|
 |
 |
 |
|
 |
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
||||||||
|
|
|
||||||||||
|
|||
DAN O'BRIEN | Key WestAct Three: East NIALL Let me get the ("lights")— BRIGID —Wow! NIALL Yeah. BRIGID Books . . . ! NIALL I know. . . . BRIGID What is this? I mean— NIALL It’s my padded cell. BRIGID —Sorry? NIALL My studio. BRIGID Oh, it’s— NIALL It certainly is. BRIGID "Books"—! NIALL Really? BRIGID Out there you think it’s just a— NIALL Oh right . . . BRIGID —old bar, but in here it’s . . . NIALL Cluttered is what it is— BRIGID —intimate. —Do you sleep back here? NIALL No. BRIGID What’s the bed for then? NIALL Hm? BRIGID The bed: NIALL Oh, inspiration. BRIGID Ah. Ha ha. NIALL It’s just a room. —It’s an old house—the walls are made of shipwreck wood—the island used to live off shipwrecks— BRIGID Niall: NIALL I’m sorry, I just—.
BRIGID Do you mind if I ("sit")? NIALL No, help yourself. —Let me just ("clear away a space to sit")— BRIGID — What do you do here? in your studio? I mean, other than read. . . . NIALL Write. BRIGID What? NIALL No, I write. BRIGID —Really? NIALL Yeah. BRIGID What do you write? NIALL Poems. BRIGID You write poetry? NIALL I write poems.
BRIGID —God, yes! NIALL No, I was offering to read you a poem. BRIGID Oh, I thought you were offering me a drink. NIALL —I could. I could get you a drink. Would you like—? —Do you drink? BRIGID Oh. —Yes: I drink. NIALL Right. Of course you do. —The usual? BRIGID Please. NIALL Right back—(exits) BRIGID
—Know what, Niall? I think I’ll just have water! NIALL
Sure? BRIGID Yeah. NIALL . . . Are you all right so? BRIGID I’m fine. NIALL Right back. (Gone again.)
BRIGID
—What about you? NIALL
—What? BRIGID Are you all right? NIALL I’m a little light-headed . . . ! BRIGID Me too . . . . NIALL —What? BRIGID I said I am too! NIALL It’s just not every day—! You know—? BRIGID I should hope not!
NIALL
Shit— BRIGID It’s all right— NIALL I’m sorry my hands— BRIGID Thanks.
BRIGID What is it . . . ?
NIALL It’s epilepsy. BRIGID Epilepsy? NIALL —You thought I had AIDS? BRIGID I’m epileptic. —I was epileptic. NIALL —I know, it’s genetic. BRIGID Do you have seizures often? NIALL No, not unless I’m excited. BRIGID . . . Oh. NIALL
—Ah! BRIGID Aha yes . . . NIALL That—or drinking heavily. BRIGID —Stop it, Niall. . . . Okay?
NIALL —"Unassailable strength." BRIGID Sorry? NIALL That’s your name, in Irish. The mudder
tongue. —I looked
it up the other day: "Unassailable strength," Brigid. BRIGID I don’t feel very strong. NIALL —Oh but you are!
BRIGID Does what feel . . . ? NIALL You know: BRIGID Oh. NIALL —Doesn’t it? BRIGID Yes. —Not really. NIALL You know, I had no idea? before, when I was talking to you—I had absolutely no fucking clue— BRIGID That I was your daughter? NIALL No that you’re dead! I suspected you
were my daughter—I
suspected that the moment you came in, without realizing it—I felt it, you know? —I recognized something. . . . BRIGID —How could you know? NIALL It all makes sense. I mean, the clues. Looking back on the last few— BRIGID —You know what? It’s all right: Let’s not talk about it now, okay? NIALL What? Am I making you nervous? BRIGID A little bit. NIALL All right. I understand. BRIGID . . . . NIALL . . . What should we talk about? BRIGID I like this room. NIALL
Liar . . . BRIGID I do—it’s your room— NIALL It’s too many books, I know— BRIGID Why are there no windows in here? NIALL —There is one. BRIGID Where? NIALL Behind the bookcase. BRIGID Which bookcase? NIALL That one there: philosophy. —No, psychology. —All the P’s, really. BRIGID Doesn’t do much good there, now does it? NIALL Sure. It comforts me, knowing it’s there—you
know, in case of I don’t know fire. BRIGID Fires? NIALL No— BRIGID Books? NIALL —Windows. BRIGID Ah. Mmm. NIALL Yeah. —Ha ha! BRIGID —A distraction from your poetry? NIALL You really are the same, aren’t you? BRIGID . . . . NIALL I mean, as you were before. . . .
BRIGID No. NIALL Don’t be shy: BRIGID —I’m not an angel Niall— NIALL —Not yet! BRIGID —Not ever! It’s not like the movies: angels aren’t people. NIALL —They’ve no blood. BRIGID What? NIALL I remember that from school: "Dee angels,
dey do be having water in deir veins."
BRIGID Right. Well look, I’m not an angel: I’m
Brigid. NIALL Whatever floats your boat. . . . BRIGID . . . Can I hear a poem? NIALL —Of mine? BRIGID Yeah. NIALL Ah no don’t think so. BRIGID But you just offered— NIALL I know but you see I’ve changed my mind. BRIGID Does it embarrass you? —I don’t mean to— NIALL We’ll do it later, okay? BRIGID . . . What do you write about, then? Is that all right to ask? NIALL Oh this and that, here and there. . . . BRIGID This is something you don’t like to talk about. . . . NIALL . . . Personal things. I write about—symbols,
from everyday life. BRIGID I think I would. NIALL No, you wouldn’t—. BRIGID We can talk about something else, if you’d rather. NIALL It’s just that I’ve never had anyone back here before, that’s all. . . . BRIGID . . . No one?
NIALL It’s true. BRIGID . . . No lovers?—no friends? NIALL Not in a very long time—not a soul. . . . BRIGID Well thank you. I’m honored. NIALL —No I’m honored—I’m the one who’s
being honored here tonight! (Laughs.) BRIGID I’d no idea you were a poet! NIALL You don’t say! BRIGID I do, I do say! —I would’ve thought you were "too tall" for a poet. NIALL Oh, ha ha! BRIGID It makes perfect sense, though: Your attention to—your faith in words. NIALL . . . Okay. BRIGID What: NIALL I’ll give you a poem now.
NIALL (cont’d.) Read it to yourself.
BRIGID Thank you. NIALL . . . You don’t like it. BRIGID I do—I’m not sure I understand it. NIALL What’s to understand? it’s a poem.
BRIGID Sorry Niall— NIALL Did it scare you? is that why? BRIGID . . . . NIALL —Did the poem frighten you? BRIGID A little.
NIALL —Why do you have to ask so many questions? BRIGID . . . ? NIALL If you don’t mind me asking: If you’re dead—if one is dead—I should think one should just know certain things. BRIGID I’m not omniscient, if that’s what you mean. NIALL You’re not. BRIGID No. NIALL Not even the slightest bit? BRIGID No. NIALL That’s too bad. . . . BRIGID I don’t think so. NIALL Have you tried? BRIGID No. NIALL —You have got to be kidding me! BRIGID —I’m not a saint, Niall! NIALL Miracles would be the first thing I’d try!
NIALL (cont’d.) Go on: BRIGID I’m not Jesus Christ, Niall. . . . NIALL
. . . I know you’re not. . . . BRIGID . . . . NIALL —Can you fly? can you travel great distances? is time and space just a metaphor to you? BRIGID I don’t think so— NIALL How do you travel so? BRIGID I walk. All ghosts walk. That’s why we never get far from where we’ve died. NIALL —But you did. You got far. BRIGID I suppose. NIALL —Why? BRIGID I had someone special to visit. Someone very important who was far away. NIALL —You had a mission. BRIGID You could say that— NIALL But you’re not through with your mission, now are you. . . . BRIGID I don’t know. . . . NIALL —Do you walk through walls? BRIGID No. NIALL Have you tried? BRIGID —No, and I’m not planning any time soon. NIALL —Will you not try anything fun at all at all? BRIGID —I can not walk through walls! NIALL — How do you know if you haven’t bloody well tried! BRIGID
All right. NIALL
Good!
BRIGID Here goes:
BRIGID (cont’d.) Fuck. NIALL Damn. BRIGID Shit. NIALL Are you hurt? BRIGID Now—see? (Rubbing her nose:) I’ve gone and hurt myself. NIALL
Poor girl . . . BRIGID
Poor nose . . . NIALL
Poor nose, poor soul—is there nothing special about you at all?
BRIGID . . . I liked your poem. NIALL . . . Did you now? BRIGID Yes. I don’t care if I don’t understand
it: I liked it anyway. NIALL Who’s your favorite? BRIGID Gertrude Stern— NIALL Stein— BRIGID All the dykes. —Do you publish? NIALL Sometimes. BRIGID Where? Maybe I’ve read something of yours. NIALL Not likely. BRIGID You’d be surprised. NIALL I use a pseudonym. BRIGID Like what: NIALL I use more than one. BRIGID That seems overly cautious. . . . NIALL —I don’t want to get my ego involved. BRIGID Is this another ’60’s sentiment? NIALL I like to think of it as a medieval sentiment: Before people started defacing art with their signatures. BRIGID . . . Is that what you do for a living, poetry? NIALL Yes, I’m a very wealthy poet. . . . BRIGID There’s no need to get sarcastic. NIALL —Oh, I thought you were the one being sarcastic here! BRIGID So you don’t make any money off poetry? NIALL No, not one bleeding cent. . . . BRIGID And what about drugs? NIALL —What about the fucking drugs! BRIGID —Do you have any? NIALL . . . . BRIGID . . . Pot, or something? We could smoke it—you know, to relax. NIALL . . . You want to? BRIGID Yeah. . . . NIALL . . . You want to smoke? BRIGID If you have any. . . . NIALL I’ve got—I don’t have marijuana. I’ve got Ecstasy. BRIGID . . . . NIALL You’ve done it, right? Kids love Ecstasy—the non-religious kind—the secular synthetic little ecstatic pill— BRIGID All right— NIALL Would you like some? BRIGID
Yeah. NIALL . . . Right back.
NIALL (cont’d) It’s here somewhere. . . . I keep some for guests, like. . . . BRIGID Can I dim the lights . . . ? (She does.) NIALL There she is. . . .
NIALL (cont’d.) Bottoms up.
NIALL (cont’d.) —Hold it, let’s grind it up first:
It’ll
enter the bloodstream faster. . . . BRIGID Yeah—. NIALL —Do you want to do it that way? You want to ("snort it")? BRIGID Okay.
NIALL Ladies first:
NIALL (cont’d.) —Are you all right? BRIGID
—yes— NIALL You sure? BRIGID ("Yes.")
NIALL Here: drink some.
NIALL (cont’d.) Maybe it’s not fine enough. . . .
NIALL (cont’d.) —No, it’s fine.
NIALL (cont’d.) It won’t be long. . . . You’ll see. . . . Just wait . . . it’ll feel like heat, at first— BRIGID I know. NIALL —rhythmic, in your chest . . . rolling, like waves . . . like you’re mad in love . . . like you see someone you love walking down the street. . . . Walking towards you. It’ll make you feel better. . . . BRIGID . . . .
NIALL This has turned into a really extraordinary evening, hasn’t it? BRIGID It’s almost morning. NIALL No! BRIGID —It is! NIALL This room gets a lovely sunrise. . . . You’ll see. I’m not sure how it’s managed, but somehow the light gets through. . . .
NIALL (cont’d.) . . . Whenever I heard voices in the past,
I never replied. That, I thought, would invite a world of trouble.
. . . In the Old Testament,
God calls his chosen in the middle of the night and the brave ones answer: "Here
I am."
BRIGID Like what? NIALL The truth? BRIGID . . . I don’t think I can do that. . . . NIALL Why not? BRIGID You can’t handle the truth. . . .
NIALL —I could. . . . Believe me—if
you knew me, Brigid, you’d
know I could handle the BRIGID . . . . NIALL All right: be coy. . . .
BRIGID Yes . . . NIALL How about I ask you a few yes-or-no questions, so: BRIGID All right: NIALL Was Jesus Christ a virgin birth? BRIGID Yes. NIALL —Really? BRIGID Yes. NIALL —You sure? BRIGID Positive: it was a miracle. NIALL So Christianity’s the right religion? —I mean, you’re not going to give me one of those "every religion has a grain of truth" explanations. BRIGID Every religion does have a grain of truth, but— NIALL Oh, Jesus H. Christ—!
BRIGID It’s all right. NIALL Is it . . . ? BRIGID I told you, I’m not God NIALL I know you’re not. . . . (Smiles.) BRIGID Yes. And yes. NIALL And will He come again? BRIGID Of course. NIALL Has He come again already? Is He here on Earth right now? BRIGID I don’t know, what do you think? NIALL I think this information’s bound to piss a lot of people off. BRIGID Well it sucks to be them. NIALL . . . You must’ve really been something, when you were alive. . . . Were you funny? BRIGID I don’t know. I’m like I am now, I guess. . . . NIALL I bet people loved you. Were you popular? BRIGID "Popular"? In school? NIALL Did the boys like you?—or the girls? BRIGID A few—liked me well enough. NIALL You’re beautiful. . . . BRIGID No I’m not. NIALL Oh no . . . that’s a huge sin: to be
beautiful and think you’re
not. BRIGID Besides a priest? NIALL Besides a priestperson. BRIGID I don’t know, nothing. —I would’ve ended up like you, I guess. NIALL . . . . BRIGID I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it ("like that") . . . NIALL I disappoint you. —I would have to, as a father. . . . BRIGID . . . . NIALL It must have been difficult, never knowing . . . BRIGID It was a comfort most of the time. No matter
how bad things were, and they were bad most of the time, I always knew
there was a reason. There
had to be a reason, you know? . . . I had that fantasy that all kids
have, I guess, that their parents aren’t their parents—and
I fixated on my father. I would fantasize, going to bed at night, that
you or someone like you—my real father—was out there.
Somewhere. And if I could just hold on and be patient enough, if I could
wait and
listen and look—for clues—maybe one day I’d find you.
. . .
BRIGID (cont’d.) Did you ever love me at all?
NIALL I can help you.
NIALL (cont’d.) It’s within my power to help you. BRIGID What do you mean? NIALL I’ve never done it before. . . . BRIGID Done what before . . . ? NIALL You’re going to have trouble believing
this. But I want you to keep an open mind and an open heart—. BRIGID . . . I promise. NIALL . . . All my life I knew I was destined for
great things. I didn’t
know what. Or how. I didn’t know what my calling would be. So I
waited. I wanted to keep myself open—to callings. I wandered and
looked and listened. People thought I was a "freak" or a "loser," but
I knew I was just waiting, biding my time.
BRIGID . . . . NIALL . . . You’re the first person I’ve
told.
BRIGID . . . . NIALL —But you’ve also come for a reason I don’t think even you understand:
NIALL (cont’d.) —Hey, don’t be frightened, okay? —Are
you? it’s
okay. I’m not—. I’m still Niall. . . .
NIALL (cont’d.)
Two: South
|
|||
 |
|
|
|