ACQUAINTED WITH THE NIGHT
A play in one-act
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A raised platform upstage left.
Smoke, perhaps, rises around it.
A moon is in the sky; below a graveyard.
A food basket is downstage right.
A knife lies across the top of the basket.
A PIANIST sits and plays a grand piano.
A haunting tune, the beginning of something…
The music throughout is the genesis for the action that unfolds on the
stage. The PIANIST is composer, the
story we see is the story the PIANIST is telling. The other two characters may, at times, sit
and play, as well, but the PIANIST is always present… or not. Perhaps the other two characters, together or
one at a time, step out of the story and perhaps the PIANIST enters into it.
ANGELA is now there. She finds
the food basket, takes out a loaf of bread and begins to cut it with the knife.
MAN enters. He walks slowly
around the graveyard and stands in front of one grave. He looks down. After a moment he looks up and
toward another grave but does not move.
Finally, he does. He walks over
and kneels in front of a grave, puts his hands on the stone and feels it,
almost sensuously.
ANGELA has sensed him.
Scene 1
I don't know you. Who is there? (Pause.) Who can be there? Father?
I am not your father.
This is my graveyard.
Is it?
ANGELA
No one comes here. Only the watchman at night and the girl who
brings the food.
I
am trespassing?
This belongs to my family.
Oh.
I'm not afraid of you.
You should be.
I have dogs. They will rip you to shreds. Once they did just that. The man is buried in the town. I have only to call them and they will
come. Will you go?
I have a purpose here.
Then come in the
morning. I will be asleep and the
watchman, too. I don't care what happens
then.
I cannot come in the morning. Besides, it will be too late.
Too late?
For what, too late?
I came here to die tonight.
Die? Are you very old, then?
Very old.
ANGELA
Then the dogs will make short work of you.
MAN
You would do that? Call the dogs?
ANGELA
Of course.
MAN
A man should have some say in his manner of
death.
I also carry a gun. Would that be better?
Would it be quicker?
That depends.
I’m not a very good shot.
Better call the dogs, then.
A pause. ANGELA thinks about this.
ANGELA
There are other graveyards.
The moon led me here. It looks like a good place to die.
I am sorry, I cannot permit it. It is reserved for my family.
Then I will rest a while and die in the
woods.
Promise?
I do.
Then you may stay. But I haven’t forgotten about the dogs.
Neither have I.
They say my father is dead, but I know he
just went away. He is not here in the
graveyard. Look, (she walks over to a stone), this is my grandmother. (She
feels the face.) She died only two
years ago, but I never knew her. She
shut herself up in her room after-
After?
And here is my great-uncle who was hanged.
Why hanged?
He poisoned his wife and
children. The church buried him with the
heretics, but my family dug him up and brought him home.
You have a dreadful family.
What do you know? They are my family, that's all. And I'm the only one left, except my father
who went away.
You are strange. But, of course, you are blind.
You said you were old and
must die. At least you came to a
graveyard. But how will you die? Will your heart stop?
My heart stopped a long time ago.
You say that and yet you say
nothing. What do you know of stopped
hearts?
Why, I-
If your heart was stopped you
would be cold with death like my mother.
She died as I was born and that is why my father is gone! He had his wife in the ground and an ugly
baby to care for. What do you know of a
heart that is stopped?
Your father... left you?
There is a tradition of that in my
family.
And he never came back?
I wait each night. Are you sure you are not my father?
Your father deserves to be ripped apart by
the dogs.
No! I would forgive him! With his wife in the ground- a man can only
endure so much. So I have been alone.
We are all alone. What is your name?
Angela.
Angela. Angel.
It is a cruel name.
If you could see the light you would see how
cruel life can be.
I live in the darkness. It is all I know. I imagine that light must be like wings to
fly.
What would you do if you could fly? If you could see?
I would look for my father. I would find him.
But he doesn’t want you.
I could be his angel. Hovering.
It would be enough.
He left you to die, left you unloved-
A man can only endure so much-
Man acts in his own self-interest. It is his nature.
And it is my nature to forgive.
What if he does not repent? Of what value, then, is your forgiveness?
Forgiveness keeps love alive.
Even when hope is gone.
She thinks about this for a moment and storms off, arms folded, away
from the MAN. She goes to another grave
and sits stubbornly in front of it.
You mustn’t be angry.
I will if I want!
It is bad for the
blood. I felt it was important to point
these things out to you.
Who asked you? I come here to wait for my father. You say you are here to die, well, I find
that a great inconvenience.
My death inconveniences you?
Your… conversation inconveniences me.
Shall we speak of the weather instead?
ANGELA(Very angry):
My father’s life is a
tragedy. So I share that tragedy. I did not choose it, but I accept it. I can accept it. On the other hand, I did not choose you and
I do not accept you.
It has rained recently.
Your problems are of no interest to me. I have problems of my own.
The ground is wet, but soon it will be dry.
You are in my graveyard without permission.
Unless, of course, it rains again in the next
day or so.
ANGELA
You are most impolite, too!
The problem is the wind. I’m sorry.
May I remain in your graveyard?
Wh- what?
I am asking politely since I
came without an invitation. May I remain
in your graveyard?
No you may not. Leave at once.
I am trying to be polite.
You leave me no choice. It is the dogs for you.
She stands up tall.
Dogs! (Pause.)
Aren’t you afraid?
Very.
Dogs!
Call off your dogs. I will go.
You will?
I see I am not welcome. That will never do. I thought perhaps you might like some
company, someone to talk to. As I
do. But I was wrong. Forgive me, since that is your nature.
He walks about six paces and stops.
She stands as he sits. She finds
her food basket. She feels for her knife
and begins to cut a piece of fruit. She
puts her head down and makes weeping noises.
The MAN walks toward her. She
puts her head up suddenly, sensing him.
You didn't go.
Why are you crying?
I'm not crying.
You look like you're crying.
Well, I'm not.
You sound like you're crying.
He kneels down beside her.
I cannot cry.
She takes his hands and puts them on her face.
My nurse told me that when
you cry there is water on your face.
That has never happened to me. Do
you cry?
I- no.
Once. Not any more. Never.
I don't see the point in it.
I think it is a way to feel better.
Better?
When you are hurt.
I think I am not made right. That is why I cannot cry. (Pause.) I thought you had left.
It seemed you needed me after all.
I haven’t… conversed… in a long time. The fault is mine.
I thought we should speak of important
matters. Since time is short.
Perhaps there is room here,
after all. We are not family, but not we
have told each other something of ourselves.
That is something, isn’t it?
I'm not your father, but I
can be your friend. Your night
friend. We will talk. Would you like that?
Yes.
Even if for just one night.
Let us be open to
possibilities. I think that is what the
night is all about, truly. In the light
all of creation spreads before you. You may
interpret it, you may discuss it and have opinions, but there is no denying
what you see. At night the shadows are
constantly changing. What appears too
horrible at first may become quite lovely.
The MAN moves toward her. She
puts her hands out to him. First she
feels his face, then down his neck and shoulders.
ANGELA
So this... is what you are like.
He moves away from her.
What?
Where are you?
I do not want to hurt you.
Thank you.
Was that your music? It reminds me of something.
My nurse played many
wonderful things. One day I sat down at
the piano and found that I could do it, too.
Who lives with you?
No one. Once there was my nurse and my grandmother
who would not come down the stairs.
Who has cared for you?
Why, God!
The MAN laughs.
You are a mystery. No past, therefore no future.
What is future?
Something that belongs to the living.
I don't understand you. But will you touch me again? Please?
I’d better not.
Is it because I am so
ugly? Is that why?
No.
That is not why.
There is a moment of silence between them.
Does it hurt you even to be near me?
It hurts me very much.
She moves away a bit.
Is that better?
Not really.
You said you would not hurt
me, but I am hurting you. Can only one
person hurt at a time?
I think pain is like love. It knows no bounds. Will you play some more?
If it pleases you.
It does.
The curtain opens. She sits at
the piano.
ANGELA
(Playing a bit):
The music doesn't mind my ugliness. I am lucky in that way.
No, you're playing a B, it's a B flat
there.
What is a B flat?
MAN
(Moving her finger to the right key)
It is there, do you hear that? (He
plays a little.)
I think it sounded better before.
What?
You see, the piano is
singing about a man who hopes for love.
Like a child hopes for love. The
B flat makes an dull sound there and there is no dullness in the man's
heart. Not yet.
How do you know what is in his heart?
Can't you hear it also?
I say it's a B flat!
But-
MAN
(Hitting the key):
B flat, B flat, B flat!
ANGELA is quiet.
Can you explain something to
me? Can you tell me what it means to be
ugly?
The MAN plays a chord progression.
That is beauty.
He makes a crashing sound on the piano.
That is ugly.
Oh.
Then I am that.
It is late.
Aren't you tired?
I sleep when the sun is shining.
Why?
I like the night. It is cool and peaceful.
But the night has many dangers. Many... secrets.
When do you sleep?
When the sun shines.
Then we are alike.
In that we are alike. Play some more. Play... the B. Perhaps you are right. The flat is ugly. (He
gets up abruptly and goes downstage.)
Where are you going?
The music makes me forget why I am here.
ANGELA
(Follows him):
You said you came to die.
The MAN stops and stares at nothing.
I have not told you the truth.
About dying?
That part is true. But we are related. Distantly.
That is why I came.
But, it would have been so easy to say
so!
I wanted you to accept me as
I am. A stranger who can also be a
friend. I thought if I told you we were
related, you would feel an obligation. I
wanted you to open your heart on your own terms.
I didn't ever want you to leave. I thought I should say that.
I don't want to hurt you.
Don't worry.
I cannot cry.
There is so much I want to know.
Are you my father?
We are... cousins, in a way.
Cousins?
Distant, yes-
Then you must meet everyone!
She takes his hand and runs to the stones.
This is my mother, my nurse
said she was very beautiful. (She runs her hand over the face.) Marguerite, she was Spanish. Have you been to Spain? (She
excitedly continues.) My
great-grandmother, Sarah, I have long conversations with her. She tells me
about the grand parties at the house. Do
you know she married three times? Was
she your mother? Or your sister?
I did not know her.
And here are her
husbands. Frederick, he hardly says a word
to me, just snorts. And Abraham, I think
he still smokes a pipe, I smell tobacco every once in a while. And Samuel.
(Whispering.) She loved him
the most, but we mustn’t tell the others.
And here... here is Sarah's grandmother.
(The MAN stiffens.) She died very young. (He
walks away.) Like my mother, she
died in childbirth.
None of this concerns me.
But surely if we share the same blood-
Ah, yes.
That is what concerns me. Our
blood.
You make no sense!
In a way I am dead. Have been dead for a long time. Do you understand? My world, what I knew, what I... was... is
long past. I have been alone. And I cannot die, not as you understand
death.
I don't understand anything.
It is as if I am standing
still and the world is rushing past me.
At first, it was as if I had won something. But do you know what it is to remain the same
when everything else changes?
I know what it is to be alone.
But you haven't hurt anybody. You couldn't.
Have you?
The MAN moves away.
You are kind, I know you are
kind. No one speaks to me because of my
ugliness, but you do. How could someone
like you hurt anybody?
You are not ugly. Not to my eyes. But, then, I have seen such terrible things.
If you could see me in the light-
I cannot.
It is well then.
You are sure there is no one else?
I have only tonight. By morning it will be too late.
For what?
To die.
You say things that don't make sense.
It is my anniversary, in a way.
You are married?
No.
Yes. No. It's not that.
Do you have children?
No.
Yes. No. I had a daughter. She is dead.
Dead?
Is she here?
The MAN doesn't answer.
You say we are cousins.
How could your father leave you?
I told you. My mother died.
It is unfair.
That one must die so another may live.
Who will visit me after I
die? There will be no one left. The girl who brings my food, she will be gone
one day. When you die, I will visit you
every night. You will have that, at
least, for a while.
There is no place for me here.
You are wrong! There is one!
She rushes over to a stone.
David. It means beloved. He left when his wife died, also, in
childbirth. And never returned. But his daughter prepared this place. She waited a very long time for him to come
home. Longer than I have waited. I am one of many daughters who have lived in
this house.
David's daughter...
The piano, that was hers.
She played also?
Her father's music. Our family has a musical gift passed on from
David.
The music plays again, softly.
Sometimes I imagine that the music is calling
him home.
Who is playing? I thought you said you were alone here.
I don't understand. Maybe you hear the wind.
Is it a game?
How could you have known?
You must be tired and hungry. I have food.
She finds the basket and takes out a loaf of bread.
Have as much as you
want. I don't eat very much and tomorrow
there will be more.
I am not hungry.
The music stops.
MAN
You were right, it must have been the
wind. Angela, I am
growing weaker by the minute.
A doctor cannot help?
No, no doctor. It is not like that. Tell me more about David.
His portrait is in the house. Would you like to see it?
No.
I have put my hands on
it. His daughter painted it, though she
never saw him. She painted him as she wanted him to be, I guess. Does that make sense? When I touch it, I feel sadness. David's sadness, or his daughter's, I am not
sure. (Pause.) Perhaps my own.
What did I feel like to you?
The same.
But we are not the same.
The MAN sits quietly.
Are you there? You are so quiet.
I am still here.
When you die I will be
lonely. After a while it will be as if
you never have been.
That would be good. That I never had been.
Are you afraid to die?
There are worse things than
death. No, that is not true. I wish it were true. And I have seen much of death.
In war?
Were you in a war?
No.
You murdered then.
Yes.
Will you murder me?
I don't want to. I have developed a... taste for it, though.
He walks toward ANGELA. He
stands very close in front of her.
I didn't expect to find
you... like this. I thought perhaps an
old man or woman. Someone who was
bitter, unloved. Someone who deserved
this.
I don't believe you would hurt me.
You are so sweet. I have come a long way to find you.
There is something I want.
What is that?
I want to know what it is to
be a woman. To be loved as a woman. Even
in my ugliness, I want to know that.
I can only give what is mine to give.
If you close your eyes, am I easier to bear?
If I close me eyes I will see you more
clearly.
Could you love me as a father, then? Like the daughter who died?
I never knew her.
But you loved her?
No. I
told you. I can only give what is mine
to give.
I'm confused.
Which one of us is going to die tonight?
Both. If
I'm lucky, we will both die.
The MAN takes ANGELA in his arms and bites her neck. She gasps and then grows limp. Black out.
The lights come up. The MAN digs
a grave by DAVID'S stone. ANGELA lies
asleep. She stirs.
Did I sleep? Who are you?
Oh. It's only David.
You are dreaming. Sleep some more.
I don't want to sleep. I want- I have pain. What is this pain?
It's a hunger, that's
all. It will grow worse, but then you
will eat and be refreshed.
I seem to be expecting for my father. Is he coming?
Your father, yes.
He stops digging.
He is
coming at last.
You have news of him?
He has been on a long
journey. He tried to get back to you and
couldn't until now. When he arrives, he will explain it all. Are you feeling better?
I have never felt like this before. Have I eaten something bad?
You have eaten nothing yet.
I seem to remember the girl came and left the
basket. I am tired.
I want to go home.
What will I tell your father
when he comes? That his daughter was tired and could not wait for him?
It is too much to expect.
He has traveled far to see you.
I don’t believe he’s coming!
What was that song you were
playing before? About a man who hopes
for love. Like a child hopes for
love. What do you hope for, Angela?
I hope-
Yes?
I have an idea.
Yes.
That I might see. When I was first born my nurse said that I
saw light. It was only after my father
left that I became blind.
You have only to believe, then, and it will
be true.
Believe?
I am your father. Believe that and you will see.
But you’ve said you are
not! You said… I remember you said you came here to die.
You have touched my
face. You have never touched any other
man. Who else should I be but your
father?
But I am still blind.
It is your fault. I have done my part.
You merely told a lie.
I can prove that I am your father.
How?
The curtain opens
Take me inside and I will show you.
I-
What will you do?
The music. Let me show you with the music.
They sit at the piano. The MAN
starts to play.
Do you recognize this?
It is… David’s. It is despair.
He wrote this the night his
wife died. He wants to die, too, but
cannot decide how. A rope? A cliff? Ah, these are difficult. They take such courage. And the night does not give courage, only
cowardice. A way opens for him. Do you hear it there? An opportunity. The minor gives way to the whole tone scale.. He can die and yet still live. Never feel
pain again. What relief! What hope!
There is a price. There, the
seventh chord. He must live at night and
feed on only what the night offers. Now,
the ninth chord. He vacillates. To never feel the sun on his face. He must learn to love the all the shades of
gray and black. Except there is the
moon. The beautiful pale moon! When it is full, he comes alive. Almost a man again, he can almost believe the
flowers of morning will open for him, gloriously lit with color. Do you know what is despair, Angela? It is hope held high. Hope to hold your wife in your arms, hope to
watch your daughter grow to womanhood.
And like the moon it comes and like the moon it fades. That is despair.
He stops playing and walks downstage.
She follows.
Somehow I have hurt you and I have waited so
long-
It should be swift, but it cannot be swift. I damn you!
ANGELA falls on her knees.
Tell me what I have done
wrong and I will make it right. I only
want to please you.
Your ugliness offends
me. Your smell. The way you talk and the way you move. Your
love is poison.
What can I do?
You must prove
yourself. You must suffer as I have
suffered.
How will I do this?
Play for us.
She begins to play, then stops.
I don’t have any music.
What are you feeling? Ask your hands to play that. It’s easy.
You are my daughter, you are also David’s daughter, do you understand? It’s in your family. It’s a gift passed on by David.
I don’t know what I’m feeling. Afraid.
That is a beginning.
Lost.
What I knew, what I thought I knew…
Remember about the
night. What appears too horrible at
first may become quiet lovely.
I am still afraid.
We have spent time together
now. I know a part of you. Before the night is done, I will know all of
you. And you will know all of me.
I seem to remember… you came here to die.
Instead I am becoming more and more alive.
Then you will live?
There is a chance. There is a chance that we can live
together. Forever.
How do you feel now?
Hopeful.
The music is full of despair.
Do you know you are becoming
beautiful to me?
He looks closely at her.
Angela, these are tears on your face.
Is that bad?
Nothing is bad.
I don’t understand how I can cry now that my
father has come home.
Soon you will see. Soon you will see all that I see.
The MAN bites her neck again.
ANGELA slumps. The MAN picks her up
and carries her to the place where he has dug the grave.
He begins to dig again, and he
weakens and drops the shovel. He picks
it back up and begins again, but the same thing happens. She stirs.
I had a dream…
You have been sick. The doctor thought you might die.
ANGELA
And the baby?
The nurse is taking care of her. A girl, we have a beautiful girl.
You must write a song about
her. If I should die…
It cannot be.
If I should die…
If you die, I’ll kill myself and follow
you.
God will not permit that.
God be damned! You will not die.
David?
Yes?
I thought you had left. David?
I am here.
I will always be here.
You cast a shadow. Does our daughter cry?
She does not cry.
David?
I am here.
The MAN weeps. ANGELA gets up
and crawls away from him. Music plays
softly.
I am going to die tonight, after all. I have decided.
But why?
I have lived a long time. You said there was room here.
He begins to dig again.
ANGELA
I was alone. Content and forgiving. Waiting. For what? I wondered. And then you came. It was not what I expected, it was not what I wanted, but it was something. And now you say you are going to die. Well, I say not! I say you finish what you started.
That’s just it. I don’t know.
I don’t know what I’ve started. I
found you waiting, and in such need. As
I was.
You promised me sight.
I changed my mind.
So you’re just going to crawl inside that
hole and stay there?
It seems like a good idea.
All right then. Go ahead.
MAN(Still digging)
I intend to.
He gets inside the hole.
What’s it like in there?
Dark.
There’s no moon.
I’ll bet it’s cold, too.
Can you cover me up? With the dirt?
ANGELA starts to shovel, but in the wrong direction.
I should have called the
dogs! That was my first mistake! They would have ripped you to shreds and
saved me this trouble.
He has come out of the ground.
Furthermore, you came here
without an invitation. And yet I
introduced you to my family… (She begins to cry.) I thought I had found someone. But I’m not sure exactly what I’ve lost.
The MAN stands behind her. He
puts his arms around her waist.
Are you sure you want this?
You promised me sight.
I promised you would see all that I see.
He moves her head to place her lips at his neck. She bites and begins to suck. Black out.
The MAN sleeps. ANGELA digs with
the shovel. She stops and shakes him
awake.
ANGELA
Please, wake up.
I am awake.
It is almost morning. The moon is starting to fade.
The MAN opens his eyes and looks at the moon.
Ah, well.
That was expected.
Will you get up?
What if I just lie here
until the sun comes up? I have not seen
the morning in a very, very long time.
Just this once. What harm can it
do?
But… the light will hurt your eyes. After so long in the dark.
I thought so, I said so, it is true. But the fact is that I am not sure
anymore. Maybe it was about someone
else, now that I think of it.
ANGELA
You are joking with me. Why would you do that now?
I am feeling good. Very, very good. Better than I have in a long time. Good enough to face the morning.
What of me? You said I would see as you see, and I
do. Shades of gray and black, it is most
wonderful. More than I ever hoped
for. Why will you spoil it? You know I cannot see the light.
Angela.
It is too much to expect!
I waited for you a long time and I am happy with what we have. Shades of gray and black, why must you spoil
all that?
You have trusted me this far.
ANGELA
Stay if you want to. I am leaving.
MAN
Morning is coming. Will come. And you have never seen it. You must become acquainted with the morning. Then you will not be afraid. I will tell you what you need to know.
I am not interested.
I saw that you were alone and waiting.
Please leave. I am asking you nicely.
Leave?
But we have passed the night together.
It is over.
The morning sun is just
behind that hill. In a few minutes the
black sky will melt into pink and gray and blue and white. I had never hoped to see it again.
In one night all cannot be changed.
Do you remember when I asked
you to believe that you could see? This
is what I wanted for you. Not the night.
The morning.
I lied to you. I see nothing. It was to please you, that was
all. I was afraid that you would leave
me, that you would think I wasn’t trying hard enough.
I saw the way you moved in the moonlight.
You saw what you wanted to
see. It is time for me to sleep. And tonight I will return and wait for my
father.
He is not coming.
I could still call the dogs!
I am willing to love you. I am willing to take you away from here.
You are a murderer. That much I believe.
There are no dogs. No gun.
I have a knife.
What is a knife in the hands of a blind girl?
What is light in the eyes of a murderer?
I have killed, yes. I even killed your father. He has been gone a long, long time.
I don’t believe you.
How could I know so much about
you? We passed a night together, your
father and I, much as we have. The
night your mother died.
You killed my father?
Death is so easy. Living, well, that’s difficult. He had a choice, your father. I only gave him what he wanted. So you do belong to me.
My father is dead. Then I am truly alone. I thought he was out there, thinking of me,
at least.
We must prepare.
What is love, then? What is the use of it?
Close up the graves, ANGELA
Love changes nothing.
Close up the graves.
You have killed my father.
I have killed the idea of
your father. Close up the graves.
ANGELA begins to fill in the graves with her hands. He kneels next to her and does the same. Music plays.
Hope enough for both of us.
Is it morning now?
The moon fades. But we must take care to exercise our hope
like a muscle, or we will not have the strength…
And the sun?
Does it rise?
The sun rises in the east and sets in the
west.
Tell me when you see it in the sky.
In winter the days are short
and cold, but in summer they are long and warm.
This time of year, the mornings are cool, but by midday…
There, it is done.
It takes three hundred and
fifty… sixty… fifty-six days…
ANGELA finds
the basket and takes out the knife. She
walks toward him.
Hope is the expectation…
It is not so cold
suddenly. The sun, does it rise?
You said we were alone. I thought I heard someone playing.
ANGELA stands behind the MAN.
The music stops.
It is only the wind.
When you feel the wind on your face…
Father?
ANGELA brings the knife down and stabs him in the back. He falls to the floor.
You are mistaken…
ANGELA backs away, shocked at what she has done. She backs away, drops the knife.
My God, what have I done?
ANGELA runs offstage.
Black out.
Scene IV
The lights come up. It is
night. The MAN sits at the piano and
plays. ANGELA enters with her
basket. She goes to one of the graves
and feels it. She nods to herself,
satisfied that she is home.
The MAN stops playing for a moment.
He watches ANGELA. He resumes playing.
. MAN
Who is there?
I am a traveler.
A girl comes at night and leaves food. Is that her basket?
Yes. I
don’t think she is coming again. I am
weary. May I rest?
This graveyard does not belong to me. I am only watching it.
I will not stay long. There is much to be done before morning.
It is all the same to me.
Was that you playing before?
Yes.
It reminded me of something. Can you see the moon tonight?
It is there.
Are you hungry?
What?
I have food.
The night is cool. (He
continues playing.) Rest if you
must, but it is truly better to keep moving.
The moon offers no warmth. It’s
light is merely a reflection of warmth.
There is no promise in the moonlight.
You said you were watching. What for?
Why, danger.
What else does one watch for?
Are there bears about? Lions, perhaps?
MAN
Fierce creatures, I am watching for fierce
creatures.
And whom are you protecting
in this graveyard? Everyone seems quite
comfortable to me. Safe from harm.
There
are fierce, fierce creatures about.
ANGELA
(Feeling the headstones as she speaks)
This is a happy group, I can tell. I have been to other graveyards that were not so happy.
You visit graveyards much, do you?
I have developed a taste for it.
A graveyard is a good place
to collect your thoughts. Quiet,
usually. Battles lost, battles won. It is all the same in a graveyard. Peaceful.
Quiet.
Or else the scream is too far under the
ground to be heard.
You are being fanciful.
Do you have a name?
Yes.
Do you?
No.
Pleased to meet you.
ANGELA
I wish you would stop playing.
It is most interesting. I can’t seem to.
You just pick up your hands
from the keys. The whole point of being
in a graveyard is to find quiet. You are
spoiling that for me.
I’m sorry.
I can’t seem to help it.
There is nothing to it.
She goes to the piano and takes his hands. She pulls him to standing.
The trick is to find
something else to do with your hands.
Plant a seed, a seed of an idea.
What do you suggest?
Some people carve wooden
objects. Others twist the materials of
their shirt cuffs. Have you tried that?
No.
She puts his arms around her waist.
Whenever you think of
playing, you could instead twist the material of your shirt cuff.
I’m not sure it would work.
You could at least try. Plant the seed. Think of your shirt cuff.
I’m thinking of it.
The material is cool and
crisp. Soft, somehow. You take it between your thumb and your
middle finger.
Yes.
Every time you think of playing.
I have planted that seed.
He puts his mouth to her neck.
She turns away abruptly and feels her way back to the graveyard.
The trouble with resting is that one gets
cold.
She paces back and forth.
But I can rest my mind. If you stay quiet.
I have learned a new trick.
When my mind has rested then
I can go on. But I must remember about
the cold.
I take my thumb and middle finger…
A graveyard is a good place to rest because
nothing changes.
…and twist.
ANGELA
I have come a very long way.
To rest?
To die.
Are you very old, then?
Very.
Suppose I were to die here? Would
that be all right?
I’m not sure there is room. I’m not sure that the family would approve.
Could you ask them?
That would be difficult. They are all dead.
Oh.
But then it is easy! Who is the
most recently dead?
Why… (He looks at the stones.) Marguerite, I suppose. It says here-
Marguerite, Marguerite, she
is Spanish? Or French? Or was her mother
simply fanciful?
I heard once that she was Spanish.
Passionate, then. The Spanish are passionate. Jealous, too, I suppose.
I wouldn’t know.
And who is the first?
First?
To die.
Who is the first to die?
The MAN looks carefully.
The oldest stone belongs to David. But I’m not sure he is here.
Have you looked?
Someone once told me that he is not buried
here.
Then we must look.
Look?
Do you have a shovel?
I never carry one.
I suppose we could dig with out hands.
I believe the practice of digging up graves
is frowned upon.
But if there is a good reason…
We need permission.
Whom shall we ask?
The MAN considers.
I see your point. Still, I don’t think it is necessary.
But if someone said he is not here-
It is probably a nasty rumor.
Very well. I should like to
interview David and Marguerite. After
all, they are the first and the last.
How do you plan to accomplish this?
I’ll need your help. Do you want to be David or Marguerite?
Excuse me?
This is a game. This is a game we are playing. Who do you want to be?
I’m not very good at games.
Not good at games? Was it so long ago that you were a
child? I’ll teach you then. Who do you want to be?
I don’t want to be David.
Marguerite, then. You be Marguerite and I’ll interview you.
Go ahead.
You’re not dancing.
Dancing?
She was Spanish. The Spanish always dance.
MAN
What if she was French?
No, she was Spanish. I know this for sure now.
How?
God has told me. He told me just now.
I didn’t hear anything.
That is because he
whispers. Can you dance? (She puts
her arms around him and leads him.) I’ll believe you are Marguerite if you dance
with me.
And who are you?
Why… David.
This is a strange dance.
Close your eyes. It helps.
They close their eyes and dance.
After a moment, ANGELA breaks off
I am the oldest member of
this cemetery and I have no time for dancing. There is work to be done.
Work? I am through with work. I was through with work. I have not thought of work… (he laughs.) In a very long time.
ANGELA begins to play the piano.
Oh, what awful music you play!
Awful?
I have been meaning to tell you. It’s so… repetitive.
I am considered a musical genius.
What is that?
It is a great thing to be a
genius. Geniuses are always
misunderstood. We cannot be judged like other
men, therefore. And we are not
accountable for our actions.
What good is it to be a musical genius if you
play terrible music?
It is just that you cannot understand my
music. Can one understand God, after all?
Play something livelier. Play something to make my feet move.
I am not in control of my
genius. It is like the wind, unseen,
even unpredictable.
I should go back to
Spain. We would never tolerate geniuses
there. Anyone who played music like that
would be shot. You are so gloomy.
We are in a graveyard. And we are dead.
I have never felt so
alive! (He twirls around.) I will
dance to the music that plays inside me.
That is God!
I understand God. I just don’t understand you.
The MAN bursts into tears.
Now what?
I am Spanish, that is
all. It is a cruel joke to be Spanish,
always at the mercy of your emotions.
Do you like this
better? (She plays something sweet, like a lullaby.) I can learn to please. I want to.
If it stops you from crying.
I am not crying because of your terrible
music.
Then why are you crying?
I am crying for my life, and
all its tragedies. I am crying for the
little girl I bore when I died.
Surely she had a happy life.
I cannot look forward, only back. There is no way to tell.
I have heard of her. She grew to be a beautiful woman and married
for love. Is there any greater happiness than that?
And her father? Did he care for her?
The best he could.
If I can not look forward, how can you?
I told you, it is something I heard. Only a whisper, but it is enough.
What would it be like to hold her in my arms?
Close your eyes.
The MAN closes his eyes. ANGELA
puts her arms around him.
I’m sorry.
I’m so sorry.
Sorry about what?
I have done such terrible things.
Tell me.
Why? It
cannot be undone. And the telling will
make it more terrible.
MAN
What appears too horrible at first may become quite lovely.
I have come here to die.
My dear, that is not possible.
I am becoming weaker by the minute.
They say murderers return to the scene of
their crime.
Certainly by morning it will be over.
Have you ever killed anyone? I am watching for a murderer.
I wouldn’t know anything about a murder.
It was a girl. About your height. Hair your color. Have you seen her?
No.
But, of course, I am blind.
Still, it wouldn’t necessarily prevent you
from killing.
It was very long ago?
So you do know.
I only guessed. You sound distant, that’s why. Like someone who happened a long time ago.
That’s because you’re
blind. Distances melt. No, it was a recent murder. Some minutes ago. I have been watching ever since.
Did he cry out?
Who?
The man who was murdered.
How do you know it was a man?
I just supposed. Why would a girl murder a girl?
The question is, why would a girl murder a
man?
Perhaps she was afraid.
No, that’s not enough.
I don’t know.
Was she angry?
Anger, that’s closer.
Self defense.
She killed him in self defense.
But she used a knife. And stabbed him in the back. I think, rather, she killed him in cold
blood.
Have they taken him away already?
Why should they take him
anywhere? The graveyard is here. It’s as good a place as any.
So he is buried. Not even a funeral. Well, it’s as he deserved.
That’s a cold blooded thing to say.
I don’t suppose a girl could
kill an innocent man. Sometimes girls
kill innocent children, but never an innocent man.
A girl that kills an innocent child could
easily kill an innocent man.
You don’t understand. There is no such thing as an innocent man.
That is your belief.
That is what I have seen.
Beliefs can’t change facts. And the fact is that a man has been
murdered. And a girl fitting your
description has killed him.
I am a girl about that height
with hair a certain color. You have not
described me. You know nothing about me.
I know you are afraid and angry. A dangerous combination.
Well, I have no knife. And no need to kill. So whatever the measure of your guilt, you
are safe from me. Where is his grave?
There.
I’ll sit and mourn for a while.
How nice of you.
It’ll get me in the right frame of mind for
my own death.
I’m glad you have this opportunity.
Though I don’t suppose
anyone will mourn for me. You’re the
only one here and you don’t seem the type.
Two deaths in one night. A bonanza for the graveyard. A bloody jackpot.
Why must you make fun? Dying is difficult work. First I’ll rest, then I’ll mourn. Then I’ll
die.
Are you telling the truth? About dying?
It’s not the kind of thing I would make up.
You look well enough.
I’ll bet that man looked
well enough too, a few minutes ago. Now
look where he is.
I see what you mean. Still, no one is coming at you with a knife.
That’s what he thought. But, I am going to die. With or without a knife.
Are you very ill?
Very.
Where does it hurt?
All over.
Do you
want some water?
Water would be nice.
I can’t leave the graveyard, you see. I’m watching it.
Watching for that murdering
girl. After I’m dead, you could say that
I was responsible. You say I’m the right
height.
You have a certain color hair.
Then the watch will be over. It must be a bore in the graveyard.
I rather like it.
I rather like it, too.
Are you still resting?
I’ve switched to
mourning. I’d like to conjure up a picture
of the dead man, but the problem is that I’m blind.
He looked a bit like you.
Hair a certain color?
Taller, though. He was taller than you.
I only touched a man
once. He was taller, also. Do you suppose they were related?
I don’t know.
For all I know I’m the
tallest girl in the world. So probably
I’m taller than most men.
You could be the tallest
girl in the world. Then again, you could
be the only girl in the world.
I hope not.
Why?
That would make me the killer.
When you touched this man, what was it like?
I told you.
I’m not the killer.
The man you touched. The one you told me about. What was it like?
It was like anything else.
Did you like it?
It was so long ago.
But you must remember something about it.
I was an innocent girl. And if I killed anyone, it was an innocent
child.
What does that make you now?
Close to death. Thank God.
The problem is that one
cannot survive innocence. It’s a kind of
bait. Attractive. Like heat.
Heat goes from where it is to
where it is not. And that other place is
cold. Heat is attracted to cold, in a
way. Innocence is attracted to
corruption.
Can it ever be the other way around.? That cold is attracted to heat?
Let me say that it has never happened.
But cold can be heated.
The nature of heat, though,
is to cool. The nature of cold is never
to warm. And nature is, after all, what
we are talking about.
Once I touched a man
Was he warm?
I don’t-
Was he warm to your touch?
He was… not very warm. But it was at night.
Of
course, the night is that way. Cold, by
nature. Did he feel like this?
He touches her face.
He felt something like that. Yes.
Cold.
You are cold, too.
Cold cannot warm cold. Can it?
Let me say that it has never happened.
It is the fault of the moon. If only the sun could shine on us.
I have seen you before.
She touches his face.
Maybe you only remind me of someone.
Did she feel like this?
Yes.
No. She was warm. But then she went away.
I went away once. It was most exciting.
Tell me.
I wanted to see something of the world.
Even though you are blind?
It’s a manner of
speaking. A metaphor. When you have lived in the world, you
sometimes speak in metaphors. You begin
to interpret life, rather than merely living it.
Interpret, you say?
That’s what gives all life
its meaning. What is the meaning of
life, you begin to wonder? So you think of metaphors.
What is the meaning of life?
It’s a difficult thing to explain. Even with metaphors.
Try.
All right. Life, the meaning of life… Take this
graveyard, for example. It is a place of
death, but it symbolizes life.
How’s that?
Well, all these people were once alive.
Yes?
So even though everyone is
dead, you can only think of them when they were alive.
Let me see if I understand
you. The graveyard is a place of
death. And yet it symbolizes life
because all these people were once alive.
Yes.
That’s quite obvious. I don’t mean to be rude, but that’s
obvious. Isn’t a metaphor supposed to be
more… subtle?
I haven’t lived in the world very long. I expect I’ll get better at metaphors.
Except that you are about to
die. Did you meet many people? When you were out in the world?
Many, yes.
I met many people. One in
particular.
Who?
My father. I met my father. I hadn’t seen him in many years. We had a nice, long talk.
You say you hadn’t seen him in many years?
He left on business and
couldn’t make it back. The business took
all his attention. Though he wrote
often.
The letters were a comfort, I hope.
Of course, I couldn’t read
them. So the only thing left to do was
to go and find him. It turned out that
he was ill. Very ill. I nursed him, but he died. Unfortunately, I caught his illness. It was a risk I took, that I was glad to
take. So here I am. Dying.
You’re sure this man was your father?
There could be no mistake.
Because a man was here
looking for his daughter. Not long
before you came.
Here?
He was very anxious to find
her. It had been many years, he
said. He was very anxious, but I sent
him on his way.
How… how long?
It’s practically an epidemic
of missing fathers, wouldn’t you say? He
wanted to wait, but I encouraged him to keep searching.
Then I must find him!
The MAN moves away from her.
It was only a few minutes ago.
Father!
Father!
But you said your father was dead.
I-
Is he dead or not?
He’s…
Music begins to play very softly.
Is there something…?
I can’t catch him. Try as I might, I can’t catch him. Can I?
Catch who?
And you know that. You could have stopped him, could have told him.
I don’t follow.
A man looking for his
daughter in a graveyard, that’s no accident, is it? You knew I would come, knew I’d have to come.
I was watching for a murderer.
Is it too late? Is it truly too late?
Not if you run.
But he’s ahead of me. And I don’t
know the way.
I don’t think he knows the way either. So that is where you will find him.
It’s something…
You should never have left
him. That’s the real problem, isn’t it? He was sick, dying even, and you left
him. Worse, tried to kill him. Listen to me.
There is no crime here. You began
with an expectation and took certain
steps. And all that followed was
necessary. But you can’t make order out
of disorder. You can only follow
disorder to its conclusion.
And then what? Once you have done this?
You will find him
again. And in that moment it will be as
if all of this never happened. You don’t
have to look for him, He will find you. Be patient.
Stay at your post. Watch for
him.
You called me
Angela.
MAN
It was the wind.
I am the murderer.
I know.
I was happy once. Hopeful.
Even realized hopes are a
disappointment. There is nothing so pure
as
expectation.
Perhaps… only God cannot disappoint.
Perhaps… only God cannot care.
ANGELA looks older, suddenly.
So I will spend my last
night understanding that I am alone.
That I have alone.
This is not your last night.
Oh, but it is. I told you.
I have the same illness that my father has. Had. A
disorder of the blood, I think it’s called.
And you said, what was it? That
order cannot follow disorder. We can
only follow it to its natural conclusion.
I was speaking metaphorically.
My death is no metaphor.
The music stops.
You have a choice. Like your father. Like… David.
That is the trick that God plays.
To live is to live in fear of death.
So you create distractions. Or
other realities. Games.
We must all die. Why play any game? Why not hasten the inevitable? It is over in a wink of an eye and all this
struggle, all this pain, for what?
Yes, that is what I have thought.
I waited for my father, but
truly, I only waited for death. My
father was a distraction. That is all.
Your wisdom makes you beautiful.
I hope to die. I cannot wait to die. Before the moon fades, I will be dead.
Death is
life.
More tricks!
I want to believe you.
The moon appears and the
moon fades. It means nothing! What appears too horrible at first can
become-
-quite lovely. Yes.
It’s what we make of it. Together.
I have waited so long. And it means nothing.
That is freedom.
And love?
A trick.
Oh.
The moon fades. We must prepare.
ANGELA walks up to him and feels his face, then her own.
I am not so ugly.
She walks toward the piano.
What are you doing?
I was thinking, that is all.
But we must prepare. It is not a good idea.
I am creating something. Something that I can then destroy.
Still, it is dangerous.
God has no power here,
remember? I can do what I want. I can create something new, something just
for us. I can fill the notes with desire
and it has no effect. See?
It may be too soon, you are not strong.
Not strong like you are
strong. No, not this night. Perhaps by morning. But by morning it will be too late.
You must stop playing.
Once you told me to play the music that was
inside me.
You had no music then. It didn’t matter.
ANGELA
Oh, we are speaking
metaphorically. I’m getting better at
them. Music is a special way of saying
something. What am I trying to say?
You are being cruel.
But that is because I have
been shown how to be cruel. But what is cruel
in our world, may actually be a kindness in God’s world. That would be a great trick, don’t you
think?
The moon fades. All will be lost unless we prepare.
They say the moon remains in
the sky, but is outshone by the sun. Is
that correct?
Yes.
Do you see?
I see.
She gets up abruptly, finally.
The MAN is almost out of breath from dread. She walks downstage and looks at the sky.
I think I know how David
felt. That because he couldn’t live
without his wife, he couldn’t possibly live with his daughter. She would be a constant reminder of death.
A man can only bear so much.
Do you think it worked? Do you think David stopped thinking about his
wife?
There were distractions.
They say she was very beautiful -
Don’t!
They say her name was-
Aah!
He hides his face.
I am named for her.
I cannot stop thinking of her.
I love you.
The MAN sobs.
In my confusion I believed that my thoughts
were my life.
Please, help me!
The light comes up slowly.
I’m dying.
It’s all I can do.
If you die, I’ll kill myself and follow
you.
Fevers can only burn so long.
David?
Yes?
I thought you had left. David?
I am here.
I will always be here.
Does
our daughter cry?
Yes, finally, she cries.
The music plays. He cradles her.
You are shivering, you are cold.
That is the trouble with resting. If I could just rest my mind.
It’s the wind, the wind won’t stop.
When you feel wind on your face-
The light comes up some more.
The MAN is terrified.
MAN
I have to leave, have to… get you some water.
Yes.
Oh, Angela.
It’s all right. This night will pass. And tomorrow we will talk about it.
He kisses ANGELA on the forehead, a slow, painful kiss. He gets up with a great effort and begins to
walk offstage.
David.
He turns.
Yes.
It’s God’s trick. God’s greatest trick.
Death?
No.
Love.
The lights increase some more. The MAN continues to look at ANGELA. The lights become suddenly blinding.. He staggers toward her and throws himself down, as if to shield her from the light.
The lights swirl and explode.
Then they come down again. The stage is empty except for the
graveyard. Music plays softly.
BLACK OUT. THE END