The man replied: “He’s just a dummy, honey. Ignore him.”
The dummy said, “Speak for yourself, buddy. Better yet, step aside and let me show you how it’s done.”
The audience roared and the lights went black. The actors left the stage and the stagehands moved some furniture. I glanced over at Lou and saw that he wasn’t laughing at all, not even smiling. He was just staring at the stage, angry and intense.
The play was an over-the-top farce, like something you’d see on The Carol Burnett Show. It was a simple story about Donald and Rose, a failed stand-up comedian and his devoted wife. Donald tries his hand at being a ventriloquist and turns out to be very good at it. His act is hilarious and he gets more and more successful as the play progresses. But as this happens, the dummy replaces the ventriloquist’s wife as the man’s constant companion and confidant. Finally, in an act of jealous desperation, Rose smashes the dummy’s head to bits with a hammer.
But she’s too late; Donald has now “become” the dummy and lost all of his compassionate and loving qualities. Insisting on being called “Wendell,” Donald is a cruel and heartless shell of who he once was and blames Rose for killing his best friend. The final scene takes place in a psychiatrist’s office where the wife pours her heart out to Dr. Ariel Marx, who claims to be the youngest Marx brother. The shrink is played by the same actor who played the ventriloquist and the audience is left wondering if Donald, who became Wendell, has now become Dr. Marx and perhaps was Dr. Marx all along. The finale of the play has Rose straddling Dr. Marx as she says: “I left my wallet at home. Is this an acceptable form of payment, doctor?”
The doctor replies, “Don’t ask me. Can’t you see I’m just a dummy?”
They begin making passionate love as the audience laughs hysterically, the lights go to black, and the play ends.
The crowd of about seventy-five people stood and applauded when the two actors took their bows. As I got to my feet to join the ovation, I looked over at Lou. Slumped in his seat, the man was devastated. Tears fell down his face and he was sobbing as quietly as he could. In between sobs he repeated to himself, “Oh . . . oh man . . .” until the applause subsided, the actors left the stage, and the house lights came back on.
I knew the show had been getting to him. Just before the scene with the shrink, Rose took her wedding and engagement rings off her fingers and threw them to the floor. When she did it, I heard Lou gasp as if someone had punched him in the gut. I had looked at him and he was staring at the stage with his mouth wide open and shaking his head in disbelief.
* * *
We were the last people to leave the theater. Lou told me he needed to “get himself together” before he could go backstage and congratulate the actors. He told me to wait for him right outside of the bathroom and to not leave under any circumstances. He was in the men’s room for a very long time and I waited patiently. I was fine with waiting. I was fine with anything that kept me from confronting the inevitable.
I was in a heap of trouble. I knew I had to face up to everything soon. Ciro was going to go apeshit on me and I would be fired and have to pay for the van. Well, my mother would have to pay for the van and she’d be upset with me and Ciro would scream at me. And eventually I would have to come clean with Lou and pay him back the five hundred bucks. It was a disaster.
When he came out of the bathroom he looked more wrecked than when he went in.
“Let’s go backstage, Tim. I have to say hello. They all know I’m here. It would be very rude to not say hi.”
We went down a hallway and through a narrow door. We were in the wings and I could see the set from where I stood. The stage looked much smaller from this angle. It seemed so much wider and deeper from our seats and I wondered how the actors were able to move around so freely and with so much conviction and energy in such a tiny, claustrophobic space. It made me respect them even more than I already did.
A bald man with a bullet-shaped head appeared and screamed: “Well, look at what the strays dragged in!”
Lou was happy to see the man and hugged him hard. “So good to see you, Hal. So, so good to see you.” Lou was hanging onto him longer than was normal. Like a mourner at a funeral for a close relation.
Hal looked at me from over Lou’s shoulder and crossed his eyes as if to say, What’s his problem? Then he led us down a tight spiral staircase to the basement where the dressing rooms were.
As we wound our way down, we heard the voice of Wendell the dummy saying, “Is he really here! Has my long-lost friend the evil rock star graced us with his presence?”
“Yes, Donald, it is I. In what’s left of my flesh,” Lou said as he stepped onto the hard concrete floor of the moldy cellar.
“Donald left through the fire door, he didn’t want to see you. He told me he hates your guts,” said Donald, the actor, who was still in costume and makeup. He held the dummy on his arm and made the doll do all the talking.
“Tell him it’s mutual,” Lou replied as he tried to give the actor a hug. Donald sidestepped him and offered the dummy for Lou to embrace. Lou refused.
“I’ll tell him if you give me some sugar.” The dummy presented his cheek
