tiny makes a gesture, and suddenly everyone onstage is singing.
chorus: hold me closer, hold me closer
and i’m still standing. i’m making eye contact with the other will grayson, who looks nervous but smiles anyway. and i’m seeing a few people nod in my direction. god, i hope they’re who i want them to be.
suddenly, with a grand wave of his arms, tiny stops the music. he moves to the front of the stage and the rest of the stage goes dark. it’s just him in a spotlight, looking out into the audience. he just stands there for a moment, taking it all in. and then he closes the show by saying:
tiny: my name is tiny cooper. and this is my story.
there’s a silence then. people are waiting for the curtain to go down, for the show to definitely be over, for the ovations to start. i have less than a second. i squeeze gideon’s pinkie tight, then let go. i raise my hand.
tiny sees me.
other people in the audience see me.
I yell
me: TINY COOPER!
and that’s it.
I really hope this is going to work.
me: my name is will grayson. and i appreciate you, tiny cooper!
now everyone’s looking at me, and many of them are confused. they have no idea whether this is still part of the show.
what can i say? i’m giving it a new ending.
now this twentysomething-year-old man in a hipster vest stands up. he looks to me for a second, smiles, then turns to tiny and says
man: my name is also will grayson. i live in wilmette. and i also appreciate you, tiny cooper. cue the seventy-nine-year-old in the back row.
old guy: my name is william t. grayson, but you can call me will. and i sure as heck appreciate you, tiny cooper.
thank you, google. thank you, internet telephone directories. thank you, keepers of the name.
fortysomething woman: hi! i’m wilma grayson, from hyde park. and i appreciate you, tiny cooper.
ten-year-old boy: hey. i’m will grayson. the fourth. my dad couldn’t be here, but we both appreciate you, tiny cooper.
there should be one other. a sophomore at northwestern.
there’s a dramatic pause. everyone’s looking around.
and then HE stands up. if frenchy’s could bottle him up and sell him as porn, they’d probably own half of chicago within a year. he’s what would happen after nine months if abercrombie fucked fitch. he’s like a movie star, an olympic swimmer, and america’s next top male model all at once. he’s wearing a silver shirt and pink pants. everything about him sparkles.
not my type at all. but . . .
Gay God: my name is will grayson. and i love you, tiny cooper.
finally, tiny, who’s been uncharacteristically speechless the whole time, gets out some words.
tiny: 847-555-3982
Gay God: 847-555-7363
tiny: WILL SOMEONE PLEASE WRITE THAT DOWN FOR ME?
half the audience nods.
and then it’s quiet again. in fact, it’s a little awkward. i don’t know whether to sit down or what.
then there’s a rustling from the dark part of the stage. the other will grayson walks out of the chorus. he walks right up to tiny and looks him in the eye.
o.w.g.: you know my name. and i love you, tiny cooper. although not in the same way that the guy in the pink pants might love you.
and then the girl who must be jane chimes in.
girl: my name is not will grayson, and i appreciate you a helluva lot, tiny cooper.
It’s the strangest thing ever. one by one, everyone onstage tells tiny cooper they appreciate him. (even the guy named phil wrayson - what are the odds?) then the audience gets into the act. row by row. some say it. some sing it. tiny’s crying. i’m crying. everyone’s crying.
I lose track of how long it takes. then, when it’s all over, the applause starts. the loudest applause you’ve ever heard.
tiny steps to the front of the stage. people throw flowers.
he’s brought us all together. we all feel that.
I link our pinkies again.
me: yeah, we did good.
I nod to the other will grayson, up onstage. he nods to me. we have something between us, him and me.
but the truth?
everybody has it.
that’s our curse and our blessing. that’s our trial and our error and our it.
the applause continues. i look up at tiny cooper.
he may be heavy, but right now he floats.