DISPATCH: Why Even Read It? A play by Sebastian Castillo to celebrate his new novel (Brooklyn & Philadelphia)

Fresh, Green Summer continues

NEW YORK

MOLLY GORELICK: I wake up in Cape May on a family trip down the shore. This week, while on vacation, I had to take a teacher certification exam for my new job and my ex published a story about the woman he cheated on me with. The story was originally a poem about me that he read to me in bed when I was deciding whether or not to get back together with him after he cheated. After reading the story, I blocked him on everything.

My dad drives me from Cape May to Atlantic City for a Greyhound to Manhattan and then a train to Brooklyn, so I can act in the play my friend and neighbor Sebastian Castillo wrote for the launch of his book, Fresh, Green Life. Since we’re performing the play in New York, I’ve been telling everyone that it’s our off-Broadway debut. When I was going through the cheating aftermath with the aforementioned ex, I went over to Sebastian’s apartment to tell him and his girlfriend, Meggy, about it. After I was finished telling the story, Sebastian gave me a Xanax and an Ativan wrapped in a tiny piece of tin foil.

Before I was friends with Sebastian, I went to his SALMON book launch. Sebastian hates doing readings, and the SALMON launch was my first encounter with this—he hired a guy off Fiverr to film himself reading from the novel. I had only met Sebastian once at this point, when I was working a shift at Lot 49, and he intimidated me—the publications, the Twitter account, the way he dresses like a Japanese salaryman—so it’s funny to me now that we spend a lot of time together watching movies at Ava Wolf’s house. My apartment is between Ava’s house and Sebastian’s apartment in South Philly. Sebastian and I moved into our apartments within a week of each other last year. Being neighbors with Ava and Sebastian is one of the best things to happen to me in my 20s. My life is enriched by their friendship and close physical proximity.

I’m nervous about performing and I’m sad because of my ex’s story and I’m about to get my period any day now. It is 11:15 am. The person on the bus in front of me is watching TikToks without headphones on. I get carsick when I read on the bus, so I can’t go over my lines. It doesn’t really matter because we’re reading from the scripts onstage, but I want to be prepared. It’s Sebastian’s big day and I want to do everything in my power to make sure it goes well. I put on the song “In My Feelings” by Drake. I love the song “In My Feelings” by Drake.

I get to New York before Ava does. I spend $100 at the Times Square Old Navy while I wait for her to arrive at Port Authority in the hopes that I can wear some of these items to the reading. I really only have beach clothes with me. I walk to Blank Street coffee and notice a man walking ahead of me with a Philly Phanatic calf tattoo. Philly men of a certain age always have a Philly sports-related calf tattoo, it’s a real phenomenon. I consider inviting him to the book launch.

It’s 2:40 pm and I’m drinking an iced strawberry matcha outside of a Shake Shack. Everyone in midtown smells like Margiela perfume in a bad way. Ava texts saying to meet her at Ess-a-Bagel and I say “yessss girl see u soon.”

At home in Philly, I see Ava every day, so it’s been weird to be away from her for a week. I get low fat scallion cream cheese on an untoasted sesame bagel, a pickle, and a zero sugar half iced tea/half lemonade Snapple. I’m thrilled and relieved to be eating a bagel in air conditioning with my friend.

Ava and I arrive at the Hilton that we can afford thanks to Ava’s mom’s Hilton points. After we drop off our bags in the room, we go to the coffee shop next door. I get a cortado and Ava gets a matcha. The barista takes a while making my cortado, and I soon learn it’s because he created an image of a cat with the milk foam. Ava and I say “awwww.”

It’s 4:45 pm and we’re back in the nautical-themed hotel room. I’m drinking my cortado in my underwear. I take a shower. We do our makeup while we watch Perfect Match. I tell Ava that I will flirt with at least two people tonight and she says, “you better.”

I try on at least ten different combinations of outfits, including the Old Navy slop, and they all feel and look horrible. I feel anxious about being seen. I’m less worried about my performance and more worried about looking ugly in photos and I feel guilty about this. I go to the bathroom and see that I’ve gotten my period. Ava lends me a baggy pair of black cargo pants and I wear them with my own black Helmut Lang t-shirt and yellow Onitsuka Tigers. You can see my bra through my shirt. It’s fine. I start crying. I feel bad because this night is supposed to be about Sebastian and I am making it about how bad I feel.

Ava and I take the subway to DUMBO and when we arrive, we find ourselves lost under the bridge. We are hovering over Apple Maps on my iPhone like two hags hunched over a crystal ball. A woman comes over to ask us for directions and we politely say, “we’re not from here,” but once we’re on our way to PowerhouseArena for real, we’re like “why do we get offended when people can’t tell we’re from PHILLY???”

We finally arrive at the reading. I see Lauren, my best friend from high school, who is there with her boyfriend, Colin. She gives me a bouquet of flowers, which I find incredibly touching. Lauren is a therapist and she tells me about how she spent the majority of her day at a sex therapy seminar. I tell her that she should do sex therapy to Sebastian. The event space is very full and I have to push my way through a dense group of people to make my way over to Meggy and Sebastian and my costars, Matt and David. They all give Ava and me hugs and Meggy and Matt are like “about time!” and I’m like “yeahhhhhh.” Sebastian would never say anything about our lateness, but of course I apologize anyway. I say that I’m hungry and Meggy tells Sebastian to give me a protein bar.

I am holding Lauren’s flowers when I hug Sebastian and clarify that the flowers are not for him, so as to avoid an awkward encounter, but then I realize I am just making a normal encounter awkward. Sebastian is so modest about the success of Fresh, Green Life (LARB??? Bookforum???? Hello!!!!!) and I have been trying to congratulate him and make him feel special about his accomplishment without being annoying about it. This has not been my best effort. I’m honored that he’s including me in the launch events and I just hope I can do the work justice.

It’s really hot in the store and Sebastian looks nervous but happy. He and Meggy are sitting in throne-like chairs at the front. I am afraid that my ex will show up, as he is known to make spontaneous trips to New York, but that would be insane and I push the thought away. One of the bookstore employees introduces Giulia Bencivenga and they read poems. I’m excited to actually meet Giulia after the reading, especially after hearing them read their poems, but also knowing that they are such good friends with Ava. I am trying to be present, but I’m a little zoned out, thinking about my lines. Alexandra Tanner is introduced and reads an excerpt from her novel, Worry, which I read on my computer while pretending to do work at my old office job. Giulia and Alexandra read for the perfect amount of time, which I think is half the battle when judging whether a reading went well or not. And obviously, I enjoy hearing the actual work.

One of Sebastian’s editors from Soft Skull introduces the play and then introduces Matt, David and me. Sebastian emailed me the play an hour before I quit my job. In the play, Matt’s character finds a copy of Fresh, Green Life in the garbage and David’s character says he hasn’t aged in a week. All three of the characters are unemployed, so I guess you can say I’ve been method acting. I quit my job to focus on Fresh, Green Summer, etc, etc.

During the play, I feel like I’m not doing a good job. People are laughing, but I can’t tell if I’m delivering my lines well. David ad-libs a line about Sebastian voting illegally in the NYC mayoral primary, ranking Cuomo #1. Matt ad-libs a line about Sebastian’s mustache being “bisexual” in his author photo. I ad-lib a line about preventative botox and another one about none of our characters having health insurance as a result of our unemployment.

The play is over and Sebastian still looks happy, which is a good sign. Lauren comes up to tell me that the play was very sexual, or that I was very sexual in the play. I’m sure this was Sebastian’s intention. I’m flattered and embarrassed and I find it funny because I feel awful, but I guess no one can tell. I think she is just experiencing the after-effects of her sex therapy seminar. The Philly contingent looks around the bookstore while Sebastian chats with his fans and childhood friends. I buy a copy of John Waters’ Desperate Living screenplay while Ava tries to round up everyone.

A large group of us takes the subway to Victory Bar, where Ava’s friend Maura works. I know that New Yorkers love to complain about the MTA, and they should, but I’m always amazed by its efficiency, especially in comparison to SEPTA. I buy a nonalcoholic beer and talk to Matt for a while until he and David leave to get a bus back to Philly. Once again, I feel awkward, but I know that no one is likely to notice, so I just kind of meander around the bar and people watch. I step outside for a cigarette with Sebastian and Meggy. We talk about Vanderpump Rules.

Later, after chatting outside with Ava for a while, I find Meggy who is drunk and adorable and talking about how much she loves Sebastian. I love listening to people talk about their beloved, especially my friends. Love feels like a miracle all the time, but especially right now, and I feel lucky to witness it. Ava tells me she’ll be ready to go soon and I say, “thank god.” We say our goodbyes and congratulations to Sebastian and remind him and Meggy that we’ll see them tomorrow for our Coney Island trip.

Giulia, Ava, and I walk to Prince Street Pizza and eat our slices on the sidewalk. Ava and I are deprived of good pizza in Philadelphia, so we’re freaking out over how good it is. I’m sure New Yorkers would say that it tastes normal. Giulia gets an Uber back to the apartment they’re staying in for the month and Ava and I take the subway back to the hotel. I think about whether I flirted with two people tonight and I think the answer is no.

It’s approximately 12:30 am. Our room is freezing. Ava gives me earplugs, so I don’t have to hear her snore, but I fall asleep before her anyway and I don’t have any dreams at all.

Philly

PHILADELPHIA

AVA WOLF: I would describe Sebastian Castillo, author of Fresh Green Life, like this: Sebastian favors blue. Sebastian feeds himself in interesting ways. If Sebastian has a problem, he first addresses it with Prosecco. Sebastian once quit smoking cold-turkey and intends to do it again, someday, much to my mother’s relief—she hates finding cigarette butts in my yard. Sebastian has a clear, warm voice that carries well, and I suspect that this is one of the reasons he is so universally admired. Sebastian lives 249 feet from my house, caddy-corner to Molly Gorelick.

On the day of Sebastian Castillo’s Fresh, Green Life launch in Philadephia, here’s how I expect it to unfold: I’ll wake up at a reasonable hour, while my boyfriend, David R., snoozes through three alarms before trudging back to his apartment to walk the dog. I’ll have an iced coffee with a splash of disgusting novelty creamer and spend most of the day putzing around, leisuring, etc. Later, I’ll make my way north to the Neon Dream Clown Lounge. Molly and I will Uber together because neither of us feel equipped to boil in the subway station. I’m a Taurus; I wish to avoid discomfort at all costs. This is a sentiment that both Molly and I seem to share, myself more so than her. At the launch, Molly, David S., and Matt will perform Why Even Read It?, a play written by Sebastian in lieu of a traditional reading, which he hates. David R. will film it. Everyone will laugh and clap. Afterward, we’ll head to El Bar to sample various potions in the yard. I estimate that David S., Matt, and Molly will slip out before midnight, whereas Meggy, Sebastian, David R., and the others will linger as long as they please. I imagine that David R. and I will be in bed before witching hour; he'll sleep like the dead, and I’ll toss and turn. I never sleep well after drinking.

Instead, as soon as David departs in the morning, I receive a text:

I have been told Sebastian’s book launch tonight will be “the event of the season” and “literary wildfire” is this true

I cultivate neither mystery nor aloofness and in fact find those qualities unbecoming in nature, so it with great self-restraint that I will refrain from disclosing the context of this message. I would rather refer to its sender as Mike than by an initial or a nickname; anonymizing him feels ridiculous when he’s agreed to drinks at six. I haven’t seen him in a very long time, and our reunion certainly wasn’t penciled into the day’s fantasy itinerary, but I’m eager nonetheless.

The afternoon ticks by in a haze. I pick at leftover chicken thighs for lunch and busy myself with chores and Superstore. Around 2 o’clock, I spread an industrial-sized garbage bag flat across the kitchen table and smear red dye all over each weft of my new clip-in extensions. It looks like a gruesome crime scene—wet clumps hair marinating in what appears to be blood. I peel off my gloves, toss them in the bin, and wait.

By 4 p.m., the extensions have been rinsed and dried. To my chagrin, neither the color nor the texture matches that of my natural hair. I surrender to my old, heat-fried extensions that reek of burnt keratin and and hairspray. I glue on a fresh set of acrylics and apply my makeup in the usual order: primer, foundation, blush, concealer, contour, translucent powder, brow powder, setting spray, eyeliner, mascara, lip gloss. The ritual loosens me. When I stand to get dressed, my right foot stutters, and I careen into the closet. I grip a rack of blouses to steady myself, heart racing.

Mike arrives in a striped tie and artfully distressed baseball cap. I hand him a blueberry pie-flavored Oreo. He tucks it in the pocket of his button-down. Before the Uber arrives, I summon my cat, Basil, so that Mike can hold him for the first time since December. Mike hauls him over his shoulder and bounces him like he’s burping a baby.

In the car, we swap MRI stories: Mike’s dislocated his knee while running on the Girard Trail against my spring-long neuropathy from a fused L5–S1 joint and a herniated L4–L5 disc. Molly tended me at the height of my suffering, and Sebastian dragged me to the ER against my will, where a sympathetic doctor handed me a single Valium and sent me on my way.

We pull up to Caletta and claim a table by the pool. Mike orders a cocktail named after Andrew Cuomo. I choose one with barbecue bitters. By 6:42, Molly texts:

I am leaving now and will be there promptly at 7

In a blue Chevy Malibu

With derrick

We call for the check. I order another car; yet another unforeseen cost of my fickle mobility is paying $9 to travel less than a mile due to Philadelphia’s lack of public transit infrastructure.

The Neon Dream Clown Lounge is my favorite place in Philadelphia—kitschy and wacky in all the right ways, decorated with floor-to-ceiling clown paraphernalia. Meggy and Sebastian linger in the doorway by the bar. She’s wearing a slip dress with a horse on it. He is, as predicted, in navy. I weave through the crowd to locate Molly, Matt, David S., and David R., who’s fussing with the settings on his camera. I press a quick kiss to his cheek and waltz away to order drinks before the show begins.

Steve McLaughlin of Iffy Books, far taller than expected, introduces the readers. David R. films from a slingback chair in the corner. John Paetsch’s fragmentary, pseudo-sci-fi Marxist poem lulls me into a pleasant stupor. Josef Kaplan follows him with a Dostoyevskian monologue on the failures of contemporary political thinking, powering through a disturbance midway through his set when something crashes to the floor. People turn their heads toward the culprit. He’s behind a wall, apologizing at an unbelievable volume.

Sebastian clambers onstage, flushed and grateful. Meggy is cross-legged on the floor, gazing up at him with so much love and pride that even now, weeks later, I remember it clearly. The audience swells and cheers. He beckons forth Molly, Matt, and David S. for Why Even Read It? They each take a seat on three small tables in the middle of the stage. I remember their first table read in my living room a month ago, practicing lines into a tapered candlestick.

The play is about three unemployed roommates—Kelsey (Molly) and Robert (David S.), who are dating, and Thomas (Matt), who finds a copy of Fresh Green Life in the trash near their apartment. Robert claims that he has ceased to age, which inspires a conversation about the flexibility of time, Kelsey’s sociopathic grandfather, and Sebastian’s ‘70s-style author photo on the back cover. Since the New York performance, they’ve gotten more comfortable riffing, which comes to a head when Thomas brings up Kelsey’s recent sober 8 a.m. threesome.

The performance is magnetic. I sneak a few glances at David R., who’s focused on the shot with such intensity that a nuclear blast might not disturb his concentration. When the play draws to a close, Molly, Matt, David S., and Sebastian link arms and grace the room with a final bow. This is Philadelphia’s Oh, Mary!

Once congratulations are said and done, we spill onto the street. Outside, the air is so dense that every breath feels like I’m swallowing steam. We snag tacos from the food truck on Frankford and Girard. On the El Bar patio, Meggy spills some consommé on her horse dress. We split into two groups for lack of a single table. The next hour is a blur of drinks. We head back to South Philadelphia with a detour to the Dive, a smoking bar with a name that represents it symbolically and physically.

The moment we sit down, I share a knowing glance with Molly: we simply must go home. I urge David R. to stay for another round; after some convincing, he obliges. I know that I’ll wake up beside him. Molly and I catch Sebastian on the way out. He asks if we’re on tomorrow for our weekly Sunday movie night.

Nobody would ever suspect that Sebastian was raised by professional dancers. Sebastian is dedicated to his craft, his friends, and his cat, Millie, named after his late grandmother. Sebastian is good at keeping secrets. Sebastian would do anything for the people he loves. Sebastian keeps a small transistor radio in his kitchen that is almost always playing classical or jazz music. Sebastian and I are best friends.