Transitions A Play By Fred Uebele Plot Synopsis:   This is a two-act, seriocomic play that features fifty-three characters going through events in their everyday lives. It is meant to be staged with five actors and five actresses, each playing approximately five different roles. One vignette follows another. They are connected by common phrases that two characters will say in unison. When one says it, it will be the end of their story; when the other says it at the same time, it is the beginning of theirs. Time passes constantly in this play. When it begins, the stage is barely lit as it is seven in the morning and dawn is breaking, stage left. At the end of Act One and beginning of Act Two, it is approximately two in the afternoon. Eventually, night falls in Act Two around the Grandma/Eric scene and the park lights "come on". By the end, it is pitch black with the exception of those park lights. Setting:   The setting is in and around an urban park in the middle of an unnamed city. Probably not as large as New York or Los Angeles nor as small as Denver or Seattle. Please see below for the stage set-up.
		Chronology of Scenes Act1                                                                         Act2 Scene1: Izzy and Claire                                               Scene1: Woman Scene2: Eddie and Liz                                                 Scene2: Man, Girl1, and Girl2 Scene3: Trevor and Janet                                            Scene3: Shirley, Beth, and Dr. Ward Scene4: Janet, Nick, and Patterson                               Scene4: Donna and Karen Scene5: Grace and Todd                                             Scene5: BoyStudents, GirlStudents, Scene6: Mira and James                                                          Professor, and Assistant Scene7: Ted, Devon, and Julie                                     Scene6: Grandma and Eric Scene8: Jenn, Denise, and Ned                                    Scene7: Jon, Amy, Maria, and Scene9: Carey and George                                                      Charlie                                                                                 Scene8: Taylor, Dana, Anshul, Amanda,                                                                                              and Mike                                                                                 Scene9: Eve and Frank                                                                                 Scene10: Natalie and Greg Division of Parts: (This is only recommended. Feel free to do whatever you want) Actor One:        Eddie, James, Man, BoyStudent2, and Anshul Actor Two:      Trevor, Ted, Dr. Ward, Eric, and Frank Actor Three:     Nick, George, Assistant, Jon, and Mike Actor Four:       Patterson, Ned, Professor, and Charlie Actor Five:       Todd, Devon, BoyStudent1, Taylor, and Greg Actress One:    Izzy, Julie, Shirley, GirlStudent1, Dana, and Natalie Actress Two:   Claire, Jenn, Girl1, GirlStudent2, and Amy Actress Three:  Liz, Mira, Woman, Donna, Grandma, and Eve Actress Four:   Janet, Carey, Girl2, Karen, and Maria Actress Five:    Grace, Denise, Beth, GirlStudent3, and Amanda                                                                            Act One (Izzy is dragging Claire into the park from stage left into park entrance. They are college-age. Dawn is breaking.) Izzy: Claire, just trust me. This is worth it. Claire: It's seven in the morning, Izzy. I have a test at ten and I need to finish a paper for tomorrow that I haven't even started. Nothing is worth whatever it is you're doing. (Izzy sits in park bench and forces Claire down) Izzy: Whatever. Just look that way (points offstage left) Claire: Oh my God. We're going to watch the sunrise aren't we? Izzy: Yeah. It'll be so cool. (directs her head back towards stage left) Claire: See . . . this is how I can tell you're from Iowa. Only someone from Iowa would wake up early, in college, to watch the sunrise. Izzy: Shut up or you'll miss it. Wait for it . . . almost there . . . and it's getting lighter; you'd swear that the sun were already out, but it isn't. And now . . . (lights come up to indicate sun) there's the first little circle raising its head. Look how brilliant it is, Claire. Claire: (actually impressed) Yeah. It's so . . . yellow. Izzy: Ha, ha. Claire: No, I'm serious. I've never seen it this yellow before. It's always a yellowy orange or whatever it is when it goes down. Izzy: I know you're serious. That's why I laughed a little. That’s the reaction I had when my dad woke me up early when I was six or seven and we watched it together. Claire: Nice memory. Izzy: Yeah. Course, when you're born and raised on a farm, you get to think about a lot of things out of boredom. Claire: Lived in the suburbs all my life. I can't even imagine that. Izzy: You end up creating your own little world. One time I even made a theory about life. Did I ever tell you about it? Claire: No. But are you sure you want to do it at 7 in the morning? I make no promises about remembering anything. Izzy: That's all right. Ok. (Claire turns to face Izzy) You know how I'm ridiculously forgetful about things? (Claire nods) And how I make connections that make no sense? Claire: How couldn't I? We were talking about The Shawshank Redemption once and you said you loved Saguaro cacti. Izzy: Well, you mentioned Morgan Freeman; what else was I going to think of? Claire: (pause) Huh? Izzy: Never mind. Anyway . . . Ok. Because I'm so forgetful and I make weird connections to other things and events, I believe that thought consists of a never-ending spiral. However, I don't know if it's a spiral that starts in the center and spirals outward or one that starts on the outside and spirals endlessly until it hits the center. You with me? Claire: (considers) Yeah. Izzy: Kay. Now, if you turn that into a 3-D image, you have a cone that's either upright or one that’s inverted. Now if you put these in line with each other, they line up. You can then connect them: The one that starts on the outside and spirals upward and center ward hits the top and then continues over to the one that starts at the top center and spirals downward and outward and it goes on and on and on and on. Claire: Wait . . . if you connect them. Then you go from top to bottom to top to bottom . . . that's like a sine curve, isn't it? Izzy: Hee. Yeah. And if you move one a half period over, you have nodes where they cancel out and my thoughts connect . . . you also have high or low points where my thoughts have no connection at all. Now . . . if you 3-D that, what do you get? Claire: A ribbon? Izzy: Close. A double helix. Claire: DNA. Izzy: Exactly. So my theory is that life is based on thought. As long as you're thinking, you're alive. When you're sleeping, you're not quite thinking. You just have a random semblance of thoughts that don't even follow the spiral, so you dream things that don't make sense. Claire: Wow. It's early on a Thursday and I've had life explained to me. Izzy: Don't worry about it. In five hours, you'll have analyzed it more and you'll be more awake and it won't make sense anymore. Claire: (rebuffing her) Yes, it will. I've actually thought about this before and it makes perfect sense. It explains why science and religion haven't fulfilled us at all. Izzy: Perhaps . . . but I was thinking about how it makes perfect sense now. Ya know why? Claire: Why? Izzy: Because we're waking up. The strands are beginning to form spirals as I speak. Thus, we're going through the process right now, which makes it more susceptible to belief. Claire: That makes sense. Izzy: Of course. Claire: (fake) Ahhhhhhh!! Jeez. I knew I shouldn't have let you do this. Izzy: I would've done it sooner or later. Claire: God knows, you would've. I can't believe I let you drag me out of bed at seven in the morning just for this. Izzy: Wasn't it worth it? Claire: I guess so . . . but now I'm gonna be thinking about spirals and circular logic and . . . and life for the whole day. Izzy: At least you'll be thinking about something. Claire: Ya know, before I roomed with you, I thought about this stuff a lot, but I would've never have even thought about telling my friends about it. They would've called me a nerd and shit. But with you . . . it's nice. I really didn't think we'd get along at the beginning of the year. Izzy: I'm not surprised, actually. Claire: Really?! Izzy: Nope. When I first came here, I was skeptical of you, too. You ran with the "popular" crowd. I hate that and I hate those people. Claire: (sarcastically) Thanks a lot. Izzy: No, no. Let me finish. Then I observed you while you weren't doing your homework and realized that you were incredibly self-motivated and knew what you were doing. Claire: You watched me? Studied me? Izzy: Well, yeah . . . everyone else does it to everyone else. At least I'm doing the favor by telling you about it. Most people just stare from afar. Claire: (laughs) You're crazy. Hey . . . I think the cafeteria's open. Let's grab grub. All this thinking I've done has made me hungry. Izzy: Kay. (gets up) Claire: (they begin walking off stage left) Ya know. This is the first real thinking I've done since college started. Izzy: (mockingly) You didn't actually think college was for teaching and learning; did you?  (Eddie and Liz come on from stage right sidewalk. They are homeless and can be of any age.  They have been talking.) Claire: Ummm. I'm gonna have waffles to  warm me up. It’s freezing out here. (and they’re           Eddie: (to Liz) It’s freezing out here. off)                                                                                    (continues) Eddie: I think that's the coldest it's been this winter. Liz: Gotta be. Look. (points to the park) Even the leaves are fallin’ off the trees. Eddie: Ya know when the shelters open this year? Liz: Dunno. Same time they always do I imagine; ‘round the beginning of November. They better soon. This guy at the other end of the alley from me was dead this morning. Eddie: (stops) You're jokin’. Liz: Nope. Passed him when I woke up and looked at him. He was gone. Ya know how you can tell when they're gone. I kicked him to make sure. Nothin'. Eddie: Well, I said it was cold, but I sure didn't think it was that cold. Jeez. Liz: Surprised me, too. Then, I checked his stuff . . . Nothin’ that was any good. Eddie: The dead ones never got anything on ‘em that’s any good for anyone else. Liz: Hey. (squints, looks off stage left) What‘s the clock say? Can't see in this damn light. Eddie: Uh . . . 7:30. Yeah. 7:30. Liz: 7:30? Even the sun's coming up later now than it was. (yawns, stretches. They both pause center stage) Ugh. Can't wait for those shelters to open. Sleepin' on the concrete in this cold is hurtin’ like a bitch in the morning. Eddie: I found a great spot that the cops almost never check. It's this park that's right next to the Hartles Insurance building. It's small and if you get behind the benches no one sees ya’. Liz: Sounds good. Remind me to check it out tonight. Eddie: Yeah. Not like this damn park (gestures over his head) The cops are always crawling over this place and people with their damn dogs shittin' all over the grass. Don't even realize what a luxury it is to even own a damn dog. Liz: I used to own a dog. Eddie: Really? Liz: Yeah. Llittle thing. When I was a kid. What was his name? Fido, Rex, Spot? Somethin’ like that. Eddie: Uh-huh. Liz: My family wasn't the most original in the world. Eddie: Uh-huh. So where you headed today? Liz: Figured I'd try my luck at the 20th Street Station. Haven't been there in awhile so the cops shouldn't notice me too soon. You? Eddie: I’ve been going down to City Hall for awhile. The money you get really ain’t bad. Ya know. Get some of the high priced lawyers and all to give a little; see if ya can get something from their guilt. Liz: Come with me to the station. It's easier that way. Besides . . . it's really easy to get money from the travelers. They're so nervous to be away from home that they'll give you anything to get away from them. (laughs) Eddie: (laughs a little) Ok. Why not? Tell ya what. We can even keep a watch out for cops together. Trade places and that stuff.. Liz: All right, Ale…wait…Andrew? No…Eddie. That’s it. Eddie Eddie: Yes. Liz: I can’t believe I couldn’t remember that. I'm Liz. Eddie: I know. Liz: (unfazed, as if she didn’t hear him) My parents named me after Queen Elizabeth. Kinda funny they would name me after someone rich and famous. Eddie: I don't know who I was named after. No idea, actually. Liz: Yeah. How long since you been in the 9 to 5 world? Eddie: Couple years. Been all over with jobs. I've been a short-order cook, newspaper vendor, custodian for a coupla buildings. I really liked the short-order job, though. Liz: Why? Eddie: It was pretty easy and I'm good at cooking. Besides, if I got hungry, I could just make a burger and say that someone else had screwed up an order. Free food is good food. And being in front of a warm cooktop all day? Never had to worry about freezing like I do now. Liz: Nice. Eddie: What about you? Ever been a waitress? Maybe we worked at the same place without knowin' it. Liz: Well, I've been a maid for all the hotels in this city. Eddie: Get out! Liz: No, really. If it's in a ten mile radius of downtown, I've cleaned the rooms of it. It's so hard to keep a job at them, though. Every other week, they'd have a bunch of new people who'd be working for less. Most of the time, they didn't even speak English. Like they were just off the boat or something. (Trevor comes from stage left sidewalk and sits on bus bench. He is in his late 50s/early 60s and dressed for casual walking) Eddie: They probably were. That's how I lost most of my custodian jobs. I had even put in a security deposit for this little studio when they fired me. Said that I should either accept the new pay cuts or look elsewhere. I looked elsewhere. (pause) Didn't work. Then I tried to pull the money out of that studio and they said it was a security deposit or somethin’. I didn’t understand what the hell they meant by that so I just got the hell outta there. Liz: Yeah. Times are rough for everyone, it seems. 'Cept if you're rich and you can do whatever. Eddie: Always gonna be the rich, though, ain't there? Liz: Yep. (pause) We'd better get over to the 20th Street if we want a good spot right by the entrance. (Janet walks across from stage right sidewalk to the bus bench and sits; in her 30s and looks professional) Eddie: I guess so. Hope they're feelin' giving today. I'm starving. (they begin to walk off stage left) Liz: I was lucky. I had enough for a sandwich last night. Ham on rye. Just like my mother used to make. Eddie: Ham on rye? I used to make those all the time. That and BLTs and Clubs. BLTs were a bitch because the customers never wanted to wait for ‘em. Always hated (same time) waitin‘.                     Trevor: (same time) Waiting for the 34? (they are off)     Janet: Yeah. (silence) Trevor: I remember when it was still called the Downtown Express. Janet: Oh, really? Trevor: Yes, ma’am. Downtown Express stopped at every odd-numbered street from here to the suburbs. What was the name of that driver? Ralph? . . . No. Rob . . ? No. Roger! That was it. Roger Janet: Roger? (triggers a memory) Trevor: Yes. Roger O’Reilly. One of those typical mean-tempered Irishmen. A real drunkard, too. Janet: Roger. (starts crying) Trevor: Oh, yeah. Roger was a real character. (notices her crying) Oh, I’m sorry, miss. I hope I didn’t offend you. (pause) Are you Irish? Janet: No . . . no. It’s just . . . Roger was the name of my ex-husband. Trevor: Roger O’Reilly? Janet: No. Not O’Reilly. Alexander. The name just made me think of him again. Trevor: I’m sorry I . . . Janet: Don’t be sorry. It brings back good memories. That’s the problem (pause) That’s the problem. Trevor: This must have been pretty recent if you're still reacting like this. Janet: It was only ten days ago. Trevor: Oh my. If I wouldn’t be intruding; why did he leave? He is the one who left? Janet: Oh, yes. He’s the one who left. He said I was constraining him. Said he felt like every day I was suffocating him. I was too obsessed with my job, he said. Trevor: What do you do? Janet: I’m a realtor, Janet Alex . . . Trevor: ander. Of course, I knew your face was familiar. I’ve seen it on billboards all over town. “Need a home?” Trevor and Janet: “Plan it with Janet.” Janet: Yeah. (lightly sarcastic) I never get tired of hearing that. (has stopped crying) Trevor: Well, Janet Alexander, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Trevor Hubbard, retired accountant. Janet: Nice to meet you. (they shake hands) Trevor: If you don’t mind my asking, what’s a fancy realtor like you doing catching a bus. Janet: Oh, it’s just easier than finding a parking place down here. Besides, I like the bus. The people are always fascinating to watch. Trevor: That. We are in perfect agreement on. Some people don’t, though. Say they’re dirty and you don’t even know who was on ‘em before you. Snobs . . . that’s what I call those people. Janet: Roger didn’t like the bus, though. He said he couldn’t think with all the noise. Trevor: (chuckles) Roger again? Janet: Oh. I’m afraid he’s on my mind a lot. It’s hard to forget the things people you love say to you. Especially the bad things (beginning to break again) But he couldn’t even say them to my face. He just left a letter! And didn’t even say “Love, Roger,” (pause) just “Sincerely.” Trevor: What a coward! You deserve more than “sincerely” Janet: I thought so, too. Trevor: Well, don’t you cry. You’re better off without him. Janet: How do you know? Trevor: Well, I . . . I don’t, but I’m sure that you’ll find someone who appreciates your . . . your drive. Janet: Thank you (pushes aside her hair) Trevor: Oh, my! Janet: What? Trevor: Just. What you did just then. Moving aside your hair. You looked just like my Jenny. Janet: Jenny? Trevor: My daughter. She’s almost thirty-six now. Janet: Oh, does she live far away from here? Trevor: Yeah. Three thousand miles away. At least that’s where she was last December when I found her at Christmas. Janet: Found her? Trevor: Yup. She travels all over the place. She’s one of those artist types that float all over the place. Never been really employed a day in her life; stays with friends all the time. Janet: That must be difficult for her. Trevor: Difficult for her? It’s hard on me and my wife! Think of our embarrassment. Whenever anyone asks me how she’s doing; what are we supposed to say? She’s backpacking her way across America staying with people she met three hours ago? Janet: What’s wrong with that? Trevor: Well, it isn’t exactly a job; being an artist. A doctor, a lawyer, a teacher, heck, a realtor, that’s a job. Janet: Does she know you feel this way? Trevor: Yeah. Me and the missus told her that if she was going to move out and do her art thing, she’d be out on her own. Janet: Maybe that’s why she’s stayed away. Trevor: No . . . no. She knows that if she just settles down and finds a man, we won’t hold a grudge. We’re good Christians, Mrs. Alexander, the missus and I. The Lord is all about forgiveness and if that’s good enough for him, then it’s good enough for us. Janet: (realizing hopelessness of situation) I’m sure everything will work out. Trevor: Kind words, ma‘am. Kind words. Janet: (peering off towards upstage left) Isn’t that our bus? Trevor: I think it is. (sees Janet getting up) Allow me (helps her up) Janet: Thank you. (Ellen and Nick frantically come on from stage right park. They are both campaign workers waiting for their boss. Nick is youngish 20s and Ellen is late 30s) Trevor: My pleasure. Janet: This traffic. It’s terrible.                                     Ellen: (to Nick, at same time as Janet) It’s            Might as well go up to it. (they walk off upstage                    terrible! left) Nick: Yeah, he said he just doesn’t feel like his heart’s in it anymore. (they pause in park center) Ellen: Great. This is just fucking great. Who’s done all the grunt work for him to win reelection? Us, that’s who. What a selfish bastard! Nick: Say it louder, Ellen. He is coming to meet us, ya know. He might hear you next time. Ellen: Fine. I will. People shouldn’t be allowed to change their minds when it affects other people. I mean . . . you know what I mean. Nick: No, I don’t. He didn’t do this to hurt us. Ellen: But it does hurt us, doesn’t it. Nick: Well, of course. Ellen: And do you think Patterson even thought about us or the other twenty people that he just fired? Nick: No. Probably not. (Patterson enters unnoticed from stage left and walks through park entrance towards Ellen and Nick) Ellen: (sighs) This makes us unemployable. I can see the look on everyone’s face. “’Oh you worked for Ted Patterson. The one who quit a week before the election.’” This is horrible. Patterson: Actually (Ellen and Nick jump) it isn’t. It’s bad and . . . pretty stupid. But it’s not really horrible. Ellen: Bill! Patterson: (correcting) Mr. Patterson. Ellen: Mr. Patterson (pause) Are you sure you've given enough thought to this? Patterson: Yes (chuckles) Yes, I have. Ellen: I don’t think you realize the consequences of your decision, Mr. Patterson. This is really stu . . . Nick: What Ellen means to say is . . . Patterson: Stop. Both of you. Ellen, how old am I? Ellen: Sixty-eight? Patterson: Sixty-nine, but close. So, I’ve got maybe (pause) fifteen years left. Nick: More like twenty. Patterson: Yes. If I were an optimist and if I ate better and if I quit smoking and blah, blah, blah. Ellen: So what, Bill? Ya wanta “spend more time with the family.” Patterson: My, my. Aren’t we more of a bitch today than usual? Nick: I hardly think that was necessary. Patterson: Shut up, Nick. (pauses) I’m sorry. That was unnecessary. Nick, I hired you personally. I saw your resume. Why did you go to NYU for two years and then transfer to Cornell for the final three? Nick: I changed majors. NYU didn’t offer political science. Patterson: So you had made a mistake? Nick: I guess so. Patterson: Well, I made a mistake about twenty years ago. And I need to correct it. Ellen: Twenty years ago? Patterson: I voted against a package that would have put clean air restrictions on factories and plants all across America. It was a good bill. Nick: I remember reading about that. It failed by five votes. Ellen: Rumor had it that James Levine bribed people to vote it down. (realize) Oh shit, Bill…he bribed you, didn’t he? Patterson: Yes. He came into my office and talked to me for two hours about the hardship of the American factory worker. It was a bunch of crap, but I listened to it. I thought maybe he’d have a good point. Then he left. He also left behind a suitcase full of fifteen thousand dollars. Ellen: So? Patterson: So . . . I was bribed. Ellen: But you never got caught. Nick: It’s bound to come out sooner or later, though. Ellen: Be quiet, Nick. (pointing to Patterson) You self-righteous asshole! You’re going to put twenty/thirty people out of work because you have a conscience now. Patterson: I won’t have people finding out that I was corrupt. Ellen: Corrupt! The public knows the government’s corrupt. If it weren’t, then they would be shocked and surprised. Nick: Ellen, stop screaming. Ellen: No, I'm not bottling up my emotions for you. You son of a bitch. You really have it all worked out, don't you? Just leave and never return. For one mistake that no one even knows about. . . Patterson: (pauses, realizes) You're right! I can’t do that! Ellen: I am? . . . er . . . I'm glad you realize the foolishness of the decision. Patterson: I do. If I just leave, I'll never pay for my mistake. Ellen: What? (genuinely puzzled) Patterson: Nick, I want to hold a press conference. Tell all the major affiliates that I have a statement to make about my campaign. Nick: What's the statement? Patterson: Well that I'm dropping out, of course. Ellen: Then what the hell was this sudden realization? Patterson: At this press conference, I'm going to tell them about the bribe. (Nick and Ellen gape) Nick: (after pause) That's a bad idea, Mr. Patterson. Ellen: It's political suicide. Patterson: So what if it’s suicide, I never said I was coming back. (this creates speechless effect) Nick: That may be so but . . . Patterson: But nothing. I'm going out at the top of my game. This is perfect (almost giddy) God, I feel like I've been given a new lease on life. Well, come on, Nick. Off you go. Nick: O . . . kay. (leaves slowly stage right) Ellen: (once he's gone) They'll crucify you. Patterson: I know. But I feel marvelous now. Ellen: It's not fair (beginning to show emotion) Patterson: What? Ellen: How could you take that bribe? (Grace runs from stage left into park and throws herself on park bench; in her mid 30s) Patterson: (takes awhile to realize) You're still hung up on that? Ellen: (shouting) Of course I am! Why do you think that I applied to your campaign? You were everything I believed in. Integrity, the way you voted on issues, the way you spoke. I idolized you. You were the people’s spokesman . . . my representative. Patterson: Do you still believe in the issues? Ellen: Yes. Why . . . Patterson: Then the only thing you've lost is your trust in me. Ellen, I don’t even have the isssues anymore. I gave them up twenty years by taking a briefcase. But you still have them. You will survive. Ellen: Yeah (tired, exhausted) I'm going to take a walk. I need to clear my head. Patterson: Good idea. It's a lovely day. I think I'll head back to headquarters and tell everyone down there. I'll see you at the press conference? Ellen: Of course. (Todd enters from stage left, sees Grace, and heads towards her; in her mid 30s) Patterson: I knew I would. (Patterson exits stage           Todd: (to Ellen, same time as Patterson) I right sidewalk, Ellen exits stage right through                         knew I would find you here. park) Todd: (pauses) I'm going to take that as a 'no'. Grace: (looks at him) How could you do that to me? Todd: (approaches her) I didn't really look at it as doing something to you. I thought (she's backing away from him, so he stops) . . . I thought this was something we both wanted. Grace: We've known each other for three months. I hadn't dated anyone for a year before you and now you think it's okay to just ask me to marry you? In the morning?! Todd: I love you. Grace: And I love you, too, (faces him) but I just don't know yet. I don't even know how you can know already. Todd: Grace. When I saw you for the first time at that bookstore, when we both reached for that copy of Timequake, I knew that I wanted to get to know everything about you. And then (she turns away from him, he grabs her gently and turns her around to face him) and then when we went out for dinner and a movie and I got to know you, I knew that I wanted to spend more time with you. And now that I have, I never want to leave you. Grace: (breaks free of him) Todd. I have enjoyed every moment of time we've spent together, but I can't make this kind of commitment right now. Todd: Why not? Grace: I don't know. You're great, but . . . I can't. Not this soon in our relationship. Todd: Grace. I . . . when is anything like this ever going to happen again. Grace: Excuse me? Todd: Neither of us is getting any younger, Grace. I'm thirty-six; you're thirty-eight. When are you . . . when are either of us ever going to meet anyone who shares as many interests as we do? Grace: Todd, it's not that I want to trade you in or anything like that, but . . . the interests we share. Todd: (interrupting) We share so many interests. Grace: (overlapping) I know. I never thought I would find someone else who loved Schubert’s Quintet in C; let alone actually played it! Todd: Doesn't that count for something? Grace: It accounts for so much, Todd. It accounts for why we've spent so much time together. It accounts for how much I've loved every minute we've spent together. But . . . I don't know if it accounts for marrying you. (pause) For loving you. Todd: (in shock) You don't love me?! Grace: Of course I love you. And I think I'm in love with you. But I have no idea if I want to marry you. Todd: Grace, all a marriage needs is love. If we both have that, what else could we possibly need? Grace: Time . . . to grow as a couple. I thought that when I met the man I should marry, a little bell would go off in my head to tell me not to let him get away. Todd: (pause) No bell? Grace: Not exactly. I get feelings that I would be happy with you for the rest of my life. But the rest of my life is so much time to plan . . . Todd: Marriage is a chance. Even if you wait a hundred years, you won't be sure; no one's ever one hundred percent sure. Grace: I know. But I want to be more sure than I am now. Todd: And when will that be? Six months? A year? Two years? Grace: I don't know. Todd . . . I haven't scheduled the next two years of my life yet. Todd: I know . . . I know. (sighs) This feels so right, though. Grace: It does feel right. But marriage is a final commitment (interrupted) Todd: Oh, Grace, if it didn't work out, we'd get a divorce. That's all right with me. Grace: But it's not all right with me! Marriage is a lifelong proposition, Todd, and it scares the hell out of me. I don't know how you can look at it so casually. Todd: I don't look at it casually. I just don't want to not do something because I'm scared. I don‘t mind taking a chance and failing miserably. Grace: Yes, but not after only three months. You don't know how I am when relationships don't work out. I never talk to the guy again. I don't want that to happen to us. Todd: It won't. Grace: (pause) How do you know? Todd: Because . . . I don't. Grace: I've had so many bad relationships. I don't want us to turn into a yelling match. Todd: It has been only three months, hasn't it? Grace: Two and a half, really. I've been rounding up. Todd: Oh wow . . . I don't even know when your birthday is. Grace: (laughs) Don't worry. It's not for a couple of months. And you haven't even met my Ashley yet. Todd: Who's Ashley? Grace: My daughter (Todd whirls) kidding . . . Todd. The fact that, for a moment, you thought I was serious shows that we need to give this more time. You need to meet my parents. Todd: And you need to meet mine. Grace: Exactly. Time can only help us in the long run, Todd. Todd: I guess so. Thanks . . . Grace: Don't thank me. And I'm sorry for making you look like a fool at that restaurant. (they kiss). When  I screamed and ran out. (they kiss again) Todd: It's all right. Would you like to go back there now? As simply a couple people who are seriously dating? Grace: I'd love to. Todd: I'm glad. Grace: You know, Todd, they say that time only makes the heart grow fonder. (Mira and James enter from stage right sidewalk already in conversation. They are both in their fifties and appear to dressed like college professors) Todd: Time? (pause) I thought it was absence. Grace: I hope it isn't absence because as long as the time is spent with you, absence is something I don’t want. (they walk off stage left)          Mira: (to James) …something I don’t want. Mira: I’d never taught a freshman theology class before and I really didn't think that I'd enjoy it. But it's amazing how many opinions these kids have. James: How so? Mira: Well, it's not quite the opinions. They're the way all religious opinions are. My religion is the best or all religions are screwed up or I don't believe in God or such. But what amazes me is how . . . how vehement their opinions are. Even if they don't have anything to back it up with. It's like they're ingrained since birth with these feelings and refuse to shake them no matter what happens. James: Well, religion is still important in these days. Even though nobody seems to practice it . . . Mira: Yeah . . . So how are your classes? James: Same old, same old, really. Nothing to complain about, I guess. Mira: That sounds . . . boring. James: It is. I guess they gave me these classes to teach me a lesson. Mira: A lesson? James: Yeah. I turned in my resignation at the beginning of the year. (he continues walking; she stops, stunned) Mira: What? You . . . no. You're kidding. James: (humorless) No, I'm not. It's over. I can't do it anymore. (sits on  bus bench) Mira: Can't do it anymore? That doesn't sound like you . . . James: Mira. I'm used up. I'm tired. I'm tired every day from doing nothing. It seems like it's a trial just getting up in the morning. Mira: That doesn't mean you should quit teaching. It sounds more like you need psychiatric help. James: What if they're one in the same? (pause) Mira: Oh . . . are your classes really that bad? James: It's not the classes. I still enjoy teaching British literature . . . even basic American literature to these college freshmen like what I'm doing now. But the students . . . their attitudes . . . they've changed. Mira: James, I hate to be the one to tell you this but people change. Cultures change. Just because one student may not revere Oscar Wilde and Charlotte Bronte the way you do doesn't mean they're not getting something out of it. James: But this damn pop culture! Mira: (interrupting) Pop culture doesn't exist. Culture is culture. It's ever-changing. 100 years ago, Prince Albert was pop culture. You can't stop it from changing. James: Doesn't mean I have to like it. Mira: No, it doesn't. But it does mean that you have to adapt to it. Or you can retreat away from life and complain that it's different from when you were a kid. I think you're going to do just that without a job, James. James: But it was better when I was younger. (Mira looks at him with a "come on" look) And yes I know that I'm playing into the stereotypical old man raging against the young, but it's true. I know that when I went to college my friends did not get drunk every other night. I know that they could remember the names of the people they had sex with, if they even had sex. I know that the attendance was near 100% in every class I had. And I know that there was a little respect for the people who were financially supporting you through school; your parents. None of that exists now. Mira: Don't generalize. There are still some students who are like that. James: Yeah, but now they're the minority. They used to be the overwhelming majority. There used to be at least a little excitement about learning. Just a little. Mira: "Used" is the key word. (pause) James . . . I agree with you on what you said. But it doesn't mean that you should stop teaching. James: Yes it does. Every day I walk in there and I pour out my knowledge and the wonders of writing. And they stare at me. And I ask them how these readings relate to their lives . . . and they stare at me. And I ask them if anyone read the assigned chapters . . . . . . and they stare at me. I hate this. Do you have any idea what it means to have your interests broken apart every day? Mira: Of course I do. There are people in this world who don't care about anything besides their own personal comfort. But you have to see past them. You have to see that there are people who care and need guidance. James: Are you kidding? They can take care of themselves. In this country that's what they've been doing since day one. Mira: Just don't quit teaching. Quitting won't stop you from seeing ignorance and rudeness and stupidity. James: At least I can get away from it for awhile. It would be so much easier if I could just hate people, in general. Mira: That would be easier. But personally I don't. Despite what I see, I still believe that we're going to make it. That even though common sense and decency are gone and intellectual conversations are dead; our society will survive. It's one of the things that has kept me teaching. I can't explain it. I believe in people even though it contradicts everything I see. James: I know what you mean (Mira looks at him hopefully) but it doesn't mean that I'm going to continue teaching. I need to get away from it. Mira: You'll retreat from life. James: No, I won't. I'm just going to get away from these people. I'm going to renew my faith in mankind. It's just about shattered now and I need to rebuild it. Mira: So you're going to leave all the people you know; who depend on you and you're going to go somewhere and spend time alone? James: Like a latter day Thoreau. Mira: That's awfully selfish, James. James: (stunned and pissed) Selfish! I've taught at Howard University for ten years. Before that I taught at the public schools for twenty years. I have not missed a day at Howard in three years. Every day I go into that class and teach a bunch of uncaring bastards about literature. I teach them about beauty and art and they throw it back in my face and tell me it's not that important. They're too tired by how much they put away last night and which guy or girl they fucked. I give them everything and I get nothing back. They use me to get whatever grade they need to pass or keep their scholarship and then they throw me out. When do I get attention? Mira: I shouldn't have said selfish. It's not what I meant. I guess what I meant, James, is that . . . you have a gift of loving and being able to teach literature. James, if this were anybody else I'd be thinking that maybe you're a bad teacher and you deserve this, but I've seen you teach and you're good. If the students aren't responding then . . . James: (interrupting) then what's the point. If I'm not changing anyone's life or helping them then what's the point. Mira: I'm not changing anyone's life either and I'm still teaching. James: It's not that simple. I was supposed to change people. I was supposed to make my students think differently about dead white English men and women. I've failed. I haven't changed anyone. Mira: Of course you have. In little ways you've affected many students and people. Take me for example. When my Harry died you were there for me every day after the funeral. You cooked; you cleaned; you made me get on with my life. James: You're one person. And besides . . . anyone who cared about you would have done what I did. Mira: Not anyone did it, though. You did. (puts her hand over his) James: I was supposed to accomplish so much more. You should have seen me when I was a kid . . . I was gonna change the world. I could have. I was supposed to . . . once . . . (checks watch) It's time to go back to the university, Mira. (Ted, Julie, and Devon come on from stage left. They are scouting locations for their new movie. Ted is the director, Julie the writer, and Devon the cinematographer. Devon is a bit flaming. All are Hollywood ageless.) Mira: (checks watch) Yes. Time flies when                      Ted: (to Devon and Julie) Yes! you’re . . . you know. (they walk off stage right sidewalk)  Ted: See; Isn't this the perfect spot for Tony's kiss? (goes into park) Devon: (goes into park and looks around the location) Where exactly? Ted: Right here. (sits) Right here on this bench. (looks for approval from Julie/Devon) Eh? Not bad, huh? Julie: No, Ted; it's not bad at all. (pause, exits park) If I wanted to completely rewrite the script, it wouldn't be bad at all! (goes off into down left corner) Ted: (gets up) Oh, don't worry. I know that the script says they kiss outside the restaurant, but . . . this is so much more romantic. Devon: (calls to Ted from in park, he’s been going around the set "framing" things) This won't work at all, Ted. I can't possibly fit a camera around these bushes and how are we going to light anything? Dan will kill you if we move those generators again. I can't make this look good. Ted: What do you mean "look good"? It looks fine the way it is now. Julie: Except for the fact that it's not the front of a restaurant! Ted: (goes to her) Julie, you're a great writer. You can make this work. Julie: It's impossible, Ted. There is nothing I can change in the script; heck, the plot to make this work. Ted: Just have them walk out of the restaurant and into a park. Julie: Tony and Via are mad at each other. Why would they continue yelling into a park? Ted: They don't notice that they're leaving . . . they're just so mad at each other. Julie: Via's temporarily blind, don't you remember?! That's why she doesn't back away when he kisses her. Ted: Well . . . yeah . . . that's a problem. But nothing you can't solve, right Julie? Julie: (eyes him) Ted, it's impossible. You're asking me to throw away this ending I spent a month on. Thir-ty days. Ted: Just . . . do it? Julie: You just don't understand the creative process!! (sits in fetal position and rocks back and forth) Ted: Julie? (as he's staring at her; Devon comes up to him) Devon: Ted . . .(no response) Ted? Is this a good time? Ted: Of course, Devon. Julie's on the ground crying. It's perfect. Devon: (back to business) Oh good. Now, Ted. I guess I can do this. But . . . I have to make some changes. Ted: Good. Fine. At least someone here is (said to Julie) flexible. Go on. Devon: Well . . . This fence (points to a wrought iron work at entrance to park) will just have to go. It looks so fake in a park. I mean look at it . . . (no response) just look at it! Ted: It's ironwork. It's a fence. So what. Devon: But look at how freshly painted and new it is. A park wouldn't be that well kept up. Well . . . if you just have to keep it, we can; but we'll have to scruff it up a little. Some bird pooh on the top. Scrape off some of this paint . . . Ted: What else? Devon: I'm glad you asked. This bench. It needs something near it. It needs to be surrounded by bushes. I mean if we want them kissing, it has to be in a warm surrounding. I mean; (sits) It's so cold and foreboding. See (gets up and moves to bushes up right) we can just move these so that they surround the bench. Ted: You want me to move bushes . . . in a public park? Devon: Oh and this tree has to go. Ted: Devon, this is a real setting. I chose a real one to save money. Now I'm cutting down trees and defacing ironwork. Devon: Ted, it needs to look like a park. Ted: But it is a park! A real park! Devon: But it's not real enough. Ted, can't you see my vision (takes him by the shoulders) The camera pans down to them, from where that tree is, and right into a close-up of Tony and Via kissing, surrounded by bushes. Isn't it beautiful. We'd have to do something with the lighting, though. Ted: Let me guess; natural lighting wouldn't be real enough? Devon: It just won't pick up on the camera, Ted. Ted: Ok . . . great . . . great. Tell ya what. You begin cutting down the trees while I look for a restaurant to film at. (Ted walks off upstage left) Devon: Ted . . . Ted? But if you're looking for a restaurant, why would I begin cutting down . . . ? Honestly . . . (groans) Julie: (to herself) Do you have any idea how hard it will be for me to change that ending? Devon: (to himself) I just need to move some minor props around. Julie: Any ideas? Devon: (coming down to her) On what? Julie: How to make this work? This is absurd! Just absurd! Devon: Well (sits down beside her) . . . how about you have him take her to a park instead of a restaurant. Julie: But . . . it's the end. Her father owns the restaurant. That's why it's cute. Because they've all planned it out for her. Devon: Wait, wait. I'm getting an inspiration. What if he takes her to the park; but she's blind so she'll think it's the restaurant . . . Julie:  . . . and her father will be there. So as long as we get him to talk, she'll think she's at the restaurant. Devon: What about other things . . . like the fact that she'll be able to hear people outside. Julie: Hmm . . . . (comes to her) She'll think it's the outdoor dining at her father's place. Devon: Perfect! Julie: (gets up) This can work. This can work! Ted: (comes on from upstage left) Fine. I've found a restaurant just down the street. It'll work fine. Julie: No, Ted. This is perfect. I'll just rewrite the father's part to make it bigger at the end. That might mean we need a name actor for the part. Can we get James Cromwell? I've always wanted to see him play an Italian father. Devon: Or Ned Beatty . . . Julie: What about William H. Macy? Devon: Wait . . . I’m getting a vision . . . Sean Connery as an Italian patriarch!! (they’re buzzing with enthusiasm) Ted: I'll take care of the casting. So now we need to remodel the park and hire a new actor, right. Devon and Julie: Yeah. That should be it. That works. Sounds good. (etc) Ted: We’re going to the restaurant. Julie: But we spent all this time here. Devon: You said the location was perfect. (Jenn, Ned, and Denise walk on from stage right sidewalk) Ted: Fine. Whatever. I don't care. I'll see you at the restaurant (walks to stage left, almost off)          Jenn: (talking to Ned and Denise; imitating if you still want your jobs. (walks off upstage                       her boss) If you still want your job. left) Devon and Julie: Directors. (they walk off upstage left)                                                              Denise: (dismissively) Directors . . . Jenn: So I finally told him that I couldn't do the damn Robbins Report and he just looked at me . . . Ned: In the way that only that Tim Robinson can look at someone. Jenn: . . . and says, "Just never let it happen again." And he walked away. Denise: I am so glad I work in accounting and not R&D. Ned: Well I personally enjoy getting beaten down every day. (laughs, Jenn too) Jenn: Things have gone so downhill there. Denise: Oh my God, no kidding. I've only been there for a couple of years and even I sense problems. Jenn: It's happening everywhere. I just don't care anymore. Ned: What apathy, Jenn. Jenn: The apathy doesn't even stop there, Ned. (Ned crouches on bench) A couple nights ago, I was walking home and this old black lady came running towards me, she was going the opposite direction, shouting, "Bus! Bus!" I turned as she went past me and realized she was running for the bus. And I watched her as she ran towards the bus and just barely made it. (Silence) Ned: And . . . Jenn: And what? That was the story. Denise: What was the point? Jenn: Why didn't I help her? Am I that closed off and selfish? Denise: She made the bus. . . . what's the problem? Jenn: What if she hadn't? Or, worse, what if she had fallen or tripped and hurt herself? Ned: This is all "what if". You can't beat yourself over what if. Jenn: I'm not beating myself up. It's just that I feel like I should have done something. Ned: Like what? Jenn: Isn't it obvious! I should have helped her. I should've run after that bus with her. Human decency, I guess. Denise: Jeez. This is too deep for a lunch break. Let's go back to work. (gets up to leave) Jenn: No! No avoiding anymore. Why didn't I help that woman? Ned: You're selfish! Jenn: (mad) No, I'm not. Ned: (puts hands on her shoulders) I'm just throwing out suggestions. Jenn: Oh . . . oh. I don't think I'm selfish. I've never really been accused of it before. Denise: This is absurd. Ned: Not really. It's just kind of obvious why you didn't stop. Jenn: Why? Ned: You weren't thinking. You were focused on what you were doing and didn't act when you should have. It's human nature to realize you should have done something after it's already happened. Denise: I thought human nature was good . . . Ned: No. It's human nature. I mean . . . if I were to prick you with a pin; you would realize you were being pricked with a pin and say, "Ouch", and flinch, right? Denise: Right. Ned: Wrong. You flinch because your nervous system felt something. You rationalize it later because you realize later that you were pricked by that pin. All it was, was a knee-jerk reaction. It's not really good or bad, it's just . . . human nature. Jenn: But, it's not my human nature. I always help people. Every year when those Santas ring bells, I always give whatever change I have. I always lead projects at work. When we have the blood drive; I always give the most. Ned: Jenn, you were preoccupied . . . simple as that. Jenn: But what if she had fallen and hurt herself or even broken an ankle? Denise: You would have stopped then. Ned: Yeah, any of us would have. Jenn: Would I have? (silence kind of descends) Ned: Yes. You would have. The pain, the shock of seeing someone hurt would have jostled you. You would have stopped. Denise: This is so pointless. She didn't fall . . . am I the only one who sees this. Ned: Denise, cool it. Denise: Don't tell me what to do, Nick! You're not my boss! Jenn: Stop it, stop it. Both of you. This yelling isn't solving anything. I made a mistake and we've worked through it. Thanks. Denise: Finally. (gets up) I'm going back to the office. See ya later. (walks off stage right) Ned: (Jenn sits) So, you would have stopped if she had been hurt, right? Jenn: (pauses three seconds) I don't know. Ned: But she would have been hurt! She would've needed help! Your help. Jenn: (defensive) Maybe she was acting. Maybe she would have been doing it just to get me near her so she could attack me. Ned: That's crazy. You don't really think that, do you? Jenn: (whirling) And what if I do? Don't just pass judgment on me! You weren't there! Ned: I’m not passing judgment on you. Do you want me to? Jenn: No! I…I just don’t know what I want. Ned: We get a little wrapped up in ourselves sometimes. It’s only small stuff. Don’t sweat the small stuff, right? (he smiles a winning smile) Come on. Time to get back to the daily grind. Jenn: I’ll see you there. I need to…I need to walk a little. Ned: Okay. (he exits stage right) (Carey and George come on from stage left. They’re just walking, early 20s) Jenn: (to herself as she wanders off stage right sidewalk towards him) But if life consists of every moment, no matter how small, and we shouldn’t worry about the small stuff. Then what can I care about? (she shakes her head as she exits)                     Carey: About… George: (they walk into park) About…? Carey: About how you went through that whole lunch without even mentioning James. You wouldn’t shut up about him last time. George: Oh . . . we kind of split up last month. Carey: Are you kidding? You two were perfect together. George: No, we weren't. He wouldn't stop comparing me to his ex's. (he sits) Carey: What do you mean? (she sits) George: Well. I was a little bit Josiah and I was just as sweet as Don, but not as talkative as Glen and . . . Carey: Okay, I get it. (pause) Too bad. George: Yeah. I finally told him to leave after he said I wasn't as big as Kurt. Carey: You're joking! George: No! Carey: Well, I'm glad I know that you're not as big as Kurt. If I ever date anyone named Kurt. Specficially a gay man named Kurt, I'll be sure to tell him that. George: You wouldn't dare. Carey: Oh, wouldn't I? George: Then I'll tell your boyfriend of the month when you lost your virginity. Carey: Stop (hits him) You don't even know when I did. George: Early September, 1998. We had lunch the next day. You looked very different, Carey. Carey: Shut up! George: His name was Mark. Carey: Mark Young. My God, that was a long time ago. I can't believe you knew that. George: Well, I do know everything about you. (he lies down in her lap) Carey: And I, you. George: You know (only half-jokingly) we should go out together, someday. I’ll have to imagine you’re a man. Won’t be hard… Carey: Never. We'd kill each other halfway through the meal anyway. George: I'd use a pointed breadstick. Carey: I would go the elegant and old-fashioned way . . . a dinner knife. George: Very good. (they laugh and recline in silence. He begins to light a cigarette) Carey: Oh, please not here. George: Not you, too. Carey: I just mean not in my face. If you want to move over and light up, I won't stop you from killing yourself. George: Well, when you put it that way, I just won't. (puts cigarette away) Carey: Besides, I thought you quit. George: I tried. Then people told me I was being a bastard. What was always pissing me off? Now that I've started again, they say I'm too fucking mellow and I’m killing myself Carey: Since when have you been interested in what people thought? George: I don't know. James kind of screwed my head over. Carey: Bad dates will do that. George: "Bad dates." That's from Raiders Of The Lost Ark, isn't it? Carey: I think so. It's been awhile since I've seen that movie. George: (moves away from her and stands. Lights cigarette.) I shouldn't be doing this. Carey: (pause) I don't think we're talking about smoking. George: No, we are. But, now we're talking about other things in addition to. Carey: (sighing) Oh, George. You never we're one to just leave well enough alone with your mind. (no response) Always second-guessing yourself and thinking about things you can't solve. (chuckles) I guess that's why we've stayed in touch so long. George: You bring out the best in me. Carey: Thanks, I try. George: What's on your mind? Carey: You're avoiding the subject of you. (pauses, waits) Oh well. Not much. Something weird happened to me the other day. George: What? Carey: Well (reclines back on park bench) I was thinking about the old days. And it occurred to me how much I missed being young. George: Carey, you're only twenty-one. You're still in college. Carey: I don't mean "high school" young, I mean "grade school" young. George: God (realizes what she means) that was a long time ago. Carey: I loved grade school. This school I went to (sits up) it was maybe eighty years old and the floors just shined every morning. It was this marbley, terrazzo-like stuff. Sometimes I could even see my face in it. And the ceilings were so high. And the teachers were so nice. Every single one of them gave us something to hope for. (pauses, considers) I haven't talked to anyone from grade school in such a long time. George: Great school. Carey: Yeah. I went back there a couple of years ago before they tore it down. George: They tore it down! Christ! Carey: It wasn't modern enough. They were going to just build an addition, but the district decided to just say "why not" and make it all new. George: You know I could make the obvious comment of "only in America." Carey: Go ahead. That's not what I was getting at, though. George: Oh, really? Continue, then. Carey: When I went back there, before they tore it down, it was horrible. There was dirt on the floors, the lighting was flickering on and off. It was like some kind of stereotyped horror movie set. Nothing was like it should have been. George: You probably remembered it better than it was. We all do that to places. Carey: I know. I just have this image stuck in my head. I watched them demolish it. When they got to my fifth grade classroom, Mrs. Bock's, I could have sworn that through the dust rising and the debris, I saw her walking in through the door. George: Surreal. Carey: You have no idea. I’ve been remembering so much lately. Like the Sunday dinners my family had. All my relatives were there. When I was young, they bored the hell out of me but now I’d give up everything just to have another one. George: I remember Thanksgiving and Christmas. I loved sitting at the table and listening to the “grown-ups” talk. All my younger cousins wanted me to play with them, but I just loved listening to all their stories. Carey: That doesn’t sound like much of a childhood. George: It wasn’t. I didn’t really have one. I just kind of grew up quickly. Carey: Do you regret it? George: I don’t know. How do you regret something you never experienced? Carey: It's possible. Anything's possible. "Man can believe the impossible, but man can never believe the improbable." Oscar Wilde. George: Very true. (sighs, he's been smoking, he throws stub to the ground.) Damn. Carey: Come on. Talk to me. Something isn't right. George: No, it isn't. It . . . it hasn't been for a long time, Carey. Carey: Well that's not good. (trying to find something to say) Do you remember my high school graduation party? George: Of course. We were all there. You, me, Ryan, Tom, Shirley, Jenny, Mike, John . . . God, everyone. Carey: It was the last time we were all together. George: Yeah. Carey: We were at my house the whole night. We talked about everything in the world. You told me . . . you told everyone the meaning of life. George: (chuckles) God, it must have been late at night. Carey: No, it made sense. It still does. You said that the meaning of life was to find the meaning in your own life. Once that was done, life was over. George: So? Carey: Why do you think you're so restless? Why do you think you're bored? You think you have all the answers. Do something different. Take a chance. (George goes to her, sweeps her up and kisses her. It's short. She goes back and kisses again. It's longer. They break) Congratulations, you took a chance. George: (backs away, not happy) I shouldn't have done, that. That wasn't right. I'm so sorry. Carey: No, it wasn't right. And I don’t recall being a man… George:  The way the light hit your face… Carey: And you're a horrible kisser, by the way. (he laughs) But it was a chance. It felt good, didn't it? George: Yeah. (thunder rumbles) Carey: The weather's getting ugly. George: Let's go back to my hotel. (she looks at him coyly) The lobby. We need to talk more. Carey: I agree. George: (more thunder. They embrace. It is a powerful testament to their relationship) Here's to taking chances. (They walk off stage right, his arm comfortably around her shoulders) End Of Act One
	Act Two (Woman comes slowly, methodically from stage right park. She looks emotionally beaten) Woman: What else do I have to do? What is wrong with this country? So many problems. So . . . so many problems. (pause) Every empire falls. The Egyptians, the Greeks, the Romans, the Ottoman Empire, the British Empire. They said the sun never set on the British Empire. But the moment they said it, the sun set. (pause) We're an empire. We are the modern definition of an empire just like Princess Diana is the modern saint. (pause) And we're going to fall. We have to. It's written in history. At some point, we're going to collapse under our own weight. Doesn't anyone else realize this! (pause) I hate knowing things. If knowledge is power and absolute power corrupts absolutely, then absolute knowledge corrupts absolutely. I like ignorance . . . I want ignorance. I want to be like I was when I was five. I couldn't change problems, even if I wanted to. And now I know about all the crap that goes on and I still can't do anything about it. I can sign a petition and donate blood and give time and money to the things I believe in, but nothing changes. Nothing ever changes (pauses) I love living. I love experiencing every day. But I . . . I get so tired of the ugliness, the rudeness, the stupidity. Why can't people just be good and decent to each other? I can't be the only person that feels this way. But if I'm not, why do I feel so lonely? It's not religion. That's just another form of ignorance: take comfort in a creator who we don't even know exists and if it does, wouldn't it have more important things to do than help me? But then those moments happen. (pause) Moments when everything is going right and things are perfect in every sense of the word. This park. These leaves. This wind. It's all so beautiful. No one notices. Except me. (Man comes on from stage left and begins to enter park. He is oblivious to everything around him) And then when no one notices how beautiful the simple things are, our empire will come tumbling down; and no one will be able to put us back together again. Night will fall and we’ll see the real shade of night. (walks off stage left)                             Man: (singing along to Discman, in park                                                                                           (left) Shades of night are calling and I’m lonely                                                                                               (continues) Man: (to the song, "Me and My Shadow") Standing on the corner feeling blue. Sweethearts out for fun Ask me what I want Guess I'll wind up like I always do; With only me and my shadow Strolling down the avenue. Me and my shadow; Not a soul to tell our troubles to. And when it's twelve o’clock, we climb the stairs. We never knock; for nobody's there. (dances around park and begins going back out street entrance) Just me and my shadow. All alone and feeling blue. And when it's twelve o’clock, we climb the stairs We never knock; for nobody's there. (two young ladies come from stage left also oblivious to him) Just me and my shadow. All alone and feeling blue. (hits both the girls and knocks them back abit) Oh, I'm so sorry, girls. I didn't see you there. (goes on his way off upstage left. The girls dust themselves off and pass the bus stop and go on) Girl1: Honestly, some people can be such assholes! Girl2: (looking around) I know! Wait . . . (sees bus stop they passed) The bus stop's over here, stupid. Girl1: What?! Oh. They should label these thing better (they go and sit) Girl2: Did you even hear what that guy was singing? Girl1: No, but I caught some of the lyrics. We climb the stairs? Me and my shadow? Sounds pretty gay to me. Girl2: Oh, you're horrible. Girl1: Well, I mean who dances through a park singing? Huh? I sure as hell wouldn't do that. Only some fag would do that. Girl2: Did you see how many of them there were at that audition? Girl1: Oh my God, they were bouncing off the walls. Well, that's what we get for being actresses auditioning for a musical. We get the cream of the crop . . . of gay men. Girl2: Yeah. I was in Guys and Dolls in my senior year of high school and every single one of the actors onstage was gay. Girl1: They were all out in high school? Girl2: Well, no. But you know how you can always tell by the way they talk? (Girl1 nods) Anyway, it was so bad that at the cast party, the only guy I hooked up with was one of the pit people. Girl1: The orchestra?! Girl2: Yeah. It wasn't that bad. 'Sides, ya know what I learned in health last year? Girl1: What? Girl2: Gay men get AIDS and die anyway. Girl1: Well, it serves them right. It's like my father says, 'If you do something wrong, then you'd better be prepared to pay for it.' And they are doing something wrong . . . anal sex? Ew, gross. Girl2: Isn't that disgusting. And besides, my parents think it's wrong and they told me why and it makes perfect sense to me. But in the mean time, we're stuck with trying to find guys on stage. Oh well, one of the tragedies of acting, I guess. Girl1: What's with that? This is like the only profession in which it's hard to meet straight men. I wouldn't wanta do anything else, though. Oh, I didn't tell you! Yesterday, my acting teacher told me I could be the next Pia Zadora if I worked hard enough! Girl2: Wow! (blank look ensues) Who's Pia Zadora? Girl1: I don't know. But I do know that she worked in Hollywood and that's good enough for me Girl2: You in Hollywood. Wow. What a dream come true. Girl1: I know. It'd be great. I'd be rich and famous and I'd tell off all the people who tried to stop me from doing this. Like my math teacher back in sophomore year that told me I'd never be able to survive in the real world without learning algebra. What a jerk! I'm doing just fine and I got a D in that class. Girl2: Why was he so rude? Girl1: I dunno. His wife probably left him. Girl2: People are assholes. I'm sorry, but that's just what I just keep on thinking. I mean, your math teacher . . . that jerk who ran into us without even apologizing or seeing if we were okay. I mean, what the hell? Girl1: Yeah. Why can't people just, ya know, be good. Ya know what I did to be happy? I stopped watching the news. Like, all that death and people crying. I don't need that every day. So, I just shut off the news whenever I see it. Girl2: That's a great idea! I'm gonna start doing that. (Shirley runs on from stage left and hides behind bench in park; frantic, in her early 50s) Girl1: It's so cool. Since you don't see all that depressing shit, nothing depresses you and you're happier. Since I started it, I've been constantly happy. Girl2: Cool! (looks at watch) What is taking that damn bus so long? Girl1: I don't know. You can't trust any public transportation in this city. Girl2: I hate taking buses anyway. They're so . . . dirty and the people on them are always so weird. Girl1: Let's just take a cab back to campus. Girl2: Ok. Let's go back to shopping first. I think I got a second wind from your idea of not watching news anymore. Girl1: Cool. Let's go. (Girl1 goes off stage                     Beth: (offstage, to Dr. Wade) Come on! right sidewalk and Girl2 lingers for a second)                        Hurry! (comes on from stage left with Dr. Come on. Hurry! (they exit stage right sidewalk)                     Ward) Beth: (speaking slowly, calling) Shirley! . . . Shirley! . . . Now, Shirley, we didn't mean to frighten you with that needle. That was just our way of saying you needed to calm down for us to treat you better. Dr: (muttering) Calm down, my ass! Did you see what she did to my eye. (as he turns slightly downstage, we see him holding an icepack up to his right eye) Beth: (quietly towards Dr) I know, I'm just trying to get her out where we can see her. (now back to Shirley) Shirley! Shirley! I don't even have the needle with me and . . . Shirley: You don't? Beth: No, I don't. Neither of us do. Shirley: Okay (she hesitates) I'm going to get up. Beth: Okay, Shirley. You take your time. We'll wait for you. Dr: (muttering) I have a meeting with the board of directors in five minutes. I don't have time for this. Beth: Make time! Dr: (taken aback) Don't you ever speak to me like that ever again. (Shirley gets up) Never forget; I can have you fired in a moment. Beth: I'm sorry (composes) I just want to (notices Shirley) Wait. Shirley! Shirley, how are you? Shirley: I'm tired. (sits on bench she was hiding behind) Very tired. Beth: Well . . . you did come all the way down here. Ten blocks is a long way to go for someone in your condition. Shirley: Yes, I guess it is. Dr: Shirley, this is Dr. Ward. We met briefly before you ran away. (under his breath) You punched me. (vexes Beth, he notices) Are you still having hallucinations? Shirley: (honestly puzzled) Hallucinations? Dr: Yes (taken aback) That's why you were taken to the hospital, Shirley. You were walking up to strangers in this park and asking them if they saw all the people. Shirley: (in own world) There are so many people here. Dr: Yes, Shirley. In your mind, there are many people. Shirley: (violently) No! (steps uncomfortably close to Dr/Beth, they back up, Doc farther than Beth) No. Please. I don't want to frighten you. I just want you to see. Come closer. Please. Dr: Well, Beth. (points her forward) Go comfort her. (goes closer to her, maybe two feet away) Beth: Shirley; what is it you want me to see? Shirley: (hugs Beth, keeps one arm on her) Thank you. Look over there. (she points upstage right) Do you see them over there? Oh, they're so young and hopeful. (gasps a little) I think she just told him that she's pregnant. And now they're embracing. So much happiness! Look at them; they're crying now and laughing and they don't care who knows or who sees it. Their love for each other and that new baby could conquer anything in the world. (she trails off) Don't you see it? Beth: There's no one over there, Shirley. Just a . . . Shirley: Of course there isn't. Oh my goodness (nervous laughter) Did you think I actually just saw that? Ha, ha. No wonder you thought I was going crazy. Beth: (kind of joins laughter) Yes, yes. But . . . how did you know about those two people? Shirley: They're still there, silly. (Beth looks confused, Shirley sees this) Oh, you're confused. Oh, dear. Well, let me explain. (gestures to Ward) I'd tell him, too, but he wouldn't listen to me. (guides Beth down downstage right. Ward goes to help, but Beth brushes him off) You know the old saying, 'As long as you remember someone, they're not really dead'? Beth: Yes. My mother always said it to me. Shirley: Now. That's true; and it's also true about memories themselves. Those two happy people are never going to forget that bench. And as long as they never forget, then their imprint, their memory, will always be on that bench. As long as they remember that bench, that bench will always remember them. Do you understand? Beth: (half believing) I think so. But . . . a bench is an inanimate object. Shirley: Yes, yes. All things that aren't moving or living are inanimate. But if they are inanimate; why does a child cry over a lost toy? Why do we buy "autographed" pictures? Why do we name buildings, the greatest non-living object of them all, after people that were living? There's only one reason. These unliving, mass-produced things bring us closer to a memory or a feeling that we don't want to forget. Life is so very fleeting and all we want to do is remember the good parts. Beth: (realizing) Yes . . . Shirley: You see! And over there (pointing offstage left) where all three of us came running in; there's a little girl jumping about the pavement calling out to her grandfather who's sitting right near her. (more serious) That's the last thing he'll ever see. He'll die the next day. And she'll never forget all the things that by an early age, he had taught her at that bench, in this park. All about the grandmother she never knew; all about things that he experienced that don't exist anymore. Neither of them want to forget that moment when there was nothing else in the world except that sidewalk and that bench. And right near where you're standing, Dr. Ward, I see a man bent on one knee proposing to a beautiful young woman. (pauses) In fact, it's amazing how much he looks like you, Dr. . . Dr: (stepping towards them) That's enough. Beth, you've indulged her mindless ramblings quite enough. (Beth doesn't move) Come on. Beth: But, Dr. Wade . . . Dr: What? Beth: Ok, fine. She's delusional. But so what? If she's this much into herself, how bad must her real life have been to sink her down into this level? Dr: You don't even know what she was like in real life. For all you know she was always this way. What if she had children? Can you imagine being raised by someone who saw things that don't exist? It would be horrible. Shirley: Dr. Wade, I don't need to be cured, or whatever you call it, of being able to see the happiest parts of people's lives. Dr: Beth? Beth: (voice dry, uncertain) Come on, Shirley. We'll . . . we'll just put you under observation. Shirley: I hope both of you understand that I have experienced so much life in the last two weeks. It's . . . just . . . wonderful. Beth: Come on, Shirley (hurries her off stage left) Dr: (wanders about, comes to stage left where he was before) I remember proposing to Eliza right here. She was so beautiful and (stops) this never happened. The patients . . . (Donna and Karen come on from stage right park. They are in their late 30s. Fashionably dressed) They’re hard to manage . . . that’s it. (walks off             Donna: (to Karen) Hard to manage . . . stage left) Donna: (calling off stage right) Jimmy! Don't hit the tree! (waits for imaginary response) Well, just don't hit it too hard! (to Karen) Oh, he's such a handful. Karen: I know. Robbie was just like that when he was Jimmy's age. (calling stage left) Robbie, honey! Watch Jimmy while Mommy talks to Aunt Donna. Donna: (they sit) Ugh. It feels so good to take a load off. You know I have been up since seven getting these two dressed and ready to go out today. Honestly, I can't believe Sarah took the day off. Karen: Sarah? I thought her name was Ilsa. Donna: No, no. Ilsa was nanny back in September. Then there was Rita. Hispanic. (gives knowing look) You know how they are. I had to watch her like a hawk. Every time I looked at her, I swear to God, she was looking at one of my Lalique vases or the Waterford crystal. Karen: Oh, I know what you mean. Donna: Sarah's new, though. She's such a nice girl. Always does exactly what I need her to. Except for this day off . . . I told her when she filled out the application, "You need to request a day off three weeks in advance." Did she? No. Karen: Then fire her. You don't need to take that. Donna: Well, I can't just fire her. It's so hard to find good help. And she actually had a good excuse. Karen: Which is? Donna: Her mother was ill back at home. Karen: That's probably just what it is; an excuse. I tell you, Donna, you're too forgiving with people. Donna: Oh, Karen! Karen: You have been since high school with that boyfriend, what was his name, Matt, that was it. He cheated on you how many times? Donna: Three. Karen: Three times! And each time, you forgave him. I have no idea why. Now Donna (makes her look at her) you promise me that when Sarah . . . Donna: It's Susan. Karen: Susan, Sarah! Her name doesn't matter. You tell her to pack her bags the moment she comes back from wherever she is. Donna: (sighs) Well, maybe I will. No wait; I can't. Ronald always wants to be consulted before I let a nanny go. Karen: Ronald's gone again? Donna: Yes. He's in Seattle. Something to do with that damn takeover that Bronson and Barney is doing. Karen: I know exactly what you mean. James is always gone doing something for Smith and Associates. Oh, this is funny, Donna. When James came home after his last business trip, the one that lasted a couple months. He came home and Robbie looked at him and said, "Who's that old man?" (they both laugh) Donna: (still laughing) Oh mercy, mercy. Oh, Karen that's so funny. When Ronald came home the last time, he unlocked the door and came in and scared Rita half to death. I hired her while he was gone. (beginning to bubble over with laughter) She came running into the living room screaming something about "a man", "a man" And she was doing it in that stupid broken English! (both laughing) Karen: Oh my. Our husbands are gone so often, we should be getting alimony! (Donna laughs, Karen joins) Donna: That's what our kids are growing up in. A single parent household. Karen: I'm so busy all the time, though. Why every other day, I need to go to the school and volunteer with the library. And, you know, I have been to so many soirees in the past month, that I don't think I've spent one night at home. Donna: I know exactly what you mean. As president of our condo board, my work is never done. Karen: It's so nice to see Robbie when he wakes up. And then it's off to daycare for the rest of the day. Those fifteen minutes before I take him there are wonderful. He always has such interesting questions. What does Daddy do? Where is Daddy? What does Mommy do each day when I go to daycare? He's so precious. Donna: Oh, Karen. Did you hear about Marsha and her son Tyler? Karen: No, what happened? Donna: Oh, it's just scandalous. Well you know that Tyler started 1st grade this year and he's always been an active child. Karen: Yeah . . . Donna: Well he was walking around and talking to the other kids during class while this silly woman was trying to teach them about addition or something like that and she told him to sit in the corner! Karen: I would never let a teacher talk like that to my Robbie! (Students for next scene begin filing into park from stage left and upstage left. They sit on grass facing park entrance/stage left)  Donna: I know. And all Tyler was doing was socializing with the other children because that stupid teacher’s talking bored him. So the moment he got home, he told Marsha about it and the next thing you know it, Marsha called the school and had that teacher suspended for being too strict. Karen: Good for her. I mean, some of the stuff that teachers talk about today is so stupid. I mean, why do we teach them addition if we have calculators. They should be teaching them about the things that we parents don't have time for anymore. Like manners and courtesy and how to be polite. We don't have time for that simple stuff anymore. (shudders) That business with Tyler and Marsha just makes me so mad. I know that if Robbie's teacher ever reprimanded him like that, I would have her fired so fast . . . Donna: Oh, Johnny's just like that and when he gets into grade school; they had better let his little mind roam free. And this one (takes baby out of stroller) is such a handful. I had to change her diaper the other day before the nanny came and I just couldn't do it. Karen: I don't know how our mothers handled the three of us. I have one; I barely see him; and he's such a problem sometimes. Donna: He must get it from Ronald. Karen: Oh, Donna! (laughs a little) That must be it. Oh, it's so hard being a mother these days. Donna: It's such a trial (puts the baby back in stroller, looks off stage right) Is Jimmy hitting that tree again. That's the last straw. Come on, Karen. It's time to drop them off at their magic lessons. Karen: Is it already 4? Donna: Yeah (going stage right) Come on, Karen. Karen: (Karen gets up and goes with her) I'm coming, I'm coming. (both have left the stroller where it was as they both go off stage, after five seconds, Donna comes back on) (An aged professor comes out from stage left and begins to address students. His grad assistant follows closely behind him) Donna: Oh, dear (retrieves stroller and starts off stage left) I don't know how our mothers did it. Don’t even know where to begin. (goes off stage          Professor: (addressing class) Don’t even right park)  know where to begin, class. (pauses) Professor: I know that this may seem very odd to meet out here but, there is a reason that I have asked you all to meet me in the park today. Even though some of your fellow scholars, and I do use the term loosely, have decided not to join us today, I think it is important to get out of the classroom every now and then. As a philosophy teacher, I do not find it conducive to learning about human behavior when we're in a closed, sterile environment. A classroom is about as alive and human feeling as a morgue. Now, class. Look around you. What do you see? (they stare/ look around) Girl1: Well, it's a nice day outside. Professor: (impatiently) Yes, yes. It is pleasant, but what else. What else? (pause) Boy1: Well, there's a lot of color. Professor: Excellent! Exactly! Why is there color? Girl2: Because it's fall. The leaves are changing. Professor: Yes! (pause) Class; don't you see? All the different philosophies that we've covered in this class; existentialism, fatalism, post-modernism, Nietzsche, Kierkegaard . . . they're all eclipsed by the fact that we are changing. Every day we change and no one seems to notice. Every day, new things affect us. (interrupted) Girl3: So, what are you saying? I mean if everything's changing, then why are we even learning about this stuff? Professor: Good question. We learn about the past only to examine its mistakes. Those who don't learn from mistakes are doomed to repeat them; it may be a cliché, but it's true. We're striving to be perfect, but of course that's impossible. Boy2: (finishing his sentence) Because only God can be perfect. Professor: God? Don't get me started on the concept of God . . . the minute sports teams began praying to their heavenly father, I began to not care anymore. Girl2: Wait. If we can't be perfect, but we're always trying to and we're always learning to be something we can't, then . . . Professor: Yes? Girl2: Well . . . Isn't that a bit contradictory? Professor: Yes. But what else is life, class? It is a series of double standards and contradictions and things that shouldn't add up. It's an endless loop. (pause) Think about it. An endless loop. Sometimes we learn from our mistakes, but other times we repeat them. Have you ever noticed that when you make a really important decision, it seems as if you're the only one who's surprised by it? When I changed majors in college, no one was surprised except me. How does that make sense? It doesn't. (Boy1 raises his hand) Go ahead. Boy1: So what you're saying is that it's like when I'm watching a baseball game and they have an instant replay of something thats just happened. Even though I know what's gonna happen, I still get nervous of if the outcome will be the same. Professor: Ok . . . ok. I see that. And we all do that. (pause) We say things we know we shouldn't. We become friends with people who end up reminding us of people from our past that we couldn’t stand to begin with. Almost a friendly Oedipal complex. It's a big circle. And then of course that brings up the even more interesting question of why we're here. Girl3: If it's a circle, does it even matter why we're here? Professor: That's my opinion. We're never going have a definite answer to why we're here. Thus, we live for the moment. Do things that make us feel good. Each day, do the best thing for you as a person and to hell with what everyone else thinks. Girl1: Isn't that really selfish? Professor: Yes and no. How many of you have been called selfish at some point in your life? (all but one or two raise their hands) Exacly. So have I; many, many times. See, I firmly believe that the most important person on the face of the Earth is yourself. If only because you are the only one who will determine the course of your life. Is that selfishness? Possibly. But I counteract that with still caring about the people around me. Say I have ten people in my life that I care about, plus myself. Now if I care about myself 10 percent of the time and the remaining ten evenly divide the other ninety percent, that means that I care about them 9 percent of the time. So even though, statistically, I care about myself the most, I spent 90 percent of my time caring about others. See how it works? (pause) The point is this, ladies and gentlemen. Enjoy every moment you're alive because you are alive and you are experiencing and contributing. Queen Elizabeth's last words were, 'All my possessions for a moment of time.' Think about that. Don't wonder why you're here and don't worry what others think; instead, accept it and bask in the glorious spectacle that you're alive, period. (silence ensues) Boy2: So . . . is that it? Professor: Yes. Go. Think about what you've learned. Implement it. That's the true test of knowledge, if you actually apply it to everyday life. Girl3: But it's an hour before the end of the class. Professor: Fine. Do you really want me to keep you here for the rest of it? (the students begin to disperse at this. They exit stage left and upstage left) Assistant: Well . . . you really threw them for a loop, today. Professor: Yes. Well, it needed to be said. I understand that the dean wants me to teach them about the facts of every philosophy ever created, but how can I? So many of them simply don't apply anymore and, hell, my opinion on the ones that are worthy of being taught changes each day. Assistant: As I've told you again and again, you think about things too much. Oh yeah! I forgot to tell you. I'm not taking that job with the Sollman Brothers. Professor: Really? But you were so excited about working for them. Assistant: I was, but I realized that I didn't want to be tied down to a nine to five job yet. I have so much I want to see, so much I want to do. Professor: Well that sounds like fun. Like a road trip or something? Assistant: Yeah. Professor: So do you take off after the semester's over, or . . . Assistant: I'm leaving tomorrow. (silence) Professor: Tomorrow? Assistant: Tomorrow. I know that it's sudden and . . . Professor: No kidding, it's sudden. You're my grad. assistant. I need one for the whole semester and you're leaving after two weeks? Assistant: I know. Professor: And you're graduating at the end of the semester. You can't just put that off. Assistant: My transcript will still be here when I get back. I'll graduate then. Professor: Do your parents know? Assistant: No, they don't and I'm 24, they don't really need to. (Prof about to raise more resistance; cut off) Besides, I've been paying for my education for the past two years. They're not supporting me anymore. So . . . ? Professor: So what? Assistant: I was kind of hoping you would give me some support on this . . . maybe a good luck . . . or sounds like fun. I mean, you're the reason that I'm doing this. Professor: (catches him by surprise) I'm the reason?! Assistant: Everything you say in class. Taking advantage of what life is offering you. Living each day to the fullest. The most important person is yourself and your actions. I want to see the country. I won't be able to do that with a nine to five job. I want to experience things I never have before. I need to do it now and you made me see that. Professor: (chuckles to himself a little) You used the only rationale I couldn't possibly touch. My own. Assistant: So, ya gonna wish me luck? Professor: (sighs) Of course I am. (hugs her) Take care of yourself. And don't forget that when you come back to here to finish your master's, I'll have a vacancy for grad assistant. You really think you're making the right choice? Assistant: I do . . . and even if I'm not, I'm the only person who will be adversely affected so it doesn’t really matter to you. Professor: That sounds like something I would say. Assistant: It was. (she walks off stage left) Professor: Oh boy. (begins to collect papers) Oh boy, so much work now. (about to go when Girl2 calls from stage left) Girl2: Mr. Henning! Mr. Henning! (she comes on stage) Professor: Yes? Girl2: I just wanted to come back and tell you how much I enjoyed class today. Professor: Really. What did you like about it? Girl2: Well . . . it just really clicked with me. I mean . . . living every day and doing what's best for you. It's what everyone should be doing. Professor: Let me guess. Have you ever had a teacher or authority figure really say that to you? Girl2: No, I haven't. Professor: (mutters) Of course you haven't. Girl2: What? Professor: Nothing, nothing. Girl2: So what's it like to live every day to the fullest and live your own dreams? Professor: (laughs in her face, realizes the rudeness and speaks) You really think that I live like that? Girl2: Well, you believe it. Professor: Oh my God . . . believing and doing something are very different things, miss. Girl2: But, professor. If you live every day to the fullest, then you don't miss anything and you're awake to every opportunity that comes your way. What's wrong with that? Professor: Nothing . . . nothing. The problem is that you never realize what you should have ultimately done until ten years after you should have done it. It's like I said before with my changing majors. Everyone but me knew that I should do it. Yet I was living every day to the fullest. And I still screwed up. I hadn't put enough time and thought into the future of my life. I should have relaxed more and looked around me. Girl2: You said nothing about that before, though. Professor: Of course I didn't. The only way to get people to change their thoughts is to shock and scare the hell out of them. If I had mentioned the resting, everyone would have gotten confused. But by only harping on this one thing, I got someone like you to come back here and thank me. You see? Girl2: I guess. Professor: There is no secret . . . no ultimate answer to anything. The closest thing I can possibly recommend is a diet of moderation for everything you ever do. Moderation is key. Again, a cliché, but also very true. If you do too much of the same thing, sometimes you cause adverse effects on your own and other people's lives without even thinking about it. Trust me. (Grandma and Eric come on from upstage left. She’s in her early 70s and he’s probably eight/nine. They enter park) Girl2: So, that's the moral of the story. Professor: Yes. That's the moral. If a moral even exists in this world anymore. (pause) Goodbye, miss. Girl2: See you next week. (he exits stage right park,         Grandma: (to Eric, pacifying him) Next, she exits upstage left)                                                                   week, Eric, next week. Eric: Ok. Grandma: Oh, Eric. I need to sit down for just a bit. I'm getting too old for this, honey. Eric: Ok. Grandma: (sits) Oof! Oh, Eric. Sit down, sit down. (he sits) Eric: But I wanta get to the store! Mom’ll be off soon. (goes a little more stage left) Grandma: We'll get there soon enough. Just take a rest for right now, huh? Eric: Ok. (sits, Grandma looks at watch) Grandma: Well, today is September 24. Do you know why that day is special, Eric? Eric: (thinks it over, shakes head) Nuh-uh. Grandma: September 24 is the date of my Cliffy's, your grandfather's, birthday. He would have been . . . let me see . . . he would have been seventy-five years old, today. Eric: How old are you, Grandma? Grandma: Oh, now. You know how old I am. Eric: You're right! I do (thinks) Seventy . . . three? Grandma: So close, Eric. I'm seventy-two. But I will turn seventy-three next January. Eric: That's four months from now. Grandma: Exactly. Oh, my Cliffy would have liked you, Eric. He was so much like you. He was smart and funny. He was so good with tools and using his mind. Eric: What'd he do? Grandma: He was an engineer for John Deere. Eric: The tractor people? Grandma: Exactly. He designed new parts and machinery for all the tractors and plows that they built. You know what a patent is? Right, Eric? Eric: Yeah. Grandma: Well your grandfather holds fifteen patents. Eric: Wow! Grandma: Uh-huh. And you know the house that Grandma lives in away from the city? Well, your grandfather kept on the maintenance on that house until the day he died. He took so much pride in that house of ours. We both did . . . I still do. Your grandfather was so smart, Eric. He could do anything with tools and wood. And he loved working on that house . . . Eric: What'd he die of, Grandma? Grandma: Hasn't your mother told you, Eric? (he shakes his head no) Well (she takes her time) We had just had supper and he was in the basement working on fixing a drawer from my nightstand. I was upstairs in the living room waiting for him. We played Scrabble every Tuesday at 8 o'clock. I noticed at about 8:05 that he hadn't come up yet. So I went to the door of the basement and I called down to him. There wasn't any answer (near tears. Says the next sentence very delicately) He had a bubble in his brain. That, Eric, caused him to have a stroke . . . an aneurysm, honey. He was on a ventilator for a couple of months until we, your mother and I, decided that he should be taken off of it. Eric: (hugging her) Grandma, why are you crying? Grandma: Oh, Eric. Don't mind me. It's just that . . . even though Cliff died some twenty years ago, sometimes it seems like it was just yesterday. Eric: I'm sorry. Grandma: Oh, honey, you don't have anything to be sorry about. Eventually, we all die, Eric. Even me. (he sits up and looks at her) Not for a long time, but someday I will, Eric. Eric: I know. But why did he have to die then? Grandma: I don't know, Eric. We never know. But just because he's dead didn't mean that I stopped thinking about him. I still think about him all the time. I think of the way he would come home and kiss me on the cheek and I'd ask him how his day was. (laughing a little) We never argued, never had any fights. In fact, I remember how the only thing we ever disagreed on was the height of the hedges. I remember all the trips we went on, Eric. Yellowstone, the Rockies, New York, California, Niagara Falls . . . we saw so many places. Eric: I want to go to Yellowstone, too, some day. Grandma: Oh, Eric, Yellowstone is just beautiful. Cliff and I went on our honeymoon there. Do you know that picture of the waterfall in my living room back home? Eric: Yeah. Grandma: Cliff took that picture. He had it framed and gave it to me for our first anniversary. That was so long ago . . . sometimes I wish I could go back. Eric: I'll go with you. Grandma: Ooohh. Thank you, Eric. I'm afraid I couldn't do all the walking anymore. Oh, I used to walk in the old days. Have I told you that I lived in Milwaukee before John Deere moved Cliff out here? Eric: I think so. And when Mom, Dad, and I went there last month, they pointed out your house. Grandma: Oh yuh, Eric. Every day I walked a mile down to Capitol Ave. and took the streetcar to downtown where I worked at Schuster’s. Eric: You told me about Schuster’s before. That's the department store you worked at, right? Grandma: Uh-huh. I was Mr. Schuster's personal secretary. They were Jewish. Very good people to work for, Eric. They always treated me fairly and they paid me well too. I don't know how those stereotypes get started. Anyway, I was his secretary for 12 years and I made ten dollars a week and that was a lot of money in those days. And then of course, I had your mother and your aunt and had to quit my job. Eric: Why did you have to quit your job? Grandma: Well, that's you did when you had children. Besides, I enjoyed staying home and taking care of your mother and aunt. I always had them dressed in a different outfit every day. And oh, Eric, you should have seen the garden I used to have at my home. Zinnias and daylilies and azaleas and rose bushes. They were all so beautiful. My Cliffy worked so hard for the both of us. He made sure that we would always have enough money so I wouldn't have to work. Eric: Mom didn't quit her job when she had me. Grandma: Well, Eric . . . times have changed. Now a days, that's normal. Oh, things have changed so much, honey. Schuster's is gone now and so is that streetcar line. And Cliffy . . . but we go on, don't we? Eric: Uh-huh. But you'll always be here, Grandma. Grandma: Oh, honey (hugs him) Even when I'm gone, I'll be with you. (pause) Oh dear, what's the time (looks at watch) Just about time to meet your mother and go home, Eric. Eric: So are we going to the store now? Grandma: I think I'm ready for another five blocks of walking. Help your grandma up. (Charlie, Amy, Jon, and Maria come on from stage right sidewalk. They’re in their late 40s/early 50s. Charlie is married to Amy and Jon to Maria. They have had an early dinner and are walking back to their homes/cars) Eric: (he does his feeble best) I don't think I can. Grandma: (she is up, but almost falls over again) Oh, my! Oh, Eric. You're such a good little boy. (sets self) Ok, off to the store. You know that store used to be a club that your grand- father tried to get into. They had the best meals              Jon: (to rest of group) . . . best meals I’ve (still talking, exit stage right park)                                      had in a long time, Charlie. Maria: It was just fabulous, guys. Thank you so much. Amy: Oh, no problem. We know how hard it is to cook and make a meal when you've just moved into a new place. Charlie: We still need to see it, by the way. Maria: Oh no, you don't. Not until we get everything unpacked and uncrated and organized. Ya know, Jon, I still haven't found the dishes. Jon: Aren't they in the box marked 'Breakable Kitchen'? Maria: No, I checked there. I can't imagine what we did with them. Amy: Where's the apartment again? Jon: Didn't we tell you? Charlie: Yes, you did, but Amy's always been a little forgetful. Amy: (elbows him playfully) No, I haven't! I just forgot this one little thing. Maria: That's all right, Amy. It's at the corner of 13th and Franklin. You know that warehouse that just got the remodeling done to it. Charlie: What is it now, the Parkway? . . . Parkland? . . . Parkview? Jon: The Parkside. Maria: Anyway, it's on the sixth floor of that. A nice two bedroom apartment. Everything is new. It's so nice to have new after living in that Victorian for so many years. Not that I didn't like it, it's just nice to have a change every now and then. Jon: Here, here! Charlie: How did Toby take it? Jon: Oh, he took it great. He was never gonna be living at home again anyway, so it just made him realize that he needed to get rid of some stuff. Besides, four bedrooms and two floors . . . it was getting a little drafty, if ya know what I mean. Maria: Well, it was a little sad to say goodbye to all those years, but it's also nice to have a fresh start. Amy: Have you decorated yet? What color are the walls? Maria: No, we haven't had time. They just painted everything white before we moved in. Amy: Have you thought about how you want to decorate it? Maria: No . . . in fact . . . we were kind of hoping that you could help us. I mean; you are the interior decorator in town! Amy: (laughing) Well, if you insist. Maria: Oh, we do. Don't we, Jon? Jon: If it's about the decorating, yes. Just leave me out of it (Jon and Charlie laugh a little) Amy: Excellent. Now, I know your old house was very antiqued and old, Maria, so how about a complete reversal. Modern. And clean. And efficient. Maria: That could work. What would the colors be like? Amy: Oh, nothing but whites, blacks, grays and muted. All muted. Charlie: Tell ya what. Amy and I still have some time before we have to get home to the babysitter so you two talk and Jon and I will go over some things from work. Amy: Sounds great. (sees Charlie walking right, stops him) Come here, you. (he comes, she kisses him) Five minutes? Charlie: Five minutes. Amy: Okay (goes stage left with Maria as Charlie moves right with Jon) Modern. We'll have to go down to San Lucas to look at their newest imports sometime soon. How does Monday strike you? Maria: (dreamlike) Modern, huh? Amy: Yeah, Maria. Isn't that all right? Maria: (back) It's all right, it's all right . . . but I still want to keep the furniture we took from the house. Like that Eastlake dining room set. Remember? Amy: True. Some of that furniture you had was wonderfully authentic. Maria: Well, we . . . Jon and I . . . (sits on bus bench) collected all of it. Together. That Eastlake dining room table was the first big thing we ever bought together. It fit in that dining room just perfectly. (pause) And Toby's bed. I need someplace to put that. (pause) Amy: You miss your home, don't you? (they freeze) Jon: Yeah, everything with the Anderson account is going fine. Has Ted signed the paperwork? Charlie: Fine, fine. Jon . . . have you noticed anything different about Amy lately? Jon: (looks in her direction) No, not really. But, we've been busy with moving. Charlie: Yeah. It's probably just me. Jon: What do ya mean? What's changed? Charlie: I don't know. It's a . . . feeling. When we were married, she always seemed to want to spend time with me. I'd work as hard as I could to get home on time and so would she and then I'd make dinner or she'd make dinner or we'd make it. And we'd (laughs it off) we'd fall asleep together on the couch. Jon: Charlie. You were married fifteen years ago. Things change. The honeymoon's over. Charlie: I know that, but I didn't expect us to grow this far apart. This dinner we had with you and Maria? (pauses) It was the first time we'd eaten together in a week. Jon: You're both busy right now. That's part of the reason Amy and I got an apartment in the city. It solves a lot of our problems; we're both closer to our jobs now. (they freeze, women start) Maria: It's not that I miss the home. I mean . . . Jon and I are so close to work now, we'll see each other so much more, but . . . the home was where everything was. It's where everything happened. Amy: All your memories. Maria: Yes. It's where Toby took his first steps. It's where we had dinners and parties for friends and family. All those memories are there. And I can never go back there. All I have are pictures. Amy: And the memories. Those are there forever. Maria: Of course they are. And the pictures tell a thousand words. (pause) It's funny. Every day, I would come home from work and everything would be familiar. I'd put my keys in the junk drawer; call for the dog; check the mail by the curb; sit on the old couch watching Wheel of Fortune or read the paper. It was so comfortable. But Jon was so adamant about moving . . . Amy: So, it was more Jon's decision more than yours? Maria: Well . . . no, but . . . he was so excited about it. And his job has been so much harder than mine. I mean he's kind of . . . earned it. Amy: That may be so, but it didn't mean you had to move. Look at Charlie and me. Everyday we go our separate ways, but nothing's changed with us. We're still in love with each other. We (begins to falter) always spend time together . . . eat together . . . hmm . . . Maria: What? Amy: That's funny . . . this was the first time we'd eaten together in a week . . . maybe two. I hadn't really realized it till now. He's been at the office until 10 working on the Anderson business and I've been flooded with new clients. Maria: I don't understand. It's not supposed to be this way. I can't stop thinking about the past and you haven't seen your husband for weeks even though you live in the same house. (they freeze, men resume) Charlie: Of course it solves a lot, but don't you miss the home? Jon: It was getting so drafty and hard to keep up. I'm not exactly getting any younger, Charlie. It was time to let go, too. Time to move on. Charlie: What about Maria? Jon: Maria? Well . . . she supported the move. She's even the one who found the new apartment. Ya know, it's funny. The day we moved; she kept on saying how much the new apartment reminded of our house and how she was going to look forward to moving the old furniture around in a new space. In fact . . . she insisted that we keep Toby's old bed even though he isn't coming home. (faltering) Don't know where, though (crying?) Charlie: Are you all right, Jon? Jon: (almost cutting him off) Yeah. I just hadn't really realized that Toby isn't going to be living at home anymore. He's a good kid. Our only. He's so good to us. Even though he was at college for the last couple years, he would still help around the house. Our house. Charlie: It's amazing how things change, isn't it? I never thought that dinner with Amy would be a rare occurrence that I cherished. She's beautiful. (women unfreeze and now all four are agitated) Amy: And it was so good seeing him again. I don't know how I could have stayed away for so long. Jon: I can't believe what I did. I saw that she was having trouble with moving to a new space. And I . . . I just went ahead and sold our house. Maria: How could you have stayed away for so long? How could we have sold the house? (pause) But it was getting so lonely there, without Toby, Jon and I probably would have gone crazy wandering around that place. Charlie and Amy: (in unison) Oh my God! (pause) Tomorrow's our anniversary! (they run to each other meeting center) Amy: I've missed you! Charlie: I love you (they kiss and embrace. Jon walks sheepishly left over to Amy) Jon: I'm so sorry we sold the house. I saw that you were hesitant and I did it anyway. I'm so . . . Maria: (interrupting) Stop apologizing. You did what needed to be done, Jon. Even if you did for your own reasons, it was the right thing to do, honey. I just would have stayed in that house; become like that crazy old cat lady everyone always talks about. Jon: So, you're not mad? Maria: Of course not. I'm sad and I miss being there, but I still have memories. We're changing, Jon. Our lives are changing so why shouldn't where we live change every now and then Jon: You're amazing (they kiss; when they're done, the four survey each other) Charlie: You know, we should have dinner more often. (they laugh) Maria: Well . . . Amy: Well . . . Jon: Well, I think you and I should get home and continue unpacking. Maybe we'll find those damn dishes! Amy: And Charlie and I need to get back to the home and talk. In front of a fire? Charlie: A blazing one; with blankets pulled over us. Maria: (fake whisper to Jon) I think that's our cue to leave. (Taylor, Anshul, Mike, Amanda, and Dana come on from upstage left and filter into park. Dana’s wrapped around Taylor. They are college-age and very obviously in differing states of drunkenness) Jon: Ha-ha. Good night, guys. Thanks again for the dinner. (Jon/Maria begin to walk off stage left) Amy: Don't mention it. We needed to. (looks at              Taylor: (to Dana) We needed to. I was         Charlie; Charlie/Amy walk off together stage                             getting so smashed. (they stagger into park) right sidewalk) Dana: Taylor . . . what time is it? Taylor: Aw, shit. Wait, wait (wobbles back into light) lemme get into the light. Fuck, man, it's only ten. Anshul: You're kidding. We left that party too fuckin' early. I told you it was ten. Taylor: I guess I was looking at my watch upside-down. Shit (laughs uproariously) Amanda: What the hell's so damn funny? Mike: Dunno. Too much beer, I guess. Dana: Taylor. We've gotta sit down; I think I'm gonna puke. (she sits on park bench, head between legs; Taylor also sits) Anshul: Shit, man; you see the car that the DJ was driving. Fuckin' Mercedes E320 Sedan. That is sweet Mike: Mercedes? That's a welfare car. Taylor: A welfare car? Mike: Yeah. A welfare car. 40 grand on a car. That's nothin'. My dad; he drives a BMW 745Li. $75,000 . . . now that's a car. Dana: Seventy-five thousand?? Wow. That's so much money . . . Mike: When you've spent seventy-five grand on a car then you know you've made it, man. Anshul: Crazy white people . . . Taylor: (gets up) Who you callin' white, Hindu-boy? Dana: (whiny) Taylor . . . Taylor; come back to me. (they begin heavy petting/making out) Amanda: Christ, guys; you're out in public. (they don't stop) Jesus. (the three others go to the other side of the park) Mike: Well, Taylor's getting a piece of ass tonight. Anshul: No shit, man. Dude, you see that black girl at the party. She was so fuckin' into me. Mike: She was into anything with balls, Anshul. She would have gone for me. Anshul: No, no, no. You are too damn white, Mike. Too fuckin' white. Mike: What the hell?! It's not like you're black and gonna dance dirty with her on the floor; ya fuckin' Indian. Anshul: Fuck you, man. Being Indian's better than being white. Amanda: God, you guys are so damn stupid when you're drunk. Anshul: Relax. We're just jokin' around. Mike: How much do ya think DJs make a night? Anshul: Dunno. Maybe five hundred a night. Mike: Shit, man. And all they do is spin records. Man, I've gotta get me a piece of that. Damn! Five hundred bucks to be at a party every night. Fuckin' A! Anshul: It is a little hard . .  . Mike: It's gotta be easy. I mean, how hard can it be? Damn. Five hundred bucks. Ya know how much neat shit that can get ya. Screw women; I'm marrying a hundred dollar bill. Amanda: Excuse me? Mike: Never mind, never mind. Anshul: Damn, man (begins to teeter back and forth) I've gotta sit down. Shit, man. I think I'm gonna hurl. (leans against a tree) Amanda: And then there were two. Mike: Yeah (he likes the odds; approaches her and moves her to near park entrance) So, how are you? Amanda: I'm buzzed. Definitely buzzed. What's with you and cars, Mike? The expensive ones, ya know? Mike: Hey. All I know is that if we can afford it; my family will pay it. You have not ridden in a car until you've ridden in my Dad's BMW. (sighs) It is so smooth. It just takes you in its arms (puts his hands on her shoulders) and carries you. Amanda: Oh really. Mike: Oh yeah. (nuzzles her neck) So how'd ya like to come back to my apartment? Amanda: (breaks contact slightly) I thought you lived on campus. Mike: Nope. I asked my dad to rent me an apartment near downtown. Didn't wanta put up with other people. Gotta be my own person. Ya know what I mean? Amanda: (slightly uneasy) So we'd be all alone? Mike: Yeah. You could see the view from my living room. Looks right out on the river. It's fuckin' beautiful at night. Course for four thousand bucks a month, it should be good. Money gets you everything, Amanda. (proceeds to move his hands down to her breasts. She struggles and after about five seconds breaks free and slaps him.) Amanda: You son of a bitch! Fuck you, Mike! I'll take the goddamn bus back to the campus. (walks off upstage left) Mike: (after recovering) Fuckin' bitch! (calls after her) Ya know you're replaceable! I could buy a goddamn whore that treats me better than you. (marches off stage right sidewalk) Dana: (Dana and Taylor have been in their own little world while they've been on the bench) Hey. Where'd Mike and Amanda go? Taylor: (looks around) Who knows? They're probably back at his bachelor pad fucking. Dana: Have you been there? Taylor: Yes. Oh man, it is so huge. I love being friends with rich people. They are so cool. Dana: (whiny) Taylor . . . Taylor, I don't wanta go to my textiles class tomorrow. It's so borrrring. Taylor: Then don't. We'll get up around one and have lunch and just stay in my room the whole time. Dana: But I've missed the last two classes. I'm getting so behind with the work. Taylor: (sits up) Yeah, man. I mean, what is with all the work we're getting from these classes. I mean I missed two of my calc classes and when I took the test I had no idea what the hell was on it. Dana: Screw classes. My parents have been such assholes ever since I began school. Whenever I call them they're like, "Are you studying," and shit. It's so overwhelming. Taylor: My physics professor actually found out my parent's phone number and told them my midterm grades. (almost proud) They were so pissed, oh my God. When they came down that weekend and brought my soda, Ramen, and Easy-Mac, they were just such jerks. Dana: What were your midterms? Taylor: Dude, they're a 2.3. That wasn't good enough for them, though. My dad's like, "Taylor, do you realize that you're only .3 away from being placed on academic probation?" And I'm like, "Ya. So what. I've always pulled it up before." And he just got pissed at me and said I was being immature or something. Dana: You're getting a 2.3! That's so much better than me. I'm getting a fuckin' 1.9. It's not even fair either. Attendance isn't mandatory so why go? It's so hard being independent. I mean my parents only come down once a week to bring me stuff and give me money for the week. Taylor: I can't wait till college's over. Ya know; I've thought about the only things I want from life. Shit that I want in the next ten years. I want a kickass job that pays me tons of money. I want three cars. A Beamer, a Benz, and a Bentley. Three B's, man. I also wanta penthouse on the Upper West Side of Manhattan that has a mad gorgeous view. Dana: Wow . . . that’s so deep. You think so much, Taylor. Taylor: Oh, and this is the best park . . . a girlfriend that makes people's heads turn. I'm talkin', when people are walking down the street, they turn and stare. Dana: What about me? Taylor: (pause) uh . . . Who'd ya think I was talking 'bout? Dana: Awwww. You're so sweet. (Anshul's cell phone goes off) Taylor: Anshul! (continues to ring) Anshul!! Anshul: (wakes up) Hello . . . . . yeah this is Anshul . . . you've gotta fuckin' be kidding me! . . . cool. We'll be right over. (hangs up) Dana: What is it? Anshul: (gets up) All the booze at that party is free for the next five minutes. (Frank and Eve leisurely walk hand in hand from stage left. Frank is in his late 50s and Eve is a trophy girl in her early 20s.) Taylor: (looks at watch) If we run there, we'll still have two minutes. Dana: Then what the hell are we waiting for. It's a Saturday night and I'm not even wasted yet. (Anshul/Taylor run off  stage right. Dana stays) The lights are so pretty at night. (Anshul grabs                Eve: (to Frank) The lights are so pretty at her and they exit)                                                                night, Frank. Frank: My, you really can see the lights of the city at this time of night from here. Eve: I love the lights. It's like a bunch of diamonds sparkling in the sky. Frank: You do like diamonds, my dear. Eve: Yeah, jewelry's nice. Frank: (hearty chuckle) Yes, yes. I would have brought you those earrings in the store, but they just didn't seem you. Eve: They were really nice, Frank. (nuzzles to get him to agree) Frank: Oh, Eve. There are more important things in life than jewelry. Like art, my dear. My God, that Gauguin show was excellent. Eve: Yeah. I’ve never seen so much of his work in the . . . a . . . same place before. Frank: Did you see the way his brushwork and color became so much more refined towards the end of his life? Eve: No. But I did see all those naked Tahitian ladies he painted. Frank: What? Eve: My God, it was so obvious. He musta been some kind of a pervert or something. Frank: (pause) You would notice something like that. Eve: (stops dead) Excuse me? Frank: Just . . . I think you would notice something like that as . . . as opposed to something like brushwork. Eve: Why? I’m not refined enough to notice brushwork? Frank: Not exactly. I’m just saying that your eye would notice something more obvious like a naked woman. Eve: I can only notice obvious things? Frank: You don’t get what I . . . Eve: No I get it perfectly. I’m not smart enough for you. You don’t think I hear your snide comments all the time at home, at parties, . . . at museums? I know you’re smarter than me. Why do you always hurt me by telling me again and again? Frank: Now, Eve (takes her in his arms) Eve . . . You know that I didn’t go out with you for your IQ. Eve: (pushing him away) Don’t make things worse. I can’t believe I was beginning to love you. Frank: Beginning? Eve: Well of course I didn’t love you to begin with. You’re old and getting bald; and don’t even make me mention the spare tire and love handles. Frank: How dare you! After what I’ve done for you. I took you to only the best parties. Introduced you to only the best and brightest people. Eve: Don’t you see why I stayed with you? Frank: Oh . . . (stunned) It . . . it had nothing to do with me? Eve: Not really, Frank. But I Frank: No buts. I loved you. What kind of  a woman would do a thing like that? Eve: Do not make me feel guilty. I know what I did. I am deep enough to know how shallow I am. But you! Frank: Me! Eve: Yes, you. If you hadn’t treated me like some cheap piece of trash, do ya really think I would have said all the things I just did. Frank: So this is my fault Eve: Yes (actually considers) Yeah. Frank: Unbelievable. Eve: Well, it's not all your fault, and it's not all my fault. It just kinda got messed up. Frank: You made me feel young. Eve: (pause) You made me feel important. Frank: (pause) I guess this is good-bye. Eve: Yeah (they give an awkward embrace. Her shawl falls off and onto the ground) Well . . . good-bye. Frank: Good-bye, Eve. (Eve walks off stage right. He picks up her shawl.) Eve? Your . . .? (realizes she isn't coming back) I love you, darling. (He throws the scarf into the bushes                   Natalie: (from offstage) Darling!? near the park gate and wanders off upstage left.)                        (comes on stage right sidewalk) Natalie: Greg? (goes into park and towards stage right) Greg? (goes outside park and looks down sidewalk/stage left) Greg?! Where are you? You said you'd wait for me, now where the hell are you? (Greg's head pops up behind park wall/gate) Greg: Natalie? Natalie: (scares her) AH! (turns; realizes it's him) Jesus, Greg! You scared the hell out of me! Greg: I'm sorry. (gets up) Natalie: What the hell were you doing back there? Were you sleeping? Greg: Ever so slightly. Natalie: Why would you be sleeping in a park in the city at night? Greg: Because someone told me that they would only be fifteen minutes while they ran into their parent's apartment and got something from them. Natalie: Well, that someone didn't know that their parents would be in the apartment even though they normally go out to a movie every Wednesday night. Greg: Wednesday night? Natalie: Yes. The cheap showings are on Wednesday, therefore my parents must go then. Greg: Good enough for me. Natalie: I would hope so. Do you have your wallet? Greg: What? Natalie: Greg. You were asleep in a park at night. I'm hoping it's still there. Greg: (checks) Yup. It's still there. As is the (checks) watch. See . . . I grew up in the city. Nothing to worry about. Natalie: Nothing to worry about until I come back to you one night and you're stabbed or something. (laughs a little, he takes her; hand in hand) I love the lights. It's like a bunch of diamonds sparkling in the sky; isn't it, honey? Greg: (taken aback) What did you say? Natalie: Just talking about you being stabbed, dear. Greg: No, no. After that. Natalie: I . . . just compared the lights to diamonds. Very simple analogy, Greg. Greg: How odd . . . it sounds like something I just heard someone say two minutes ago. Natalie: Greg. Two minutes ago you were asleep. That doesn't make any sense, honey. Greg: No, no. I really do mean two minutes ago. While I was resting against the wall in the park over there, I had a dream. And what you said sounds just like something I heard in the dream. Natalie: That's odd. What a coincidence, huh? Greg: Coincidence? Natalie: What else would it be? Greg: Well . . . I would normally just let this go, Natalie, but I can't this time. This dream . . . Natalie . . . wow . . . Natalie: Jeez, Greg. You're making this dream sound like you saw the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost playing poker. What was this about? (Greg sits on bus bench and takes Natalie with him) Greg: Ok. Listen to me. The dream…it…had no plot. All it was, was people talking. There were these two homeless people talking about . . . about . . . jobs. Yeah. And then there was this politician, and this guy singing at the top of his lungs in this park. And this lady who saw feelings and an old lady talking to her grandchild, and . . . (interrupted) Natalie: Stop . . . stop. You saw all this in the forty-five minutes I was gone? Greg: Well . . . not quite . . . and I didn't see all of it . . . and I didn't hear all of it. It was just these people going back and forth in their everyday lives doing whatever they do. Natalie: In forty-five minutes? Greg: You know dreams! The stuff never makes any sense. Natalie: Yeah, but . . . normally dreams have a point or a scary climax. You're falling off a cliff or opening a door or . . . something. But you were just in this dream standing there and watching? Greg: Uh-huh. And they couldn't see me. I just watched them. It was so . . . so . . . real. Natalie: Real? A dream? Greg: Very real. Everyone…they were all just average people. But hearing all of them . . . and their thoughts, and dreams, and everything made me just want to reach out and touch them and scream 'somebody cares!'. Natalie: O . . . kay. It's time for us to go (gets up) Greg: (ignoring her) And it made me think. What if they were the real ones and I was their dream creation? Natalie: (stops) Huh? Greg: They were all so real. It seemed more lifelike than my conversation with you, right now. And I thought . . . what if I'm their dream. My life is their dream. They all want someone to listen to them and their thoughts, so they created me when they go to sleep. Natalie: That's ridiculous. If that were true, then I wouldn't be real. None of this (gestures to everything around her) would be real. Greg: Maybe it isn't. Natalie . . . the only reason any of us exist in the world is because of what other people know and think of us. Once we're dead and all the people who knew us are dead, we're gone. Our existence is only temporary and once the memory goes . . . it's all over. Natalie: Greg. I'm not saying you're crazy, but you're going into too much depth about this. I love you . . . and you love me. And that's all that matters in the world. The present. The present is the only thing we can change. If you want to speculate and wonder about the unknown, go ahead . . . but don't get too wrapped up in what's real and what isn't. If it feels real, then it is real. Does this feel real? (she kisses him lightly and steps back) Greg: Of course. But so did the dream. In fact . . . it was like experiencing reality for the first time. Natalie: (visibly upset) I'm going to the car, Greg. If you're not there in fifteen minutes, I will drive home, and you can call a cab. Ok? (no response) Ok. (walks off stage right.) Greg: (Greg's shoulders sag. He walks back towards the park entrance and leans on the gate and touches the metal) Is this real? If I think it's real and it isn't; does it matter? Life . . . life . . . so many of us are so anonymous, but still we go on. There must be something more to give us a reason. (begins to walk off stage right) Cell phone! (goes back to where he was sleeping and rummages. He finds the phone and on his way out of the park gates, he sees the shawl that Eve had) No . . . it was a dream. (he picks it up and imagines it) But this is real. All those people . . . is their existence summed up in a scarf, or am I the sum of their lives? (tosses it up into the air and watches fall to the ground) So many questions. We accept something else as reality only when we begin to question our own. Does the answer; does the reality even matter? Beautiful. Just beautiful. (exits stage right) End Of Play
						Copyright 2003; FU Publishing, Inc., Ltd., Corp.