainty approaches. You can see the first three rows start to move back. They breathe such a sigh of relief when they see Dainty go under it.
Then for the actual rumble that our fabulous director never bothered to choreograph. We each choreographed with our respective fight partner but never in unison. It just becomes a musical mob scene.
Well the other night as I'm on the floor waiting for Romero to jump on top of me,(Yes I came up with that bit of choreography) someone's foot shoots out from somewhere and hits me in the larynx. I cannot begin to describe the incredible pain. I don't know where I even mustered the strength to speak, but when Romero came flying over me I asked him to help me up and offstage.
Well now Riff and Bernardo have been killed and act one is finally over. You see, the guy playing Bernardo has this habit of taking at least ten minutes to flutter on the floor after being stabbed. It looks like he's doing "The Dying Swan."
The cast comes backstage and there I am laid out on a couch barely being able to talk. Romero fawning over me. Suddenly Hector starts to give me a massage on the back of my neck. He says it will release the pressure from my esophagus and help me breathe better. All I know is my two fantasy men are completely in my thrall at this moment. Painful though it was, I was in heaven.
Dainty came in and quickly turned it to hell.
"Miss Thing, you ain't Garbo and this ain't "Camille." Get the hell up!"
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