Paris is Dead, A Play in Three Acts
ACT I
ANDREW, PATRICK, THOMAS are on stage, as the audience enters. The stage is set and lit with three distinct spaces, one for each speaking character. They are played by females.
There are also three televisions–one for each space. On each TV, running on a loop, in slightly slow motion, each actor gives a performance quality rendition of Viola’s speech from Twelfth Night, 2.2. It is the female actors and not the male characters who give the performance.
The shot is a close-up and shows only VIOLA’s face. The image and her diction should be clear enough that her lips could be read by a member of the audience. The words of the speech might also be projected. The lines to be performed are:
VIOLA
Fortune forbid my outside have not charmed her!
She made good view of me, indeed so much
That, methought, her eyes had lost her tongue,
For she did speak in starts distractedly.
She loves me sure; the cunning of her passion
Invites me in this churlish messenger.
None of my lord’s ring? Why, he sent her none;
I am the man; if it be so, as ’tis,
Poor lady, she were better love a dream.
Disguise, I see thou art a wickedness,
Wherein the pregnant enemy does much.
How easy is it for the proper-false
In women’s waxen hearts to set their forms!
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we.
For such as we are made of, such as we be.
ANDREW is at a McDonald’s in Paris, talking to a small group he has met recently at a hostel. His clothing is somewhere between quirky and nerdy.
PATRICK is at a quiet bar talking to the long-term partner he broke up with while he was overseas. His clothing is middle-of-the-road stylish.
THOMAS is at his home, having tea with a woman with whom he hopes to sleep. His clothing is high-end stylish and expensive.
FEMALE is downstage, to one side, and is almost unnoticeable. She listens intently and carefully to everything said, perhaps even taking notes.
ANDREW, PATRICK, and THOMAS are unaware of her existence.
The characters use any part of the stage, but do not ever intentionally interact. They can and do interact, but only as a matter of accident or coincidence. The overall feel of the act should be something akin to an argument.
CHANGE indicates a change in pace, mood, and tone and the briefest of pauses should be observed.
ANDREW
It’s dead. Can’t you smell it? It’s like some sort of green shit sweat smell, I can’t explain it really. It’s just the picture I get.
Taps forehead.
It’s in there but the words aren’t right.
THOMAS
Yeah, that’s not right.
ANDREW
The words I’ve got aren’t right.
THOMAS
It doesn’t sound right coming off the tongue. She was more like…
PATRICK (WITH THOMAS BELOW)
Masks.
THOMAS (WITH PATRICK ABOVE)
Love.
PATRICK
I’ve always worn them and I’ve always accepted the fact that everyone wore them too.
ANDREW
It wouldn’t be a problem, if the story I wanted to tell was only for me.
PATRICK
We may change the style sometimes to fit the emotional season, but we’re always wearing them.
ANDREW
I want to share it with you, let you into the space with me, and what I see as a hammer, you see as a saw.
THOMAS (WITH PATRICK BELOW)
She was like love.
PATRICK (WITH THOMAS ABOVE)
They’re like and irreplaceable accessory to good fashion sense.
ANDREW
Snaps fingers.
That’s how far apart we are.
PATRICK
A kind of essential habit.
ANDREW (WITH THOMAS BELOW)
We think we understand each other.
THOMAS (WITH ANDREW ABOVE)
Not the love you’re thinking about.
PATRICK (WITH THOMAS BELOW)
A mutual and shared complicity.
THOMAS (WITH THOMAS ABOVE)
Not fat-baby love
ANDREW
We’re speaking different dialects. We need a me/you dictionary, a Berlitz course in each other’s popular phrases.
PATRICK (WITH THOMAS BELOW)
I mean–
THOMAS (WITH PATRICK ABOVE)
I mean–
ANDREW
The words don’t match-up, even if they look the same.
PATRICK (WITH THOMAS BELOW)
–a necessary and effective tool for the negotiation of the irreducible tensions of social life.
THOMAS (WITH PATRICK ABOVE)
–love.
ANDREW
There are no words, no real words for us. Not yet.
PATRICK (WITH THOMAS BELOW)
Of course, you know what I mean.
THOMAS (WITH PATRICK ABOVE)
How could you possibly know what I mean.
ANDREW
I’ll invent some though.
PATRICK (WITH THOMAS BELOW)
You’ve got your mask too. Just like her.
THOMAS (WITH PATRICK ABOVE)
You never knew her. But, she’s easy describe.
ANDREW
I’ll have to.
PATRICK (WITH THOMAS BELOW)
And I’ll never forgive her for it
THOMAS (WITH PATRICK ABOVE)
She was like love.
CHANGE
ANDREW
The French women all look so pretty from a distance.
PATRICK
Listen.
ANDREW
The curves and shapes are so right, so pretty.
PATRICK
Listen to me.
ANDREW
But, when you get close enough to get a good look, the illusion falls apart.
PATRICK
You’re not listening to me.
ANDREW
You see the make-up, see the age, see the reverence for a vision of beauty they can’t possibly achieve.
PATRICK
Would you listen to me?
ANDREW
And the fucked thing is that the young ones, the ones who really are pretty, who really embody that beauty-image, can’t afford to look that way.
PATRICK
Please.
ANDREW
Or their body-image is so fucked that they can’t do it, won’t do it, won’t let themselves be beautiful.
PATRICK
Please.
ANDREW
Only middle-aged mothers can afford to look young and beautiful, and they’re copying something that doesn’t even exist.
PATRICK
Listen.
ANDREW
All the Parisian girls go around in jeans and sweaters.
PATRICK
I need to explain this.
ANDREW
The only tight skirt I ever saw was on a forty-year old ass.
PATRICK
I need to explain this. Need for it to make sense to you.
ANDREW
And it’s a dirty city too.
PATRICK
I’m all different now and I need to tell you how and why I’m different.
ANDREW
I know it’s different now and things were better in the twenties, or the sixties, or whatever, but we all keep acting like it’s still the same.
PATRICK
I’ve evolved.
ANDREW
Us, the tourists and them, the Parisians. We all tear at this city, tear at its history, its stories, its flesh, hoping we can find that magic again.
PATRICK
The pieces of me–every one–have shifted a little–all together.
ANDREW
Paris.
PATRICK
I’m not any different to me, but everything else has changed for me.
ANDREW
Maybe that’s the smell. Rotting flesh.
THOMAS
My God! Even in my fantasies, she wasn’t with me.
ANDREW
Then, there’s the fucking Americans.
THOMAS
She’s there, but not with me.
ANDREW
Trying so hard to be so indignant, so disrespectful–like they own the place.
THOMAS
A part of it, but not with me.
ANDREW
When deep-down inside, they want so much to be like them.
THOMAS
I’d picture her there, lying in our bed, naked, but never sweating or moaning or any of that usual porno fantasy stuff.
ANDREW
Then, there’s the fucking Parisians.
THOMAS
She’s lying peacefully, smiling, and it’s me at the source of her energy.
ANDREW
Trying so hard to be indignant and disrespectful, acting like they hate all the Americans swarming the place.
THOMAS
Me.
ANDREW
And the whole time, they’re building malls, eating at burger joints, and wearing baseball hats.
THOMAS
I’m the one bringing pleasure to that beautiful face.
ANDREW
They need to hate each other–to keep from melting into each other’s oblivion.
THOMAS
And somehow, I’m not even there.
ANDREW (WITH THOMAS AND PATRICK BELOW)
Of course, it’s nothing new for the French.
THOMAS (WITH ANDREW AND PATRICK)
Of course, I was in love with her.
PATRICK (WITH ANDREW AND THOMAS ABOVE)
Of course, she was beautiful.
THOMAS
We all were. Everyone was.
ANDREW
I mean, they let the Nazis walk right in without a fight. Let them walk right down their wide boulevards, right up to their grand fucking altar.
THOMAS (WITH PATRICK BELOW)
And I mean your kind of love.
PATRICK (WITH THOMAS ABOVE)
So beautiful.
ANDREW
It wasn’t an invasion. It was a fucking parade.
THOMAS
Fat babies dipped in chocolate served with roses at sunset by the Seine kind of love.
PATRICK (WITH THOMAS BELOW)
So very very beautiful.
THOMAS (WITH PATRICK ABOVE)
Pure, simple, and clean.
ANDREW
You see, all they cared about was their fucking city.
PATRICK
Love has always been so complicated for me. So difficult to give and take.
ANDREW
They couldn’t risk one cobble stone being overturned, one whiff of its apparent magic being lost.
THOMAS
Love has always been so complicated for me. So difficult to give and take.
ANDREW
The Nazis and them both.
PATRICK
Then, one morning I saw her coming down the stairs.
THOMAS
And here it was. Here she was.
PATRICK
We had barely talked the night before. You know, chit-chat hostel stuff. Nothing special.
ANDREW
Look at this place.
PATRICK
That morning, she gave me the warmest smile I had ever seen, ever received, ever had pointed in my direction.
THOMAS
She was love and, for the first time, it was open to me.
PATRICK
She had me.
He snaps fingers.
Like that.
ANDREW
It’s all about surrender.
THOMAS
No questions.
CHANGE
ANDREW
I had seen Caleb and her before–outside of Paris.
THOMAS
The guy she was with, though. Caleb.
PATRICK
He was so transparent.
THOMAS
I don’t even know how to describe him. You know, really get it right.
ANDREW
When you travel around Europe, do the whole backpacker-thing, you cross a lot of paths more than once, see a lot of familiar faces.
THOMAS
If I describe him as it happened–like a story–and allow him to appear to you like that, you’ll never understand.
PATRICK
He was so transparent.
ANDREW
It was always him, her, and some random collection of admirers clustering around them both.
THOMAS
Your idea of him will be shaped by the light of my later understanding, and you won’t truly see him as I saw him at the beginning.
PATRICK
I never could understand why people didn’t see through him, though.
ANDREW
He was American, handsome, mysterious, threw money around. She was beautiful–of course–intelligent, exotic, fashionably-dressed.
THOMAS
And, because of that, you won’t understand how I see him now.
ANDREW
A simple intoxicating combination.
PATRICK
Maybe his mask was too simple. Too familiar. So, people forgot–couldn’t recognize what was staring them in the face.
THOMAS
Do you see how hard it is, how hard it is to get it right. To put the words right.
ANDREW
He and I, we operated on the same wave length–sure, I could tell–but the money and the popularity separated us.
THOMAS (WITH PATRICK BELOW)
If only I could make you feel how I felt when I really saw him.
PATRICK (WITH THOMAS ABOVE)
I saw through it, though. I saw him for what he really was.
ANDREW
Then the girl. Fuck. She was too beautiful, too smart, too sexy, too everything.
THOMAS
I can only use words and sentences and one word comes before another and one follows another and that only precedes another.
ANDREW
A figment of some fifteen-year-old’s imagination.
PATRICK
He was a fraud like everyone else.
ANDREW
A fifteen-year old nerd who watched too much soft-porn.
THOMAS
What I felt, what I feel, it came all at once, and encompassed everything that came before.
PATRICK
But, at least, he knew he was a fraud.
THOMAS
I simply can’t capture that with words.
CHANGE
ANDREW
It was weird, though, the way the two of them were together.
THOMAS
I mean, it was obvious there was something wrong between them.
PATRICK
Each was for the other what no one else could be.
ANDREW
Really, if you saw them together, you’d think they were more like brother and sister than anything else.
THOMAS
If it was love, it was passionless. Formal, empty, spent.
ANDREW
You know, because it wasn’t like they were particularly affectionate or anything.
PATRICK
Somehow, they made each other different.
THOMAS
There was a stale air of comfortable familiarity that surrounded them.
ANDREW
It was as if they thought it would be rude somehow to show that they liked each other in the company of others.
THOMAS
I never saw them touch each other. Not once.
ANDREW
And when they did end up near each other, talking, or whatever, it almost seemed accidental. Like, they only got caught in each other’s orbit.
THOMAS (WITH PATRICK BELOW)
And Caleb had this effect on her that I hated. Normally, she was vivacious, charming, alive. A woman in all her glory. Always the center of attention, the center of devotion. A goddess. But when he was there, she was a pretty little girl. Wallpaper.
PATRICK (WITH THOMAS ABOVE)
The effect Caleb had on her was incredible. When he wasn’t around, she was shut off-off to the world. Distant, you know, and removed–not completely there. But When he was near her, man, she glowed. It was hard to notice the sun.
ANDREW
Now, having said all that, it still seemed pretty obvious to me that Caleb was in love with her.
PATRICK
And when she was near him, he was stronger.
ANDREW
Even when she wasn’t around, it was almost like she was with him. You know, out of sight, about to return.
THOMAS
They were an old habit, waiting to be broken.
ANDREW
Not like she was a part of him–or any bullshit like that–but was somehow next to him. With him.
PATRICK
Nothing held him up. Nothing kept him going. Caleb just was.
ANDREW
Even when she wasn’t there, she made a difference to who he was, how he’d be, how he’d act.
THOMAS
All it needed was a little push.
PATRICK
I soon realized that what they had is what I’ve always wanted.
ANDREW
I mean, if anyone talked to this guy–without him saying a word about it–they’d know he was sorted on the whole love front.
PATRICK
And, I knew I wanted it with her.
THOMAS
I think I’m fairly adept at identifying these kinds of situations.
CHANGE
ANDREW
Now, let me say again–to be perfectly clear–I never thought I’d hang out with Mr. cool-as-a-cucumber Caleb.
THOMAS
I was one of the very first to join the group that followed them around Europe.
PATRICK
At first, they didn’t even notice me.
ANDREW
The girl, though, she had this effect on people.
THOMAS
I wasn’t interested in Caleb, of course.
PATRICK
Him, her, the crowd. Any of them. I was invisible.
ANDREW
She drew people into her somehow. Attracted them.
THOMAS
For me, it was always and only about the girl
ANDREW
Everyone got pulled into her and she didn’t even try.
PATRICK
As usual, I was pushed to the fringe.
ANDREW
Now, I’m not normally one to go with the flow or follow the crowd, but, somehow, she even pulled me in too.
PATRICK
It wasn’t like anyone physically elbowed me out, of course, but mentally, for all of them, I was subordinated to the outside.
ANDREW
I can’t even say she was responsible for it.
PATRICK
That’s where I came from and that’s where I was suppose to stay.
ANDREW
We all played our part in that sad little game.
THOMAS
Early on, I kept my distance, basking in her glow with the others.
PATRICK
It didn’t make me angry. I’m used to it. I expect it. I like it.
THOMAS
Then, slowly, I worked my way in beside her.
PATRICK
It lets me see what the others can’t see.
THOMAS
I doted on her. Did things. Ran errands. I made myself indispensable.
ANDREW
All of us were culpable.
PATRICK
Only this time, there was something about her that made it different.
THOMAS
I demonstrated how special she was. To me. To everyone. For everyone to see.
PATRICK
Her smile had made me visible. Had made me want to be visible.
THOMAS
And Caleb saw everything.
ANDREW
Something wasn’t quite right about the whole situation.
THOMAS
He watched the whole thing happen and he never did anything to stop me, never stopped me from getting close to her.
PATRICK
For the first time, I had to be on the inside.
THOMAS
Shouldn’t he do something. Prevent it. Prevent me from her.
PATRICK
I didn’t know how to, but I had to get close to her.
ANDREW
Potentially nasty.
THOMAS
Was he so confident in her love that he didn’t care or was he so unsure that he didn’t dare risk being too demanding.
ANDREW
Not too long ago, the old women of the village would have thrown her into a volcano along with a goat to appease some god.
THOMAS
And, by saying nothing, he gave me permission to try.
ANDREW
And really, they only would have done it to keep the peace.
CHANGE
ANDREW
As the story so often goes, Caleb and I ended up in a bar one night, drinking, talking, laughing, et cetera.
PATRICK
If it hadn’t been for Caleb, I’m sure nothing would have happened.
THOMAS
Quite frankly, it wasn’t enough to be by her side anymore.
ANDREW
Look, I know it’s cheesy to say so but–honestly and truly–something changed that night.
PATRICK
If it hadn’t been for him, I wouldn’t have done anything. Ever.
ANDREW
The whole hostel emptied out the next morning. Everyone traveling with them just vanished.
THOMAS
It wasn’t enough to be a part of the crowd anymore–to be one more admirer.
ANDREW
And, I’m pretty sure Caleb and the girl didn’t leave together.
PATRICK
He opened my eyes.
ANDREW
I mean, really, it should have been a dark and stormy night!
THOMAS
I was different from the rest.
ANDREW
Fuck it, let’s say it was a dark and stormy night!
THOMAS
She and I had something different between us.
ANDREW
Hey, I’m Irish. I’m supposed to embellish.
THOMAS
We were connected exactly in the way she and Caleb were not.
ANDREW
And, as I said, we had been drinking and that makes the fog of memory a wee bit thicker, if you know what I mean.
PATRICK
I had been to the Louvre that day and had thought of her exactly where’d you expect me to.
ANDREW
Something big and exciting and world-historical had already happened that night but I can’t remember what it was–so it couldn’t have been anything I cared much about.
THOMAS
She wasn’t the reason I got out of bed, she wasn’t the reason I got dressed. She was the reason for everything.
ANDREW
Me and Caleb were drinking and talking shit–as you do in dodgey hostel bars–and he ends up inviting this other guy to sit down with us.
PATRICK
I had gone back to the hostel to try and talk to her.
ANDREW
A real quiet stand-offish guy who I had seen hanging around the group.
PATRICK
I ran into Caleb instead.
ANDREW
New guy was no one I wanted to hang out with, but Caleb’s paying for the wine so he can have whoever he wants at the table, right.
PATRICK
At first, he taunted me, ridiculed me.
ANDREW
Things are fine, at first. Pleasant. Fun, even. Hurray!
PATRICK
I didn’t understand, at first. Couldn’t figure out what he was up to.
ANDREW
Then, I come back from a good hard piss and there’s this big heavy tension between them. I can’t tell if new guy is going to beat the shit out of Caleb or cry.
PATRICK
Then, it all starts to make sense to me. He wants to prove something.
ANDREW
So, we talk a bit more, we drink a bit more. The tension is palatable. Subtext is everywhere!
PATRICK
Caleb wants me to prove something about her.
ANDREW
He makes drinking motion with his hand.
And this is where things start getting really fuzzy.
THOMAS
As one would expect, it came to a head eventually.
ANDREW
So, as far as I can tell, Caleb, like, dares this other guy to go after his girl. All but guarantees he can have her if he only tries.
PATRICK
I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I had to find her. Take his test.
ANDREW
You know, make a move. Like she’s that much of a floozy or something.
PATRICK
Prove him wrong. Prove him right. I don’t know, but prove him something.
ANDREW
And buddy-boy is, like, you’re on tough guy.
THOMAS
I had gone out to get some food with the others and was bringing some back for her.
ANDREW
So, I’m, like, Caleb, what the fuck, and go running after buddy-boy to make sure nothing dodgey happens, right.
PATRICK
I found her alone.
THOMAS
When I got back, she was in the kitchen with these two other guys.
PATRICK
Not doing anything. Not reading. Sitting. Waiting almost.
THOMAS
One of the guys I recognize. A bit of a joker. Nice enough, but I never had much patience for his constant irreverence and wit.
PATRICK
She was never alone. Always, someone was crowding around her.
THOMAS
The other guy I didn’t know. I remember him, though, because he was standing too close to her.
PATRICK
Only, I didn’t know what to do. I had never done anything like this before.
THOMAS
Not even Caleb ever got in that close.
ANDREW
By the time I caught up to him, they were making out.
PATRICK
So, I told her I was leaving, I was traveling on, and I asked if I could hug her. Just hug her. You know, to say good-bye.
ANDREW
Again, I was, like, what the fuck? I never had her pegged as a tart.
PATRICK
Every part of me ached from being so close to her, from finally touching her, from finally feeling her.
ANDREW
What’s more, as far as I could tell, she’s totally into it. Loving it even.
PATRICK
She’s so light in my arms. It’s like I’m holding something not entirely there.
THOMAS
There was a strange tension in the room. Like a joke was being shared at someone’s expense.
PATRICK
I think she almost let go, you know, almost gave into the hug, gave into me. Instead, she pulled away.
THOMAS
Only I’m not sure who.
PATRICK
I looked into her eyes–hoping for something–and she smiled.
ANDREW (WITH PATRICK BELOW)
A cheating fucking tart!
PATRICK (WITH ANDREW ABOVE)
That same fucking smile!
THOMAS
Other people started crowding into the kitchen, and the guy standing too close to her turns away from her, laughing.
ANDREW
I don’t know why, but, all of a sudden, something about the whole situation seems real funny.
PATRICK
And, right then, I knew I had been wrong about everything.
THOMAS (WITH PATRICK BELOW)
It was all very confusing really.
PATRICK (WITH THOMAS ABOVE)
Even about her smile.
ANDREW (WITH PATRICK BELOW)
I had to laugh.
PATRICK (WITH ANDREW ABOVE)
She had meant nothing by it.
THOMAS
Whatever was happening, I knew she needed something from me.
PATRICK
It was something she did without thinking, without feeling, without meaning.
THOMAS (WITH PATRICK BELOW)
Some kind of proof. Some kind of display. A demonstration.
PATRICK (WITH THOMAS ABOVE)
A habit. A motor reflex. A twitch.
ANDREW
Buddy starts laughing too. Laughing right in her face.
PATRICK
I start laughing at myself. For being so stupid. So blind.
THOMAS
I had been planning something for ages. Something big. For everyone else to see.
PATRICK
No. Not for being blind. But, for seeing too much. Making too much up. For my fucking childish imagination.
THOMAS
I sat her in a chair. I filled a bowl with warm water.
PATRICK
She would have flashed that smile at anyone, at anytime. Only that morning, I happened to be the idiot standing there looking, hoping, waiting for something to happen.
ANDREW
And, if that wasn’t silly enough, this other guy, Thomas, gets on his hands and knees and starts washing her feet.
THOMAS
I took off my shirt. An old plaid shirt, I had worn it for years. Since I was fifteen or sixteen.
PATRICK
Something in me that had been holding everything up for a long time finally gave way.
ANDREW
Everyone knew he had a crush on her, but, by God, that’s no excuse to go all biblical on us.
PATRICK
I was a circus tent fluttering to the ground.
THOMAS
It was the softest material I had ever felt. A softness I knew, had always known, and I wanted her to feel it, to know it.
PATRICK
I didn’t feel alone, I didn’t even feel present.
THOMAS (WITH PATRICK BELOW)
Because, I would know exactly how it felt on her skin. I would know exactly what she was feeling.
PATRICK (WITH THOMAS ABOVE)
I slipped into non-existence.
ANDREW
Besides, he’s getting his symbolism all wrong. I mean, his name is Thomas. Not Mary. Thomas! He should be poking his finger into her wounds not washing her feet.
THOMAS
I moved carefully, slowly, savoring each touch, imagining each sensation, never letting our skins touch, wanting her to feel only that softness.
ANDREW
So, I start thinking, man, maybe I should get in on this action. You know, walk out of here with thirty silver pieces jangling in my pocket.
THOMAS
When I was finished, I looked up into her eyes and, immediately, I knew something was wrong.
ANDREW
Finally, Caleb turns up and I figure this is going to put an end to the silliness and we can go back to doing something sensible–like drinking.
THOMAS
She wasn’t satisfied.
PATRICK
When Caleb storms into the room, it’s only then that I come back into myself, start noticing the world again.
THOMAS
It hadn’t been enough. She wants more.
ANDREW
Fortunately, little Tommy’s Sunday school performance is over. And she’s like, thanks mate. Who’s next? Take a number please. Queue forms to the left.
THOMAS
She doesn’t want symbolism, she doesn’t want unity. She wants everything.
ANDREW
Caleb being Caleb, cuts to the front of the line.
THOMAS
And she wants it all for herself.
PATRICK
Caleb towers over her, daring her to stand up.
THOMAS
I sit back dumbfounded and watch her in absolute and glorious wonder.
PATRICK
The threat of violence is palpable, but her gaze is fierce. Unstoppable.
THOMAS
Then, out of nowhere, Caleb glides into the room.
ANDREW
He hesitates for a second.
PATRICK
She doesn’t flinch. She meets him pound for pound.
THOMAS
She watches him with that quiet perfect smile of hers. A cat with a canary in her mouth
ANDREW
It’s almost like he’s afraid of something. Like he’s risking something. Taking some kind of a chance.
PATRICK (WITH THOMAS BELOW)
He seizes her hand and he whispers to her.
THOMAS (WITH PATRICK ABOVE)
He seizes her hand and he whispers to her.
PATRICK (WITH THOMAS BELOW)
Her eyes drop.
THOMAS (WITH PATRICK ABOVE)
He quivers.
PATRICK (WITH THOMAS BELOW)
And like that–
He snaps fingers.
–her whole demeanor changes, everything about her transforms. She’s softer, lighter, almost floating.
THOMAS (WITH PATRICK ABOVE)
And like that–
He snaps fingers.
–everything he is pours out into her. It’s as if he falls on his knees before her and smothers himself in her lap. She soaks up every bit of him. Not a drop hits the floor.
PATRICK
Something in that moment makes her his forever.
THOMAS
And when she’s had her fill, she sends him on his way.
PATRICK
Proving everything, he walks away, never looking back.
THOMAS
I leave quickly before anything mundane tarnishes the beauty of this perfect moment.
PATRICK
And, for different reasons, I do the same.
ANDREW
So, after, like, a zillion years, Caleb finally takes hold of her hand and says something to her, real quiet, like this is the hardest thing he’s done his whole life: “Stand up. If you stand up, I’ll do the rest.” She acts confused. “What do you mean, dear, I don’t understand, dear?” He asks again, smiling, trying to make it light. She asks again, shaking her head, “I don’t understand.” It goes on like this for a second or two. He almost pleads with her and, you know, it’s like she’s pretending not to understand. Then, he lets her hand go. Doesn’t throw it or anything dramatic like that. He releases it, straightens up, and leaves. She doesn’t lower her hand until he’s gone. And there’s this peculiar sense of satisfaction about her. Well, not satisfaction, really. More like the feeling of fatalism realized. You know, the feeling you get when something that’s meant to happen finally does happen. It’s like that. It’s like, she’s fatalized–if that’s a word. Anyways. Something’s happened. Something meant to happen. For her. For him. For them. Something decisive. Some kind of climax. And you know what?
He laughs.
I haven’t got a fucking clue what it is either.
CHANGE
ANDREW
And see that’s the thing about Paris too.
THOMAS
Only in the very instant of Caleb’s total surrender did it finally become clear to me.
PATRICK
I left, without looking back, on the first train to anywhere.
THOMAS
I don’t want to sacrifice myself.
ANDREW
All those writers and poets and artists, American, English, and French, they made Paris what it was. They invented it.
THOMAS
I want to be the one to whom the sacrifice is made.
ANDREW
They wanted something bigger than themselves, so they went ahead and made it.
THOMAS
I want to be adored. Placed on a pedestal. Praised. Exalted. Worshiped.
ANDREW
It wasn’t meant to happen here or anywhere.
PATRICK
When my traveler’s checks ran out in Berlin, I ended up living on the streets.
ANDREW
There wasn’t anything in the water. In the air. Or the soil.
PATRICK
Eventually, I figured out what happened. What I had done.
THOMAS
I want to be a talisman. An icon. An exquisite object of power.
ANDREW
It wasn’t anything more complex than people making choices. Doing shit.
THOMAS
I don’t want to pursue beauty. I want to be beauty.
PATRICK
I had made up this story in my head about her–a romantic fantasy with my idea of her as its central theme. But the thing is, the story I wrote had nothing to do with her. It was my idea of her that entranced me. It wasn’t what she did or said. It wasn’t even her beauty or her fucking smile. It was this story I had created from the facts she inadvertently provided.
ANDREW
And, yeah, of course, there were larger socio-historical-economic structural features at work, blah blah blah crap crap crap.
PATRICK
I can’t even say she was a character in my dramatic dialog. She was a prop in my one-man show. A romantic monologue for an audience of one.
ANDREW
But they could have done it anywhere. Rutherford, New Jersey, Ottawa, Ontario, or Auck-mother-fuck-land, New Zealand.
PATRICK
Me.
ANDREW
By coming here to find something, we only prove that we don’t get it.
THOMAS
I see no reason why women alone should have the privilege of being worshiped.
PATRICK
By keeping the reality of her out of it, by admiring her from afar, by doing nothing, I created a fantasy.
THOMAS
I see no reason why men alone should have the opportunity to sacrifice themselves in the name of beauty.
PATRICK
And the fantasy survived because I refused to act on it, refused to live up to it, refused to test it.
THOMAS
I say, let men be worshiped as objects of transcendental desire and let women exalt and surrender themselves to beauty.
PATRICK
And in refusing to test it, I made it real.
ANDREW
By coming here to discover, to unearth, to reveal, we betray the accomplishment of those who came before us.
THOMAS
I want the best of both worlds.
PATRICK
A bird in hand, as they say.
ANDREW
Paris–their Paris–was about creation. Our Paris is about excavation.
THOMAS
And why shouldn’t I?
ANDREW
They were architects and we–we are archaeologists.
THOMAS
The roles we play, the roles we occupy, the roles that are thrust upon, they’re only constructs.
PATRICK
I’d been doing it my whole life too. With everyone I had ever fallen in love with, gone out with, admired from afar, whatever.
THOMAS
The dangley bits, on your chest or between my legs, they don’t matter to beauty.
PATRICK
I’d create a story in my head about what I wanted, create roles for other people to play, and then cast them whether they wanted to play or not.
ANDREW
We turned their wonderful living breathing creation into a kind of historical theme park, a backdrop for our postcards, a sound-set for our European coming of age stories.
PATRICK
And that’s what all of us are doing to each other all of the time.
THOMAS
Whatever meaning those bits have, it is only because of the stories we tell about them.
PATRICK
Reciting romantic monologues in each other’s presence.
ANDREW
Paris is dead and we’ve killed it.
THOMAS
And we’re free to write whatever story we like.
PATRICK
Sometimes, the scripts inadvertently overlap and we call it love.
THOMAS
We can reduce, reuse, and recycle as we please.
PATRICK
But then the scripts diverge, the accidental harmony becomes discordant, we fight and try to get the other person to play by our rules, our script.
THOMAS
The possibilities are endless.
PATRICK
We become hecklers in each other’s audience.
ANDREW
Ahh, but what the fuck do I know.
PATRICK
Eventually, maybe one of the scripts wins out and one person gets to live happily ever after and that we call true love.
ANDREW
I may be a preacher, but I am a sinner as well.
PATRICK
Well, now that I see the game for what it really is, I won’t be playing my part anymore, thank you very much. I’m opting out of this federally-funded initiative.
ANDREW
A demented bodhisattva who can’t help but return to watch all of you take photocopies of photocopies of photocopies of photocopies.
He repeats the phrase “photocopies of photocopies” until his next line
THOMAS
The only limit is our own imaginations.
PATRICK
And that’s what I want you to understand, what I’ve come here to say.
ANDREW
I can’t help but come back here.
PATRICK
I think it will make it easier for you to know that’s it much more than me just not loving you anymore.
ANDREW
It’s all so fake, so fabricated, so constructed. I have no choice but to feel real.
THOMAS
So, shall we go to bed then?
PATRICK
I’ll leave you alone now.
ANDREW
God, I feel so real.
Smirks and rolls his eyes.
LIGHTS
ACT II
A hostel bar. A neon sign reads, Bistro Joker.
On stage, there are three televisions. On each TV, running on a loop, in slightly slow motion, each of the three female actors gives a performance quality rendition of PORTIA’s speech from The Merchant Of Venice, 3.4.
PORTIA
I’ll hold thee any wager,
When we are both accoutred like young men
I’ll prove the prettier fellow of the two
And wear my dagger with the braver grace,
And speak between the change of man and boy
With a reed voice, and turn two mincing steps
Into a manly stride, and speak of frays
Like a fine bragging youth, and tell quaint lies,
How honourable ladies sought my love,
Which I denying, they fell sick and died–
I could not do withal! Then I’ll repent,
And wish, for all that, that I had not killed them;
And twenty of these puny lies I’ll tell,
That men shall swear I have discontinued school
Above a twelvemonth. I have within my mind
A thousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks
Which I will practice.
ANDREW and CALEB sit at a table. Caleb wears stylish but conservative clothing. They are laughing, having fun, drunk and drinking. The mood is light; the squabbling and name-calling is always playful, even when it hits the mark.
FEMALE sits alone at a table downstage, writing in her journal. She occasionally notices the men, but mostly she is concerned with her writing and reading. Her clothing is fashionable and attractive.
CALEB
Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.
ANDREW
Boo hoo, poo hoo. You’re a cynical and bitter old bastard, that’s all.
CALEB
Oh and now he’s playing the age card is he? Mother fucker–
ANDREW
It happens.
CALEB
–I mean, we all knew it was there to play, but did anyone ever actually think he would stoop so low as to play it–
ANDREW
Hey, you do what you go to do.
CALEB
–and after two bottles of wine. How fucking weak is that?
ANDREW
Well, what can I say. You are an old man. An old Peter Pan.
CALEB
Oh no! Now the pop psychology!
ANDREW
Za-zing!
CALEB
I don’t even know why I bother talking to you–
ANDREW
I’m not sure either.
CALEB
–whatever I say, it doesn’t even matter. You decide what it means before I’m even finished saying it.
ANDREW
I win. Yea me!
CALEB
Yea you, indeed. And tell him what he’s won, Johnny. A lifetime of solipsistic loneliness. That’s right, Bob, he will fecklessly wander through streets of cobblestone wondering why no one understands him. His sleepless nights will be spent in cold-water flats with a single exposed light bulb. And that’s not all, Bob, he will also receive a lifetimes supply of alcoholism and smoker’s cough!
ANDREW
He lights a cigarette.
At least, I’m going to live to see the turn of the millennium, old man.
He offers his pack to Caleb.
CALEB
He takes one and lights it.
But you won’t even appreciate it with your black-beret-wearing-head stuck up your socially-constructed ass, my poor wee existential warrior of the post-modern age.
ANDREW
Shut up, old man.
ANDREW
No, you shut up, Mr. Lost Generation, part deux.
CALEB
No, you shut up
ANDREW
No, you shut up
ANDREW & CALEB
No, you shut up. No you shut up. Shut up, shut, shut up, etc.
Eventually they shout ’shut up’ in unison and it builds into a crescendo and then into incoherent yelling. PATRICK enters at some point, barely notices them, and stands close to one of the TVs, watching it intently. He is wearing a day back pack and carries a black journal and pen in his hand. ANDREW and CALEB eventually tire of their yelling game and return to their drinks. As Caleb pours more wine, he notices PATRICK watching the TV.
CALEB
Hey, Patrick.
PATRICK does not register being called. Caleb tries again, slightly louder.
Hey, Patrick.
PATRICK
What?
CALEB
What? Sorry. Your name’s Patrick isn’t it? Well, whatever your name is, come have a drink with us.
PATRICK
No thanks. I only came in to check the scores. I want to get back out there.
CALEB
Out where?
PATRICK
To Paris, of course.
CALEB
Fuck Paris. Come have a drink with us. Paris will be there tomorrow.
ANDREW
And the day after tomorrow.
CALEB
And the day after the day after tomorrow.
ANDREW
He turns it in a sing-song, continuing as CALEB and PATRICK speak.
And the day after the day after the day after tomorrow, etc.
CALEB
Whereas right here right now, there are two living breathing creatures who want to sit and have a drink with you. Plus, it’s my treat. How can you refuse?
PATRICK
Thanks, but, no thanks. No offense, but why would I want to sit in this lame hostel bar when the most magical city in the world is out there waiting to be discovered.
ANDREW
Ah, but why wouldn’t you?
PATRICK
I beg your pardon?
CALEB
This place is as good as place as any other.
ANDREW
It has chairs. It has tables. It has…
He sees there is only one woman rather than women and turns the plural to singular.
wome-an.
CALEB
Sure, It’s neither clean nor well lit but it is much like any other bar in any other hostel in any other world.
PATRICK
Exactly.
CALEB
Exactly.
ANDREW
Exactly.
PATRICK
Ok, sure. Whatever. Thanks, anyways guys.
He turns to TV again. ANDREW and CALEB exchange a look. CALEB is, “What’s up with this guy?” ANDREW is, “Who cares?” CALEB indicates he will try again.
CALEB
Canadian or American?
PATRICK does not answer or acknowledge him. CALEB and ANDREW exchange another look. ANDREW is mildly disappointed with CALEB’s efforts. CALEB is, “Ah, come on, there’s no harm in it.” ANDREW shrugs and pours himself another drink.
Hey guy-checking the scores, are you Canadian or American?
PATRICK
He does not turn to Caleb.
Huh? Oh. Canadian.
CALEB
Aha! Well, watch no longer, my good man. I know what you are looking for and I also know that fate has conspired against you. On this night of all nights, you must come and have a drink with a fellow countryman.
PATRICK
He still does not turn. Not turning.
Oh yeah, why’s that?
CALEB
The Blue Jays have won, my friend. The Blue Jay’s have won the World Series again.
ANDREW
Woo hoo!
CALEB
That’s twice in a row!
PATRICK
That’s fantastic!
CALEB
No, that’s fan-fucking-tastic!.
ANDREW
A world historical event!
CALEB
And guess what? It gets even better.
PATRICK
What? How? I don’t believe you. How could it get any better?
CALEB
It’s game six, right. Bottom of the ninth. The Jay’s are behind, 6-5. Carter’s at bat. Henderson and Molitor are on base. 2-2 count. Mitch the so-called “Wild Thing” Williams is on the mound. He delivers the pitch–world series winning homer.
PATRICK
Fuck off.
CALEB
I’m not lying.
PATRICK
Fuck off.
CALEB
I’m not lying.
PATRICK
Fuck off. That’s amazing!
CALEB
It’s fan-fucking amazing!. Probably the single greatest moment in Canadian sporting history. At least since Henderson scored that goal against the Soviets.
PATRICK
Fuck me. Almost makes me wish I had been at home to see it.
ANDREW
Yeah, quite a moment for the big ol’red maple-beaver-moose. An American hits a home run in an American game to win an American trophy.
CALEB
You, shut up. You’ve already clearly demonstrated that you’re incapable of understanding something as meaningful as this, my poor little angst-ridden nihilist friend.
ANDREW
What’s to understand? A bunch of jocks, who make money playing sports in the breaks between commercials, have won a trophy. Whoopee-fucking-do.
CALEB
Look, we already talked about this and I won. You think they print the Sun Also Rises out of the good of their fucking hearts. They don’t call it a culture industry for nothing, you know.
ANDREW
Hey, I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with making money. What I am saying is that sport is only about making money. Art, at least–and I mean, truly, great art–is for its own sake and any associated economic concerns are secondary, almost accidental. People don’t becomes artists to get rich.
CALEB
So, what, you’re saying Sport is a whore because she likes a good screw and says so, while Art is a lady because she acts like she doesn’t even while she’s taking it up the ass.
ANDREW
No. I am saying Art is a high priestess forced to deal in dollars and cents because she was born into the sinfully economic world of male patriarchy.
CALEB
What a load of horse shit.
He turns to PATRICK.
Come on, have a seat, have a drink.
He turns back to ANDREW and PATRICK remains where he is.
And, it only shows how little you know about sport. Kids don’t kick around a ball because they’re thinking about sponsorship deals. They do it because it’s fun. And sometimes those kids become wonderfully skilled athletes and some of us are quite happy to pay to see them play the game they love. So what’s your problem with that?
CALEB indicates a seat to PATRICK who does not sit.
ANDREW
I don’t see writers and artists and musicians doing fucking product endorsements.
CALEB
That’s because no one gives a fuck about what kind of underwear Salman Rushdie wears when he’s writing away in the bat cave or wherever he’s hiding. Take a seat, man. Besides, art already is a form of product endorsement. This is mine and you should buy it–that’s what they say with their little signature. Check out the book cover of a really successful writer, it’s nothing but a name and then a little itsty bitsy title. Picasso used to show off by scribbling on a piece of paper and saying, “there, that’s worth $20,000 now.”
ANDREW
Alright, fine, you’re right. You do win. Art is as big a whore as sport is. Good. I won’t care about either of them.
CALEB
You know, every time it’s the same with you. There’s one of two conclusions you could draw and you always take the pessimistic one. What I’m trying to say is that they’re both activities worthy of our attention. Both can be windows to beauty and that’s all that matters. What more do you want than that?
He motions PATRICK to a seat.
Come on, man, you have to wait to see the highlights and you might as well do it sitting down. And, if your sitting, you might as well have a drink. There will be no skill-testing questions I assure you.
PATRICK
I don’t want to intrude.
CALEB
I wouldn’t ask you to sit if I thought you were intruding, I’d tell you to piss off. Now, come on sit. They show the highlights every fifteen minutes or so. That’s time for at least one drink–three if you’re a man–and then you can go off and frolic in Playground Paris if you really want to. I should warn you though, they don’t show many highlights. Europeans don’t really go in for baseball all that much.
PATRICK
Yeah, I know, It’s been tough trying to keep track of the scores over here.
CALEB
Tell me about it. I couldn’t find a European paper that even had the scores. I had to resort to the USA Today. And now to make matters worse, here we are watching CNN. Makes my skin crawl.
ANDREW
Hey, nothing wrong with taking the thick hard organ of American propaganda between your teeth.
CALEB
But the bitter load that gets stuck in the back of your throat. I wish they’d eat more fruit!
He turns to PATRICK.
So, what was your name, sailor?
PATRICK
He is unsettled by this line of humor.
Patrick.
CALEB
Oh, ok. So it is Patrick. I was right. Why did you look so confused when I called you by name.
PATRICK
You surprised me, that’s all. I didn’t expect to hear my name called.
CALEB
Why not?
PATRICK
No one really knows me around here.
CALEB
What? You’ve been hanging around this hostel for at least a week, man. How can you not know anyone. It’s a hostel. You’re suppose to meet people.
PATRICK
I’m not really much of a people person I guess.
CALEB
Fair enough. Hey, why aren’t you drinking!?
Pours PATRICK a drink.
So, Patrick, what do you do?
PATRICK
What do you mean, what do I do?
CALEB
It’s not a trick question. Work, school, play?
ANDREW
I.e., what is it that you do when you aren’t boozing it up in a Parisian hostel bar.
PATRICK
Nothing really. I’m taking a year off before I go to university. Doing some exploring. You know, sorting some stuff out. When I go home I’ll find a job, make a bit of money, head to university with my head screwed on straight. That’s the plan anyway.
ANDREW
As it happens, I am also a very big fan of doing “nothing really”.
CALEB
Kind of a mission statement, isn’t it. The higher purpose of his life.
ANDREW
A man’s got to have a purpose. An aim. A direction. A goal.
CALEB
You, sir, have no aim, purpose, direction or goal. You are a self-indulgent, shiftless, ne’er-do-well.
ANDREW
Hey, my parents worked hard their whole lives so I wouldn’t have to. I’m only living out their dream like the good son that I am–
CALEB
He’s a saint, really.
ANDREW
–Besides, I do have a purpose! I am a tax shelter. See me shelter.
ANDREW skulls what’s left in his glass, slams it on the table, and then uses his arms to suggest a pointy roof over his head.
Look at me go. Shelter, shelter, shelter…
He continues to say “shelter, shelter”, as the other speak.
PATRICK
So, what about you, Caleb?
CALEB
I’m a tax account.
PATRICK
A tax accountant, really?
ANDREW
He makes a sfx noise of disappointment.
Vvvv. Bit of a disappointment isn’t it.
CALEB
What? What’s that suppose to mean?
ANDREW
Nothing, of course. You’re precious to me.
ANDREW points at CALEB, traces a heart with his fingers and then points at himself
I really do. It’s true. I really do.
CALEB
No seriously.
ANDREW
I say nothing. Nothing!
CALEB
Come on. Patrick?
PATRICK
I expected something a bit different that’s all.
CALEB
Why?
PATRICK
You’ve made quite an impression on people, I guess.
CALEB
Impression. I don’t make impressions. What do you mean?
ANDREW
What he means by “impression” is firstly and foremost, your hottie girlfriend, secondly, the way you throw money around, and, thirdly, the fact that you have this little tribe of people who follow you around Europe. People are apt to think you are the crown prince of Belair or something
CALEB
He laughs.
Sorry to disappoint. No, I’m a tax account and she’s not my girlfriend. An ex-tax accountant, actually, I quit my job before I came to Europe.
ANDREW
Why did you quit?
PATRICK
What do you mean not your girlfriend?
CALEB
He points at PATRICK.
I mean, she’s not my girlfriend.
He points at ANDREW.
And I got sick of helping rich people save money by avoiding tax. One line of interrogation at time.
He points at ANDREW.
You were here first.
ANDREW
Were you doing anything illegal?
CALEB
No.
ANDREW deflates in disappointment.
It was all well-above board. Almost made it worse, really. I was helping rich people use the tax-breaks the government gave them to use.
ANDREW
So, if you’re not a crown prince, what’s with the Mr. Money-Bags act then, buying everyone drinks and food all the time.
CALEB
Trying to be the Great Gatsby, I guess. Anyways. Whatever deeper Freudian meaning there may be, the fact is that I made a whole lot of money and it’s fun to spread it around a bit. Nothing more exciting than that.
ANDREW
Aren’t you suppose to rob from the rich and give to the poor? You know, instead of partying it up in Europe?
CALEB
Hey, I’ve got plenty of time to do my part to help make the world a better place. I’m not that old. Besides, a few months of fun in Europe won’t change anything. In fact, that’s one of the reasons why I’m going back to school.
ANDREW
Oh God, no, a student too! Disappointment after disappointment. What? Where? How? Why? Discuss.
CALEB
I’ve got a few ideas about environmental tax policy I’d like to do some research on.
ANDREW
Double–
He make SFX of disappointment again.
Vvvvv. Sounds riveting.
CALEB
Hey, you don’t have to be a super-hero to make the world a better place. If I can come up with a practical and convincing way to account for environmental costs and everyone adopts them, everyone will pollute less. Simple as that.
ANDREW
Sorry, dude, it ain’t really James Bond enough for me
CALEB
I guess that’s kind of my point, really. If you think you got to be James Bond to do something good, that becomes a real convenient excuse not to do anything at all.
ANDREW
Touché.
He gets up abruptly and quickly from his chair.
And, on that glancing blow, I’m off to take a piss.
CALEB
You only ever go for a piss when I’ve won. I know this! I know this! Alright, good cop, your turn.
PATRICK
What do you mean she’s not your girlfriend?
CALEB
He pours himself another drink.
Girlfriend? Who? What? Where? How? Discuss.
PATRICK
Coral. You know, the girl you’re almost always with.
CALEB
He looks at Patrick for a moment, confused.
Coral? Coral! Of course, that’s what she’s calling herself this week isn’t it.
PATRICK
What do you mean?
CALEB
Coral’s not her real name and I don’t know what the fuck’s up with that accent either. I like the wig, though. Very femme fatale.
PATRICK
Wig?
CALEB
Oh, come on man, you’re joking, right, no one has hair that black or that straight. Of course, it’s a wig. Anyone can see that it. Or maybe anyone couldn’t.
He points randomly.
Look, air.
PATRICK
Well, I thought, I guess, maybe, you know, wherever she’s from–
CALEB
He laughs.
Wherever she’s from? She’s a fucking Kiwi, mate. Standard hair color: mouse-brown, bleached bottle blond.
PATRICK
What?
CALEB
She’s a Kiwi. Not an eastern bloc communist, or whatever it is your hoping for.
PATRICK stares blankly, not understanding.
She’s from New Zealand. Down by Australia. The ass end. She’s about as exotic as maple syrup.
PATRICK
Are you serious?
CALEB
Of course, I’m serious. Well, as serious as anyone can be about someone who likes to play Mr. Dress-Up full-time.
PATRICK
I don’t believe it.
CALEB
Well, I don’t believe you. My god, It’s not even a very convincing act she’s pulling.
PATRICK
I wouldn’t say that. I wouldn’t say that at all.
CALEB
He laughs.
Wow. You’ve proved it, man. People really do only see what they want to see.
PATRICK looks visibly hurt.
Boy, I sure have been one series of let-downs for you, haven’t I?. First, I’m an ex-tax accountant slash student instead of an international man of princely mystery and then I reveal that “Coral” isn’t a communist bloc Eastern European femme-fatale, but a plain-Jane from buttfuck nowhere, New Zealand.
PATRICK
Why the hell would she go around in costume pretending to be something she’s not.
CALEB
Beats me. Personally, unless someone is giving me free candy, I don’t see the fucking point in wearing a costume. Ever.
PATRICK
She must have something to hide. You know, a reason to hide.
CALEB
She’s on the run from the cops. For a crime she didn’t commit. Give it up, man. People don’t need a reason to hide. Sometimes, they do it out of habit.
PATRICK
OK, sure, of course, but, come on, this is a bit different, don’t you think. A costume and an accent is a bit extreme.
CALEB
It doesn’t really make any more or less sense than buying a Hard Rock Café T-shirt with the word “Paris” stenciled on it.
PATRICK
I can’t believe your so cavalier about it. It’s fraud!
CALEB
Look, man, we all come here to forget ourselves, to play a different role, to try on a different set of clothes. “Coral” is only taking it to the next level. Or, really, bringing it back to where it all began. We are all just kids playing dress-up in one form or another.
PATRICK
That’s preposterous. There’s got to be something behind it, something that makes sense of it.
CALEB
Look, I gave up trying to make sense of “Coral” a long time ago. I suggest you do the same. It’s not my job or your job to make sense of her or anyone. Our job is to communicate honestly and not to go out of our way to hurt each other. That’s it, that’s all.
PATRICK
There’s nothing honest about what she’s doing and it can be–you know, It’s not totally innocent. She’s made me look the fool.
CALEB
Honestly, man, if you talked to people a little more, let them into your world, let them contribute to the stories you’re telling, you might have a few less bubbles burst.
PATRICK
What the hell is that suppose to mean?
CALEB
I’m not trying to be subtle here. What I mean is that you made yourself look the fool. As far as I know, you’re the only one who didn’t clue in that it was some kind of game she is playing.
PATRICK
Oh, so it’s my fault for trusting people and taking them at face value?
CALEB
You do not trust people or take them at face value. You see and hear only what you want to see and hear, shaping everything to fit whatever story it is you want to be a part of. That’s why you’re not seeing what’s right in front of your face.
PATRICK
Fuck you, this is bullshit. She’s not acting, she’s not playing dress-up. She’s for real. You’re trying to fuck with me head, that’s all. Right?
CALEB
Why would I do that?
PATRICK
You’re threatened.
CALEB
I beg your pardon. Threatened? By what?
PATRICK
By me. I know you’ve seen us together. Talking. Your worried. Your worried I’m going to steal her away from you.
ANDREW
He sighs
Oh please. How lame. I’ve already told you, there’s nothing between us. We’re friends that’s it. Worse even, we’re practically family. I’m like a brother to her.
PATRICK
No way, man. I see the way you look at her. I see the way she looks at you. I see the way you are when you’re around each other. You guys aren’t “just friends.”
ANDREW
Look, I don’t know what you’re seeing or what drama you are trying to be a part of, but, again, I’m telling you it ain’t there.
PATRICK
Whatever. You’re trying to tell me, all this time you’ve spent together in Europe, you’ve never hooked up, not even once.
CALEB
To the best of my knowledge, she’s never even touched me.
PATRICK
Aha, see that only goes to prove that you’ve thought about it.
CALEB
Of course, I’ve thought about it. I’m a boy, she a girl. And yes, I asked her if she was maybe interested in more, but she said no and I’m fine with that. Sure, I’d like to fuck her, but there’s more than one game boys and girls can play together. It doesn’t always have to be about putting pole x into slot y.
PATRICK
That’s crap and you know it. She loves you. And you love her.
CALEB
He laughs.
Look, I’m telling you, we discussed it, and she wasn’t interested.
PATRICK
Ah man, girls don’t want you to discuss that kind of thing. They want you to do something. You know, be forceful, take action, show initiative.
CALEB
What? So, they don’t have do anything themselves, so they don’t have to take any responsibility for their actions? Fuck that shit, man. I didn’t grow up in the eighteenth century.
PATRICK
Look, Caleb, forget about feminism, alright. When we are talking about sex, throw it out the window. A woman wants a job, equal wages, to smash the glass ceiling, sure, I’m all for it. But when it comes to sex, love, and romance, women aren’t ever going to be feminists. They want the man to take charge, to pay for things, to initiate the action, to pursue. It’s the way It’s always been, it’s the way it always will be.
CALEB
For some women, maybe, but not for all them. Some will clue in that there’s more to fucking than hunting and being hunted and those are the ones I’m interested in.
PATRICK
Not a chance. Women want to be hunted. They like it. They sit back and wait for Mr. Right to come along, make him do a little song and dance, and then lay back and get fucked. Why would they do anything to change that?
CALEB
Fine. Alright then. If that’s the way things really are, and the way things are always going to be, what the hell are you doing then?
PATRICK
I don’t follow you.
CALEB
I mean, why aren’t you taking charge, being forceful, showing initiative. Stop moping around and admiring “Coral” from afar, go seize her.
PATRICK
Well, that’s different. I thought you, you know, she had a boyfriend. I am not that kind of guy.
CALEB
Bullshit. You expect me to believe you’d turn her down if she came on to you.
PATRICK
If she had a boyfriend, probably. Yeah.
CALEB
Whatever.
PATRICK
It’s true.
CALEB
Bullshit. You don’t do anything because It’s easy and risk-free. You mope around and admire her from afar because you get the self-satisfaction of being in love without any of the risk of being rejected.
PATRICK
That’s not true.
CALEB
A bird in fucking hand, as they say.
PATRICK
You don’t know what you’re talking about.
CALEB
Fine. Whatever. It doesn’t matter, it’s irrelevant. Who cares. You are as pure as pure can be. A mother fucking saint. But here’s what is relevant. I’m not her boyfriend and, as far as I know, she hasn’t got a boyfriend. So, you’ve got no excuse. Go be forceful. Go show some initiative.
PATRICK
This is different. I know you guys are, you know, I don’t want to–
CALEB
Interfere. Intrude. Get involved. Put the reality of your little fantasy on the line. You are a coward, Patrick, plain and simple. You know it and I know it.
CALEB waits for a response; PATRICK does not respond.
Ok, fine. Here, let me put it a different way then. Suppose Patrick, just suppose, right now, she’s pining away for you, bewildered because you’re not responding to the clear signals she’s sending. For all you know, she loves you so much, she’s afraid to show it, too afraid to say anything for fear of being rejected. What if, she’s so in love with you that she’s happy only to be friends because she’d rather not risk “ruining the friendship”. What if, right now she’s telling herself the exact same kind of bullshit your telling yourself because like you she takes some kind of special pleasure in being a martyr. Wouldn’t that be some kind of beautiful tragedy, huh? Sure, I mean, it’s all a little too Chekhov for me, but I can see the allure of it.
ANDREW
Returning from toilet, with a fresh pack of cigarettes.
Hey what are you boys on about now?
Neither replies. CALEB smiles quietly at PATRICK who is cowed.
Okie dokie, then. I will sit myself down here and pour myself a little drinkie-poo and smile and act like there isn’t a big fat heavy tension sucking the life and fun out of my party.
He sits, pours drink, lights a cigarette, strikes a pose with a big fake smile.
CALEB
Takes a cigarette, lights it.
Love.
ANDREW
What’s that you say dearest? Why yes, it is a lovely day.
CALEB
We were talking about love. The meaning and nature of love. That’s all.
ANDREW
Ooh, how romantic. And in the city of love and everything.
CALEB
That’s right. We were having a deep heart to heart on the meaning and nature of love–in the city of love.
He taps PATRICK’s journal.
That’s one for the ol’ journal eh, Patrick.
ANDREW
So, have we come to any conclusions then, dearies?
CALEB
So, far not really. Lover-boy, here, has a deep abiding faith in the mystery and transcendence of love. He sees it as a glorious shaft of life in the darkness of our human souls, both able to cleanse and save us in one fell and magical swoop. Not to be taken lightly under any circumstances. Isn’t that about right, Patrick.
PATRICK
Skulls his drink and pours himself another drink.
If you say so.
ANDREW
And what does the Fresh Prince think of love.
PATRICK
He cuts off CALEB.
He hasn’t really said yet. Been talking shit mostly.
ANDREW
Nothing new there. Well, dearest?
CALEB
Pheromones.
ANDREW
Pheromones?
CALEB
Pheromones, how we react to them, and the stories we tell about those reactions. That’s it, that’s love.
ANDREW
Pheromones?
CALEB
Yeah, you know the chemical scents we give off.
ANDREW
Yeah, I know what they are.
PATRICK
Are you fucking serious? Is that what you think it is? Nothing but pheromones.
CALEB
I didn’t say, “nothing but”. I said the chemicals, our reactions to them, and the stories we tell about those reactions. And it makes sense doesn’t it. It explains why we fall in love with people we are entirely incompatible with and too often don’t fall in love those that we are–they don’t give off the right chemicals.
ANDREW
You are a cynical and bitter old bastard.
CALEB
Why? Because I think the feelings we call love have a natural origin? We’re animals like all the other animals on this planet. If they react to chemicals, why shouldn’t we. Sure, we react differently to those chemicals and sure it’s an important difference, but saying its root cause is natural doesn’t make it any less special.
ANDREW
Maybe he’s being ironic.
CALEB
Fuck irony. Irony is for cowards.
ANDREW
What, you expect sincerity then?
CALEB
No way, that’s just as bad.
ANDREW
Well, I’ve never been sincere a day in my life. Scout’s honor!
CALEB
Yeah, I know. Irony is your shtick. Sincerity is his. Or should I say authenticity, Patrick?
PATRICK pours himself a drink and skulls it.
ANDREW
So how did we end up on the happy topic of love anyway.
He kochi coos CALEB.
Is somebody in love?
CALEB
Patrick is and I will give you one guess with whom.
ANDREW
Linda Rondstandt.
CALEB
Close. But no cigar. He’s in love with “Coral.”
ANDREW
Of course, he is. We all are.
CALEB
‘Tis true. But up until a few short minutes ago, Patrick thought he knew who “Coral” was and now he’s not so sure anymore.
ANDREW
Surely, there’s a toll-free number we can call. Perhaps, there’s a tag on her clothing somewhere.
CALEB
Better still, I think we should investigate.
ANDREW
A mission!
CALEB
A special-ops, in fact! In the interests of science!
ANDREW
Science can be fun!
CALEB
But we can’t just entrust this mission to anybody, can we?
ANDREW
No, It’s far too important for that. We need an agent! But not just any agent. No, a special agent!
CALEB
That’s right, we need a special agent. An agent who knows how to deal with women. An agent who shows initiative. An agent who is forceful. An agent who won’t take no for answer.
ANDREW
Sounds vaguely familiar.
CALEB
That’s right because the agent I’m thinking of is Patrick?
ANDREW
Patrick? Does he work for MI6 too?
CALEB
Yes, Patrick! He’s not afraid to cut to the heart of the matter. He doesn’t take no for an answer. He’s forceful. He shows initiative and he’s not afraid to find out who the real Coral is? Are you, Patrick? You’re not afraid. Are you?
PATRICK
Patrick skulls another drink and gets up to leave. At the door, he stops, realizes what he is going to go do, and faces the table.
Fuck, you Caleb.
He exits.
ANDREW
Jesus Christ, what the fuck are you on about, Caleb?
CALEB
What? It’s nothing. Rien. Shits and giggles. That’s all.
ANDREW
Shits and giggles? Shits and giggles? You’re laying it on a bit thick for shits and giggles, don’t you think?
CALEB
Nah. You weren’t here for the first part of the conversation, it’d make more sense.
ANDREW
More sense. Fine. Explain it to me then.
CALEB
Goes to explain, then stops.
It’s too complicated. Don’t worry about it.
ANDREW
Of course, I’m going to worry about it. He’s going to go maul her or something!
CALEB
What?! No, he’s not. He’s a bully. An emotional bully. Not a rapist.
ANDREW
It’s a pretty fine line, don’t you think?
CALEB
She can handle herself. She’s been repelling invaders like him her whole life. She’ll be fine.
ANDREW
This is different. You practically dared him to do something.
CALEB
What the hell are you talking about and what the hell does it have to do with anything?
ANDREW
In his weird little backward mind he thinks he has your permission to try something.
CALEB
My permission is irrelevant. Besides, he won’t do anything criminal.
ANDREW
How can you be so sure?
CALEB
Because he loves her. Right now, she is the most terrifying powerful thing in the world. She’s already won. He is a child staring into the face of God.
ANDREW
I don’t know, Caleb. I think you should do something.
CALEB
Why?
ANDREW
I don’t know. Because you should. That’s why?
CALEB
For fuck’s sake. Let me ask you this, if my name was “Coral”, and I had just sent Ginger after Roger, would you be telling me to do the same thing.
ANDREW
Yes. I don’t know. Maybe. What’s your point?
CALEB
My point, Andrew, is that Paris is dead.
ANDREW
What?
CALEB
Paris is dead.
ANDREW
Yeah, I heard you. What the hell does that have to do with anything?
CALEB
If Paris is dead, what then of Helen?
ANDREW
Jesus Christ, Caleb. This is no time for your literary wanker bullshit. Just go do something. We can argue about it later.
CALEB
I’m not doing anything.
ANDREW
Yes, you are. Go after him. Go stop him.
CALEB
Yeah. Nah. I don’t think so.
ANDREW
Why the fuck not?
CALEB
Because I think it’s about fucking time she did something a little more proactive than being seized and waiting around for another man to come and seize her again.
ANDREW
What the fuck are you on about?
CALEB
Look, Andrew, I don’t want to play this fucking part anymore. I grew up in a world and a time where I was told to find a new part to play. A different role. And you know what, I did. I have, I tried and I am still fucking trying. But, I thought part of the deal was that women would try to find a new part to play as well. I thought that was the whole point of this little script re-write. No one would be stuck playing bullshit parts they didn’t want to play anymore. So my fucking point, Andrew, is that if Paris is dead, and rightly so, she can’t keep trying to play mother-fucking Helen.
ANDREW
Jesus Christ, Caleb. This is not the time to take a stand on some bullshit socio-sexual literary theory crap.
CALEB
When is the right fucking time, then, Andrew? Huh? When? Someone’s got to stop playing this fucking game, if we are ever going to start a new one. Don’t you think?
CALEB pours himself another drink.
ANDREW
Fuck it. Forget about it. I’ll go after him. I’ll look after it. I’ll make sure nothing happens. I always fucking do.
CALEB
He reflects on the situation. He drinks and then tops up. With no one in the room, it becomes apparent that he is very drunk.
Fuck.
CALEB eventually notices FEMALE writing in her journal. As CALEB focuses on her, THOMAS walks past the doorway with some bags of take-away food. He is wearing a plaid shirt, old faded jeans, scruffy shoes, a baseball hat, etc. He notices CALEB and watches him watching FEMALE. FEMALE eventually feels CALEB watching and she starts to look up. CALEB avoids her gaze by looking towards the doorway. THOMAS notices CALEB turning and carries on so CALEB never sees THOMAS. CALEB watches the empty doorway for a moment and FEMALE watches him. As CALEB turns back, FEMALE returns to her journal. CALEB watches her write for a moment and then looks away, returning to his train of thought.
Fuck.
SFX: The crack of a bat on ball, sounds of cheers. Announcer: “It’s going, going, gone. That one’s out of here folks.” If possible, the actual audio and CTV colour commentary of Joe Cater hitting the home run would be best.
LIGHTS
Act III
On stage, there are three televisions. On each TV, running on a loop, in slightly slow motion, the actor playing MALE gives a performance quality rendition of KATHERINE’s speech from The Taming of the Shrew, 5:.2 It is the male actor and not the male character who gives the performance and he plays it as a woman.
The shot is a tight close-up and shows only KATHERINE’s face. The image and his diction should be clear enough that his lips could be read by a member of the audience. The words of the speech might also be projected. The lines to be performed are:
KATHERINE
Fie, fie, unknit that threat’ning, unkind brow,
And dart not scornful glances from those eyes
To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor.
It blots thy beauty as frosts do bite the meads,
Confounds thy fame as whirlwinds share fair buds,
And in no sense is meet or amiable.
A woman moved is like a fountain troubled,
Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft of beauty,
And while it is so, none so dry or thirsty
Will deign to sip or touch one drop of it.
Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper,
Thy head, thy sovereign, one that cares for thee,
And for thy maintenance commits his body
To painful labor both by sea and land,
To watch the night in storms, the day in cold,
Whilst thou liest warm at home, secure and safe,
And craves no other tribute at thy hands
But love, fair looks, and true obedience,
Too little payment for so great a debt.
Such duty as the subject owes the prince,
Even such a woman oweth to her husband,
And when she is froward, peevish, sullen, sour,
And not obedient to his honest will,
What is she but a foul contending rebel,
And graceless traitor to her loving lord?
The three VOICEs are frozen on stage and each strikes a different pose.
VOICE 1 adopts a cliché fashion/model pose in a playful, childish, and self-consciously ironic fashion. She wears quirky, ironic, girlie almost childish clothing (e.g. a frilly glittery skirt/dress, bright tights, mismatched socks, custom jewellery, bright Chuck-Taylor’s, quirky T-shirt, peculiar coat, etc.). She wears make-up, but it’s whimsical, child-like and she’s probably not put it on very well. (e.g. bright inappropriate colours, glitter, etc). Her hair is done in some kind of wacky pig-tails affair, maybe some ribbon, bows, or beads. She is played by the actor who played ANDREW.
VOICE 2 adopts a cliché hyper-sexy-fashion pose with absolute seriousness and conviction. She wears stereotypically young sexy clothing (e.g. micro-skirt, high-heels, tight top, cleavage, plenty of skin, or whatever is fashionable and hyper-sexy). Her make-up is heavy and it is almost a mask. She is played by the actor who played PATRICK.
VOICE 3 adopts a pose of self-conscious indifference that is overtly and stereotypically masculine. She wears stereotypical butch clothing (Loose-fitting jeans or cargo-pants/shorts, work boots, doc martins or Birkenstocks, dark tank top, etc.). Her hair should be cut short. She wears no make-up or the absolute basics. She is played by the actor who played THOMAS.
MALE lies on his back, sleeping on a bed-high platform. His clothing is nondescript, neutral (Shorts and a white T-shirt, perhaps).
FEMALE sits downstage, wearing what MALE wears, with feminine accents. She carefully watches and listens to the VOICEs. This is a performance largely for her benefit.
1 (WITH 2 & 3 BELOW)
I forget sometimes.
2 (WITH 1 & 3)
I forget sometimes.
3 (WITH 1 & 2 ABOVE)
I forget sometimes.
3
When I am running, doing, being.
2
And then I remember.
1
As if a kind of bad joke.
3
And then I am reminded.
1
Sometimes, it’s a look.
2
Sometimes, it’s a touch
3
Sometimes, it isn’t an assault.
1 (WITH 2 & 3 BELOW)
And I am reminded.
2 (WITH 1 & 3)
And I am reminded.
3 (WITH 1 & 2 ABOVE)
And I am reminded.
2
Of what I see.
3
Of what he sees.
1
Of what we all see.
1 (WITH 2 & 3 BELOW)
And what should we see?
2 (WITH 1 & 3)
And what should we see?
3 (WITH 1 & 2 ABOVE)
And what should we see?
2
In his eyes.
3
In my eyes.
1
In our eyes.
2
VOICE 2 steps forward, as if admiring herself in a mirror.
I see desire.
3
You see only an object of his desire.
2
I feel strength.
3
You feel only the sugar rush of a candied narcotic.
2
I have power!
3
A power that exists only though his desire, his will, his actions.
2
He eats out of the palm of my hand.
3
You’re feeding him!
2
I have him by the balls.
3
You’re servicing him!
2
His cock is between my teeth.
3
You are on your knees.
2
I am in control.
3
You will choke!
2
I am everything he wants, everything he needs, I have the power.
3
You are a fantasy, an accessory, an idiot, you are nothing.
2
What do you see then?
3
Pushing in front, she strikes a masculine pose in front of the mirror.
I see strength.
2
You have made yourself in his image.
3
I compete on equal footing.
2
You’ve forsaken the only weapon you’ve ever had. Will ever have.
3
He respects me.
2
He patronizes you.
3
He recognizes me.
2
He recognizes in you only himself and ridicules that which he is not.
3
I am his peer.
2
You are a puppet, a pawn, a monkey dressed in man’s clothing, you are a fool.
1
You’re both living a dream that imprisons us all.
2
I beg your pardon?
3
What, she speaks does she?
1
Only when I must.
2
Oh, I see, and that time is now.
1
So it seems.
3
And what is it that you have no choice but to say?
1
She points at 2.
You are a fantasy he created and forced upon us.
She points at 3.
You are a fantasy he created for himself. Both of you are living out his fantasy. Both of you are fools.
2 and 3 take hold of 1 haul her before the mirror.
2 (WITH 3 BELOW)
What do you see, then?
3 (WITH 2 ABOVE)
What do you see, then?
1
I see nothing!
2
What?
1
Either-neither! Neither-either!
3
Talk sense, child.
1
I am invisible.
2
And what’s the point of that?
1
I come and go as I please. I am free.
3
Free to do nothing. Free to disappear.
1
He expects nothing of me and I expect nothing of him.
2
He wants nothing from you, and you get nothing in return.
1
He means nothing to me.
3
And you mean nothing to him
2 and 3 let 1 drop in a heap to the floor.
2 (WITH 3 BELOW)
You are a ghost, meaningless.
3 (WITH 2 ABOVE)
A joke.
2
She points to MALE
So, what about him then?
3
It always comes back to him doesn’t it.
1
What about him?
2
When he took our hand, when he asked us to stand, we did nothing.
3
So what?
2
Why did we do nothing?
3
What difference does it make?
2
I’m curious.
1
Curiosity only kills the cat!
3
Who cares? It’s irrelevant. What’s the point?
2
But, I want to know why.
3
Why what?
2
I want to know why we did nothing, when he only asked us to stand.
1
Why ask why?
2
I don’t know. I just do.
3
I suppose it may be worth knowing. For future reference.
1
No, no, no. Danger, danger. Here there be dragons!
2
Exactly.
3
Exactly.
1
Exactly.
2 and 3 stare at each other, daring each other to go first. After a moment, they both turn on Voice 1, drag her over to where MALE sleeps.
3
Explain yourself.
2
Why did you do nothing when he took your hand and asked you to stand?
1
There’s nothing to explain, really.
2 (WITH 3 BELOW)
Explain yourself.
3 (WITH 2 ABOVE)
Explain yourself.
1
There’s nothing to know, really.
3
Explain yourself!
1
There’s nothing, I swear
2
Talk!
1
When he took my hand, and he asked me to stand, when he said he only needed me to stand, I pretended not to understand. I pretended because I did understand and I didn’t want the decision to be mine.
She sits.
Silly Boy. I never said no. I never said yes. I never said anything at all. I refused to decide. That way nothing can happen. That way there won’t ever be …
She punches her two fists together and lets her hand falls into her lap.
I don’t think I could bear it again.
2
In empathy, she sits with 1.
When he took my hand, and he asked me to stand, when he said he only needed me to stand, I also understood what he asked, but I ignored him. I ignored him because he wasn’t playing the right game–the game I had mastered. He was playing a different game, a strange game, and because I didn’t know it, I feared I might lose. So I ignored him. I had to. I can’t afford to lose.
3
In empathy, she sits with 1 and 2, making a circle.
When he took my hand, and he asked me to stand, when he said he only needed me to stand, I also understood, but I resisted him. I’ve been fighting so long and so hard, that when he came to me peacefully I didn’t know what else to do. I only know how to fight. How to resist. To withstand. So, when he asked me to stand, I could offer only resistance. My survival has always depended upon it.
2
I want to be near him. I would like that, I think.
1
But then I am afraid.
3
So I stand apart.
1
He doesn’t understand.
2
Or maybe he does.
1
And that is even more frightening.
3
This is mine. I am mine.
1
I we me mine.
3
I, you, we worked, so hard to make me mine.
2
Sharing now. So soon. Too soon.
1
Near him, by him, with him.
3
I am afraid I will lose mine.
1
Near him by him with him,
2
I want to lose mine.
2 (WITH 3 BELOW)
Near him by him with him.
3 (WITH 2 ABOVE)
Near him by him with him.
1
I am lost
1 (WITH 2 & 3 BELOW)
Near him by him with him–into him.
2 (WITH 1 & 3)
Near him by him with him–into him.
3 (WITH 1 & 2 ABOVE)
Near him by him with him–into him.
2
He doesn’t realize he is a siren.
3
Drawing me to the edge of an abyss.
2
I have no mast.
3
I have no sailors.
1
I have no one.
1 (2 & 3 BELOW)
To tie me to the mast. I am alone. Alone. So, alone.
2 (1 & 3)
To tie me to the mast. I am alone. Alone. So, alone.
3 (WITH 1 & 2 ABOVE)
To tie me to the mast. I am alone. Alone. So, alone.
The VOICES take turns uttering all the different sounds that can be found in the word ‘alone’ (i.e. a, lo, ne, alo, lone, own, lu, etc), eventually making the sounds in no particular order, until it is only a noisy babbling gibberish they share. At some point the game is fun, but eventually the voices fall silent in resignation.
2
So, what about him, then?
3
What about him?
1
What about him?
3
She leaves the circle. Breaking the circle,
It always comes back to him doesn’t it.
2
She stands, struts off, preening.
Not him, particularly. There will always be others to choose from.
3
I don’t need him or any of the others, thank you very much.
2
She turns to 1
And what about you?
3
Yes, you!
Voice 1, makes a wide-eyed and childish shrug.
Well. Come on.
2
Out with it.
1
I already said.
2
And what did you say?
1
Don’t you remember.
3
Speak, child.
1
I said I don’t choose, alright. I don’t choose. I don’t choose. I don’t choose.
3
Weakling.
1
I don’t want him to choose either.
2
Coward.
1
I don’t want any choices at all.
3
Shut up.
She goes to MALE.
I suppose we can’t leave him sleeping.
1
Why not? Of course, we can.
2
He’s certainly of no use to me asleep.
1
He’s perfect when he’s asleep! Beautiful. A baby!
3
I suppose he has a right to know. He really should know one way or the other.
1
What’s knowing, really? None of us ever really know.
2
He could be of some use to me yet, I suppose.
1
Best to let him be. Let sleeping dogs lie. Lie lie lie lie.
3
I think it’s best he know. To avoid confusion. To have clear boundaries.
2
Give him a glimpse of what he might have, if he only learns to play the right game.
1
No, no, no, no, no nooooo …
It turns into a temper tantrum screech.
Hereafter, the voices do not speak again.
2 and 3 watch each other, hesitating, deciding who will go first. Finally, 3 takes charge and goes first. She kisses MALE briskly and firmly on the forehead, giving his shoulder a firm wake-up shake. MALE does not stir. 3 sighs loudly. It is as she expected and she does not care. She storms off stage.
VOICE 2 goes next. She kisses MALE sensually, genuinely, and seriously on the lips. She looks at MALE expectantly. When he does not stir, she is surprised, genuinely confused, and then hurt. She tells herself she doesn’t care and departs with her head held high, strutting.
VOICE 1 goes next. She makes a show of her awkwardness and uncertainty about kissing MALE. It is a performance of awkward twisting limbs movements, rolling eyes, and child-like “kissing-is-gross” faces . She almost kisses MALE and then kisses her finger-tips and presses them against MALE’s cheek. She is disappointed in herself. When MALE does not stir, she is “fatalized”. She scampers off-stage.
After a moment, FEMALE sets her books and pens aside, she turns off each television, and then sits by MALE, looking down at him. She places her hand on his chest and looks at him with an open, friendly and inquisitive gaze. After a moment, she speaks.
FEMALE
Do you want to come out and play?
MALE awakens and sees FEMALE smiling down at him. He returns the smile. He rises slowly, FEMALE moves away from him. Both are a little uncertain but excited.
The sounds of children playing and having fun emerges: “Tag, your it.”, “No, touch-backs”, “Ring around the Rosie”, “British Bulldog” or “Bulrush”, jump-rope songs, etc. should become audible. Eventually, children playfully chant, “Sam and Sam, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes baby in the baby carriage.”
Hereafter, MALE and FEMALE do not speak.
They are starting a game both want to play. MALE and FEMALE face each other. The mood is playful but serious. Eventually, they agree to start at the same time and do so. If one moves forward, the other moves away, as if they are magnets with the same charge. Unlike magnets, however, each movement forward and away, brings them a little closer together. They play as equals, neither dominating the other. Sometimes one seems to be winning, then the tide turns and the other seems to be winning. Points are scored both by pulling away and by moving closer. Points are taken, awarded, and conceded by each player, but there is no clear logic to the scoring–other than it is fun for both of them.
When they are within the range of “sexual-proximity”, they begin to desire each other, and the playful seriousness is replaced by a nervous-fear. Eye-contact is lost and the game becomes aggressive, ceases to be a game, and becomes a struggle. They move ever closer nevertheless.
When MALE and FEMALE are almost, but not quite in an embrace, each forces her-himself to re-establish eye-contact and, when they do, both remember it is only a game they are playing. Both relax, smile, and are again happy–even if a bit embarrassed by the misunderstanding. They move ever closer and the instant before a passionate, loving, and sexually-charged embrace–
LIGHTS OUT.
For more of my plays, click here.
[...] A Kind of Love Letter and Fair Thee Well to New Zealand NB: I wrote this a couple of years ago. I think what I say here about Kiwis may apply more generally than I first thought. It may also be the work of someone who doesn’t quite get another person or group of persons because he fails to understand him, her, and/or them on their own terms. I won’t know for sure until I visit again. The play to which I refer is Paris is Dead. [...]
A Kind of Love Letter and Fair Thee Well to New Zealand « Movement
December 10, 2008
[...] my plays Paris is Dead and Sunlight both grapple with these issues. Its an issue I’ve been chewing on for a [...]
The Times They Are A-Changing: Another Moment in the Alt-Beauty / Beauty Narrative « Movement
February 26, 2009
The girls in Paris wear tights and tunics now, with leather bombers. Though with the mention of Linda Ronstadt and the millenium, I gather this play was penned a few years back? Sweaters and jeans it is.
Great play. It’s making me think. I want to see it on stage.
ottawadiva
July 2, 2009
Thanks for reading and I am pleased you enjoyed it. Sounds like a good look.
Yes, the time in France discussed goes back a few years. When did the Blue Jays win the World Series for the second time …. ?
sterlinglynch
July 3, 2009