Merry Christmas. Happy Holidays. Happy Yule, etc.

     Up to almost 4K words on the third Parson Short mystery story, "Hanging Chad". Once again Short is drawn into a murder investigation in concert with the county sheriff's office. See how the Cedar City, Texas PI fares when dealing with a web of deceit and corruption.
     Probably close to 6K when finished. Might even make it before Christmas. Have a Merry!

Progress Report: It's Vampire Time!

 I found this cover awhile back and it always makes me smile!

This is a study I did for my just finished play. More below!

     I was at a retreat last weekend. It was a gathering of my witchy and pagan friends over near Wimberley, Tx. Four and a half days at a lovely and private country place with no cats to feed, etc. Can you say awesome Halloween night? My lovely lady was being Kitchen Goddess and I of course volunteered to help. In the midst of visiting with a bunch of my closest friends old and new I turned it into my very own writing retreat! It was easy. The scheduling was pretty free-form except for meals. There were voluntary workshops or classes offered around Samhain/Halloween sorts of things. Since I was already hanging around the dining area a lot, and it was often pretty quiet except for conversations, I pulled out my laptop and finished off a play I've been working on.
      I used to write more plays when I was more active in theater. I've posted a couple in this blog. I still have a few ideas back-burnered. Some have been worked into current novel or short story projects. I do enjoy writing plays, but I've been trying to focus more on novels and short stories the last few years. "The Vampire's Quiche" is one that never let go of me, and it just feels like it wants to be a play. I can so "see" it playing out in my head! I think of it as a Halloween play, although it isn't, necessarily. It's been on back burner for several years and I pull it out and dust it off and play with it around this time of year. I finally decided to just finish it and let people see it.
      The story is about the Pettus family. An extended family living in one suburban house. Father works, mom likes to bake, the kids are nearly grown. Uncle is unemployed, Aunt reads Tarot and Grandpa thinks he's a vampire.
      Think "The Munsters" meets "You Can't Take It With You".
      This play is a lot of fun, and it feels wonderful to finally get the first draft finished. I hoping a few of my writing/theater friends will offer to give it a read and offer some feedback.

Dark and Stormy Night

(Image from "The Big Combo" 1955)

 

Dark and Stormy Night 

by William Seward

Grimaldi knew when the phone rings at three in the morning it doesn't mean good news. Being on call means you can't turn the pesky thing off. He answered with a gruff "Grimaldi!" The dispatcher told him the address, he slapped some water on his face, dressed  himself again and was out the door. Great, the crappy weather fit his mood.
The address was a duplex. He didn't know the uniform in the driveway. He flashed his badge, grunted "Grimaldi" and was told the way to the scene where he finally saw a familiar face.
Detective Bob Patrick handed Grimaldi a cup of Starbucks best, strictly black, no frou-frou, just the thing to make him verbal again. He got out something that sounded like "thanks" and grabbed a quick swallow of the brew before being shown into the apartment.
Bob introduced him to the victim. "Case MacTavish. Bass player for the house band at the Hot Spot down the street. A few priors, nothing major. His girlfriend found him when she got in from her shift. She works at the Pik n Pay all night grocery, also in the neighborhood. She's Marge Griswold. She said he had a gig tonight, hasn't seen him since this morning. Nobody heard anything. Unit next door is vacant now."
"Stabbed?"
"A lot!" The tech looked up. Another face he knew, Ned Olson. "We'll know when we autopsy for sure, but looks like a dozen times at least."
Grimaldi looked at the bloody knife Bob showed him a in a tagged evidence bag. "Murder weapon?"
"Could be. Hard to say right now. Victim was holding it in his hand."
"Think he got a few licks in?"
The tech looked around, "lot of blood. Could be. We'll run it, see if it's all his."
Bob motioned to the bedroom. "The lady is in there. Ready to get her story?"
Grimaldi took a mental inventory. It seemed like his brain cells and his mouth were firing on as many cylinders as they usually did, good or bad.
"Okay. First, though, think it's her?"
"I'm not sure. I'll let you decide for yourself."

It had been at least an hour since Marge was told to wait in the bedroom with a policewoman. There was a knock on the door, both women sat up a bit. A man entered. Marge had never met him but she knew his face from pictures in the newspaper. Having him in her bedroom didn't increase her desire to know him. The policewoman stayed. Grimaldi sat. Even sitting he was a couple of inches taller than Marge.
"Ms. Griswold, I'm Detective Grimaldi. I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thank you. Case had his faults, but no one deserves this!"
"How long have you known each other?"
"We met at the Hot Spot just after I got back. About a year ago."
"Got back?"
"Afghanistan. Two tours."
"Then you've probably seen some bad stuff too."
"Pretty bad. Worse when it's one you know, like Case."
Bob called Grimaldi to the  next room. He showed him his notebook. "The victim was playing sets at the Hot Spot till midnight. Said he was going home. Ms. Griswold was working checkout at the grocery till two a.m. Called in the 911 at 2:15. Just about enough time to walk home. Tech says best guess now on time of death was around one. Gives her an alibi."
"Maybe. Remember, it's a murder case, everybody lies."
"You're a cynical bastard."
Grimaldi grunted, went back into the bedroom.
"Ms. Griswold. Was MacTavish fighting with anyone recently? Anybody threaten him? Was he worried about anything?"
"Nothing I knew of. I mean, he worked in a bar in a bad part of town. Not a lady's club. But I never saw any trouble."
"Detective Patrick has the rest of your statement. We'll go over it again tomorrow at the station. Do you have anywhere to go tonight?"
"A friend from work. I'll call her."
"It will be a couple of days before you can get back in here. I'll want you to come into the station tomorrow and sign your statement. Officer Maddox here will help you pack."
A voice came from the front room. "Detective, you need to see this!" Grimaldi and both women went to the door.
A long-haired black and white cat strolled in the door carrying a trophy between his teeth. Obviously pleased with himself, he passed the assembled officers and techs and made a chattering noise as he approached Marge. He neatly dropped the prize at her feet, licked himself, and sailed to the top of the nearby refrigerator where he sat like a sphinx.
At Marge's feet was a large, hairy knuckled finger bearing a bulky gold ring.
Grimaldi looked at Marge. "Your cat?"
"Case's, sort of. I think he came with the duplex. We've been calling him Moki."
Grimaldi picked up the finger with a reversed bag and looked at it before zipping it inside. "MacTavish wasn't missing any digits, I guess this answers the question about whether he fought back. Recognize anything?"
Marge was looking thoughtful. She hesitated. "No."
Grimaldi noticed. "I'm not sure I believe you."
"No, it's nothing."
He let it pass for the present. The two detectives finally left. Only part of Marge's attention was on the rest of it; packing her things with Rose's assistance, the trip to Patsy's apartment.
That ring! She knew it!

 Chapter 2

Mort Gomez was in pain. His left pinky was gone and it hurt like nothing he'd ever felt. And his ring! The ring he had taken off the body of his own uncle Carlo after he'd knifed him to death. A family heirloom, that's what it was!
But the pain! The boss had taken him to a veterinarian he used sometimes. The man owed too much to talk to anyone. He'd given Mort some kind of painkillers, for horses, probably, but they didn't work on HIM! The bandaged hand throbbed, forget that he kept bumping it into things when he moved. It was agony!
Who'd a thought that damn bass player, MacTavish had the spunk to grab the knife and put up a fight?
Mort looked out the window. Night was falling in the miserable weather, but it made little difference. The rain hadn't stopped in three days. The damp made his hand hurt even worse, if that was possible.
He heard a car door slam, he stepped behind the front door as it opened. Joey Marbles stepped into the room. The boss bumped the door back abruptly, it bumped Mort's hand. He screamed and fell back into a chair blubbering.
The boss looked at Mort, shaking his head. "I can't believe it. My best enforcer, Mort Gomez. Killer extreme. Crying in a flop house on the ass end of town!"
Mort just shook his head, still moaning.
"C'mon, man up. I have to ask you something."
Mort tried to sit up straight. The boss was the boss.
"The cops are everywhere asking questions. Mostly that detective Grimaldi, I think we've got a handle on him, though. There's someone else, though."
"Who?"
"Do you know this woman?" Joey handed over his cell phone. There was a picture on the screen. "She's asking all around about you."
"No, I don't.... wait. She works at the grocery. The one where I buy my cigarettes. She checked me out a few times."
"Well, she's looking for you now and they say is she's MacTavish's squeeze."
Mort stifled another groan. "What can she know? And what is she planning to do about it?"
"You tell me. Mort. She's your buddy!"
"She's got nothing on me."
"Maybe we need to make sure. We'll do it together."
"I don't know."
"C'mon, you can do it, if you can stop crying long enough."

Mort ate another half bottle of aspirin and got into the car. Joey drove them back to the neighborhood near the grocery. They parked in an alley. It wasn't long, but it seemed forever to the suffering Mort. Finally he recognized Marge passing the alley and he called out to her, stifling a groan.
The two men stood with guns behind their back as she approached, rain cap on her head and hands in her raincoat pockets. Joey thought the woman seemed too relaxed for a dark alley. Finally she was close enough to see their faces in the gloom. To Mort she said, "show me your hands."
Mort raised the bandage. Marge nodded when she saw the white bandage. The men made their move. Three shots rang out, echoing along the walls of the pitch black alley. Joey went down immediately, Mort stumbled forward, grasping at Marge.
When Grimaldi arrived at the scene, he found two victims, one gripping the end of a torn belt in his bandaged hand. A belt only a woman would wear, perhaps on her raincoat.
Three blocks away, Marge tossed her torn coat into a dumpster and entered a thrift shop.
The little red coat in the window was just the thing. The rain is stopping. Tomorrow promised to be a better day.

 

------------------------
An exercise from writing class to incorporate furnished random sentences into a short story.

Printed: 07-Sep-2014, 14:30

Report generated with yWriter5 © 2014 Spacejock Software

The Long Awaited Chapter 5 of The Azure Shade of the Bluebottle Tree

Chapter 5

Lammas/Lughnasa is one of the eight traditional sabbats but it is sometimes skipped, at least in Central Texas. Seasonally, it feels a bit out of place. Back in Celtic times and places, the first of August was indeed a time for harvest of grains and all that, but here in Texas it is just darn hot. Sometimes the festivals that were designed for places with one growing season were an odd fit for a place with two, or sometimes three. It's also a "fire" festival. There was no fire this time, for the sake of the temperature and the county-wide fire ban that was in its sixty-third day.     Pen thought it was wishful thinking to celebrate the "end" of summer when they wouldn't be seeing cooler days for several months. He looked forward to the Fall equinox, Mabon, and then October's Samhain, the witch's new year, and the really kick-ass ritual. That aside, Owl and Lisa Garrison had done a great job on Lammas. Owl was the name Oso's wife Teresa used for magickal work. Some pagans used their own names, as Lisa and Pen did. Others choose names that suit them or represent a totem animal or interest. Just as it is for spells, with rituals it is the intent that is important. Working a spell in community is always affirming. The fellowship after the ritual is fun too. Sharing bread, fruit, and wine with the others is always a treat. Pen looked around at this, his community of friends, his family of choice. Lisa was there, and Elena. Oso and Owl brought kolaches. Esme and the girls had brought pan dulce. Morgan's ice-cold sangria was fruity and refreshing. It was nice being with Esme and the girls.     Officially, Lammas is August 1. Since that would be mid-week, they celebrated the weekend before. More of them could make it on a weekend. They had a good turn out considering the heat. For the past several years the circle had met here on Lisa Garrison's property. She had a perfect oak grove, open in the center, shady with a good constant breeze. A spring fed creek ran nearby with a small pool to cool off in. The circle took turns keeping it neat for meetings. It was one of Pen's favorite places. There are a couple of permanent altars near, one to Diana, another to Green Man.     Even better, there was a view of Cedar Knob. On a moonlit night it was a magical sight. The hill loomed in the distance, the highest feature around, the top flattened as if a mesa had been transplanted from Anasazi country. Something about it made the viewer feel adrift in space and time. For ritual purposes the sight felt almost as mystical as Stonehenge.     As things wound down, they all hugged, kissed, and made their various ways home. Pen and Steve helped Owl and Lisa clean up the last few things and they started home themselves. Pen dropped Steve off at the house he shared with his mom, Renee.     Steve barely remembered his dad. Pen's brother Sam died when Steve was four. Steve was now sixteen and growing up fast. Renee had been living with Darnell Culver for several years now. Steve never talked about him. Pen felt uncomfortable about Darnell. He knew most of the Culvers but didn't know Darnell very well.     Steve took Pen around and showed him Sam's old '55 Chevy BelAir that he was restoring. The work was coming along. It even looked as if the car might be finished by the time Steve got his driver's license.     Pen admired the car and left for home. He didn't see Renee or Darnell around. Steve was a cool kid and it was great sharing the ritual, but Pen felt a bit down going home alone after dropping him off. Esme had been in one of her distant moods, friendly, but not encouraging. Pen respected her feelings but he missed having someone to come home to.     Nothing seemed amiss on the back roads from Renee's place. Pen reached his yard, fed Mau and Odin and unloaded the truck. He thought about the ritual and the conversations. No one had much to say about Dub Holt or Charlie. The murders were still too recent and painful.     The classical radio station from Austin was playing Albinoni's Adagio for Strings. One of Pen's favorites, but a bit blue for this night. He turned it off and popped an old tape of "Hondo" into his trusty VCR. Sleep claimed him before the credits rolled. * * *     Early Monday morning Pen saw a work van parked in the tow away zone by the Main Street phone substation. He doubted he was the first to notice but there was no reason to broadcast the news by radio to everybody's brother-in-law with a scanner. Pen stopped by Machado's Market and used their phone to check with dispatching. They didn't have anything, as he had suspected, so he made another call and got the answer.     Pen drove around the corner and parked.     It looked like a utility van, one of those contractors who worked for one of the phone companies. The driver was eating a breakfast taco. The engine was off, but Pen could hear a generator running in back.     He knew the driver.     "Hey, Mick. Announce me."     Mick shrugged and knocked twice on the divider as Pen walked around the van. One of the back doors opened just enough for him to slip inside. The inside was all high tech. Pen could see cameras aimed out a dark tinted window, recorders ready to record something. His eyes took a second to recover after the bright sunlight outside. Two men were seated in captain's chairs. Both looked at him. Brad, the older one, spoke. "Damn, Pen, you just made us to every dealer in town."      "Too late, that's who told me you were here. You working for D.E.A. now?" "They wish. Meet Agent Frank Stark, he's the D.E.A. guy. This is his operation. Frank, this is Deputy Constable Pen Sadler, Precinct 3." Stark looked barely old enough to drive. He looked Pen over. He ignored the outstretched hand and turned back to Brad. "Is this some sort of joke, Scott?" "No joke."     Texas Ranger Brad Scott turned back to Pen. "What gave us away?" "My source didn't say for sure, but I can think of a couple of things. It's a small town, remember? I didn't recognize the van. Also, nobody put cones out." Ignoring Pen, Stark asked Brad, "Cones?" Brad looked disgusted. "Traffic cones, Frank, every phone truck and contractor carries them. It's company policy. They have to put out cones when they stop anywhere, even for coffee! Damn! Your special van here doesn't have any!" Stark waved that away. "Whatever, that doesn't give this local an excuse to blow our cover. This operation is important!"     Brad looked back at him and shook his head, "You don't get it. The cover is already blown. We'll have to think of something else." "What do you mean?" "As Pen just informed us, word is already out on the street that this is a surveillance setup. No wonder we haven't seen any action."     Pen said, "I called in, there wasn't anything on the books about any operation by you guys in town." Brad waved it away. "Nothing personal, Frank here just wanted to keep a low profile." Brad gave a rueful laugh as he said it. Stark was growing indignant, all his plans falling through. "Who do you think you are, constable?." Brad laughed. "Pull in your horns, Frank. You know those people you piss off who say they can have you fired?" "Yeah, so?" "Pen really can. He's got connections you wouldn't imagine!" Frank looked skeptical "Besides", Brad said, winking at Pen, "Pen here is a witch. He can make your pecker fall off too!" Stark actually looked more interested than scared. The other two saved him the trouble of a reply. They left.     Carol's Cafe wasn't busy other than the mid-day domino players. Pen and Brad picked a table and ordered coffee. Pen had questions, but first he needed to make a point. "You know I don't do that." "Do what?" "Make his pecker fall off. We don't do that sort of thing." Brad laughed, "make him wonder, though. Youngster like that. They're giving badges out in kindergarten these days. Don't worry about it. It's not even that big an operation. It's just Frank's first." "I hope you can keep him alive." "Me too, pardner, me too. So, who really told you about the van?" "Ernie." "Damn, of course. He doesn't miss anything."     Ernest Dry was the town character. In many ways he was considered slow. He was very canny in his own way. His brother Harry was a city councilman as well. Everybody took care of Ernie, he noticed everything, and most people just ignored him. In exchange for soda money he was happy to keep Pen informed. It was the same with everyone. He rarely had to buy his own Dr. Pepper.     The men sipped their coffee. Carol's donuts were legendary. They each had two. Brad and Pen went way back. They'd played on rival teams in high school, and had worked together several times over the years. Ranger Brad Scott looked at Pen now. "With your training and contacts, you could have gone anywhere, even federal. Why do you want to stay here in hicksville and let a no-good shit kicker sheriff bust your chops? I don't get it. And, what's with this Deputy Constable thing? You could even be working with me, real partners." "Babysitting Frank in there? No thanks!" "You know what I mean! You're too good for this!" "I do know what you mean, and thanks. I like it here. I know these folks. I don't need that fast lane, been there, done that. Got the bloody t-shirt." "You know I've got your back, no matter what." "I know, and I appreciate it. Now, do you know anything about the Dub Holt and Charlie Adams cases?" "Nothing you don't, I'm sure. I think the department finished the lab work. I can't see your sheriff asking for our help on anything else." "Well, he doesn't want mine either, but he's getting it. Sara Beth made sure of that." "I'd sure want to keep her happy too! Let me know if I can help." "You know I will. In fact, I'm counting on it. Glad to see you again, Brad. Let me get the check." Brad winked. "We'll let Frank pay for it. He's got the expense account!"     Pen grinned at that and waved at Carol as he left. Brad went back to Frank's stakeout. * * *     It was too early for the First Fidelity lobby to be open, but the green lights were lit in the drive-thru. Pen saw Josie Delgado behind the teller window. He punched the intercom button. "Hi, Ms. Delgado. Is Tandy in this morning?" "Sure is, Pen. I'll ask him to let you in."     Pen walked around to the glass doors in time to see Tandy McAlister unlock the door. Tandy was a tall and dignified seventy seven. He'd married his high school sweetheart, Grace Parsons, way back when. He still wrote her love poems and called her Lady Grace. Tandy retired as high school principal the same year Pen graduated. He then took a position as vice-president of First Fidelity and for the last few years had been on the Shin Oak City Council.     Following Tandy to his office now Pen had to put down a vague feeling of being in trouble. Tandy was still Principal McAlister to Pen's generation. He carried his years better than most men his age, at least until today. Looking at him now Pen could see all of those years and more on Tandy's face. Tandy's handshake was uncharacteristically limp and he shook his head sadly as he circled his desk. He motioned Pen to a chair and then sat heavily himself. "How are you doing, Mr. Mac?" "To tell you the truth Pen, I just don't know. It's a terrible thing, just terrible! First Dub and now Charlie. I can't bear it!" "I wasn't sure you'd be open today, actually. Patricia said you would, though." "I didn't want to. We have so many time sensitive operations, though, somebody had to be here. Might as well open. I haven't even looked at what Dub and Charlie were handling. I'm not totally sure on the protocols. With this much of a disruption we may even have bank examiners involved." "We're going to have to let a forensics team look at whatever they were doing anyway, you know. Something got them both killed. It seems likely to be something they were handling here at the bank, don't you think?" "I suppose you're right Pen, I just can't imagine what it could be. We're just a small town bank, nothing major going on. Heck, any big money usually goes to one of the big banks in Austin!" "Well, keep your eyes open, Mr. Mac. Let me know if you come across anything that might explain it. We'll be in later this afternoon after the lobby closes to interview everyone." "I'll make sure everyone is here. Do you think I could be in danger too?" "There's no way to know. I'll check in on you now and then. I didn't see Randy outside, is he still on security?" " He's still here." "I'll tell him to keep his eyes open. We'll put a patrol by your house as well." "Thanks, Pen. I don't want to worry Lady Grace." "How's she doing? We haven't seen her out and about." "She's fine, staying close to the air conditioner." "I wish we all could, Mr. Mac! See you this afternoon!"     Pen shook his hand again and left the office.     Randy Perkins, the bank guard, had nothing much to add. He was shocked and saddened by the deaths, but was unable to shed any light on their actions. After telling him to keep his eyes open, Pen said his goodbys and left the bank feeling that he knew even less than when he came in.

Printed: 07-Aug-2014, 16:52

Trophies

TROPHIES

A Play in One Act

by William C. Seward

Performance Rights

It is an infringement of federal copyright law to copy or reproduce this script in any manner or to perform this play without royalty payment. The author controls all rights. Contact for additional scripts and further licensing information. The author’s name must appear on all programs and promotional material. William C. Seward: lastromantic49@yahoo.com

July 27, 2014

Copyright © 2002 by Bill Seward

TROPHIES

Characters:

Paul O'Conner: Sculptor

Sylvia O'Conner: His wife.

Lena Samuels: Art teacher.

Brick Samuels: Lena's husband. H.S. Football coach.

Cheryl Kaminsky: Lena's best friend.

Chief Gray: Jenson police chief.

Scene: The living room of the Samuels house. A window looks into the front yard. A door leads outside. Another door leads to kitchen/bedrooms. The room is tastefully decorated, but not too expensively. There is a stuffed deer head on the wall, sports trophies, autographed football. There should be at least one painting, fairly good, on the wall.

Time: Present day. Spring. Early evening, midweek.

Lighting note: There is a mention of "fantasy mode". This is left to the discretion of the lighting designer. I envision a mix obviously different from the "normal" scene lighting.

(AT RISE: LENA stands at the window looking into the yard, she is tense, frightened, worried. At first she speaks in almost a monotone, as if hypnotized. CHERYL stands beside her, watching both her and what is going on outside. Muffled noises off: Sirens, shouts, crackle of fire, muffled explosions. Reflections of flashing lights, and flickering firelight against early twilight outside.)

CHERYL

So much smoke for such a small car!

LENA

The gas tank blew already. And the tires.

CHERYL

Brick's going to have a coronary.

LENA

His new driveway is melting. The mailbox is already gone.

CHERYL

I hope you already got the mail.

LENA

(Nodding.)

I may already be a winner.

CHERYL

Not today.

LENA

No.

CHERYL

It looks like one of those "dream" paintings you do. You want to discuss this?

LENA

What's to discuss?

CHERYL

Jesus, girl! A yellow sports car is going up in flames in your front yard. The entire Jenson volunteer fire department is trampling Brick's lawn. The citizens of Jenson, population 930 on a good day, are in your street, and you ask "What's to discuss?"

LENA

You think people will talk?

CHERYL

Lena, this is the biggest thing to happen since the grain silo exploded in '53. Will they talk? "Next on Geraldo.....!"

LENA

(Looking up through the window.)

There's a lot of smoke. It just hangs there, like a black fist waiting to... to....

(she turns away.)

I don't know.

CHERYL

Smoke from the tires, I guess. Look, Brick and Chief Gray will be coming in here, you know they will. What will you say? Christ, honey, you haven't even told me anything, what will you tell them?

LENA

I don't know anything about it. Why ask me?

CHERYL

(physically turning Lena to window)

Lena, look out there. They all know that was Paul's car. No one else drives a yellow sports car. You're his friend. Of course they'll ask you, and Brick is already pissed.

LENA

(Resigned)

You're right. I thought I knew Paul. I never thought he was . . . capable of this.

(To herself)

How could anyone be capable of this? Why couldn't he just . . .

CHERYL

Just what?

LENA

Nothing.

CHERYL

(Glancing out window)

Well, here come Brick and the Chief. I don't think "nothing" is going to cut it.

(From off, sound of stamping, feet wiping. CHIEF's voice.)

CHIEF

(Off)

I think it's about burned itself out now, Brick. Soon it'll be cool enough to check.

(BRICK and CHIEF enter from front door. CHIEF seems calm, efficient, BRICK is seething)

BRICK

Somebody should be looking for that damn artist. I've got damages out there, dammit. He's gonna pay.

CHIEF

Brick, we have to look at everything. It could have been an accident.

BRICK

I find that asshole he'll think accident. He'll wish he was still in that fried banana.

LENA

(To CHIEF)

Was Paul... anyone... in it?

CHIEF

It doesn't look like it. Hard to say. Some of these car fires burn so hot you can't tell a body from a seat cover.

(Sees LENA's distress)

Sorry, Lena, no, no one was seen in the car, but then, nobody noticed much of anything until the fire started.

(To BRICK)

The deputies are looking for O'Conner now. If they find him we'll see what he knows about this.

BRICK

Keep me posted, and I want to know who's gonna clean up that mess out there.

CHIEF

Can't help you there. Let us finish looking it over, maybe tomorrow you can start on it.

BRICK

I guess it'll have to do.

CHIEF

And for the rest, let us handle it. We'll find out what's going on. Don't worry. Save your energy for that track tournament Saturday. See you folks later.

(CHIEF exits, BRICK turns to window and looks out, pointedly turning his back on LENA. There is an uncomfortable beat, then the phone rings, BRICK answers)

BRICK

Coach Samuels. . . . Hello. . . is anyone there?

(Hangs up)

Another hangup. . . Cheryl, I really appreciate you being here, and I know Lena does too but I need to talk to her for a bit. Do you mind?

CHERYL

No, it's your house. I should be heading home anyway. Call me, either of you, if you need me.

LENA

Okay, thanks Cheryl.

BRICK

Yeah, thanks.

CHERYL

Bye, now.

(She exits)

BRICK

(Pause to be sure CHERYL is gone. Then in a controlled voice.)

You want to tell me about it?

LENA

Cheryl asked the same thing. I don't know what's happening.

BRICK

That was Cheryl, I'm me. You know, your husband.

LENA

(Turns to window.)

I don't know anything about it.

BRICK

(Grabs her shoulder, turns her around, holds her with both hands.)

Don't give me that. That's your buddy's car out there. That artist. He torched it for some reason.

LENA

You're hurting me.

BRICK

(Releasing her.)

Excuse me, I'm a bit worked up. My flipping yard is on fire. I put a lot of work in that. All our so-called friends and neighbors are gawking at our house. I haven't done anything to deserve this, it must be you.

LENA

I haven't done anything.

BRICK

That guy didn't torch his own car for no reason. I know I'm not an "artist" but that's a little extreme for an argument over paintbrushes.

LENA

He's a sculptor.

BRICK

You know what I mean.

(he pauses, then)

I want to know what's been happening. Are you seeing this guy behind my back?

LENA

(looking away)

No. He's just a friend.

BRICK

A couple of weeks ago you were singing him for a song. Paul this, Paul that! You expect me to believe that there's nothing between you? . .Look at me!

LENA

(Reluctantly almost looking at him.)

Nothing.

BRICK

Well, something sure as hell happened. Someone sure got worked up. Look out there! This is really happening! This is not one of those crazy dreams of yours.

LENA

(Turning away)

I have to go to class.

BRICK

(Grabbing her arm)

Don't walk out on this, not now!

LENA

I have to go. We don't have substitutes.

BRICK

I let you teach art, I didn't know you'd spend all your time at the damn school.

LENA

It's only one night a week.

BRICK

You can take tonight off.

LENA

No. These people paid for their classes.

BRICK

Is "he" going to be there?

LENA

The police are looking for him aren't they? I don't know.

BRICK

He'd better not be there. I'll find out.

LENA

You're going to check up on me.

BRICK

I have reason to.

LENA

Suit yourself, I have to go. We'll talk later.

(She gathers her things)

BRICK

Yes we will.

(LENA exits. BRICK exits to kitchen, returns with can of beer, stands at window drinking. As he crushes can, lights go down.)

End of Scene 1

Scene 2

(TIME: About an hour later. Outside the windows it is dark.)

(AT RISE:BRICK is on sofa drinking beer and watching television, he seems preoccupied, keeps punching buttons on the remote. There is a knock at the door.)

BRICK

(Turning off T.V., not moving from sofa.)

Who is it?

CHERYL

(Opening door, looking in.)

It's me.

BRICK

(Not looking at her)

Lena's not here.

CHERYL

I know, it's a class night.

BRICK

If you know, then why . . .

CHERYL

I wanted to talk to you.

BRICK

(Looking at her finally.)

Oh yeah?

CHERYL

Well you did ask me to see what I could find out.

BRICK

Oh, yeah. So tell me, what's happening?

CHERYL

(Indicating Brick's beer.)

Can I have one of those?

BRICK

You know where they are.

CHERYL

(Speaking while exiting to kitchen and returning with beer.)

Did she have an explanation for what happened today?

BRICK

Of course not. She said she didn't know. What did she tell you?

CHERYL

Nothing. She was awfully worried about it though.

BRICK

Something got that artist awfully worked up for him to set fire to his own car.

CHERYL

Something? Or someone.

BRICK

What do you mean?

CHERYL

Brick, both of you are my friends. Lena is like my own sister, but I don't like what she's doing to you.

BRICK

That's what I want to know, what she's doing.

CHERYL

She wouldn't talk to me. Whatever it is, I don't think you're being treated very fairly.

BRICK

She is not going to make a fool out of me, not here. I won't allow it.

CHERYL

We've known each other a long time, you deserve better than that.

BRICK

What do you mean?

CHERYL

Whatever is going on, she's hiding it. What kind of marriage is that?

BRICK

Not so hot.

CHERYL

You're a good man. You've taken care of her. Is this how she repays you?

BRICK

I'll kill both of them.

CHERYL

That's not necessary. Just don't let them hurt you anymore.

BRICK

Doing it is harder than saying it.

CHERYL

Just look around at what you have. There are others who care about you.

BRICK

What do you mean?

CHERYL

C'mon, you're not stupid, you have to know what I'm talking about. Look at me, I'm right here.

BRICK

You?

CHERYL

Me. I've always been here, under your nose. I can be everything you want, just give me a chance.

BRICK

You're Lena's friend.

CHERYL

I'm yours if you'll have me. She doesn't want you, I do.

BRICK

Why are you saying all this?

CHERYL

I've waited as long as I can. I thought you would see a long time ago.

BRICK

(He turns away)

I don't know, Cheryl. This isn't what I wanted for my life.

CHERYL

(Touching his shoulder.)

Open your eyes Brick. Look at what you've got, and what you could have. She's hurting you, don't let it keep happening. We can be so good together.

BRICK

Cheryl, I . . .

CHERYL

Hush, don't say anything.

(She holds him in her arms, he stands stiffly, then slowly relaxes. He returns her embrace, they kiss.)

(Blackout)

End Scene 2

Scene 3

(TIME: Nearly midnight. There is no light in the living room except the television. BRICK is lying on the sofa, apparently asleep. LENA opens the outside door and enters quietly. She sees BRICK and pauses, crosses to turn off TV, then stops. Turns, starts to exit quietly to kitchen. Is almost out when BRICK speaks)

BRICK

I've been waiting.

LENA

I thought you were asleep.

BRICK

Too much happening.

(He turns on lamp at end table)

The Bulls won again.

(He drains his beer.)

LENA

How many of those have you had?

BRICK

(Glancing at TV, turning it off.)

Not enough to make Rupaul look good. What took so long? Class was out at ten.

LENA

It takes time to straighten up, get everyone out, lock up, drive home. You know that.

BRICK

I'm not sure I know anything anymore. A lot of surprises lately.

LENA

Well, anyway, everyone wanted to stand around and talk about . . . what happened.

BRICK

Yeah. Hard to get away with anything in a small town. I always liked that before. You always knew pretty much where you stood.

LENA

So, where do you stand?

BRICK

I'm where I want to be, doing what I want to do. I thought you wanted to be here too. Do you?

LENA

Yes . . . I do.

BRICK

Do you? I wonder. Nothing is what it seems to be today. For once I don't know where I stand, and I don't like it. Are you leaving me?

LENA

. . . No.

BRICK

I don't know what's happened. I don't think I want to know. I just want everything to stay like it was. I love you Lena.

LENA

I . . . love you too, Brick.

BRICK

What's happening to us?

LENA

I don't know.

BRICK

What is it? Something I don't do for you? Something I can change? What?

LENA

It's not you, Brick, it's me.

BRICK

There must be something we can do to make things right again.

LENA

Everything is all right. Really!

BRICK

What about that artist?

LENA

No one's seen him.

BRICK

You know what I meant.

LENA

There's nothing else to say. He's just a friend.

BRICK

Not much of one, to do all of this to us. Not much of a gentleman either.

LENA

I don't know what's going on, I wish everyone would just stop asking me.

BRICK

Come on. You two are the dynamic duo. Half of the community school program revolves around you. That makes you the authority on Paul O'Conner. I don't like it, but that's how it is.

LENA

Well, they can stop asking me.

BRICK

What about his wife?

LENA

Somebody saw her hanging around the studios tonight.

BRICK

Maybe I should talk to her.

LENA

Go ahead. I'm going to bed.

BRICK

Yeah, it's late. Go ahead.

LENA

Aren't you coming?

BRICK

I'll be there later, I'm going for a walk. I need to think. Besides, I'm not sure you want me there.

LENA

You decide, I'm tired. Good night.

(LENA leaves the room but is still in the door when BRICK speaks, LENA pauses.)

BRICK

Lena? We had something good. I don't want to lose it. Okay?

LENA

Okay. Good night.

(She exits to bedroom. BRICK watches her leave.)

(Lights fade to dark.)

(End Scene 3)

Scene 4

(TIME: Next day, mid-morning..)

(AT RISE: LENA is alone. Listening to '70s music on the stereo. She is trying to dust, but is preoccupied. When a particular song comes on,(enough bars that we can recognize it later) she abruptly turns off the stereo. The phone rings, startling her.)

LENA

Hello? . . . Who's there?

(Listens, says nothing, then gently puts the phone down. She continues her motions. The doorbell rings, she is startled even more and answers it.)

LENA

Yes?

SYLVIA

I'm glad you're home.

LENA

(Warily.)

Oh, . . .Sylvia. Come in.

SYLVIA

(Entering, she is brisk, cold)

Where is he?

LENA

Who?

SYLVIA

You know. Is he here?

LENA

You mean Paul? Why would he be here?

SYLVIA

I'm not stupid. He loves you, he has for years. That's why he left me.

LENA

That's not what he . . . well, he said. . .

SYLVIA

Yes?

LENA

Of course, we're friends. We talk . . .sometimes.

SYLVIA

About art, I suppose.

LENA

Art and . . . other things.

SYLVIA

I can imagine. Tell me, why should he talk to you and not me?

LENA

Why don't you ask him?

SYLVIA

(Firmly)

Because no one has seen him lately. He hasn't spoken to me or our friends. That leaves you. Are you going with him?

LENA

Going where?

SYLVIA

Wherever runaway husbands and their bimbos run away to.

LENA

I'm no one's "bimbo". I'm not going anywhere, with Paul or anyone, and I haven't seen him. I have a husband, and a life. Paul would have to be crazy to come here.

SYLVIA

Exactly, so did he? Where is he?

LENA

I told you I don't know. He didn't teach last night.

SYLVIA

I know, I was waiting outside. He can't hide forever. And you can't hide what you're up to.

LENA

There's nothing to hide.

SYLVIA

Didn't yesterday teach you anything?

LENA

Yesterday?

SYLVIA

The car?

LENA

What do you know about that?

SYLVIA

Everybody knows. You can't hide anything in a small town, certainly not a burning sports car.

LENA

Would Paul really burn that car? Maybe someone else did. Who?

SYLVIA

You're right, Paul loves that car more than anything, maybe even more than he thinks he loves you. If someone wanted to hurt him that would do it. Or maybe dear Paul just wanted to make a statement. He likes romantic statements. Buying that car was one. Pathetic isn't it?

LENA

Did you do it? Burn his car?

SYLVIA

Me? Of course not. Or did I? I'm not really sure anymore. You see, my whole world has crashed around me. There are blank spots. Worse are the looks everyone gives me.

LENA

Sylvia, I . . .

SYLVIA

I don't want to hear anymore. I thought once you were a friend. I've got no one now.

LENA

Have you talked to your counselor? I know another one that . . .

SYLVIA

Counselors! They think Paul is so reasonable and intelligent. They think it's all my fault. I can see it in their eyes. Well, I'm not the one that's crazy.

LENA

I didn't say . . .

SYLVIA

(Crossing to outside door.)

I'm not crazy. And you two are not going to wreck my life.

LENA

I'm not . .

SYLVIA

You are both going to suffer as much as I have.

(SYLVIA exits. LENA watches out the window. PAUL enters quietly from kitchen, looks at her for a moment then speaks.)

PAUL

That's quite a mess out there. I suppose Brick's pissed.

LENA

Paul!

PAUL

What did my soon-to-be-ex want?

LENA

What do you expect? She's looking for you. Everyone else is too.

PAUL

Everyone but you.

LENA

(Resigned)

I knew you'd be back.

PAUL

Pretty pitiful, huh?

LENA

Don't be so hard on yourself.

PAUL

I'm sure Brick would argue with you.

LENA

What were you trying to prove with the car?

PAUL

I thought you did it.

LENA

You thought I would burn your car in my front yard?

PAUL

I didn't say it made sense. Nothing else has.

LENA

Are you saying you didn't do it?

PAUL

I just heard about it. I've been gone since Sunday. Since just after you told me it was over. Everything pretty much went to hell from there.

LENA

Why? You knew it was impossible from the start. It was time to end it. It's better for both of us. Don't you know that?

PAUL

It's the way I am, the last of the romantics, remember?

LENA

Why couldn't you just let it go?

PAUL

I told you I would love you forever.

LENA

But you've lost everything.

PAUL

Nothing that hurts as much as losing you.

LENA

But your family, your job . . . your car.

PAUL

I tell you I'm not responsible for the car.

LENA

Oh right!

PAUL

I wish I were. I really felt like making some big dramatic statement. But that? I couldn't draw attention to you that way, destroy any last hope for an "us".

LENA

There is no hope. There never was.

PAUL

There has to be. It's all I have left.

LENA

I didn't tell you to leave Sylvia, your family.

PAUL

No, she told me to.

LENA

You saw a counselor, why couldn't you just take her advice?

PAUL

How do you know she didn't advise me to leave?

LENA

Did she?

PAUL

Counselors don't give advice. She wanted to me to decide what was best for me.

LENA

Like torching the car?

PAUL

Do you think I could do any of this? Hurt you like this?

LENA

I hurt you.

PAUL

I still love you. It's all I have.

LENA

I don't think I know you anymore.

PAUL

We used to read each other's minds.

LENA

I can't anymore.

PAUL

Can't or won't?

LENA

I won't let myself.

PAUL

You were my best friend.

LENA

I can't be there for you.

PAUL

Friends give friends the benefit of the doubt.

LENA

I can't.

(Pause, 2 beats)

PAUL

Call it quits with him.

LENA

We've been all through this.

PAUL

How can you stay with someone who doesn't respect what you do? I couldn't. I didn't.

LENA

I can't just give up everything. I did that once, I promised I'd never do it again.

PAUL

He uses people, he hurts people.

LENA

He loves me.

PAUL

He doesn't love you, he owns you. You're his trophy, but he doesn't even notice you. Like that deer. He killed it, hung it's head on the wall, but someone else has to keep it clean.

LENA

I love him.

PAUL

You fear him. He reminds you of your father, and he treats you the same way. What does he give you?

LENA

Everything.

PAUL

Respect? Understanding? Appreciation? You went to that faculty party last week.

LENA

Yes.

PAUL

Did he dance with you?

LENA

No.

PAUL

Did he take your arm and tell you how beautiful you were?

LENA

. . . No.

PAUL

He spent the entire time with the coaching staff didn't he?

LENA

It's his job.

PAUL

Was he proud of you? Did he even look at you?

LENA

It's difficult for him.

PAUL

How difficult is it to like someone you love?

LENA

Were you that way with Sylvia?

PAUL

I used to be. Until . . . .

LENA

Until me?

PAUL

I was going to say until I realized she never had believed in me.

LENA

But I wanted that kind of attention.

PAUL

We all do. You have a right to be treated that way. You deserve it.

LENA

It's not always that easy.

PAUL

It should be.

LENA

It's easy for you, not for everyone.

PAUL

As easy as ending us?

LENA

It wasn't easy. . .I still can't believe you care so much.

PAUL

Believe.

LENA

Where did you go Sunday . . . after?

PAUL

I was going to leave, the car wouldn’t start. That's the last time I saw it. Honest.

LENA

What did you do?

PAUL

Caught a ride west, kept going. Looked for trouble.

LENA

Trouble?

PAUL

I was eating breakfast somewhere. I felt watched. Some tough looking kids were eyeing me. I figured they were waiting to follow me outside so they could rob me.

LENA

What happened?

PAUL

I finished eating. I didn't look at them again, didn't particularly ignore them either, just didn't care.

LENA

Then?

PAUL

I paid and left. Waited on a corner. They followed me. A patrol car passed, they left. I wished they hadn't. I felt like hitting someone, anyone. I didn't even care about myself. . . I even thought about suicide.

LENA

That's so stupid. Think about Megan.

PAUL

What about her?

LENA

How would she feel if anything happened to you?

PAUL

She has her mom.

LENA

You're her father. That's very special.

PAUL

I had you, that was very special.

LENA

You never had me.

PAUL

(Points to heart)

Here I had you, from the first time I saw you, the first time I kissed you, held you. There was "us".

LENA

I had to get involved with an artist. You "feel" too much, "see" too much. I never promised you anything.

PAUL

No, you didn't. All the promises were mine. You were very careful that way. The look in your eyes was all the promise I needed.

LENA

(Thoughtfully)

It was just a few weeks, how could it mean so much?

PAUL

All my life I've wanted someone to be everything you were to me, and there you were.

LENA

I'm sorry. I can't be that person.

PAUL

It's not something you have to do. You already are, to me. We were like two halves of the same being. You said it yourself.

LENA

I was wrong.

PAUL

How?

LENA

I must have been.

(The doorbell rings, LENA looks out the window.)

That's Chief Gray, you'd better hide.

PAUL

Why.

LENA

Just do it for me, okay?

(PAUL looks at her for a beat, then exits through kitchen door. LENA composes herself and opens the outside door.)

Hello, Chief Gray. Is something wrong?

CHIEF

No. I just wanted you to know that we're all through with the car. Brick can have it towed off. Or, Paul O'Connor can have it back if he still wants it.

LENA

Has he . . . has anyone seen him.

CHIEF

Not yet. He'll turn up though. There's probably a simple explanation to all this, there usually is. You'd better hope Brick doesn't see him first. He was really upset. That temper of his is sure something. I don't have to tell you though, do I?

LENA

No.

CHIEF

I remember the time we played Haley in the district play-offs, he and Elmer Winter got drunk and . . .well, I'd better not go any further. Lodge secrets, you know.

LENA

I suppose so.

CHIEF

Pass the word to him about the car, and let us know if you need anything else.

LENA

I will. Come back soon.

(CHIEF exits)

PAUL

(Re-entering)

I don't think he would ever get re-elected if he wasn't related to everyone in town.

LENA

I thought you were gone.

PAUL

I had to stay and see how the dragnet was going.

LENA

How long can you hide?

PAUL

I'm not hiding, in fact as soon as I leave here I'll visit Chief Gray and let him know I'm still around.

LENA

You won't tell him about . . .

PAUL

Us? . .What if I threatened to, blackmailed you?

LENA

Would you do that?

PAUL

No, that's not how I want you. I don't want to destroy whatever chance there may ever be.

LENA

And if there is no chance?

PAUL

I have to believe there is.

LENA

So what will you say?

PAUL

I just went through a divorce. I'm middle aged crazy, that's all the excuse I need. Will you be all right? I worry about you, you know.

LENA

That's hard to believe, that you would still think about me.

PAUL

Think about you? How about every time I see a car like yours. Every road we ever drove on reminds me of you, and that's every road around here. Every place we ever talked about going, every thing we ever wanted to do. Every Barry Manilow song, every love song. Christ, every minute of every day I think about you.

LENA

But you can't.

PAUL

I can, and I do. And I know you still care about me.

LENA

No.

PAUL

You won't let yourself, but you do.

LENA

You never stop hoping, do you?

PAUL

Never.

LENA

(Fondly)

You're a loon.

PAUL

And alone. I'll see myself out.

(He starts toward kitchen door.)

LENA

Wait. . .will you ever tell about . . us?

PAUL

You said there wasn't an "us". . . Don't worry, nobody needs to know. I'm still your friend.

LENA

I told you a lot of things I never told anyone, not even Brick.

PAUL

I won't tell. But I think that should indicate something.

LENA

If you did tell I would be ruined.

PAUL

Don't worry, there's enough talk around. I'll let you know what happens.

(He exits. Is gone before LENA speaks.)

LENA

Goodbye.

(She seems to want to say more, but there is a knock on the front door. LENA crosses to open it. Before she can get there, CHERYL opens it and sticks her head in.)

LENA

Oh . . . hi, Cheryl.

CHERYL

I heard voices, you talking to yourself?

LENA

No. It was . . the radio . . one of those talk shows. I turned it off.

CHERYL

(Looking around suspiciously)

I thought you only listened to music. Oldies and such.

LENA

There was nothing else on. Did you need something?

CHERYL

No, just came by to see how you were.

LENA

Everything's okay.

CHERYL

Heard from Paul?

LENA

(Pause)

No. Should I?

CHERYL

You tell me, you have his "fried banana". You know, the car.

LENA

Sylvia came by.

CHERYL

Sylvia came here? What did she want?

LENA

Same as everyone else, I guess. She was looking for Paul.

CHERYL

What did you tell her?

LENA

There was nothing to tell. She wouldn't believe me.

CHERYL

I heard she make a scene at the school last week.

LENA

Yes.

CHERYL

She just doesn't give up, does she?

LENA

The breakup was pretty sudden.

CHERYL

I wonder, the last straw, was it another woman, you think?

LENA

Paul wouldn't . . .never told me.

CHERYL

They seem so different. I never understood how they got together. Maybe now Paul can find someone more on his wavelength.

LENA

Maybe.

CHERYL

He's not bad looking, and intelligent. A good catch for the right woman.

LENA

I suppose.

CHERYL

How's Brick taking all this?

LENA

He's still pretty upset.

CHERYL

Who can blame him?

LENA

Whose side are you on?

CHERYL

Well, yours of course, it's just that he's your husband, so naturally he's jealous.

LENA

There's nothing to be jealous of.

CHERYL

Really? Sorry, Lena, but it just doesn't look that way. Everyone is talking about what happened yesterday.

LENA

It's nobody else's business.

CHERYL

It's a small town, everybody makes it their business. It's your fault everyone is talking.

LENA

My fault?

CHERYL

Sure. You won't talk about it, not even to me. When there's a mystery everyone makes up their own story to fit the facts. They even make up their own facts.

LENA

There's nothing I can do about that.

CHERYL

You can tell me what's happening. I'm your best friend. Trust me.

LENA

Can I? I wonder. Anyway, I can't talk about it, even if I wanted to. I promised.

CHERYL

Promised? Your marriage is going down the tubes. I thought maybe you wanted to save it.

LENA

It'll be all right. It has to be.

CHERYL

There's no reason for me to stick around then. Call me when you need something!

LENA

Cheryl, I'm sorry!

(CHERYL exits)

Damn! Am I driving everyone away?

(LENA sits, sadly. There is a pause, then a single knock at the door. It opens slowly. CHERYL looks in.)

CHERYL

I'm sorry, Lena. That was childish of me.

LENA

It's not your fault.

CHERYL

It bothered me to know that we kept secrets from each other.

LENA

Not all secrets are ours to share.

CHERYL

I know. I forgot for a moment. Forgive me"

LENA

There's nothing to forgive.

(The phone rings)

Hello? . . . Oh, hi Chief Gray. . . He did? . . . What did he say about it? . . .Well I'm glad you found him. . . Sylvia? You’re kidding. Are you sure? . . . Why would she? . . . That's terrible. . . Okay, thanks for calling, I'll tell Brick. Bye. . . .I will, thanks again.

(She hangs up, turns to CHERYL)

That was the Chief.

CHERYL

What happened, did Brick . . ?

LENA

No, it's Paul, they found him.

CHERYL

Where was he? Why did he . .

LENA

Apparently he walked into the station and asked for the chief. He had decided to go away for a while and left the car. He just got back, didn't know anything about it.

CHERYL

What was that about Sylvia?

LENA

That's the weird part. She confessed to Paul and the Chief. She was following him, saw him leave the car. She had sabotaged it. She brought it here and burned it to hurt Paul.

CHERYL

In your yard?

LENA

I was the last one he talked to before he left. She saw him here. She was mad at everyone, I guess.

CHERYL

I know Ruth, Sylvia's sister. I'll call her. Sylvia probably needs someone now. Did they arrest her?

LENA

Not yet. Maybe Brick won't press charges.

CHERYL

Maybe not. I'll go make that call. Will you be all right?

LENA

Yeah, sure, go ahead. See you later?

CHERYL

Of course. Still friends?

LENA

Sure.

(CHERYL exits, LENA moves to look out window.)

Paul, Sylvia, all of us. Isn't there any way everyone can be happy?

(Lights dim momentarily, rise to fantasy mode, BRICK comes in through front door.)

BRICK

I'm home.

LENA

(Moves to him, hugs him, acts loving and attentive)

It's good to see you honey, you look tired, sit down. How was your day?

BRICK

About the same. The Patton boy looks like a good bet for the hundred.

LENA

That's wonderful! Are you hungry? Dinner's ready.

BRICK

Starved. Did you get the mail?

LENA

No. Why don't you get it while I set the table?

BRICK

Okay.

(He exits, LENA moves back to the window, looks out in same position as before, lights dim then come back up, still in fantasy mode. PAUL enters from front door with flowers, she turns to him, they kiss. Their song is playing, the same one she turned off earlier. They dance a bit, the song ends. She seems young and in love.)

PAUL

It's wonderful to see you, I missed you.

LENA

Silly, you just saw me.

PAUL

It doesn't matter, it was too long. Do you know you are beautiful?

LENA

I think you are prejudiced.

PAUL

I mean it, you're incredible.

LENA

(Laughing)

And you're a loon.

(A new song begins, she moves easily into his arms. They dance across the floor towards the kitchen.)

PAUL

I've been thinking. We could add some more classes at the studio. And we should have a showing together.

LENA

Mmmm. . . .

(They dance out the kitchen door, with very little pause, BRICK and LENA dance back in through the same door. She is radiant.)

BRICK

I love your hair.

LENA

I hoped you would. I wanted something different.

BRICK

It looks wonderful. Especially tonight of all nights. Happy Anniversary.

LENA

You remembered!

BRICK

How could I forget the most incredible day of my life.

LENA

"To love and cherish."

BRICK

Every day.

(They dance a bit in silence.)

I almost forgot the champagne, it’s in the car. We're celebrating.

(He exits, LENA moves to the window to watch him. Lights dim, return to normal. The front door opens slowly, PAUL enters again. LENA turns to him, they stand a bit apart.)

PAUL

I just wanted to tell you I'm leaving.

LENA

What do you mean?

PAUL

I got another job . . .teaching . . . in the city. I'll get an apartment.

LENA

What about your family?

PAUL

It's not so far, I'll have Megan sometimes, maybe all the time if Sylvia will let me.

LENA

I'm sorry all this happened.

PAUL

Don't be, I'm not. Well, maybe some of it. At least now I'll be out of your life.

LENA

I hope it all works out for you. You deserve it. What's the school like?

PAUL

Alpine Arts School. Really nice studio, big budget.

LENA

Sounds wonderful, I'm happy for you.

PAUL

I'd rather you were happy with me.

LENA

You'll see. Before you know it I'll be a pleasant memory. Think of all the young artists you can romance.

PAUL

You think so?

LENA

I hope so, for your sake.

PAUL

I'll always love you.

LENA

Yes.

(Blackout)

End of Play