 |
 |
 |
 |
| ALLAN LOPEZ |
| Battery Park |
| THIS IS PART OF THE LITERATURA READING SERIES | CLICK HERE TO GO BACK TO LITERATURA |
| THE AUTHOR HOLDS THE COPYRIGHT TO THIS PLAY. THIS IS POSTED WITH PERMISSION FROM THE AUTHOR. FOR INQUIRIES ON HOW TO SECURE THE PLAYWRIGHT'S PERMISSION TO STAGE THIS PLAY, PLEASE E-MAIL HIM AT THIS ADDRESS. |
| An Excerpt from the One-Act Play CHARACTERS JOONIE a man, 27 years old SARAH a woman, 41 years old Apartment in Upper East Side, New York City Kitchen, dining table, living room with a piano Evening. JOONIE, bruised, pressing a towel on his head, sits. SARAH fills a bag with ice. Sarah sits, opposite Joonie. She slides the bag to the middle of the table. A pause. SARAH I’d put ice on that. JOONIE Should I press my head on it? SARAH No, hold it up. Against your head. It’ll help with the swelling. JOONIE Am I? Swelling? SARAH (Demostrates) Like what you’re doing with your towel. JOONIE Hindi naman ako tanga, siyempre. SARAH What did you say? JOONIE I said, wala naman akong gagawin sa’yo. (Gets the bag, presses it against his head) Maski abot mo pa ng maayos. SARAH I told you I don’t speak Tagalog. JOONIE Alam ko. SARAH I can’t understand you. JOONIE I’m not saying anything. SARAH You’re free to go home. I guess. A pause. JOONIE I was only joking. SARAH Joking? JOONIE Yes. Teasing. SARAH It’s offensive. JOONIE I wouldn’t mind it. SARAH You will. JOONIE I might. If there were two of you, and you’re chattering in a language I don’t know. SARAH You generally will. JOONIE That’s dangerous, if there were two of you. And only for that reason, I’d mind. SARAH Only for that reason? JOONIE Yes. Danger comes in pairs. SARAH Does it? (A beat) I’ll give you money for a cab. JOONIE I have money. (A beat) Sorry, Sarah. Sarah stands, fills two wine glasses at the counter. SARAH Who told you? JOONIE Told me what? SARAH My name’s Sarah. JOONIE You said so. SARAH Where? JOONIE At the station. SARAH Why were you listening? JOONIE Because we were across from each other. SARAH Right. (A pause) I’m usually secretive. Never, ever, give out your name. Do you have a fake ID? JOONIE No. SARAH You’re new in the city? JOONIE Yes. SARAH I see. JOONIE I was rude. Earlier. SARAH On second thought, you’re really not. JOONIE Not what? SARAH Not new. I’ve been seeing you. Maybe two years. Maybe three. JOONIE Battery Park. SARAH Right. Sarah sits. JOONIE You should learn to speak our language. SARAH Yes, I should. Cloud and I both took classes before, but it was just so demanding. It took us a day — one entire day — learning to introduce ourselves. ‘Ano’ng pangalan mo?’ That’s all we learned, because we quit the very next day. ‘Ano’ng pangalan mo?’ You know that, right? JOONIE What’s your name. SARAH Absolutely. ‘Ano’ng pangalan mo?’ ‘Me llamo Sarah. Y tu?’ ‘Joonie? Bien bien.’ One entire day, going around the class saying that. JOONIE That’s Spanish. SARAH Joonie? JOONIE No. ‘Me llamo,’ ‘Y tu.’ And ‘Bien.’ Although, I had a teacher named Bien. SARAH You’re kidding? JOONIE No. SARAH See? I’m hopeless. Absolutely hopeless. Cloud’s hopelesser. I mean, more hopeless. Imagine, two of his staff are from Manila, and I’m sure they chatter all day in Tagalog, knowing how immigrants act, and he still doesn’t get a thing. He went through his French classes just fine. Level five. But Tagalog? It’s really complicated. Really very much so. Believe me. JOONIE Maybe you should learn Bicolano, your mother’s language. SARAH Why’d I want to learn that? JOONIE I don’t know. Maybe so you can speak to your mother? SARAH She’s dead. JOONIE Oh. SARAH I know, I know. I was chattering about her too much earlier, hard to get that she’s long dead. I guess it’s what you end up talking about, really, when you’re with another Filipino like you. How you ended up stateside. In real life, like yourself. Or any other way. (A pause) You have to bear with me. Been here so long, I never ever get the chance to do this too often. Really. JOONIE How young were you? SARAH My mother said when I was four. JOONIE That’s too young to remember. Four. SARAH Not entirely. I remember taking a long train ride—quite a long one. JOONIE That’s fair. A pause. SARAH Writing about that gave me a perfect grade in creative writing class. In college. JOONIE I know a whole lot of people who do that. SARAH They liked it. Memories. JOONIE I don’t. But I really don’t mind. (Stands) I have a question. SARAH In English. JOONIE I need a drink. SARAH Have one. JOONIE You poured a couple. Is the other one mine? SARAH It can be. JOONIE What? SARAH It can be if you want it to be. JOONIE So is it or isn’t it? SARAH Sure. Of course. Joonie gets glass on the counter. SARAH Are you better? JOONIE I guess so. (Sips, slowly, nearly finishing the glass) Back home, you know when someone’s an ass when he pretends to know wine. SARAH Like here. JOONIE I’m a beer drinker myself. SARAH It shows. JOONIE How? I’m not fat. SARAH You just look like one. JOONIE Is your husband a beer drinker? SARAH No. He’s all wine. And scotch. Or anything above two hundred dollars. JOONIE This is two hundred dollars a bottle? SARAH Three-fifty. JOONIE Wow. SARAH It’s European. JOONIE Which part of Europe. SARAH European. JOONIE That’s a big category. SARAH I don’t know wine. JOONIE Your husband? SARAH He does. JOONIE How would you know if he does if you don’t? (Sarah goes to the couch) Of course, I’m joking. SARAH I realize that. JOONIE I’m sure he has a good job. SARAH He does. JOONIE That’s why you’re fashionable. SARAH I really just am. Although (Laughs alone) I’ll tell you. You’re the very first one who ever said that to me. JOONIE What does he say about you? SARAH Who? JOONIE Cloud. Cloud is the name of your husband, right? SARAH I don’t exactly remember. Anymore. I mean, you can probably see, but I’m not as young as you are. JOONIE My mother remembers every little detail of her life. SARAH I’m not even talking about my memory. I’m thinking of the time it’s been, since we — I — actually cared about frivolities like that. JOONIE I know a lot about time. SARAH What? JOONIE You mentioned time. I was listening to you carefully. SARAH I’m sure you are. JOONIE I know that it couldn’t have been that long. SARAH You’re assuming. Of course you never realize that you’ve been living in New York for nearly twenty years, getting there after being married, and it was the middle of the 80s, and your both hip and sassy with your large hair and larger shoulder pads. JOONIE Fair enough. (Sits across Sarah) As a matter of fact, it’s hard to really tell that. SARAH Let me tell you another matter of fact. I get that a lot. (A pause) Is your friend a beer drinker too? JOONIE I don’t know. SARAH So you just live together? JOONIE I suppose. SARAH You suppose? And what does he suppose? JOONIE You’re always kidding. You’re funny. SARAH Yeah, a bundle of joy. JOONIE I generally just crash. SARAH He’s kind. JOONIE Not that. It’s not charity. I don’t need to crash. I just want to. SARAH How’d you meet him? JOONIE In Grand Central. SARAH He works there? JOONIE No. He was just in from Tulane. SARAH He’s a student? JOONIE He’s not. Looks like one, though. SARAH How’d you meet? JOONIE I was paying for a book. Dropped my wallet. He helped me get my cash. SARAH Then you gave up your apartment and went home with him? JOONIE I didn’t have an apartment. SARAH Oh. Does he know how to speak Tagalog? JOONIE No. Just like you. SARAH In what way? JOONIE In many ways. SARAH What made you trust him? JOONIE He’s good looking I guess. SARAH Handsome? JOONIE You could say that. Clean looking. I prefer clean looking friends. SARAH That’s nice and romantic. JOONIE Nothing like that. I’m not… SARAH You’re not gay? JOONIE No, not at all. I’m just… SARAH — Open minded? JOONIE No. Curious. SARAH Oh. (A pause) I didn’t think so. Definitely didn’t. JOONIE He plays the piano. Really good. SARAH We should have him here. Nobody plays ours. JOONIE What? SARAH Our piano. JOONIE Oh. SARAH I think I love music. JOONIE Not even Cloud? SARAH No. JOONIE Cloud is the name of your husband, isn’t it? SARAH Yes. Again. You know how many times you’ve asked that? JOONIE Nice name. SARAH He’s a hard-working man. JOONIE What? SARAH He’s a hard-working man. JOONIE Sure. You do know how many times you’ve said that? SARAH (Laughs) You’re right. Sarah stands, double checks if the doors are locked. JOONIE I can be sent home now, you know. SARAH No. JOONIE I’m holding you up. You should be reading a book or something. SARAH You have to meet him. A pause. JOONIE Am I in trouble? SARAH What? JOONIE Shit. In shit? SARAH Why should you be? JOONIE I don’t have an idea. SARAH You’re not. JOONIE Fair enough. Sarah goes to the kitchen. Joonie remains in the dark. SARAH You know what, I’m sorry. I guess you’re dying. I never asked, but did you have the chance to grab lunch? I feel guilty, because I did. Of course, things got to my nerves. My hands tremble. They do. Whenever I’m excited. I wasn’t, but I’m sure you get what I’m trying to say. I’m little miss butter fingers. I ate three donuts. Three. That’s all you can get. It’s funny you know, how they live up to their stereotype. Those uniformed pigs. Just in a manner of speaking, though. They’re not really pigs. They’re quite alright. Not like action-movie or NYPD Blue alright, but ok. What time did I tell you Cloud was going home? JOONIE You said six. SARAH Three hours isn’t the end of the world, I guess, but it’s enough for us to go ahead and eat. (She rummages through the fridge) Now, I asked him to get us all a formal dinner. Something cooked. By someone. Don’t you just hate those meals they deliver? They taste too good. Not that I’m paranoid or such, but when something tastes too good, you’re a hundred percent sure it’s chemically flavored. That’s what they do now. They have powdered steak flavoring, powdered pizza flavoring, powdered whatever. (Drops food on the counter) Now, we’d have to contend with all of those, because I have nothing ‘real’ left. You’d want a little bit of pizza, because these are not Pizza Hut. I keep them. Microwavable for three days. At most. This is Chinese. Nice dumplings. Microwavable for four days. But that’s pushing it. Don’t eat the rice. Let’s wait for Cloud, and real food. He’s just in a party. Maybe. Now these nice croissants are heaven. I get them in the Broadway. Not joking. I go there for this. They’re so good. You know who told me about them? I have this friend, who’s interning in UN. She’s not a dike but women like her. I think I’m mistaken. She’s not interning in the UN, she actually works there. I mean, a real employee. I call her foodie pussy. Because she’s a foodie and people think she likes pussies. So she takes me all around. Dirty little glutton secrets. And this croissant stop is one. I buy there. You should try this. (Stops) Now, young man, you pick. JOONIE Thanks. I’m not hungry. SARAH You should be. We’ve been in station all afternoon. Besides, you’re, um, rather in bad shape. JOONIE I’m not. SARAH You are. JOONIE Sorry. SARAH You are. Please say you are. JOONIE Or what? A pause. SARAH Or I beg. JOONIE For me to eat? SARAH Yes. JOONIE For real? SARAH If necessary. JOONIE Do you like begging? SARAH Depends. A pause. JOONIE Feed me. SARAH Come here. JOONIE Be the saint you want to be. Come here, go on your knees, and feed me. SARAH That’s not happening. JOONIE How do you beg? SARAH By telling you to come here. JOONIE And you expect me to? SARAH Yes. Joonie goes to Sarah, opens his mouth. Sarah tears a piece of pizza, puts it in his mouth. Joonie eats, smiles, opens his mouth again. Sarah takes a bite, chews this, spits it on her hand, feeds him. Joonie eats, and opens his mouth yet again, defiantly. A pause. Sarah grabs him by the chin. Joonie initially resists, but stops. Sarah forces him to open his mouth, and makes him eat a large piece of bread. She pauses. She tears another piece – almost have the croissant – and shoves this in his mouth. She grabs him by the collar and pushes his mouth closed. Joonie punches the counter, but hardly resists. She is amused. A pause. Sarah lets him go. Joonie hurls what’s left in his mouth on the dining table. Sarah sits by the piano and lights a cigarette. Silence. Continues... This one-act play won Third Prize in the 2007 Don Carlos Palanca Awards |