Showing posts with label Plays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Plays. Show all posts

Tuesday, November 12, 2019

Waking Up

CHARACTERS

Jen: A woman in her early 30s, dressed ordinarily.
Stephanie: A woman in her early 30s, dressed ordinarily.
Joelle: A woman in her mid-20s, dressed ordinarily.
Peter: A man in his early 30s, dressed ordinarily.
Sam: A man in his early 30s, dressed ordinarily.
Master: A man in his mid-30s. He is dressed in loose-fitting, white cotton.

SCENE

A common area in a communal home, austerely furnished. There is a couch, chairs, a coffee table between them. Jen sits on the couch reading a book.

Act I

Stephanie and Joelle enter the room from stage left. Stephanie sits to Jen’s right on the couch and Joelle sits in the chair to Jen’s left.

Stephanie: We need to talk to you, Jen.

Joelle: That’s right.

Jen [apprehensively]: About what?

Stephanie: Some of the things that have been noticed. [Glances at Joelle; Joelle glances back] About you. About your tendencies. Your reactions.

Joelle: Yeah!

Jen [worried]: Who notices?

Stephanie [with a smug laugh]: EVERYONE notices, Jen.

Joelle [eagerly]: You can’t hide!

Stephanie: Joelle is correct. You can’t hide! How can you hide?

Joelle: No one can hide.

Stephanie: He notices too, by the way.

Jen: He does?

Stephanie: Of course he does. He notices everything.

Jen [annoyed]: Notices what?

Stephanie [trying to sound soothing]: You, Jen. You, you, you, you. You’re—

Jen: What?!

Joelle: You’re not being real.

Stephanie [after flashing a look at Joelle]: Not being real. I was going to say.

Jen: I’m not being real.

Stephanie: You’re not being real. That’s right, Jen.

Joelle: Just be real!

Stephanie: Just be real.

Joelle: Be real.

Jen [pleading]: I am being real!

Stephanie: You most assuredly are not.

Joelle: You’re being unreal!

Jen: Like what? When?

Stephanie: Uh… When you enter a room. When you interact. In relationships. With others and yourself.

Joelle: In your relationship with the universe!

Stephanie [shaking her head scoldingly]: You’re not being REAL.

Jen: [Slams her hand on the couch pillow in frustration] What does that even MEAN?!

Stephanie [quietly, resolutely]: You know full well what it means.

Joelle: Everyone knows what it means.

Jen [with a sigh]: Yes. But tell me what it means.

Stephanie: It’s quite clear you’re inauthentic.

Joelle: It’s like you’re acting!

Stephanie: Acting, pretending. Putting on a little play. [In a mocking voice] This is me, I’m Jen. Hello world. I want you to love me, world. Jen is talking. Jen does her practice. Jen reads a book. It isn’t real!

Joelle: It’s a performance!

Stephanie: It’s a performance.

[Jen stares glumly in the middle distance for a few moments, then lowers her head. A few more moments pass before she speaks.]

Jen: You’re right. I know. Of course I know. [She breaks into sobs.]

Stephanie: OK. OK. You know.

Joelle: At least you know!

Jen [softly]: I’ve known it all my life.

Stephanie: Sure. OK.

Jen [through tears]: I’ve been doing this since I was a little girl! God! I’m so sick of myself!

Stephanie: That’s right. That’s right. [After a few moments] Now cut it out.

Jen [holding her hands up in front of her in a pose of supplication]: I’m trying! I’m trying! I’m trying!

Stephanie [quietly]: You can’t try. Stop trying.

Joelle [ingenuously]: Just do it!

Stephanie: Joelle is absolutely correct. Just be. Real. Just be real.

[Jen explodes in an agonized scream, directed at the ceiling.]

Stephanie [closing her eyes and waiting for the scream to stop]: OK.

[Jen rapidly shakes her head, then looks at Stephanie with resolve.]

Jen: OK, OK, OK! Now! Now! Look at me!

[Stephanie peers skeptically at Jen and Jen stares back.]

Stephanie: Yes?

Jen: I’m being real.

[Stephanie scrutinizes Jen for a few moments.]

Stephanie: Sorry. No.

[Jen closes her eyes and grimaces with frustration.]

Jen: Why?

Stephanie: Why?

Jen: Why? What am I doing? What am I doing wrong?

Stephanie [earnestly]: Well, you’re holding on. That’s clear. You’re not letting go. You’re... standing in your own way. You’re—

Jen [agitated]: But what am I supposed to do? I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll do it. I swear I’ll do it.

Stephanie: Stop doing. Stop doing.

Jen [growing more agitated and panicky]: I have to do it. I have to fix it. I have to fix it or I’ll DIE!

Stephanie: Stop. Breathe.

Joelle: Breathe!

Jen [wailing and crying now]: I have to fix ME!

Stephanie: I know. I know.

Jen [not at all comforted by Stephanie; in fact more distressed now]: Aaahh!!

Stephanie: Look, listen, you’re upset. It’s OK. Get upset. That’s when you know you’ve found the locus of the problem. This is the obstacle. It’s right here, now. Where you are upset.

Joelle: This is good!

Stephanie: It’s an opportunity.

Jen: I need help, I need help, I need help.

Stephanie: Stop needing.

Joelle: Stop needing!

[Jen breaks down in wailing sobs. Some time passes. Stephanie places her hand on Jen’s shoulder in an unconvincing gesture of support. Jen flinches slightly.]

Jen [calm now]: What did he say?

Stephanie [after a few moments]: Oh you know, Jen. [Sighs] It’s often not even what he says.

[Joelle nods as Jen looks at her and back at Stephanie with alarm.]

Jen: What did he SAY about me?

Joelle: He said you’re not being real.

[Stephanie flashes a quick look of irritation at Joelle as Jen buries her face in her hands, sobbing.]

Joelle [to Stephanie]: What? That’s what he said!

Stephanie: Joelle—while you are correct on the face of it, please be sensitive to the fact that Jen is in crisis at the moment. Furthermore, it’s not... responsible to repeat Master’s words like that. Willy nilly.

Joelle: Why is it irresponsible? It’s what he said. It’s what he meant. And also—

Stephanie: Shh.

Joelle: Also he told us to—

Stephanie [loudly, alarmed]: Shhh!

[Joelle looks down, chastened, a bit ashamed. Jen raises her head and stares in the distance, at neither of the other women. She’s suppressing her sobs now, sniffing, breathing hard. She appears to land on a realization.]

Jen [darkly]: Joelle, were you about to say that Master instructed you to confront me?

Stephanie [quickly, so Joelle does not reply]: Jen, that’s quite beside the point, we’re here to—

[Jen stands up, suddenly furious, and points at Stephanie.]

Jen: YOU’RE not real! YOU’RE not real! You goddamned bully!

Stephanie [a bit surprised, leaning back]: OK.

Jen [righteously angry]: It feels good, right? It feels good to be right and everybody else is wrong. You act like you know it all. Like you’ve got it figured out. It’s an ACT. That’s an act! And everybody knows it. You’re the biggest faker here!

[Stephanie composes herself for a brief moment and forces a wide smile at Jen.]

Stephanie: Good!

Jen [pointing at Stephanie]: FAKE! Not good! What you’re doing now! Look at that fake fucking smile! Trying so hard to be in control, to look like you predicted I’d be saying this, to look like you don’t mind. That it doesn’t hurt to hear. It should hurt. I’m hurting you!

Stephanie: Jen, you’re being REAL! You’re being REAL!

Jen: I’m not playing this fucking game. I’m fucking serious now. You’re a goddamn faker, and everyone knows it, and everyone has had it up to here with your judging and policing!

Stephanie: Jen, you’re having a breakthrough!

Jen: Maybe you’re right. And you’re having a breakdown. I’m taking you down. I’m calling you out.

Stephanie: Brilliant, Jen! Brilliant!

Jen: Maybe you’re not listening to a word I’m saying. Maybe you’ve never listened. Maybe you’ve never listened to anything anyone says.

Stephanie: Jen, this is wonderful. I’m proud of you!

Jen: You’re full of shit!

Stephanie: Jen, I’m seeing you! I’m hearing you! You are being heard!

Jen [pointing her finger]: And I’m telling you that you are FAKE, FAKE, FAKE. Not REAL.

[Stephanie turns to Joelle and smiles. Joelle smiles back. They touch hands briefly.]

Joelle: This is real, Jen! This is you being real!

Jen: You too, Joelle. Who the fuck are you? You’re a cypher. You’re a nobody. And I don’t mean that in a good way.

[Joelle tries to appear strong and endorse Jen’s transformation but her body language shows that she is shaken.]

Jen: You ran away and came here because you had nowhere else to go. No job. No boyfriend. Flunked out of school. Parents rolling their eyes. You came here to hide. Admit it! You came here to hide.

[She lets her words sink in, then turns back to Stephanie.]

Jen: Stephanie, you let Joelle follow you around like a fucking puppy because it gratifies your ego.

[At this, Stephanie stiffens—she now can’t help but show her defensiveness.]

Stephanie [with a forced little laugh]: OK, Jen. Listen—

Jen: Ha! You listen to me! Aren’t I being real? Aren’t you listening to me being real?

Stephanie [after a moment, sullenly]: Yes.

Jen: You think you impressed him and now you’re the little one-woman ego police. His right-hand woman, doing his dirty work. Pathetic. It feels good to put other people down, doesn’t it Stephanie?

[Stephanie visibly flinches.]

Jen [darkly sarcastically]: Oooh I touched a nerve! I touched a nerve! I found you Stephanie! I found you under there! You are a woman who enjoys making other people feel bad. Or maybe even enjoys making other women feel bad. That’s who you are. That’s the person you are. I’m right, aren’t I? Am I on to something?

[Stephanie is mute for a few moments. She’s clearly trying to suppress an emotion.]

Jen [suddenly]: BE REAL!

[At once Stephanie closes her eyes and bursts into tears. This goes on for a while, Jen looming over her. Jen crosses her arms. Uncrosses them, waiting.]

Joelle [earnestly]: That was beautiful, Jen.

Jen [slightly taken aback, almost offended]: Beautiful?

Joelle [enthusiastically]: You just did so much work! I’m just… moved. I’m impressed. Stephanie was there for you in such a real way. And look how you responded! And now you’re there for her! Look at her!

[Jen turns to Stephanie, who is still convulsing with sobs, now with her face in her hands.]

Jen [skeptically]: I’m looking at her right now, Jo.

Joelle: She’s having such a real moment! Thanks to you!

[A few moments pass as Joelle watches Stephanie happily and Jen watches her with some concern.]

Joelle [cheerily]: It’s like Stephanie was your teacher and now you are her tea—

Stephanie [lifting up her head and stopping herself from crying]: Shut UP Joelle!

Joelle [calmly]: I know! It’s har—

Stephanie: SHUT UP! SHUT UP! Shut the FUCK up!

Joelle [still calm, but tentative]: OK. Sure.

Stephanie: Why is this so hard? Why is this so goddamned hard?

Jen [shaking her head]: Yeah, I don’t know.

Stephanie: This doesn’t feel right. It can’t be right.

Jen: You’re right. You’re fucking right.

Stephanie [looking up sadly at Jen, who is still standing]: Jen, you and I were so close!

Jen: I know.

Stephanie: We were friends! We used to talk. And look at us now!

Jen [again shaking her head]: You’re right. It’s making me sick.

Stephanie: Jen, do you ever feel like there’s something wrong with this?

[Both Jen and Joelle tense up, shocked at what Stephanie is suggesting.]

Jen: Well, I—

Stephanie [tearfully]: I think about it all the time!

Joelle: Stephanie!

Jen [with some difficulty]: I know. I think about it too.

Joelle: Jen!

Stephanie: This can’t be right! Feeling like this can’t be right. This is no way to live!

Jen: Oh my God. Oh my God.

Stephanie: I feel completely terrible and scared and nauseous and guilty and ashamed every single day, every minute of every day.

Jen: So do I. Jesus Christ, so do I.

Joelle [imploringly]: Jen, Stephanie, hold on, hold on, hold on. Stop. This is a test. You’re being tested. Stay strong! Stay with the teaching. You know what’s happening right now. This is the Devil testing you. Master said it would happen! He said it would happen just like this. You have to stay strong! This is the moment! This is the moment right now!

[Jen and Stephanie look at Joelle with skepticism but some deference, too. CURTAIN.]

ACT II

The curtain rises on Jen, Joelle, Peter, Sam, and Stephanie gathered in a dorm-style bedroom, some on the bed, others standing or seated at desk chairs. They are engaged in an animated discussion.

Peter: But you’re so close, Stephanie! You’re so close to… holding the universe in the palm of your hand!

Stephanie: So close, so close! But never there. Being told that is a kind of… mind control.

Sam: Careful what you say.

Stephanie: I can say what I want!

Sam: Careful what you say.

Stephanie: This is my genuine experience.

Peter: Oh listen to yourself. “My, my, my.”

Jen [adamantly]: We’re doing it, guys. We are just letting you know that we are doing it.

Peter [aghast]: Oh God, oh God, oh God!

Sam: I’m shaking right now. I’m visibly shaking.

Jen: The reason you’re shaking is you know we’re right. You just can’t bring yourself to admit it. Yet.

Stephanie: The time is now, guys. We’re talking about real liberation right? Real.

Jen: All those doubts in the back of your mind. In the front of your mind. They’re not distractions. They’re not delusions.

Stephanie: They’re real!

Jen: They’re real.

Sam: I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud but…

Peter: What are you saying, Sam?

Joelle: Sam! Careful what you say!

Sam: There’s something inside me that…

Joelle [imploringly]: Sam!

Sam [blankly, staring off]: That believes that Stephanie and Jen are right.

Peter: Oh God.

Joelle [sternly]: Sam, that thing inside you. You know what it is.

Peter: You know what he would tell you it is!

Joelle: That’s right. He would tell you it’s the Devil and you know he’s right.

Jen [disgusted]: And he should know! He’s got a Devil inside bigger than any one of us!

[There are gasps around the room, even from Stephanie.]

Jen: Come on! Come on!

Sam [in a whimper]: Careful what you say!

Jen: I am not going to be careful with the truth! He’s the biggest monster of us all!

Stephanie [fearful but admiring]: Jesus, Jen. Wow!

Jen: Remember the cake we made? That I made with Joelle?

[Various people nod.]

Jen: That motherfucker sent it back six times! We made him seven cakes!

[Some shake their heads in disbelief.]

Jen: Joelle, I’m not lying. Tell them it’s true. That we baked seven birthday cakes for him.

Joelle [sadly]: It’s true.

Jen: He didn’t like his fucking birthday cake six times and wouldn’t even tell us why. Peter, you were the one he told to tell us. He told you to tell us that he was unhappy with his cake. Six times! Am I lying?

Peter: No Jen, you’re not lying, but—

Jen: He’s not God, he’s just a little kid! He’s a little kid who figured out how to push everyone’s buttons so he gets SEVEN CAKES!

Peter [aghast]: No, no, no, no, no. Come on, Jen. You know that’s not what’s going on.

Jen: I’m saying the TRUTH!

Peter: He’s not, he’s not, he’s not—he’s not asking you to make him cakes because he likes cake!

Jen [a bit sarcastically]: Aw, Peter. Everybody likes cake.

Peter [his voice gradually rising]: He’s not some, some, some… some little KID who wants another cake and then another CAKE!

Jen [sincerely]: Then what the fuck does he want Peter? What does he want from us?

Peter: He doesn’t want anything from you Jen! Do you pay any goddamned attention to the teaching?

Jen: He rejected cake one, cake two. Cake three, four, five, and six. How is that part of the teach—

Peter: Jen, Jen, Jen, look. You know the answer to that. You know why he did that. Come on. Come on!

Jen: Peter, you better not be about to tell me he was teaching me a lesson.

Peter [adamantly]: He was teaching you a lesson!

Jen: That’s a load of SHIT.

Joelle [abruptly, almost involuntarily, to Jen]: That’s the Devil talking!

Peter: You KNOW it’s hard, Jen! You know these are hard lessons! The teaching is a challenge! It’s supposed to make you doubt! It’s supposed to awaken all of your suspicions, all of your skepticism, all of your cynicism! And when everything is out there it’s supposed to awaken you! It’s not easy! But this is the teaching! It’s a very powerful teaching and it works!

Jen [after a few moments]: I doubt.

Peter: Oh God.

Jen: I doubt.

Stephanie: I doubt too. Oh my God, I doubt too.

Sam [meekly]: I doubt too.

Peter: Sam!

Joelle: Sam!

Sam: I’m sorry! I doubt!

Stephanie: It’s not just the cake. It’s everything. We’ve all been on our hands and knees to scrub his floor. Arranged and re-arranged and re-arranged the flowers that greet him everywhere he goes. Searched strange cities for his tea.

Jen: His fucking tea.

Stephanie: What is it about? What is it actually about? You know, a dispassionate outside observer would say we’re in a cu—

Peter: No!

Stephanie [shaking her head]: Peter!

Peter: Don’t say it! Don’t say that!

Jen: Stephanie, you can say it with a capital C. It’s true and we’re leaving.

Stephanie: We’re leaving. And you can too.

Joelle [in a frenzy]: But when Master demands something he’s demanding you to be free. That’s all he wants! Peter’s right. He doesn’t want cake! He doesn't want something for him, he wants something for you. He has nothing but love inside him! He wants you to make it! If you resist, it’s the Devil that’s resisting! The Devil wants you in chains. What’s happening now is a test. It’s so obvious! Master taught us this! Master warned us this would happen!

Jen: Jo, Jo, Jo. For Christ’s sake Jo. You do know a little about Master’s demands, don’t you?

Joelle [taken aback, shaken]: What are you talking about?

Stephanie: Everybody knows, Jo. Everybody knows, everybody knows.

Joelle [tremblingly, defensively]: Listen to you! Listen to you ALL! Sneaking around and gossiping! Pointing fingers. Judging! And all the while pretending. Pretending you made it. What a… what a… DISGRACE!

Jen: That’s my point exactly.

Joelle [heatedly]: You know nothing! Remember! You know nothing!

[A few moments pass. Joelle is red-faced, breathing hard. The others wear sad, introspective looks.]

Stephanie: That’s not true. I know one thing.

[The others look at Stephanie expectantly.]

Stephanie: Tomorrow before the meditation I am going to defy him.

[Joelle and Peter gasp.]

Stephanie: I’m going to stand up on my own two feet and denounce him.

Joelle: Stephanie!

Stephanie: SHUT UP! [A few moments pass. Then calmly.] I’m going to stand up and tell him he’s a FRAUD.

Jen: I’m standing up too!

Stephanie: I’m going to tell him he’s a HYPOCRITE.

Jen: Yes.

Stephanie: I’m going to tell him he’s a SADISTIC CHILD.

[Joelle and Peter shake their heads.]

Sam [unsteadily, with emotion]: I’m going to stand up too!

Stephanie: I’m going to tell him if he has any idea what freedom means he’d cease his teaching right away. But he doesn’t. So he won’t. But the one thing I can do—we can do [looking at Jen and Sam]—is stand up and WALK AWAY.

Joelle: Stephanie.

Stephanie: What, Joelle.

Joelle: Stephanie, what about the events of—

Stephanie [rolling her eyes]: Don’t tell me about the events of—

Joelle [firmly]: Yes! The events of April 17th, 2015!

Stephanie [ruefully]: The events of April 17th, 2015.

Peter [standing up]: The events of April 17th! Thank you Joelle. We can’t sit and listen to this… this cowardice when every one of us is well aware of the events of April 17th!

Stephanie: To be perfectly honest with you, Peter, I’ve had it up to here with talk of the events of April 17th. It’s turned into such… code. A means of drawing lines between us.

Jen: Yes, dividing us. Testing us.

Stephanie: Testing, judging. Pushing. Making us feel worthless for not doing the goddamned [sarcastically] work required to live up to the fucking haloed events of April 17th.

Jen: I’m tired of the oppressive mythology of that date!

Peter: Oppressive mythology?

Jen [righteously]: That’s right. We’re never good enough, are we? Somehow we’re never worthy of living in the same universe as the one in which April 17th, 2015 took place.

Peter [imploring]: Sam, you were there! Weren’t you actually there on April 17th?

Sam [hanging his head, quietly]: I was.

Peter: I think you should tell the story. I think we need to hear the story.

Sam [slowly]: It was… it was… [beginning to sob softly, then stoically raising his head] Beautiful! It was beautiful.

Peter: Go on.

Sam: It was Master and a few of us. Eight or nine of us. A day like any other, really. We’d done a meditation and decided to take a walk out by the lake. I don’t know who decided. Maybe it wasn’t even Master. But it was a warm spring day. Everyone was so… relaxed for some reason. We sat in a circle on the grass. No one said much. Just a few words here and there. Small talk, I guess. About the weather. About the birds. The lake. And then [trying to contain his emotions]... it happened.

Peter: Tell us.

Sam: I felt a radiant light inside me. Like every atom in my body was shining, projecting light. Something inside of me… dissolved. I looked around and I, I [breaking down]... I realized it was happening to everyone else too! And they realized it was happening to me! We looked at each other like we’d never looked before. We spoke easily, freely. I’m not even sure what about. We spoke about what was happening but not like we were surprised. Because we weren’t surprised! It was all happening, it was happening to all of us, and it was meant to happen. There were no boundaries. Anyone could say anything. And everything was understood. I felt nothing but pure love for everyone and everything around me. Around me and beyond. We were by the lake but we were really floating in space. All my petty worries, my preoccupations, my doubts—they all were gone, annihilated. No more envy. No self-loathing. And I knew in my heart that death was an illusion. It was… it was... [through sobs] the most beautiful experience of my entire life!

[Various people approach Sam and touch him comfortingly, understandingly.]

Jen: Sam, that’s powerful.

Peter: It is. It really is. [Appealing to the group] Isn’t it?

[All solemnly offer nods and words of assent. A few moments pass.]

Stephanie: Sam, what happened on April 18th?

Sam: What?

Stephanie: That was April 17th. Tell us what happened on April 18th.

Sam [reluctantly]: Nothing.

Stephanie: What do you mean, nothing?

Sam [sighs]: Nothing happened.

Stephanie: Did your experience of April 17th persist?

Sam [quietly]: No.

Stephanie: Did you return to your, what did you call them, doubts and fears? Petty preoccupations? Tell the truth.

Sam [quietly]: Yes.

Peter: Stephanie, that’s cruel.

Stephanie: That’s cruel?

Peter: I think you’re being cruel. Yes.

Stephanie [livid]: You want to know what cruelty is, Sam? It’s having the ultimate power over someone and telling them they’ll never make it! Looking them in the eye and saying the chances they’ll make it are so infinitesimally small, they should go home right now. Go home and marry their girlfriend, finish school. Get a job and live out the rest of their days in the dark. Eating, fucking, watching TV. No chance of making it so might as well GIVE UP. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?

[Peter solemnly nods his head.]

Stephanie [growing emotional]: Henry was a good person! He didn’t fucking deserve that! And you know it!

Peter [saddened]: You’re right, Stephanie.

Stephanie [gritting her teeth as she tears up]: I wish he had gone home! [After a few moments] I wish he’d gone back to school and got married! And had kids! Lived a goddamned life!

Peter: We all do, Stephanie. We all do.

Stephanie [trembling with anger]: And you know what Master did after, don’t you? Don’t you?

Peter [hanging his head]: I do.

Stephanie [darkly angry]: He LAUGHED. He laughed about Henry. He laughed in front of me, and he laughed in front of you, and because he is what he is, and we are what we are, [bitterly] we laughed too. God I’m so ashamed! We were so WEAK, Peter. What kind of, never mind teacher, never mind master, what kind of… human being!... [She grows incoherent and finally breaks down. Jen stands up and puts her arms around her.]

Peter: Oh my God, Stephanie. You’re right. I know, I know. I’m sorry. You’re right.

Joelle: He was weak.

Stephanie [aghast]: What?!

Joelle: Henry was weak.

Stephanie: Joelle, I know you’re trying hard to be the good disciple here. But spare us for a second.

Joelle: He was weak!

Sam: Jesus, Jo. This can’t all just be some competition about who can survive and endure and put up with this goddamned shit day after day after day. That can’t be the—

Joelle: Stop looking for a way out! You’re all just looking for a way out!

Jen: Oh because the only way out is up, right Jo? Isn’t that how it works? And name one person who’s ever made it!

Sam: No one ever makes it.

Joelle [tentatively]: Robert made it.

Jen: Robert lost his mind, Jo. He thought he made it and then he had a fucking mental breakdown. He’s back living with his parents right now for Christ’s sake.

[Joelle doesn’t respond. After a moment she drops her head and closes her eyes.]

Jen: Tomorrow we’re walking out. We’re standing up after the teaching.

Stephanie: I’m going to denounce him. And then we’re all walking out. Are we all walking out? Peter?

[Peter stares in the distance a few moments.]

Peter [anxiously]: Oh my God. I am. I’m walking out.

Stephanie: Joelle?

Joelle: I can’t.

Stephanie: You can’t.

Joelle [resolutely]: I can’t and I won’t. I have integrity. I am committed.

Stephanie: Joelle, that’s Master’s mumbo-jumbo.

Joelle [defensively]: It is NOT mumbo-jumbo! How can you all sit here and throw away years of practice? Because you can’t make it? Because it feels good to quit? It feels good to see others quit? That’s the easy way out! You know it!

Jen: Joelle, it’s taking all the strength and resolve I have in my being to quit. Don’t accuse me of weakness.

Joelle: Listen to your pride! Listen to your ego! [Mockingly] Don’t accuse me. Master said this would happen! The Devil would test us, and test us, and test us again, and finally he’d test us so hard that we would desperately want to break, and that’s the moment not to break! I’m not going to break. I’m going to MAKE IT!

Sam: There’s no such thing as making it.

Joelle: Sam!

Sam: It’s an illusion. It’s a sick game designed to get us to make a lot of cakes. I’ve made enough cakes. I’ve done enough prostrations. In the morning. In the evening. Waist-deep in the freezing-cold lake.

Joelle: You’re weak and you just want to quit!

Jen: Joelle, fine. You’re free to do what you want to do. You can join us or you can stay. You’re an adult wom—

Joelle [suddenly emotional]: I don’t have anywhere to go!

Jen [compassionately]: Joelle, there’s always somewhere to go. We can go places together. We can—

Joelle: I don’t have anywhere to go inside! [She points her finger at her brain] I don’t have anywhere to go in here. I have to make it! Don’t you understand?

[No one responds. A few moments pass.]

Joelle [desperately]: If I don’t make it I’m gonna DIE!

Curtain.

Act III

A large gathering room. Two dozen men and women sit on the floor, perpendicular to the audience, facing a small platform at stage right that’s festooned with flower petals, with a white pillow on it. Jen, Stephanie, Peter, Sam, and Joelle occupy one row in the middle of the crowd. The people are murmuring among themselves but grow quieter in anticipation of the arrival of Master. Finally a reverential hush descends as Master enters slowly from stage right. His posture and gait are normal, not regal, but there is an air of supreme authority about him, and a subservient awe on the part of his followers. In fact, it’s hard to know how much of his charisma comes from him and how much from the crowd’s reaction to him. He sits in a cross-legged lotus position on the pillow and beholds his audience serenely. A few moments pass as the anticipation of his speaking builds.

Master [surveying the crowd]: How do we feel?

[Murmurs of positive words are heard.]

Master [teasingly]: Really? Come on. Someone feels bad out there. I don’t feel good all the time. Sometimes I feel bad. Sometimes I didn’t sleep right. Sometimes I have a headache. [After a beat] Sometimes I have a hangover.

[Chuckles are heard.]

Master: Someone feels bad. I just know it. [He scans his audience with an air of mild suspicion, as though he’s about to accuse someone.] Someone feels good. I just know it. [He furrows his brow and makes a little comical grimace. More chuckles are heard.]

Master: We feel good, we feel bad. Why do we feel bad? Because we want something we don’t have. Want, want, want. We lost something and we want it back. Someone else has something and we want it from them. Want. Why do we feel good? Because we got it! [He makes a curious guffaw, like an engine turning. The crowd laughs in response.] We got our hands on that thing. But the more we want, the more we get, nothing really happens, right? We’re not happy. We’re not satisfied. In fact we’re miserable. So now we want to break the chain. We want what? What do we truly, deeply want?

[He gazes about, indicating that this is not a rhetorical question. “Freedom” someone says. “To be free,” someone else says.]

Master: That’s right. Freedom. We want freedom. But the more we want it, the farther out of reach it seems. Right?

[Murmurs of assent.]

Master: That’s because we’re trapping ourselves. It’s the want trap! [Another guffaw. Then, somberly] That’s not your true self that wants to make it. That’s your ego. It wants a trophy. It wants a little gold star. It wants some kind of payoff for all the years of devotion, right? All the years of practice? The prostrations?

[He smiles knowingly at the audience and they do the same. They nod sheepishly.]

The ego is a businessman. It specializes in transactions. Deals! [In a salesman-y voice] Boy, do I got a deal for you. I give you A and you give me B. Let’s see what I can do to get what I want. No—let’s see how little I can do and still get what I want! [Guffaws] And what happens when the deal falls apart? When we pay, we pay, we pay and we get nothing in return? [Pauses, scanning the room.] We get mad. Don’t we get mad? We say, To hell with this. [Pantomimes a petulant child stomping away by swinging his arms by his sides] I’m leaving! [A longer guffaw] I’m leaving because I’m not getting what I want. I’m running away. Starting over. I’ll get a new job. I’ll make new friends. And maybe I’ll make it this time. Maybe I’ll make it like this. [Pantomimes a proud face] I’ll make it my way. [Long pause] Let me promise you something: You will never, ever, ever make it. As long as you’re in the cycle. As long as you’re in the trap. You will never, ever make it. [Somberly] You’ll be digging your grave deeper every day. That’s what your life will be. How deep can I make my grave? One shovel of dirt at a time. Deeper, deeper, deeper. I want food! Deeper. I want sleep! Deeper. I want sex! Deeper. I wonder what’s on TV! [Guffaws] Deeper. [Pause] I want to make it! Deeper still. So deep now. So deep.

[A long pause as Master beholds his disciples gravely.]

Master: The want trap. [Master recites the following quotes with a trace of mockery, looking around the room. Audience members cast their heads down in shame, in turn, as in each instance they realize he’s talking about them.] “I want to write a screenplay.” “I want to be a sculptor.” “I want to sing.” “I want to be a chef.” “I want to ride across the country on a motorcycle.” [Pause] “I want to be free.” [Pause] Want, want, want, want, want. Guess what? You don’t know what you want! You know nothing. Want nothing. Know nothing. [Pause] Know nothing.

[Another long pause. Then Master lifts up his arm and snaps his fingers.]

Master: Wake up! [He surveys the audience, who strive to appear as alert as possible in reaction to his command. He snaps his fingers again.] You know what that means: That means wake up. [Pause] Wake up! [Snap!] Wake up. When you’re drifting, when you’re falling. When you’re digging your own grave. [Snap!] Wake up. When you think you’re awake but you’re not. [Smiles broadly] Oh yes, that one. [Nervous chuckles around the room] You know what I’m talking about. [Mimics a plaintive, defensive student] “But I am awake!” [Shakes his head, smiling] You’re not awake! [More nervous chuckles from the crowd. Then another fingersnap.] Wake up! Whenever we feel bored, lonely. Tired. [Snap!] Wake up. [He surveys the room for a long moment, then softly] Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up. [After another pause] There’s no way out but up. [Pause] There’s no way out but up. There’s nowhere to hide. You can run away. You can go back home. You can run away to a physical place. Your parents’ house. Maybe an ex-boyfriend. An ex-girlfriend. You can run away in your mind. You can physically be here—stay here—but run away in your mind. [Guffaws] I’ve seen it happen! You can hide in your mind. Run away in your heart. In your soul. [Suddenly very serious] If you do that I will know. And if you do that you will know. We both will know! And I promise you that you will regret it deeply every moment of every day. [Snap!] You will hear that whether you respond or not. [Snap! Snap! Snap!] You will forever hear the snapping of my fingers. Telling you: Wake up. [Pause] Calling you to the truth. Wake up! I have nothing but complete love for you and that’s why I’m telling you: wake up.

[The audience is silent, reverent. Master exhales, feeling as though all that had to be said was said.]

Does anyone have anything to say?

[He scans the room, taking his time, perhaps expecting someone to reply. No one does.]

No one? [Smiling] OK. Now we meditate.

[There is a sense of a terrible, heavy pall falling upon the assembly. This is represented by an ominous, droning hum that had been playing in the past minute or so but is now just loud enough to be audible. Everyone who isn’t in one already slowly gets into a lotus position, drops down their head and closes their eyes. The stage light dims. The hum continues as all are now deep in meditation. Then the hum quiets as a solitary spotlight shines on Joelle. Her eyes open. She seems confused, scared, bewildered. She looks disbelievingly at Jen, Stephanie, Peter and Sam, all of whom are deep in their trance. She looks all around her, at the prone, quiet bodies. Hesitantly, unsteadily, she stands up, her eyes wide open. She furtively exits her row toward the front of the stage, careful not to draw any attention. Then she runs away, as if for her life, exiting stage right.]

CURTAIN.

Thursday, October 29, 2015

The Way to Milwaukee

(A one-act play.)

CHARACTERS

Tom: A man in his late twenties. He manages an ice cream shop and wears a white soda jerk’s hat and an old-timey ruffled shirt with a red bowtie.
Joe: Tom’s friend, also in his late twenties. Joe is dressed conventionally, in jeans, a T-shirt and a light jacket.
Man: A man in his mid-thirties.
Daughter: The Man’s young daughter.

TIME

Late October, late in the afternoon on a Tuesday.

SCENE

A modest ice cream shop. There are a few tables and chairs, an ice cream display case with several tubs of ice cream, and a counter with a cash register and napkin dispenser, behind which stands Tom. There is a menu of flavors on the wall, with whimsical names such as “Chocolicious” and “Mint Condition.” Joe enters slowly through the front door.

Tom [slightly nervously]: Hey!

Joe: Hey man.

[Joe stands in the center of the shop and turns around slowly, taking in the decor.]

Tom: Yeah, this is it, man.

Joe [still turning and gazing]: Yeah! Yup.

Tom: It’s my fucking ice cream shop!

Joe: Yeah. Wow. You’re the manager of a goddamn ice cream shop.

Tom [laughing and shaking his head]: I know! I know.

Joe: There’s no one here.

Tom: Hmm?

Joe: There’s no one here. In the shop. Right now.

Tom: Yeah, uh. Yeah. [Pause.] It’s getting cold outside.

Joe [reading the flavor menu, a bit perplexed]: Uh-huh, uh-huh. Yeah, so people don’t eat ice cream when it’s cold?

Tom: Not really. I mean yeah, they do. But less. They eat less ice cream than in the fucking summer. That’s for sure.

Joe [facing Tom now]: So that’s why there’s like, no one here?

Tom [beginning to grow a bit defensive]: Yeah, I guess. I mean, there’s customers, but not as much. It’s normal. It comes and goes.

Joe: Comes and goes.

Tom: It’s really fucking busy in the summer, man. I sold a shitload of ice cream in August.

[Joe stares at Tom for a few seconds, nodding.]

Joe: So you work in a fucking business where when it gets cold outside, people no longer patronize the fucking business?

Tom: Joe—uh, yeah. No. See, there are good times and there are not so good times. It’s like, the cycle of business. The winter is not such a good time for selling ice cream.

Joe: So what the fuck are you gonna do?

Tom [a bit indignant]: What do you mean, what the fuck am I gonna do? I’m fucking standing here selling ice cream, man.

Joe: Standing there not selling ice cream. Like a fuckin’ jerkoff. In your ice cream hat.

Tom: Yeah, in my hat. This is the type of fuckin’ hat the ice cream guy is supposed to wear!

Joe: A guy wearing a hat like that best be holding a goddamned scoop, preparing a fucking cone for a kid.

Tom [raising his voice]: There are people! There were people here before. There was a person here before. Bought a fuckin’ gallon of ice cream!

Joe [laughing quietly]: Dude, man. C’mon. Look at that hat.

Tom [leaning over, his hands on the counter]: I know.

Joe: You’re wearing a fucking ice cream hat.

[Tom is hanging his head over the counter. He convulses slightly. It’s unclear whether he’s laughing or crying. He lifts his head.]

Tom [laughing]: The fucking hat!

Joe [laughing too]: You fuckin’ jerkoff!

Tom: I know! I know!

[Tom and Joe laugh heartily for a few seconds. Then they quiet down, and a few more seconds go by, punctuated by chuckles.]

Joe [suddenly serious]: Take it off.

Tom [composing himself, a little teary from the laughter]: Hmm?

Joe: Take the fucking hat off.

Tom [recoiling a bit, hurt]: What?

Joe: It’s a disgrace, that hat. Take it off your head.

[Tom reaches for the hat, looking stricken. It seems as though he’s going to remove it. Instead, he resets it snugly on his head. He looks intently at Joe.]

Tom: Hey. Fuck you.

[Joe rushes to the counter, grabbing at Tom’s hat. Tom protects it with both hands and pulls away. Joe leaps over the counter and chases Tom around the ice cream freezer. A mad scramble ensues, both men running through the store, bumping into tables, knocking over chairs. Joe claws at Tom’s head, desperately trying to tear off the hat. Tom holds it firmly in place, even as this causes him to lose his balance. After about 30 seconds, when it is clear that Tom is determined to keep the hat on, Joe gives up and collapses onto a chair. Tom warily pulls up a chair nearby, but not too close, and sits down too.]

Joe [out of breath]: Alright. Keep on your goddamned hat. The fuck do I care.

[A few moments pass. Joe sighs a quick laugh and then falls silent. Tom and Joe are both still catching their breath. Joe reaches into the pocket of his jacket and retrieves a pack of cigarettes. He’s pulling one out when Tom interjects.]

Tom: No.

Joe [pleading, exasperated]: C’mon.

Tom [angrily, pointing a shaky finger at Joe]: No smoking!

Joe [shouting]: COME ON!

Tom [loudly]: No smoking in my goddamned ice cream store!

Joe [even louder]: YOU TAUGHT ME HOW TO SMOKE!

Tom [a bit incoherent]: You don’—you just—why? You don’t smoke in—inside a ICE CREAM SHOP!

Joe [suddenly quiet and calm, taking pains to appear to be the reasonable one]: Tom, I honestly don’t think your customers will mind? Especially considering they don’t exist?

Tom [after a few moments, quietly]: Give me one.

Joe: I thought you quit—

Tom: GIVE ME ONE.

Joe: OK ice cream man.

[Joe puts a cigarette in his mouth and reaches across the space between him and Tom with the pack. Tom pulls one out. With his other hand, Joe reaches into his pocket for his lighter and strains again to light Tom’s cigarette. Then he settles back into his chair and lights his own. A few moments pass.]

Joe: I’m on my way to Milwaukee. Jeff and Nick are there.

Tom: Yeah?

Joe [after a dark chuckle]: You coming with?

[Tom hangs his head and shakes it.]

Tom [almost inaudibly]: Can’t.

Joe: Huh?

Tom [raising his head]: I CAN’T. I can’t, goddammit.

Joe: Why? Cause of this? [Joe indicates the store with a wave of his cigarette. Tom shakes his head again.]

Joe: Because you have to fucking stand like a moron in an empty ice cream shop all winter long?

Tom: No.

Joe [angry]: Then WHAT.

Tom: Just fucking go.

Joe: Come WITH!

Tom: I can’t.

Joe: Take off your STUPID ICE CREAM HAT and come to MILWAUKEE.

Tom: You’ll find another drummer.

Joe [suddenly realizing something, standing straight in his chair]: It’s Jessica?

[Tom looks at the floor.]

Joe: You knock her up?

[Tom doesn’t respond. He remains motionless, staring at the floor.]

Joe: Aw you fucking got her PREGNANT!? You didn’t fucking pull out your COCK?

[Joe gets up, steps to Tom and grabs him by the shirt.]

Joe: I was in fucking rehab for six FUCKING months! I was WAITING!

[Joe gives Tom a shove, almost knocking him off the chair, leaving his bowtie askew. Joe turns away in disgust and sits back down. Tom steadies himself and adjusts his hat.]

Tom [suddenly calm, accusatory]: What do you mean, waiting? Who the fuck do you think was waiting for you?

Joe [still livid, jabbing his index finger toward his own chest]: I had to wake up at fucking seven AM every damn day! I had to fucking scrub the toilet!

Tom [dully]: Yeah.

Joe: They put me with a roommate that was a fucking piece of shit! Liar! Thief!

Tom: Yeah.

Joe: And you were out here fucking your girlfriend and selling ice cream!

Tom: Uh-huh.

Joe: We had to do exercises in the yard!

Tom: Yeah?

Joe: It was militaristic!

Tom: Cry me a goddamn river, man.

[Tom’s comment throws Joe deeper into his rage. He leaps up, throws his cigarette onto the floor and paces maniacally for a few moments. Then he lunges toward the ice cream freezer display, opens it, grabs a tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream, and hurls it to the floor in front of Tom. It lands with an unsatisfying, almost comical thud. Joe kicks it several times, making little wounds in the cardboard where bright green, melting dessert begins to emerge.]

Tom [calmly, throughout Joe’s actions]: Stop. Stop. Stop. Yeah. Stop it. Stop. Stop. Stop it.

[Finally Joe is exhausted. He collapses back into his chair. A few moments pass. The tub of ice cream sits stupidly on its side, in a sticky little pool of green muck.]

Tom [calmly]: We were waiting for you, man. We waited. We waited for quite some fucking time.

Joe [still a little out of breath]: Jeff and Nick are still waiting.

Tom: I wouldn’t be so fucking sure.

Joe: What?

Tom: Wouldn’t be so sure ‘bout Jeff.

Joe: What?

Tom: I heard he was in another band already. Possibly with Nick. [Airily] Or possibly without Nick. I don’t—

Joe [pained]: What?!

Tom: Listen man, we waited for a while. We did. And then, you know, it turned into kind of a long time. Shit happens in the course of six months. You can’t stop shit from happening.

Joe [bitterly]: Nothing happened to me.

[A few seconds pass. Joe gets up slowly and turns to Tom. He is sad, remorseful, perhaps close to tears.]

Joe [a bit haltingly]: Can you just let me fucking say something in total seriousness, for like, thirty seconds, without making any fucking remarks? Just listen to me?

Tom: OK. Sure.

Joe: Leave the store. We’ll go to your place and you can pack up. We can take Jessica. There’s plenty of room in the car. You, me and Jessica are going to Milwaukee. We’ll find those guys. We’ll find Jeff. We’ll find Nick. We’ll get a place to rehearse. We’ll start all over again. I swear, we’ll start all over. It’s not gonna be like before. It’s going to be new. It’s going to be better. I have like, tons of ideas. I have ideas for songs. I have ideas for other stuff. It’s gonna be better for everybody. Jessica can come with us. We can all live in a house together. I like Jessica. We can pool our money. It’s gonna be communistic. The baby can be born there. The baby can be born and we can all help take care of it. Leave the store. Lock the door. Put the sign up on the door that says we’re closed. No—I got a better idea. Put the sign up that says be right back. Like you went to get change at the bank. Except you’re not coming back. You’re going to Milwaukee. With me. Now! And leave your hat [Joe makes a laugh that turns into a sob]. Take off your hat and leave it here. Fucking ice cream hat. There. That’s it. [Gritting his teeth, stiffening his shoulders] It’s all I have to say.

[A few moments pass. Joe looks intently at Tom, his face tense, almost trembling.]

Tom [solemnly]: Yeah. No. I can’t.

Joe [tensely]: You’re going to regret it.

Tom: I doubt it. Maybe.

Joe: You’re going to be on your deathbed someday. You’re going to say, I shoulda gone to Milwaukee.

Tom: Maybe.

Joe [attempting an informal, breezy tone]: Come with me.

Tom: No.

[Joe gives the tub of ice cream a final, furious kick and stomps out of the store.]

Tom [sincerely]: Good luck Joe!

Joe [over his shoulder as he exits the door]: Fuck you!

[Tom sits there, stunned. After a short time, a man and his young daughter enter the store. They stop short at the sight of Tom with his cigarette, the ice cream tub before him. Tom kneels down quickly to pick up the tub. He holds it awkwardly, the cigarette between his fingers.]

Man: Are… are you open?

Tom: Yes! Sorry! Sorry, sir. Just have to clean something up here. There we go! Have a look at the menu! We’re open—yes! Sorry, we’re open!

[Tom places the ice cream back in the freezer, throws his butt in the trash, and hurries back behind the counter. He takes a handful of napkins out of the dispenser and wipes the green stains off his shirt. He straightens his hat again and puts on a smile for the customers.]

Man: Uh, ah. Well, you know what? I think we’re all set for now. Actually!

Tom [sadly]: Really?

Man: Yeah. Sorry. You know! It’s kinda cold outside.

Tom: Yeah! I know.

Man: Maybe some other time!

Tom: OK!

Man: OK. Bye!

Tom: Bye!

[The man and his daughter back away awkwardly, turn, and leave. The sound of the door closing on Tom in his empty store is heard.]

CURTAIN.