“These are the dreams that we forge together. The waking up is the leaving, but the dreams still linger…and inspire.” –Anonymous
Helen- married to George, a strong-minded woman in her early thirties, late twenties
George- married to Helen, strong-willed in his own way, early thirties/late twenties, has a mild heart condition
Casey- their teenaged niece
(There is a dead body on the stage. Helen storms across stage, passes it, stops, turns around, stares at it like it has committed some grave offense [no pun intended, well, maybe], then faces the audience and shouts wordlessly for a moment. Not with fear but frustration, and anger. *Throughout the piece, the two do not touch [unless directly dictated], but often touch without touching [whatever that means to you. Be clever. Hovering hands are boring in excess]. Also, until otherwise directed, Helen never completely looks away from him. She is always keeping him at least in the corner of her eye.* Meanwhile, Helen was shouting wordlessly. And now, not so wordlessly.)
(A very brief, almost startled pause. Then more pointedly, as if to say, ‘come here stupid’) George!
(Entering. Annoyed) What?
(With more emphasis) George!
(In the same manner) What?
(Points at the corpse) George!
(Looks at it and doesn’t seem to see anything wrong) What?
(To the heavens, a ‘God give me strength to deal with this stupid man’) George.
(The beginning of a speech.) George—
If you make me ask ‘what’ one more time—
Why is there a body on my floor?
(Looks at the body) Because that’s where he landed.
Don’t get smart with me. Is he dead?
(Considers the body) Looks like it.
Why is there a corpse in my living room?
I told you. That’s where he landed.
Woman! If you’d move past my name and ask some questions, maybe you’d get a few answers. You know, I have never heard one word used with so many different inflections. It’s a wonder really. You’re very talented. Every day I learn something new about you that just makes me want to strangle you.
(Referring to him) Let’s not add another body to the floor.
I am restraining myself. With effort, but I am in fact restraining myself.
Are you threatening me, woman?
(Pointed pause. Then, glances at the body) How did he get there?
You know, I don’t know. I was just talking to him and he just sort of… (makes a falling motion. With sound effects)
(Echoes his sound effect, lackluster, with motion, skeptically)
(Repeats motion and sounds affirmingly.)
That’s it? He didn’t grab his throat, clutch his heart? Just died and plopped?
Well, I wasn’t really paying attention now was I? I didn’t expect him to keel over at nothing. He probably saw the state of this carpet and had a heart attack.
What? Cripes, woman. I was joking.
No. Don’t even joke about that…just don’t. Don’t, don’t…
Helen, woman, would you stop? Nagging about it isn’t going to help it. Then we’re both tearing our hair out with worry and frankly, you would make a very ugly bald.
(Gives him a withering look) Oh, did you think I was worried?
(The build-up to the speech) You vain, self-centered pig.
Kind of you to worry about my health, though, dear.
(Pointedly) Why should I worry about your health, dear? You said there was nothing to be worried about, so why would I have to be?
Just palpitations. Not even serious. That’s what you said, isn’t it?
(Cornered) Yep. That’s what I said.
So unless you’ve been lying, which you said you would never, ever do, then there was no need to worry. Right?
(Trying to find a way out without lying, then suddenly notes something about what she said.) ‘Was?’
Why ‘was?’ There was no need to worry.
(Pause, then bludgeons forward) You said it in the past. So past tense. So was.
(Pause) You would tell me, wouldn’t you?
If it had become something I should worry about. If the palpitations got worse. You would have told me, wouldn’t you, George?
Helen, I tell you everything.
(Considers him, then moves on) There’s a body in the living room.
Because that’s where he land—
I mean what was he doing here in the first place?
(Pause, thinking) I’m not sure. I think he was lost, but I don’t remember.
So he dies and you just wander off? You don’t call the police? You don’t tell me?
I had something important to do.
Yes, what? What was so important that a strange man dies in front of you and you just…waltz off like he took a nap?
Alright, it sounds bad when you put it that way—
Woman. Please. Expand your vocabulary past my name.
Expand your vocabulary past ‘woman’ before I hurt you, you chauvinistic pig.
You know, sometimes I wonder if you know what chauvinistic really means.
With you, the definitions are endless.
I’m starting to think maybe I picked the wrong wife.
Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it back. (He silently relents and they both turn and consider the corpse.) We’re not keeping that there.
(Dark look) Because he’s dead, George. What if Casey comes through and finds him? Do you really want your niece walking in on a corpse?
Well, she wanted a boyfriend, didn’t she?
That’s because you’re too small-minded to know real humor.
(Matter-of-fact, almost flippantly) Well, you are. Now. Corpse. What do we do with it? Casey has had enough trauma having to live in the same house as you without this on top of it.
You live in the same house as me without trauma.
Because I’m your wife. If I couldn’t live under the same roof as you, pig or not, then we wouldn’t be married.
With a phone, dear Henry. (He looks at her quizzically) Call the police.
What’s the rush? He’s dead isn’t he?
I don’t want to have to look at it.
Why? He’s not that bad looking.
(Contained outrage, looking very directly at him) Because I don’t want to look at it.
(Surprised by her force) You’re awfully worked up about this.
I mean, yes, but still. It’s you. You don’t traditionally overreact to crises.
How am I overreacting? This is a corpse!
(Very zen) I am maintaining a stress-free state of mind in order to preserve a steady heartbeat.
(At the mention of his heart she backs off) Alright. Fine.
If the poor dead man offends you so much, why don’t you call the police? It’s not a spider. I don’t have to come stomp on it for you.
(Firmly) Because I can’t, George.
…I don’t want to admit it.
That a man we don’t know had, probably, a heart attack, died, and is now very dead on our living room floor?
Hmm. Yeah, I can see why you might hesitate.
How are we going to tell Casey?
We don’t. We just tell her not to come into the living room until after this is handled.
She’s going to be devastated.
Hello? I just said don’t tell her.
I suspect she’ll find out.
I mean, I guess it’s possible, but she doesn’t know him. I don’t see why it matters. He’s just some…guy. (Helen doesn’t answer.) Helen?
(Without looking at him) Sometimes I wish we had known each other longer.
(Nods) That we’d met sooner.
(He doesn’t understand her melancholy mood, but trying to comfort, reaches out and almost, almost lays his hand on hers, but a terrible realization comes over him and he pulls away. He looks back at the body in alarm, then at Helen who is only half waiting for a response. Several emotions cross his face, then he makes a decision.) Helen.
(Looks at him.) Excuse me?
What is this, grade school?
No. I just like you. Quite a bit.
Well, of course you like me. We’re married.
No, no, no. It’s different. I love you because you’re my wife. But it’s quite possible to love someone a great deal and not like them. Take…Star Wars for instance.
I don’t see how this applies.
It’s like Luke’s feelings toward Vader at the end.
I know that! That is not what I—I’m trying to tell you that not only do I love you, I like you. And trust me, you are not an easy person to like.
(Affronted) Well. You’re lucky I don’t need my vanity stroked with any sort of regularity.
Yeah, you’re no Helen of Troy.
That’s not what I meant! I meant you’re not vain. You have brains.
Yes! And that you use them! Like your biting remarks, I love them, I like them! And, and, and how you respond to a crisis. Most people panic, or they’re really calm, or they just freeze and wait for someone else to solve it, but you. I’ve never seen someone get angry at a crisis. Like, how dare you happen in my presence, you crisis?! You Shall Not Pass! And you know what else I like? Every single different way you come up with to say my name.
Just like that. But the best thing, the best thing, is when I can’t sleep because my heart won’t beat regularly and it keeps stopping and restarting and stopping and restarting, and I listen to yours while you’re sleeping. And it’s so steady. And I tell my heart, that, that is how you should sound. (Beat) And it listens.
(She smiles, but then has to take a moment to recompose, before, almost too lightly,) Well, you’re not completely unlikeable yourself.
Do you remember our first date when you held the door for me even though I’d gotten to it first?
(Chuckles) I did not expect to live through the doorway.
It’s one thing to open a door if you’re there first, but when I get there first, let me hold it for heaven’s sake.
Yeah, I know. I’ve learned.
But. When you did it…I liked it.
What? Five years of marriage, twelve years total, and you’re just telling me now?
It was honest and respectful when you did it. You sincerely meant it as a…I don’t know, a way of honor.
I know. What about ‘like?’
I let you get away with calling me ‘woman’ all the time.
Yes. And I let you call me a chauvinistic pig. But do you like me?
(Very sincerely) I like you. You’re my favorite thing in the world.
(They have a moment, a sort of resting her head on his shoulder without actually doing so. Then he looks up, like he has heard something, something that does not please him.)
(Reluctantly, almost a plea) I have to go now. (He hesitates, like he’s fighting to keep in place, and then exits the stage)
(She turns to say something to him, but he’s already gone. She sees the body, then she looks away. Then, [take as long as you need with this]) Come back. (He does not. Silence. She starts to lose her composure.)
(Offstage) Uncle George? Hey Uncle George! (Coming onstage) Aunt Helen, have you seen Uncle George? He’s supposed to help me with my English assign—(sees the body) Oh my—is that—? Is he—? (Suddenly realizes) Uncle George! Aunt Helen, Aunt Helen! Uncle George is—
But I think he’s, he’s, I think he’s d…dead.
(Composure is cracking quickly) Go call an ambulance, Casey.
(Shocked and panicking) Yeah. Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! (Runs off stage)
(Moves closer to the corpse and addresses it, barely containing her tears) George. Sodding pig. (George re-enters and considers his body)
That’s all I get? You’re usually so colorful.
(Shows no sign of hearing or seeing him. With growing angry grief) You heartless fiend! You aren’t supposed to leave! What do you think you’re doing, leaving? You’re not allowed!
So I forgot to tell you something, Helen. And I really needed to.
You swore up and down that you would never leave. And you swore that I didn’t have to worry about you because you were perfectly healthy!
(He keeps trying to take her hand throughout but can’t) I didn’t know it was that bad.
You lied to me about something that mattered!
Helen, please. I need to tell you something.
And then you left! You coward! Chauvinistic pig! What happened to all your stupid chivalry that I hated? You’re supposed to let the woman go first, you bastard! (Her rage collapses into grief)
(Obviously distressed at her pain) You know how we used to go out and count the stars and I’d give up at like 100 but you’d keep counting. You’d go all the way up to 5,000 and longer if I let you. And you know how I’d always say that you have to stop eventually? That you have to reach an end eventually? And you said that there’s no such thing as an ending. I tried to prove you wrong. Silly me. (Pause.) I was the wrong one. (Pause. He touches her.) Helen! (She hears him) Hi.
Nothing ever quite ends. There’s always something.
