DANCE WITH ME, PLEASE? A Play in One Act by Richard Gaffield-Knight 230 W. 107th Street Apt 1-G New York, NY 10025 (212) 662-2712 February 19, 1995 Revised May 19, 1997 CAST OF CHARACTERS (In order of appearance) LARRY: Attractive, energetic, athletic-looking man in his mid-twenties; a sculptor who has been blind since early childhood; visible scars on his face; costumed grungy before it was fashionable. He wears an old black leather, silver tipped belt, with a large buckle. (As the play begins LARRY decides he must try to change his gay lifestyle.)1 HARRY: Confident and aristocratic bearing; sometimes pensive; in his late forties; ex-creative director in advertising; costumed early Ralph Lauren. (HARRY wants to get back to work and come to terms with his past so he can enjoy a satisfying sexual relationship with LARRY.)2 BONAPARTE: American Bull Terrier, black with a white patch on its throat and breast, maybe; Very obedient and belongs to JILL, who he dutifully protects. JILL: Beautiful African-American woman in her mid-twenties, but younger of heart; upbeat, free spirited and emotional; lives on the east side, Gramercy Park area; Madison avenue copywriter type, after work. (After quickly establishing herself in the advertising business in Chicago and New York City, JILL has fallen in love with LARRY and needs to terminate her physical state of virginity ASAP). TIME: A Saturday in early January, 1982; 8:00pm. SETTING: The street end of LARRY's loft, A.I.R. SCENE: The top floor of a small manufacturing building in the Tribecca district of Manhattan. The loft is 25 feet wide, with a skylight, and sparsely, but well-furnished. The bathroom and spiral staircase to bedroom are downstage right and left respectively. The elevator door is upstage left. The sculptor's studio begins downstage left and extends into the audience. A skylight is over the audience and the cold light from a full moon filters through it, lighting the audience dimly from above. AT RISE: LARRY is standing facing upstage, silhouetted against a row of six windows which face downtown. Sounds of the street are barely heard: cabs, small trucks, people out walking, a dog barks and another barks back. An industrial type toilet flushes offstage right. Sound of open faucets, hands being washed, four or five counts and HARRY enters from the bathroom humming, then singing full voice, in German, the theme from Beethoven's 9th Symphony, 4th movement, Presto-Allegro Assai, "The Ode to Joy." He has a copy of TIME magazine dated December 21, 1981 with "Colonel Muammar Qaddafi, The Spector of Terrorism" in large type on the cover. HARRY crosses left to elevator door and flips a switch on the wall that turns on the interior lights, one of which is next to a leather couch right of center and another over a leather chair left of center. Right of the chair is a small table, with telephone answering machine. HARRY Well? (Pause) Not bad, eh? LARRY You sing Beethoven Pop? HARRY I do. (HARRY goes to the chair and drops the magazine on it, then crosses to the opposite wall and puts a(n) LP on the player.) SOUND: GUITAR, SEGOVIA. LARRY I think I want to go away for awhile. HARRY Alone? (HARRY goes to the chair and sits after picking up the magazine he brought from the bathroom. He glances to the couch, then leaves the magazine on the chair again as he goes to the couch to straighten the loose throw pillows.) HARRY (Cont') Is the music O.K? LARRY If you care enough to remember Ser-govia. (Facing upstage, LARRY does a newly Knighted bow as HARRY picks up the magazine, sits, reads.) HARRY There's a new disease afflicting only homosexuals. LARRY You mean Gays? HARRY Time Magazine says "Promiscuous behavior increases risk." Have you heard about it? This new "gay" syndrome? LARRY Everybody's talking about it. Where've you been? HARRY Doctor at UCLA named Gottlieb believes the virus and homosexuals have been around for thousands of years, so there's a piece of the puzzle missing. LARRY Oh-ohh. HARRY He says, "The missing link could be 'poppers,' drugs like amyl nitrate and butyl nitrate, which are said to enhance orgasm." Do they? LARRY uh-huh. HARRY (Slight pause) Then, he says there's the so-called immunologic overload theory. LARRY What's that? HARRY (Looks at LARRY) Seg-ovia just happens to be the greatest of all classical guitarists. And if you don't care enough to remember him, why do you keep him around? LARRY Like I said, I'd like to go away. HARRY Where? LARRY Home. (HARRY, a bit confused, looks back to his magazine.) HARRY This is your home. LARRY Not since you've been here. HARRY (Slight pause then light-heartedly) Is the quiet and sexy one boring you? LARRY I like the quiet one ... sometimes. (HARRY rises from the chair and puts the magazine in a rack next to it as he crosses to stereo.) HARRY Do you want to dance? LARRY Dance? ... avec moi? (LARRY, smiling, turns downstage, as HARRY puts "sexy saxophone" on the stereo.) HARRY (Smiling) I think it's time I learned how to dance. LARRY Oh, come on. HARRY With you, I mean, who leads for instance? (HARRY walks to LARRY and puts his right arm around his waist and the left arm lightly on his shoulder, then on his neck. LARRY over-reacts.) LARRY Never again, like, it's insanity, you know? HARRY Never? LARRY (Quieter) I mean sex with you is like ... HARRY (Gently touching his ear-ring.) ... a balloon ride? LARRY ... without helium. HARRY ... metaphorically speaking, of course. (Pause. Then HARRY moves closer to LARRY, slight hugging as he begins to move with the music. Ever so gently, he begins to lead HARRY. The attempt is at first kind of comical. HARRY is not a follower. As HARRY tries to lead, LARRY becomes aroused and his hands move up HARRY's thighs to his buttocks and begin to massage them, deeply. HARRY kind of moves his face in front of LARRY's and then holds LARRY's face in his hands and kisses him full on his mouth for the first time. LARRY responds passionately as if for the last time. HARRY moves his cheek to LARRY's, as he embraces him, warmly, then backs off and begins to open LARRY's belt.) LARRY This guy was spare-changin' me, you know, today. HARRY The streets of New York City. (LARRY moves HARRY's hands away from the belt business and around his own body to his back. He holds HARRY still as he talks.) LARRY ... and like I was with Mary. HARRY You mean Judd, the stud? LARRY I call him Mary, a really timid thing. I think pretty good on my feet, you know, I can think of a way of getting out of whatever, and making it work, you know? HARRY You sure can. LARRY And this guy was a real piece of work. I could smell him from down the block. When we got up to him, he says, "a dollar for wine," and I ignored him because I hate it when people I don't even know, especially those mother-fucking self-destructive people, intrude on my mood like that. HARRY You know, as that kind multiplies, the trust in our own dream disappears, sometimes. (HARRY moves away toward the bar) LARRY I pay my taxes to the City of you know, to take care of you know ... all of them. HARRY Then, maintaining the status quo becomes impossible, because our own confidence is sometimes threatened. LARRY Anyway ... HARRY And we begin to believe our initiative hasn't been rewarded in the same way that we hoped it would be rewarded here on earth. (HARRY puts ice in a glass, lifts scotch bottle, puts it back, opens and pours soda over ice.) So, we organize religions and invent gods that promise even more, eternally. LARRY What did you pour? HARRY Seltzer. LARRY Liar. HARRY (HARRY turns toward LARRY) Well, I think once we learn to simply trust ourselves and each other, we will get better at living together and so then, (Crosses to him.) I think the question of, or the afterlife that some religions promise, while demanding a final judgment of guilt or innocence won't seem as important as it does now. (Allows LARRY to sniff his drink.) LARRY Where was I? HARRY People you don't even know, self-destructive people ... LARRY Right. O.K. "A dollar for wine," he says, wants to kill himself I guess, and I walked by him, and he muttered, "Blind motha' fuckin' cock- sucka." Talk about "bashing," we get it all the time, but this stinking bag of garbage, because we won't help him kill himself and then have to bury him, too? And besides, how did he know? I turned around, like, "what did you say? How fucking dare you?" And he was like really set back. I could just feel it and Mary, you know, Judd, whatever, she was really freaked out too, you know? Later she said, "what if he had a gun, you don't know." True, but if he had a gun you'd tell me Mary, wouldn't you? HARRY Can't trust Mary? LARRY It's like they think you're an easy mark. Like you're from out-a town. They try to walk all over you. But, if you act like the blind queen psycho from Hell they kiss your ass and say, "Thank you." HARRY If we make trust a habit of living in our denser populations, make peacemaking habitual ... LARRY (Sarcastically) Like jogging? HARRY Well, yes, then we won't feel the need for ideas like physical or spiritual immortality ... even. LARRY On the subway a few weeks ago? Someone's like into my pocket. "Well," I said politely, "excuse me?" The hand kept groping and I turned around and I shouted, "Fuck-off." It was a big hand. Was it yours Harry? HARRY (HARRY looks at his own hand.) When I walk down the street I hope and pray I won't be brained by a falling flower pot. LARRY Yesterday when I was walking to the subway I had on my combat boots and my black leather, you know, jacket, and I just thought, "I could kill half you people and I dare you to fuck with me." Like I don't trust you people anymore to stay out of my way if space gets really tight. HARRY You don't trust me? LARRY I mean people who can see, in general. HARRY That's a lot of people. LARRY I know, professor. Did I tell you there was someone else living here? Well, not living. Maybe I'm nuts, but ... HARRY Who? LARRY Manyetta. You won't see her, him, whatever, I guess. It's a ghost, an apparition. Let's call it a she, O.K? HARRY It's your ghost, Larry. LARRY Manyetta is a God I can see. HARRY God-ess. LARRY I can't really touch her though, I mean the way she touches me on my neck sometimes. HARRY She touches you? LARRY (Nods) That's why "Perpetual Motion," is still here, back there, the silk and heavy wire piece, and not in some stone-cold dark basement, waiting for the price to go up. It's my impression of Manyetta. HARRY You know, it reminds me of "Winged Victory." I saw it at the Louvre LARRY When were you in Paris? HARRY When I was a teenager. It was part of a cultural studies program at Lake Forest Academy where I went to school. LARRY When I was ten the system put me in an orphanage. HARRY Like in Dickens? LARRY Between you and me Harry, where's the connection? HARRY Great sex? LARRY Sex with Succubus. Now, that was great sex. HARRY With who? LARRY Succubus, a female demon, when I was fostered out to a family in Scranton. I was about 12. Unbelievable. So sensual. Nothing ever like that again. After I was sent back to the institution, I got a night nurse to read me the Tibetan Book of the Dead. HARRY I had my first wet dream at about that age. We had a black cocker spaniel named Queenie. LARRY Anyway, the book told about the rituals, what the dead go through and about offerings. Bowl of rice and like that. HARRY The dog seemed to know all about the dream, because she looked at me very funny for at least a month. LARRY One night when Debbie was reading, down the hallway you could hear these footsteps. They were so heavy, so unbelievably heavy, sort of pounding and I tried to make myself think, "well, maybe it's upstairs." Then they were on the rug in my room. I mean the footsteps were so heavy. I said. "Debbie, Debbie, do you hear that?" She says, "What? What?" Nasty attitude she always had, except when she read to me. I said, "Like Debbie, there's someone, he's standing right by the door, standing right by the door." "How do you know," she said. I said, "Turn on the light. You'll see him too." "Don't start, don't start, that shit," she says. "The light is on already. You're blind, how can you see anything?" Then she left. (Slight pause) Anything they can't see, they think doesn't exist. What are they afraid of? LARRY I laid down and I felt it come right next to the bed and that was too much. That was really too much. It was a man. Incubus, maybe, if I were a woman, but I'm not. Don't know anymore, really. (His throat chokes up, as with tears) That night we slept really close together, just like my dad and I did when I was scared, when I slept in my room all alone. I knew what was going on. I liked it, too. He came to my room every night while I was there. But, I can't live like this, Harry, it's just too, too fucked up. I want to be normal, Harry, not paranormal. HARRY You mean you don't want to be gay anymore? LARRY I mean, like, I need a father from time-to-time, but ... HARRY ... your idea, not mine. LARRY ... it brings up too many memories. HARRY I just want to take care of you in ways you can't. LARRY I need to smell the trees and the flowers again. HARRY Good idea. Move up near the Park. To get to the studio you could take a cab or hire a chauffeur. LARRY Too much traveling ... downtown, uptown ... HARRY I don't drive anymore. LARRY When I was almost four years old ... HARRY You remember when you were four? LARRY ... the smell that came through the window. HARRY From the backyard? LARRY The back seat of the car, the air blowing in my face, bright morning sun coming over the rolling mountains, driving north to see Grandma and Grandpa. Grandma made pictures of flowers, paintings like, with seeds from her garden, and she played the piano at church. After the accident she let me touch them, the seed paintings. She let me take them home, to help me remember the flowers. Then she died. She was a great hugger. I still miss her ... sometimes. (Pause, as HARRY touches LARRY's scarred face) I remember seeing the pictures ... HARRY Burma Shave, on the fence posts. LARRY Coca Cola on the billboards. I remember the telephone poles. So small way down the highway, then growing so big alongside the road, so fast and then huge, you know? Swish, past the car, swish. Swish. I wanted to get big like that. Fast, wanted to grow up big like my dad. God was he big. HARRY (Laughing) Well, now you're grown up ... LARRY The fighting. HARRY ... like your dad. LARRY Then the screaming in the front seat. I tried to get up there between them, hug them, make them stop fighting. I needed them to just love each other without the fighting. I remember I stood up in the back. Got up on the back of the big front seat. Tried to get between them. Then God ... the darkness. Maybe my needs as a child killed them and made me a celebrity. HARRY How's that? LARRY Because after the crash, I wanted to get it all down, everything that I remembered from before, when I had my sight. I wanted to record it somehow, so I could feel it, the way I remembered it. I made wire dogs, and ponies with little boys on them. I learned to play the piano for parties. I could have been the great white Stevie Wonder. What a beautiful world this is. (Pause) HARRY I understand. We could go ... this weekend we could hire a driver, go to ... where were you born? LARRY I'm going alone. I can't breathe lately. HARRY Asthma? LARRY Maybe you should go back to Chicago. HARRY I thought we had an agreement, Larry. LARRY Nothing lasts forever ... Harry HARRY I can cook, you know. You don't have to cook every meal .. SOUND: TELEPHONE RINGS ONCE AND THEN THE MACHINE. "THIS IS LARRY. LEAVE A MESSAGE. BEEP" LARRY Your cooking makes me want to ... (LARRY puts his middle finger in his mouth and makes a gagging gesture.) JILL'S VOICE (From answering machine) Hi, Larry, this is Jill. I'm not at home, so don't call me. Didn't expect that did you? I'll call you back later, if you don't pick up in a minute. Dum-de-dum. Dum-de-dum-dum. Dumb. Miss you. 'Bye. LARRY Intense. Met her last week at my opening at the Whitney. "Sensual truth" the critic told me. I wonder if he printed it. (Slight pause) Well, last night Jill and I ... what a fucking body she has ... we had cappuccino and connolli on Grand. Before that we ate clams. The sounds she made sucking them out of the shells, wow! And then we sang with the crowd at Puglio's. I love that place. Then later home-made red wine at the Luna. Walking through the kitchen, the smells, tomatoe, garlic, Jill. HARRY Oh, so that's where you were. At her house? (Change the subject) Is it passable? Edible, at least? LARRY Very. HARRY My cooking? LARRY No. (Lightly) Someone would think you were born with the ol' silver spoon in your mouth. HARRY I was. LARRY Bullshit. More fucking bullshit. HARRY What do you mean ... more? LARRY Being a creative head with the Leo Burnett in Chicago. HARRY I am. LARRY Why didn't you tell me you were straight? HARRY Am I? Really, you think so? LARRY I had to guide your hand that first night, but when you found the way . .. Wow! (Smiling) Any younger brothers? HARRY Had one briefly. Died a few days after he was born they told me. So, all alone, lonely childhood. Parents travelled a lot. I remember pictures of them on deck, playing shuffleboard. The shuttlecock? No that's the "birdie" in badminton. Cue, yes that's it, like billiards. The cue in one hand, highball in the other. I stayed at the academy all summer. (Pause) That's where I met Margaret, at a dance, at Lake Forrest. She was quite the climber. LARRY One must do it, you know? HARRY What is that? LARRY ... up the ladder. HARRY Of course. LARRY Harry pay your dues, get in the club. HARRY I've made it a life mission to avoid all club affiliations. LARRY How 'bout society? HARRY The Society Club? Another disco? LARRY Pay your dues to society? You've done that, haven't you? HARRY (Aggressive competitive) Yes, but society isn't a club in that sense. There are clubs as different parts of society, but society itself isn't one. LARRY Right, it's more like a foundation. HARRY Right! That's right. A Foundation. LARRY You know, like the ocean floor is more like society, than the fish that piss on it. Harry, If you don't pay your dues, you're not doing your part to reinforce the foundation of this particular realm. (Motions with his arms to include the whole theater.) HARRY The Foundation won't dissolve if I don't personally ... LARRY (As if to a child) Paying the rent is an important part of the whole ... big, big picture, you know?. HARRY Society won't suffer. LARRY It's been that way since the middle ages, at least. HARRY Only a short time ago ... LARRY To "old money" people, like you, maybe. (Impatient) In medieval times . .. you went to college right? HARRY Of course I went to college, Yale, Stanford. LARRY Iowa. I hated Stanford, except for the smell of the ocean. HARRY Ocean? LARRY ... on certain days. HARRY You mean the Bay, maybe. LARRY No ... ocean ... over the mountains. HARRY That's at least 60 miles. LARRY Yeah? Do you have a sinus problem? Or what? HARRY I don't remember the smell of the ocean, that's all. Are you sure you were at Stanford? LARRY Yes, for a whole semester. Are you? HARRY Yes. Of course. LARRY Well, remember back at Yale, Landlord 101? How the serfs paid the lords rent for their plot of earth, to hunt and grow things, to feed their families? The lords didn't want to work with their hands, so, they used their heads to raise armies. HARRY Lords didn't have armies. LARRY That's what I just said. After the lords raised the armies for the royalty, they paid them taxes to defend their land from foreigners and hungry neighbors. That's when the ownership of land became so fucking important. I mean, this is my loft. HARRY The whole top floor? LARRY I own it. HARRY I'm impressed. Really, I am. LARRY Harry, I'm evicting you. (Pause) HARRY I don't have to be back at Burnett until ... LARRY Remember when you first sucked Sampson? HARRY Just before Christmas, three weeks Sunday, tomorrow. LARRY Nice guy that I am I've allowed you to stay here as my ... HARRY Student. I really love sex with you Larry. (Pause) LARRY Are you packing yet Harry? HARRY Packing? LARRY What have you been doing during the day? HARRY Looking up old school buddies who are now very powerful account executives on Madison Avenue. LARRY Is that fair? ... to go on doing whatever you want to do? HARRY I want to move my accounts to New York. LARRY Looking for the grail ... ? HARRY ... the grail? LARRY Not bringing down the quail. (Toward him) Are you there? HARRY I contribute my share to the betterment of society. LARRY You what ... ? HARRY (Smiles) I pick up after you, do the dishes. LARRY That's why I employ Esmarelda. HARRY Can she read to you ... LARRY No ... HARRY How old is she anyway? LARRY She has a family you know? She's working class. HARRY Old enough to be your mother. LARRY What? HARRY I was almost seduced by one of our "working class" one summer, just before college, one of the girls. Didn't kiss her though. She was Mexican. We "petted" a lot in the garage. What was her name? Her father found us once, and that ended it, but he never told mine. LARRY Why not? HARRY My father was a tyrant. He would fire the whole smelly family. His favorite "little" game he called it, he played with my mother. He told me they pretended they weren't married to each other, but to someone else at the Club, someone in their own social circle, of course, so they could cheat on their make-believe partners just for fun. They still believe in me completely. (Slight pause, as he looks at LARRY) They never believed I killed Margaret. (LARRY looks toward HARRY now relaxed.) A trusting love is the key to happiness, and I would like to give that key to you. LARRY Killed who? HARRY What? LARRY Did you say you killed someone ... named Margaret? HARRY (Teasing him) My ex-wife? No. Key to you, I said, key to happiness. LARRY (Pause) Where's today's mail? (LARRY searches the small telephone table.) SOUND: TELEPHONE RINGS ONCE. "THIS IS LARRY. LEAVE A MESSAGE. BEEP." JILL'S VOICE (From answering machine) Larry, I hope you're home by now. If you are will you please pick-up? (LARRY stares at the telephone.) Something terrible has happened since before. I locked myself out. I took Bonaparte out for his nightly, you know, and forgot to pick up my keys from the hook on the wall. Thinking of you I guess, probably. LARRY (Trys to ignore the plea in her voice) Have you read it? The mail ... JILL'S VOICE (From answering machine) Are you there? Can I come over? HARRY It's your mail. No one even knows I'm here. Do you want me to read it to you? (Looks for the mail.) JILL'S VOICE (From answering machine) If you're busy, I'll just pick up my keys and leave. HARRY (Eyes on LARRY) Do you want me to pick up? LARRY (Slowly shakes his head) She'll call back. I hope. JILL'S VOICE (From answering machine) Remember? Sit Bonaparte ... He sees a female he knows ... I loaned you a set last night when ... hi there. Sure is. Sorry, I mean this morning, early, when you went out to get the paper for me? You left the paper on the kitchen table, but you forgot to leave the keys. You had on your Sid Vicious. Can you check it? Do you know where it is? Your punk jacket? Baby, it's really cold out here. (LARRY moves to the closet and begins to look.) Larry? LARRY Where's my black leather jacket? Harry? I hung it here this afternoon when I got home. HARRY How should I know? Ask Esmarelda. JILL'S VOICE (From answering machine) Are you there? You said you'd be there, if I ever needed you. (Brief pause) Larry, I really need you now. Just kidding. I'll call back. Miss you. (HARRY crosses to closet and looks half-heartedly) LARRY (Mini-explosion) Did you hear that? Probably had no idea of going back to her apartment. Can't do it to me Jill, gotta be free. Freedom is the call I pick up. HARRY The freedom call? LARRY I mean I want to go through life with real human goals, not artificial ones. Usually part of a relationship with a woman ... I think. HARRY What are "real human goals" for you? LARRY To find the truth ... its limitless creative and revolutionary possibilities. HARRY Freedom also means being in control of the life and death issues of one's existence, you know, food, clothing, shelter and defense. You can't do that alone, Larry. No one can. LARRY I can. I do. I don't have any freedom at all if anyone else has any kind of psychological power over me, no matter how benevolently, tolerantly and permissively that "power" is used. HARRY It is important not to confuse freedom with mere permissiveness. (Full explosion directed toward HARRY) LARRY Harry, get the FUCK OUT of my loft. (LARRY makes violent waving motions with his arms as if trying to clear the air.) HARRY (Cautiously) Can we talk more about it, tomorrow? (LARRY restrains his frustration by putting his hands in his pants pocket and finds an envelope) LARRY There's no tomorrow. (He takes the envelope out of his pocket and handles it thoughtfully.) LARRY But before you go, there's a note or something. Esmarelda gave it to me this afternoon. (Holds it out to HARRY, who looks at it warily.) HARRY Where did you go today? (HARRY looks up at LARRY) LARRY This afternoon? Jean-Michel's new show at the Mary Boone. What does it say? HARRY You didn't tell me you were going. LARRY Like it was the opening. HARRY I know. We talked about it Sunday. You said it was mostly visual, 2- dimensional stuff, mostly words and you said you weren't speaking to each other anyway, since ... LARRY You were gone when I came in. HARRY (Takes the envelope) I was at lunch with my old friend at Olgilvy Mather. Were you with her all night, by the way? LARRY None of your fucking business. HARRY And this morning? LARRY At a meeting, uptown. HARRY Who was there? LARRY Everyone. HARRY Anyone with a name? LARRY I don't remember. HARRY No postage? LARRY She said someone brought it up. HARRY It's sealed. LARRY Well, open it. HARRY (HARRY does.) Why did she let them in? LARRY Maybe she thought it was the laundry and dry cleaning. HARRY Doesn't she do the laundry? LARRY She likes the delivery boy. Would you read it please? HARRY It's printed ... in pencil. LARRY Oh? HARRY That's interesting. LARRY What? That it's printed in pencil? HARRY No, that the guy can't spell. LARRY Who's it from? Like ... how do you know it's a guy? HARRY I don't know. It's not signed. LARRY What do you mean you don't know? HARRY Beg your pardon? LARRY Why did you say the guy can't spell then? HARRY The content is very masculine. LARRY Oh really? Wow, that's interesting. HARRY It gets better. LARRY Tell me ... what does it say? HARRY I don't think I should be reading this. LARRY (Instant tantrum) Why not read it to me, it's addressed to me, isn't it? HARRY No. LARRY (Tantrum is over) What? Is it addressed to you? HARRY No. LARRY Well, who is it addressed to, Esmarelda? HARRY If it was addressed to Esmarelda, would she give it to you? LARRY Touché' ... HARRY Guess again. LARRY Occupant? HARRY No. "Residence." LARRY Plural? HARRY Sort of. LARRY In pencil? HARRY Right. LARRY (LARRY gropes around HARRY's crotch area) Like, is it a bulk mailing or what? HARRY Stop it, please. I said stop it. It's written by hand, with a dull pencil, actually. Please? It's a story about ... LARRY What? HARRY ... after the show at the Vorpal, I guess. LARRY Boone. A story written to me, in pencil, in bad English, without fucking postage? HARRY Well, no. (Continues reading to himself) It could be written to me. Trust me? LARRY Yes, of course I trust you. What does it say? HARRY O.K. I'll read it to you. LARRY Gee, thanks. HARRY "Today I met this guy he had's at least a 7'1" cuck." LARRY What!??? Stop. HARRY That's what it says here. Do you want me to stop? LARRY Go on. Please? HARRY "He's ... something? ... build and has no hair on his chest and legs, he has long blond hair and he around 25 years old. (Looks at LARRY) He had's on a black letter jacket with silver on the front. We met in a bar it's only down the street wear he lives with this other guy, he says." "Where," by the way, is spelled w-e-a-r-. LARRY O.K. HARRY "He asks me to go to his place when we get there we sit on the couch. Under the cushion there's this book with lots of pickchers of," that's P- i-c-k-c-h- LARRY Skip the spelling. HARRY " ... ers of butt ... a-t-c-k .. buttocks. "And he starting to feel me up and I'm getting so horrey and he getting horrey. So we both tack our shirts off and then our pants and our underwear." LARRY Didn't they undress each other? HARRY You tell me. (Pause) This is not a letter. It's bathroom wall copy . .. Interstate. Why was it left here? LARRY A poetic remembrance ... maybe ... like the event itself. It takes you out of the ordinary. La petite morte ... orgasm ... totally out of control. HARRY Why would anyone want to be out of control? LARRY Anything can happen ... HARRY ... and usually does ... LARRY All the orifices are remembered and explored. Everybody does it with anybody. Between buildings, parked cars, limos, hansom cabs in the park, with the driver in the back, you know, and the Baths. I've been sucked and swallowed at the Lincoln Center Library. HARRY Between the stacks? LARRY Men's john, Amsterdam Avenue side. A complete stranger usually ... who rubs me, holds me, kisses me, a stranger who wants me, refuses me, then uses me. (Slight pause) Harry, I get so much from a stranger who leaves so satisfied, like, I've really been with someone? I've changed them in some way. (Slight pause) Harry? HARRY ... pure poetry ... LARRY Want to go to the Baths? HARRY You're kidding ... aren't you? LARRY Hot, dark, sweaty sex. Big guys, little guys, tender and driving guys. Take poppers, you know, amyl nitrate and it doesn't matter if you're blind. We're all in the dark. (Tears, and his voice chokes as he remembers someone who died that he met there.) This primal kind of poetic experience, poetic because it's so simple, so abstract ... and in this simplicity, truth, experience, it opens so many doors, it touches my own soul in a way it's never been touched anywhere else. Stops my heart for a split second or two, leaves me suspended, out of control and then lets me down ever so gently, to come back to do it all over again, and again. LARRY Since last summer, when I heard about the dying ... it all scares the shit out of me, you know? Maybe that's why I go back. What a way to die. Shooting stars, like real ones. So close I can touch them ... on fire. It's so scary. Should I stop going there? I want to stop. Make me stop. Daddy? Harry? HARRY I'm here. LARRY You're so cool. HARRY I'm listening. LARRY Too cool. (Slight pause) With Jill, she says we look really good together. With her, it's more than just a hug. A Relationship. You know what that is? I don't really know if Samson works with a woman. (Laughs) He hasn't so far! She's a great cocksucker though. Almost as good as you, Harry. She's been saving it all up for me. You believe that? She's hot for me, Harry. (Pause) Really hot for me. HARRY (From the note) "And then he leads me to the bed room. He lay's on the bed and I get on top of him and start sucking his balls an he's sucking mim the he turn's over on his stomek and I stick my throbbing cuck in is ass and start pump harder, than I turn him over on his back and spreaded his lags and stick my hard wet throbbing cuck in his ass and I cum oll over his cuck, then he get's on his knees dog style I stick his ass and lay on his, and I cum oll over his back, then we got in the covers and he got on top of me and we rub our body's together and I grab his ass and he grabs my ass and we fall a sleep." LARRY Wow. Is that it? HARRY No. LARRY ... more? HARRY He was a big, blind faggot. LARRY No. That's not funny, Harry. Really? Who's picture book was it, stuck under the cushion? Yours? (Searches under the cushion, finds the magazine) HARRY Such a wonderful host. Or, is it just a coincidence? LARRY Small world. Big fucking city. HARRY Where were you all afternoon? LARRY Anything can happen. HARRY Larry, be careful. LARRY It's 1982, get real. No more hostages ... HARRY I'm not holding you ... LARRY ... you can leave anytime. HARRY ... and you sure aren't holding me. LARRY ... as long as it's tonight. HARRY Really, Larry, I'm worried about you. LARRY Give me the note. (HARRY walks away from him with the note.) HARRY I had no idea ... people actually do ... you could do something like this ... with me staying here, I mean, after we did ... we do? I . .. care about you, Larry. You know? Larry ... ? LARRY ... waiting for the note. Give it to me. HARRY (HARRY folds the note) I really wanted you. I needed a place, someone I ... What am I trying to say? (Puts note into envelope.) When I saw you in the subway, in the park ... I fantasized touching you, putting my hands on you, holding you. LARRY Stalked me? You? HARRY Yes, I followed you, Larry, and with every step I searched for the courage to speak. When I did, finally, you responded like you knew me all along, like you were waiting for me to say something to you. Were you, Larry? LARRY Maybe. HARRY (Puts the envelope into his pocket) That first night I expected guilt, depression, but instead it freed me. I felt totally free for the the first time. LARRY Free to be you. HARRY That's right. Sex with my wife was impossible after Vietnam. Pure .. . torture. LARRY You mean she tickled you under your toes with a feather? HARRY Didn't matter what she did. Before the war Margaret was one of us, but she saw a news photo in one of her magazines that showed an old Vietnamese civilian, sobbing, carrying the dead body of his five or six year-old grandchild into the line of fire. She sent it to me. She asked me to give up and come home. She even marched against us. SOUND: A BABY IS HEARD CRYING IN THE DISTANCE. It's odd, the things I remember, like the flies. LARRY What flies? Give me the note. HARRY Let me tell you about the flies ... first. LARRY Hate flies, but, I love your stories. All right. Promise? HARRY Promise. I was 32. Margaret and I were trying to have children when President Johnson escalated our effort. (Slight pause, smiles) I served as an officer, a Captain. LARRY A Captain? HARRY My father had connections. LARRY I knew this guy who overslept and missed his induction. HARRY We had financial interests in that part of the world. LARRY Really? HARRY I knew I was protecting a way of life for my parents and their friends. And they would love me for it. LARRY You thought they'd love you for fighting in a war on the other side of the world that no one else believed in. HARRY I did, but my parents would never have encouraged my service in that war if I wasn't already an officer in ROT-C. I am the last of the our line, our family line, understand? LARRY Sort of. HARRY No son, no legacy, no one to inherit the fortune. LARRY Have to give it to strangers. HARRY My parents pictured me on a white horse protected by the infantry. Young men, boys really, 18, 19, 20 years old, cradled by theories of Dr. Spock. We sent them out on "search and destroy" missions to mostly small hamlets around Quang Ngai Province. The Viet Cong clutched the people to their breasts. Little children, women, old men, forced them at gunpoint to plant mines and booby traps. It wasn't like the San Francisco Forty-Niners on one side of the field and Mike Ditka and his Bears on the other. LARRY You mean it wasn't a football game? HARRY Civilian casualties in Vietnam counted as a proportion of total numbers killed were less than all the other armed conflicts of this century. LARRY What? HARRY And far less than the Korean war. LARRY On a scale of one to ten, the Vietnam was only a ... six? HARRY With a reasonable margin of error. LARRY Did you order the slaughter of the children? Captain? HARRY Anyone who looked like a commie. Anyone who aided the commies. The farmers hid them in their dirt basements. LARRY Then march the farmers out into the yard and flambé the fuckers in the basement, but don't bayonet the babies. HARRY Understand, Larry. My friends and I were convinced the farmers would stop colluding with the Viet Cong to protect their own children and their babies, and their neighbor's children, wouldn't you? LARRY I might. It depends. HARRY On what for Christ sake? These are your children! LARRY I don't have any children ... Harry. Cool it man. HARRY Their children, I mean. Well, the VC started with scattered sniper fire as our company approached the first village which, as it turned out, was fortified with weaponry. I mean, almost immediately heavy automatic thirty caliber and mortar fire opened up on our boys from the little huts. Guys your age, and younger, much younger, they were pinned down in the surrounding field and woods all day and all night. We wanted them to move under cover of darkness, but it was early monsoon, '68, and raining something pitiful. The Lieutenant said he couldn't see anything in front of him. With the rain in their faces, you can imagine it, and the mud. He asked for artillery cover, but I refused it. So, he ordered them all to just lay there, and wait. So they did. Just waited and listened to their partners dying. Big guys dying and crying for their mothers, praying to be shot because they couldn't take it anymore. When they finally got into the hamlet, the Cong were nowhere in sight. Just civilians. Call it revenge. LARRY ... maniacally methodical ... accompanied by rape, sodomy and other forms of random Nazi-like mutilation. HARRY Then call it rage. It's like a boil ... in the blood. LARRY What about the flies? HARRY The flies. The tiny flies at the ditches full of dead bodies, hundreds of dead bodies, and body parts, piled on top of each other. Old men, women, little children, and the stench. All those flies. By the time I arrived to supervise the counting, we were all breathing flies. They crawled up into my nostrils. I covered my face with cloth dipped in mosquito poison mixed with Kool-Aid, but I couldn't keep them out. I still ... dream about them. SOUND: END BABIES CRYING. And now, (with complete clarity) I understand the rage felt by the soldiers of our company. Rage is the main cause of violence, you know, whether it's legal as in war, or by impulse. Or, even by series fulfillment, you know, series killings. Political rage started the war in Vietnam, political rage ended it. Rage that leads to war, is acted out by it. But, there's a fine line between rage and homicide that we didn't cross in our unit, yes, thank God. We were not murderers. (Long pause as he looks at LARRY) I came back pretty shattered, pretty fucked up, pardon the expression. I couldn't say anything about the shit that I was directly or indirectly responsible for in Vietnam ... not to Margaret, or anybody. I should have gotten therapy but I ... I was trapped, you know, by my future. Pretty soon I talked myself into believing it never even happened. LARRY So, did you kill her? HARRY Who? LARRY Margaret. HARRY The prosecution charged me with murder in the first degree. LARRY Did you kill her? HARRY I was acquitted, of course. LARRY Acquitted? (Pause) How many ... any kids? HARRY A boy and a girl. Science is wonderful. LARRY Where are they? HARRY My parents think the kids're really mine. I'm sure they have detectives looking for me. Didn't find me on the streets though. LARRY When I met you? Where did you shower? HARRY All I really need is a hug, like the one you got at your grandma's house. (Pause) LARRY First tell me, what is a woman like? Harry? HARRY O.K., I'll tell you what my father told me. LARRY Not the birds and the bees? Please? HARRY First of all, he said, she has an affinity for gold, silver and absorbs great quantities of other expensive substances like diamonds. She may explode spontaneously without prior warning for no apparent reason. On the plus side, she looks very good in a Porsche and she can be an aid in relaxation. (Slight pause) A woman should be a safe place for your emotions, a security for your dreams. (Crosses to LARRY) My first date with Maggie, when we went to the lake and caught colds, down to the edge of the lake, on Chicago's north shore, I remember, where the oak trees and the sycamores make that beautiful shade in the late afternoon. It was mid-August and very hot. She lifted her knees and the skirt of the full dress she was wearing slid down and back to her waist. She closed her eyes as she spread her legs, to catch a cool breeze coming off Lake Michigan. I laid down between them, her knees, like I belonged there, my face between her breasts. She touched my forehead, sort of combed my hair with her fingers and we fell asleep, while the sun set and the breezes cooled off the lake. LARRY That's why you caught colds? HARRY Yes, I guess, but really being with a woman, Larry, is like everything will be all right, now, and it is, but, sometimes it isn't though, really. Sometimes it's real ugly. LARRY Looking? HARRY I mean inside. Hurting. All of a sudden they're someone else, someone you don't even know, never knew, a stranger you never even met before, and when that happens its very hard to control your emotions. (HARRY touches LARRY on the back of his neck with the edge of the envelope. LARRY takes it.) Now, what could I do for you, Larry? LARRY Whatever you like, I like. HARRY Do what I like? LARRY You've been out-of-the-closet for a long time I bet. Were you a father? Daddy? HARRY Not exactly. LARRY Just a manipulator. And you got away with it. HARRY How can you say that? (He touches LARRY's belt buckle) LARRY How? HARRY Yes. How do you know I got away with it? LARRY O.K., I was guessing. Did you get away with it? HARRY (Removes LARRY's belt from around his waist.) Well now, did I get away with it? LARRY Are you totally deaf? HARRY I worked my ass in advertising ... LARRY See! Out and hustling. HARRY Worked my ass off, I mean. LARRY Oh yeah? Who was that for? HARRY That was for all of you (Margaret and the kids) ... us. (He drops the belt on the sofa.) LARRY You didn't need the money. I think you were doing it for you. Every day only for you. To restore your sagging, flagging ego from the night before. You think I'm Margaret. HARRY No, believe me. You're much better than Margaret. LARRY Yes. (Slower) Why is it different with me right now than it was with the "good" Margaret? Maggie. HARRY You're a man. You're Larry. LARRY You're lonely, you're old, you're going to die soon, and you want someone around to clean up the mess. HARRY What? I'm not going to die soon, and when I do I don't care who buries me. LARRY See?! Just like the drunk in the street. HARRY See what? LARRY Remember what happened with me and Mary? (Takes wallet from his hip pocket, selects a single, then offers it to HARRY) Here's a dollar. Go kill yourself. HARRY I don't get the connection. LARRY When I die, don't care who buries me. You're only saying that so I will say I care. Well, I don't. HARRY Are you sure? LARRY No. (Replaces the bill in his wallet) I kinda like you here when I get home, you dirty old fuck. HARRY I'm only 40 ... SOUND: TELEPHONE RINGS ONCE. ... something. SOUND: "THIS IS LARRY. LEAVE A MESSAGE. BEEP." LARRY Did you write the note? JILL'S VOICE (From answering machine) I don't understand you, Larry. When you left this morning you said you would be home tonight and you asked me to call you. It's now ... whatever. Oh, I don't know, maybe I'll just call a locksmith. 'Bye. Love you. LARRY How could she love me? She doesn't even know me. HARRY Do you mean in two weeks you never told her about the Baths? LARRY Are you kidding? SOUND: TELEPHONE RINGS AGAIN AND THE ANNOUNCEMENT, DISCONNECT AND THE DIAL TONE. I do want a family though. HARRY Family is precious, very precious. (The following beat is spoken by each as one) LARRY I make enough money. I'm a Star, famous. Everyone wants to show me. I could get married, be a father like you. HARRY It's a very basic adult need. LARRY More than that ... HARRY ... part of growing up. LARRY ... it's a primal need. HARRY ... procreation ... LARRY It's how we really live forever. HARRY ... only family is eternal. LARRY If I had children, I could die then live forever in their children's children. HARRY Our kids came out of the freezer. LARRY (Pause) Are you normal Harry? No, don't think so. Far and away from it wouldn't you say? HARRY It's a small price to pay for immortality, death I mean. SOUND: TELEPHONE RINGS AND THE ANNOUNCEMENT. "THIS IS LARRY, LEAVE A MESSAGE. BEEP." THEN DIAL TONE HARRY (Sings the Buddy Holly song) "That'll be the day. When you say goodbye" LARRY "That'll be the day ... ay ... ay... " HARRY and LARRY ... when I die." HARRY Just looking for someone to love and who loves ... me. LARRY More than anyone else? HARRY This is what matters most. SOUND: TELEPHONE RINGS AND THE ANNOUNCEMENT. "THIS IS LARRY, LEAVE A MESSAGE. BEEP." JILL'S VOICE (From answering machine) I didn't have any more change. The operator wouldn't place a collect call to just any old locksmith or your machine. (HARRY picks up the telephone and its cradle.) I hate begging for quarters on the east side. In this weather? Larry, it's cold out here. No one out here believes that I could've locked myself out. They think it's a new scam. If I ever find out that you are there I'll kill you with my bare hands, or send Bonaparte to your throat. (HARRY finally gets the telephone to LARRY.) LARRY Jill ... ? Hello? SOUND: THE LOUD TONE FROM THE ANSWERING MACHINE. HARRY Disconnected. LARRY With her bare hands. Oh, why doesn't she just get in a cab and "COME ON DOWN." HARRY Just pick up the phone next time and tell her. (HARRY moves to the portable bar. LARRY follows.) LARRY Tell her what Harry? That I'm gay? That my friends are dying and I want to be with her so bad it leaves me aching all over? Whatever I tell her, I'll tell her in person. In private. Just her and me. Besides, I can't find her keys, man. I can't even find my jacket. HARRY (Cold, distant) So, you want a drink? LARRY Thanks. Jack-on-the-rocks. Look Harry, after I brought you home, I asked you to stay for the weekend because I thought I needed someone more experienced in the ways of the white man. I thought I could learn something from you. HARRY About the ways of the universe, you mean. (LARRY puts ice in a "high-ball" glass and hands it to HARRY.) LARRY Maybe. But, if I'm looking for a father figure, really, my Dad worked in the steel mill, on the floor with the other guys. The guy was strong, you know? Muscles, not like you. (HARRY gets the bourbon and a "rocks" glass.) HARRY So, I'll join the "Y". What was your mother like? (HARRY pours the ice from LARRY's glass into the roly-poly then pours the bourbon over it.) LARRY My Aunt told me that Mom liked the movie magazines ... the stars and their secret desires. HARRY (Hands LARRY the drink) An on-the-rocks glass for a bourbon on-the-rocks. LARRY Then I was fostered out to a family of 12 that lived in a large shoe in Pittsburgh. They didn't like me because I was this weird kid who wouldn't act blind. Plus ... (Suddenly LARRY throws the full glass directly toward HARRY. It shatters against a brick wall near the entrance to the loft.) LARRY My grades were better than theirs. I don't like the feel of a cold bottom on my palm. Only a hot bottom on my palm. Get it? Put some ice cubes, three, and a double shot of bourbon in the highball glass. Leave me some warm glass at the top to hold on to. No beer mugs please. Wine glass with a stem is O.K., too, but only with shaved ice. Call it a "misty American." O.K.? HARRY Oh, O.K. LARRY Or let me do it myself. (HARRY fixes LARRY's drink as requested.) After two years the older brother took me into one of the larger closets. At confessional a few days later he told the priest. Exit the Hubbard family. HARRY We all have our "Uncle Charlies," you know, like in TOMMY. Mine was Uncle Bill ... Rogers, actually. LARRY You were fondled by your uncle Bill Rogers? Tell me. HARRY I fondled him mostly, under a big old bed. He was seventeen. I was nine or ten. LARRY Did you really kill her? HARRY Margaret? LARRY Are there others? How many? HARRY What do you think? LARRY No, I don't think so, but maybe, who knows? No. Couldn't be. Not my Harry. (Pause) Did you really kill her? Harry? HARRY Why should I tell you? LARRY Tell me the truth because we shared ... something ... a passion, not so long ago. We loved each for a very thrilling moment. And remember the other night? We could do it again, share it again. Maybe I'll teach you to dance with me. "Walk on the Wild Side" Even let you lead. (Pause) You really need to tell someone. HARRY Where were you this afternoon? LARRY When this afternoon? HARRY You told me you were at Basquiat's show. LARRY The note ... like ... it was a memory. His. Now, tell me. (Pause) I was here with him, doing it like in the note. HARRY But, you said you loved me. Where was the maid? LARRY It's Saturday, Harry. Maybe she went shopping ... or just stayed and watched. HARRY Oh, god, I hope he used something. LARRY What? HARRY Doesn't it ... hurt? LARRY Like a virgin every time. Need the perfect angle and lots of lu-bri-ca- tion. I live on the edge if you haven't noticed, Harry. Is that your real name? HARRY Of course it's my real name. LARRY "You Larry, me Harry." We laughed. Remember? I mean, you're not. You're smooth and silky even, like me. HARRY Harry needs Larry to start over. (Slight pause) I need to start all over with the kind of love that only you can give me ... not what I had at home. What they called love was not really love, was it? Unconditional. That's the love I want to share with you, Larry. Unconditional love. The love that we had together last week, this is the "what I want," for the rest of my life. Above all that, I want to be able to take care of you. I really need to take care of you, as a father would his son. Let me. Please, dance with me? Now? Hold me close Larry. Please? (He moves to LARRY, wraps his arms around him and gently tries to move him) "It's just like starting over," says John to Yoko. That's what Harry wants to do with Larry. Our love is so special. Let's take a chance and start over. What do you say Larry? Can we start over? That's what I want to do. I just want to start over with you. What is that? (He glances down between their bodies) Touch, touch me love. Touch touch touch touch me love. Just one hug will do. LARRY First tell me how you killed her. Margie? HARRY Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss me love. LARRY Tell me the truth. HARRY I just told you the truth. But you don't really want the truth do you Larry? Not from me, right? LARRY Did you attack her with a hammer? A knife from the kitchen? HARRY She died from a bullet wound. LARRY How many? Only one? Two? Where? What kind of gun? HARRY It was a revolver, I think. I don't remember. I mean, yes it was a revolver. It's hard to remember, I mean talk about. Can we not talk about it please? I'll show you the newspaper clippings, photos. All the gory detail. LARRY Great, but I can't see photos. Where did it come from? HARRY What? Where did what come from? LARRY The revolver. Did someone bring it over to kill her, or was it already there, somewhere? HARRY It was my birthday. O.K.? LARRY Was it a birthday present? HARRY No. I owned it long before that godforsaken night. LARRY July 19th, right? Cancer, Scorpio rising, eternally. See? HARRY Yes, well, O.K., when I came home she was in my bed, with ... a stranger. I didn't see them at first. His wife, or girlfriend, whatever she was, she met me at the door. She was in this half-a-maid outfit, apron and little head thing, no dress, naked under the apron ... with fish-net stockings and heels. "Good evening, Sir." I said who the hell are you? Where's my wife, Margaret? Where are the children? (HARRY moves to the bar) She said she had a surprise for me. Then she took me by the hand, put my hand on her ass and led me up the stairs to my bedroom. I should have been surprised when I saw them, but I wasn't. My wife and the stranger were naked in my bed. They laughed. This is really very humiliating, you know? (He puts ice in a glass) LARRY You told me you were AA in Chicago. HARRY It was my usual home-from-the-office time ... about 9:00. She said she thought a ménage à quatre on my birthday might get me excited. (He pours scotch, then soda, and crosses to the sofa and sits.) LARRY Did it? HARRY It didn't. No. I told her it wasn't about arousal, it was about Vietnam, the impotence I felt. She never understood. Do you? I feel betrayed, again. Well, anyway, I told her I would pick up her sperm bank kids from the sitter and be back in an hour and I wanted the nice couple and their costumes to be gone when I returned. When I came back with the kids, she was dead. LARRY When you came back? HARRY ... in the bathroom. (HARRY finishes his drink, puts glass on the floor, reaches under the sofa brings up the case.) LARRY You never left. HARRY O.K. Right. That's true, Larry, I didn't go to get the kids right away. I waited outside for about an hour until the couple left, the swingers, then went back inside. She was in the shower. (He unlocks the attaché case.) LARRY What's in the attaché case? Pictures? HARRY Nothing. I went in, sat down on the stool, top down, and I tried to explain, above the noise of the steaming shower, that I didn't really understand what was going on. (His shoulders begin to shake silently. He removes a revolver and its silencer wrapped in a white handkerchief from within the case. He stares at one and then the other.) LARRY What's that then? In your hand? HARRY Handkerchief. LARRY Yeah? Nice detail, but I want the simple truth without all the Victorian embellishment. Did they ever find the couple? HARRY What couple? LARRY The swingers, Harry. HARRY Why should I lie about it to you? LARRY You lie to me all the time. HARRY Never. I have never lied to you. LARRY OK, go on. HARRY It's a confession, practically. LARRY Not yet it isn't. What else did you tell her? HARRY I told her I knew she was unhappy with me. Our relationship was never very satisfying for either of us since my part in the war. And then, while shampooing her hair, she started yelling at me for embarrassing her in front of her friends. LARRY So you killed her in the shower, all sudsy and wet? HARRY No! I didn't KILL her. But I wanted to, God, I just wanted her to shut up. Who was this woman at my house, in my bathroom. This bitch, this liberated whore. Who was she? Maybe if I left her alone, she would finish, towel off, take her fee and leave. So, I stood up and walked out of the bathroom to my bedroom, got undressed and laid down. (He fits the silencer on the barrel) LARRY You didn't kill her, after finding her in bed fucking a stranger? Your wife? What kind of a fucking man are you? What did you do, Harry? Did you go to bed, sleep it off? What? Who picked up the kids? Come on, tell me the truth! HARRY (HARRY rises from the sofa with the revolver) I didn't get undressed, you're right. I got the revolver from the drawer in the night table next to our bed, my side, and right, I did go get the kids earlier. I picked up the kids earlier, and they were in their pajamas already, and now they were up in their separate rooms. (Looks at the revolver) The silencer was already attached. We kept a silencer on it because I didn't want to wake the kids if I ever had to use it against an intruder in the middle of the night. We had many burglaries while I was in Vietnam. I carried the revolver back into the bathroom. I asked her to turn off the water. She did, without even seeing the gun. It must have been the old authority she sensed in her husband. She opened the shower stall door. She was standing there all sudsy, all over, with lots of shampoo in the long dark hair piled on top of her head. I raised the nose of the revolver to her right nipple, my favorite, the super sensitive one, and she froze, holding her breath like a shiny statue caught in a Spring rain, except for the good ol' reliable right nipple which quickly moved to a full erection. My groin area tingled as I pulled back the hammer and pointed the open end of the barrel at her face. She stared at me. I stared back, like that time at the party when we first met. Just then a strand of her hair soaked with shampoo dropped down over her forehead into her face. I wanted to wipe it away, the hair, the soap, but her left hand moved, touched my thigh, moved up it, gently brushing against my fly. HARRY (Pause) I wish she had stayed, but her hand continued to move very, very slowly up my chest, to my arm, my hand to the barrel of the revolver. She touched it like, well, like she never touched me, ever. The fear in her eyes and then it went off. It exploded in her face. LARRY That's 100% Mickey Spillane. HARRY How would you know? Braille book-of-the-month club? LARRY O.K. So, you killed her. HARRY The revolver exploded accidentally. Who are you? LARRY You murdered your then-wife Margaret. HARRY It went off all by itself. I had no control. LARRY What do you mean, you had no control? Take some responsibility, Frank. HARRY Who's Frank? LARRY Who's Harry? (Pause) HARRY I am not a murderer. I didn't kill her ... intentionally. LARRY The gun was in your hand, pointed at her face and your finger was on the trigger. Was the safety off? HARRY I don't remember if I took it off. LARRY What did you do with the gun? HARRY It was never found. LARRY It was registered to you, wasn't it? HARRY Threw it into the lake. LARRY What lake? HARRY Lake ... Michigan. LARRY Good. Come over here. Let me give you a hug. (HARRY goes to LARRY. HARRY faces upstage. They embrace. HARRY's left arm holds the revolver and hangs at his left side.) I believe you. Poor baby. Now, let me tell you what I want to do. The new work in the studio? The unfinished draped terra cotta? The clay is wet, of course, so don't touch it. It's my impression of Jill's torso in response to my touch. She sat for me after my opening last week. She thought it was weird sitting naked for a blind artist. Manyetta is definitely jealous in her God-like way. She's a very sensuous woman, Jill is. And she laughs at everything I say, almost. Try to relax Harry, it'll be all right. Her skin is so soft. And her mind is sharp. She's so savvy and inquisitive. She gets me so fucking hot just thinking about her. She's a virgin too, you know? Like me. Don't laugh Harry! I mean the regular way, with the opposite sex, you know, the way you and your wife, Margie, did it. (LARRY drops his left hand as HARRY brings the gun to the middle of his own upper back.) HARRY Maggie. LARRY Right. Maggie. What a sense of power, bringing someone, especially a woman, to orgasm. My terra cotta impression of Jill's naked torso immortalized in silent orgasm. It'll be the featured work of my Fall show at the Case. I want to get it into the Met, but I'll probably have to die first. HARRY What do you want to do? (HARRY begins to move his buttocks side to side and LARRY responds) Larry? You said you'd tell me. LARRY To understand, to care for, to realize and be able to love someone who really loves you back. Harry, I think I want Jill, to be able to love her for real. HARRY (HARRY starts to move his feet) Nothing lasts forever, Larry. Remember? I'll wait. LARRY Maybe I was wrong. SOUND: DOWNSTAIRS DOOR BUZZER: LOUD AND UGLY. HARRY I'll get it. (HARRY PUTS THE REVOLVER IN HIS WAISTBAND, CROSSES.) LARRY It's probably Jill, the little darlin'. Sorry, but you'll have to leave. (HARRY is frozen upstage center.) I gotta talk to Jill. Now, get packed. (LARRY crosses to the speaker box) HARRY Don't answer the bell, Larry. Please? I love you. (LARRY presses the "TALK" button.) LARRY Who is it? JILL'S VOICE (Explodes with anger From the wall speaker box) It's me Godammit! LARRY Jill? Great! (To HARRY) She came down. JILL'S VOICE (From the speaker box, angry) Why didn't you answer your phone. Who's there with you? How long have you been home? I could see the light from across the street when I got out of the cab. Can I have my keys please? Throw them down. The cab's waiting. LARRY (To the speaker box) Twelve floors? Wait a minute. I'm sorry really, I am. Wait. I need you. I was very busy playing shrink to my dinner guest. Come on up I'll give you money for the cabby. JILL'S VOICE (From the speaker box) No. I'm not coming up. I am really pissed off, Larry. Did you find my keys? (HARRY turns downstage) LARRY Still looking. Come up and help me. (HARRY moves between LARRY and the elevator door.) Bring Bonaparte. I'll tell you a story about some people this guy and his ex-wife knew in Chicago. Maybe you know him. Harry something. He says he's at Burnett. (To HARRY) She's from Chicago, too. (He reaches past HARRY and presses the button which releases the lock on the outside door and unlocks the elevator door to the loft.) (HARRY draws the revolver and moves to LARRY.) LIGHTS: DURING THE FOLLOWING ACTION THE FLOOR INDICATOR ABOVE THE ELEVATOR GOES TO ONE. (LARRY moves around HARRY to the bathroom and we hear the sound of running faucets) HARRY (Calling offstage) Do you really want to be all alone with her, now, with the smell of the illiterate still on your body? (LARRY re-enters from the bathroom and goes to center stage facing HARRY.) LIGHTS: THE FLOOR INDICATOR ABOVE THE ELEVATOR SHOWS ITS APPROACH TO THE 12TH FLOOR FROM THE 1ST. LARRY What's wrong Harry? (Smugly) I showered completely before dinner. HARRY Can't trust you. You selfish, insensitive ... LARRY What? HARRY Pervert. LARRY What's wrong? HARRY Commie ... LARRY Manyetta? HARRY ... artist. LARRY Who are you? HARRY I am your benefactor, Larry, your patron. Your angel of death. The great immortalizer. (HARRY raises the revolver. LARRY freezes) SOUND: PLEASANT SOUNDING BELL (HARRY spins. Elevator door opens. He points the revolver at it as BONAPARTE, a black pit bull terrier, leaps toward the gun. His attack on the revolver is aborted by the leash that is wrapped around JILL's wrist. She is yanked into the room as HARRY puts the revolver high behind his own back out of sight of BONAPARTE and JILL.) JILL (Loudly) NO! (BONAPARTE halts.) Dalton? Dalton Eisenstadt. What the hell are you doing here? Oh, right, the out-of-towner. Sit Bonaparte! (The dog sits, quickly) You told Larry you're at Burnett? (Slight pause) But everybody knows you're not at Burnett anymore, Dalton. Remember? After Margaret's murder, the headlines? Bad press Dalton. We lost one real big account, at least. (Longer pause as HARRY only stares, then) O.K., Larry let's find my key. (HARRY lowers the gun to his side) LARRY Jill, he has a gun, I think. (HARRY moves to elevator, BONAPARTE rises, HARRY, raising revolver, turns and freezes as tableau: front lights fade to silhouette.) SOUND: LOW DOG GROWL SEGUÉ TO SCREAMING CHILDREN CURTAIN _______________________________ 1 Larry has had an anxious day. Last night he went home with Jill and tried to fuck her. They did the foreplay as they have for the past couple of weeks, but when it came time for him to enter her he didn't, not because he was unable to, but because he didn't feel right about it. He is saving his heterosexual cherry for someone he knows he will want to spend the rest of his life with. He knows she is a virgin too. She excites him as no other woman has ever excited him, but he is not ready to make the commitment that he thinks she requires from her love partner. So, he said he couldn't. Told her he wasn't ready to be with her like that. He went out for a paper for her, came back to her apartment with the paper but didn't wake her before leaving. He came home and then went to a reception for a friend's work early in the afternoon. Although it was his friend's show, he was the celebrity this made him very uncomfortable so he left quickly and alone. He stopped at a bar in SOHO and was picked up by a hustler. They went to his loft and the guy did his thing on Larry, Larry paid him and the guy also stole Larry's leather jacket. Larry met Harry just about three weeks to a month ago at the Children's Zoo. Harry was following him actually. Larry likes Harry as much as he likes anyone of his lovers. More, because Harry is older and Larry needs that father figure type right now in the middle of all the changes that are taking place around and within him. He has been turned on by sex with Harry. Part of it is his fatherly aristocratic manner and part of it is that Harry was a recently liberated heterosexual. Larry was a teacher in bed and Harry was the teacher in life. I couldn't really tell you why, right now. I hope he will tell me soon. LARRY's state of mind AT RISE is influenced primarily by the "date" he had this afternoon and the new virus that is making some of his gay friends very sick. None have died yet. One is in the hospital and has been getting very weak. For the first time since he has lived in New York by himself, he is frightened and feels vulnerable. Although he is quite happy, confident and satisfied with his lifestyle, and sexual preference, he is very attracted to Jill and is beginning to realize the commitment that she will require of her love partner. AT RISE he has decided to his life. First he must ask Harry to move out. Then he must call Jill. He wants to tell Harry about the fucking he had this afternoon, but realizes he can't tell Harry because Harry would neither understand or approve of it. He wishes he could talk to Harry or Jill about it, but he can't. Decides his guilty conscience can wait until he meets with Jackie, his hair stylist, later in the week. there was someone to talk to about it. Larry feels somewhat guilty about it too. Since Harry moved in the only other person he has been with is Jill. He really wants to get away from it all. He is known toe trips on a whim. He would like to take another one very soon. Although Larry is a confident, masculine looking, strong-willed individual, he is immature in many ways. He is very young emotionally. Also, his career as an artist/sculptor is beginning to blast-off. He is known wherever he goes and his work is very highly regarded. Some very prominent artists (Andy Warhol for instance) have taken an interest in his work. This interest has come about because his view of the world is quite different and he is able to convey it in his chosen art like no one since the post Cezanne era. He is a contemporary impressionist. (SEE: the Canadian sculptor (Henry Moore?) in the MOMA) The fact that he is sightless also adds to his marketability. All this attention is beginning to take its toll on the young man from Pennsylvania. 2 Make it a thing that Harry really wants to do and Larry really enjoys doing. This is the only way that it could work for them. Make Harry really want to do it with Larry. The first time he kisses Larry. How about that? He could touch him and be fucked by him but he couldn't be kissed by him. This is what stops Larry from being with him This is what happens. When Harry kisses Larry this stops Larry from enjoying the passion. He remembers her kisses, maybe. Larry is not really into the thing, but we see that Larry could if they time were a little different.