plays

(a work of fiction)

Sugar ©1999 Russell Heller

1

(LAX Airport, waiting area, 6am Saturday, March 20, 1999)

Elliot: Any time now.

Hillary: When’s your flight leave?

E: I have about 20 minutes, should I stay here?

H: ...yes. (pause) Are you a virgin?

E: No.

H: Then if I had...gone through...would you have?

E: Yes.

H: Right away? or would you have thought about it?

E: In less than half a second.

H: That makes me feel good.

E: Well. Good.

2

(later, LAX, 6:30am)

3

(3:30pm Friday, March 19, Las Vegas airport food court)

Elliot: "Specimens" in the bag?

Hillary: I...hope no one checks my bag.

E: What does "specimens" entail?

H: Sheep and cat testicles.

E: Oh.

H: Yeah.

E: I feel obliged to insert a lull in the conversation. (lull) They’re from that place in Utah.

H: Right.

E: Credit hours.

H: Right.

E: For cutting and pasting.

H: Basically. Your first year of undergrad when you want to be a vet is the most important. I know this lady who partied and screwed around her freshman year, she got a 2.8. She’s 29 now and still can’t get into a real vet school. Once you’re in the school though, a 65 is an A. If you pass you’re golden. There aren’t really ranks of veterinarians. If they’re not good enough I guess they don’t get in.

E: How long does it take?

H: It’s another 2 years so I’ll go to the school at A&M-that should make it easier to get in-and I’ll be there 6 years.

E: Big school?

H: Oh, the main campus is huge. We have West Campus and South Campus and you never run into anyone. Plenty of my people are there from high school and we figured we’d see each other around campus. I’d be surprised to see them twice a semester. Glad I have a car.

E: Yeah, you can’t have a car freshman year at Northwestern. I was hoping to bring one up next quarter, but I don’t know...Don’t have any place to keep it. My dad says he’ll pay for a garage but I haven’t found one and I don’t have any kind of parking permit, so. Yeah but I’ll need one this summer.

H: What’re you doing this summer?

E: Not a whole lot from what I know. I had auditions set up for summer theatre. It was in New York in a week or two, for 30 or 40 theatres.

H: What happened to it?

E: Well, I guess I should have sent it in a week earlier, or a month.

H: What was the drive up here like?

E: Pretty great. Colorado was great.

H: I know. It’s beautiful.

E: We stayed the night in Golden, sun coming up on the mountains, the Coors factory. Went to Denver saw a play.

H: What play?

E: Titanic...it’s the musical.

H: Leo!

E: No! Not that!

H: They seriously made a musical about the Titanic?

E: Yeah, it’s pretty good, shockingly enough. Fuck me, I’ve seen it three times. 2 on Broadway.

H: Wow, I wish I could go to things like that more. I saw a play on campus. Umm...shit, what was it called? Mmmm......

E: Eh. ("forget it")

H: Ah well.

E: ...Ugh.

H: What?

E: I just remembered, I’m going home...well, eventually....they gassed my cat.

H: That’s horrible!

E: Not so bad, actually. No that sounds bad. He was. Quite old. 17 actually. Got him when I was two. I wish they would have waited until I got home.

H: I thought you said you were 21.

E:(laughs) No, I said that I can buy you a beer or gamble I didn’t mention 21. No really, I have an international student identification card that says I was born in ‘77 making me 21. (shows her the card) It’s legit. I didn’t think it would work, the first place I went in to- the guy took one look at it and said, "Yeah, my son’s got one ‘a those, says he’s from Poland."

H: Nice picture.

E: It doesn’t really fit. It’s part of a bigger one, I use ‘em for headshots, in eight by ten, I have another one in black and white. (pulls them out of wallet, shows them to her)

H: Nice. (takes his wallet, begins looking through all the cards)

E: Don’t get the order all messed up.

4

(Super 8 Motel Room, Friday 11:30pm, Los Angeles, 1 double bed)

Elliot: A cot???

Hillary: Yes. I’ll sleep on it. I’m exhausted.

E: Those guys were laughing at the desk.

H: A cot.

E: They didn’t think you were serious.

H: A cot.

E: Can we be adult?

H: You know, you are still technically a stranger.

E: Come on. (he begins rubbing her back. He lies down on his side, as the scene goes on he lifts her shirt slightly from the back and begins biting her side lightly as she reaches for the phone, trying not to notice him)

H: I’ll call. (she calls, asks for a cot for room 8, waits a second, says, "Wonderful." and hangs up)

E: I told you, they thought you were joking.

H: They don’t have any cots. He says that he doesn’t have the key to the cot room. I am SO TIRED.(stretches)

E: I hate LA. it’s so..thick. The air is so thick here.

H: The shower is disgusting.

E: Well, I just showered before I showed up in Vegas; I can Mexican Shower.

H: Ew, what’s that? (he has become more personal in the rub)

E: It means pleasant smelling deodorant.

H: Ew. (using the reaction as an excuse to pull away)

E: Look at that shower. Anyway we have, what...3 hours tops.

H: What if the traffic is that bad?

E: At 5 in the morning?

H: We should take the 4:30 shuttle.

E: (knowing that means 3 1/2 hours of sleep tops with no extra time) Um.

H: I’m exhausted.

E: We should take the 5. We could even take the 5:30.

H: No monkey business. You sleep in this bed you’d better not try any monkey business. I mean it.

E: Okay, fine okay.

H: No, Really.

E: (upset, he has stopped rubbing her back and turned a little away, indicating very obviously and visibly that she has wounded him) I swear on my mother’s...on any of your own personal deities, on Moses. (she turns to him and sees that he’s displaying his wounds, she tries not to notice)

H: Okay. You promise. Are you on top of the sheets or am I?

5

(minutes later, it is dark, they are lying down trying to sleep)

H: I know that I don’t...owe you an explanation. I don’t owe you an explanation but this could have been a really nice one night thing but that’s happened to me and it didn’t feel good later. It was fine but after. And this, something doesn’t feel right. So you know. If I kissed you I just wouldn’t stop. I don’t want that.

6

(Las Vegas Airport, Gate 32 waiting area, 3pm Friday)

Elliot: Howdy Ma’am. How’d you get hung up in this situation?

Hillary: I was in Utah.

E: What on Earth for?

H: Veterinary Clinic.

E: Really? Why are you flying out of Hell?

H: Vegas?

E: Yes, a very nice level of Hell, but Hell nonetheless. I keep expecting to see someone step off a curb, get hit by a bus and reappear on the same curb a second later.

H: It was a shuttle ride over. Quicker to get here than Salt Lake City. I’ve been here since 8am. That’s 2,4,7, 7 hours. Ugh.

E: I got here at 2, but I have that many strikes on me already. Shut out of Chicago and Dallas. Where are you going?

H: Bedford, Texas. Outside of Dallas.

E: Yeah, I might go through Dallas. They say there’s no immediate connecting flight so I might stay there overnight. Then fly to Chicago and then Rochester in the morning. I could visit my Great-Grandmother. She’s 98. I’m getting some lunch, haven’t eaten all day.

H: I will too.

7

(Flight to Los Angeles on America West, 7:55pm Friday, still on the ground)

Elliot: I’m glad that you’re here, I’m glad you came.

Hillary: I’ve never actually paid for a ticket before, it’s kind of scary.

E: They’re a big carrier. Very big in the west. Short hauls.

H: Scary. What happens if they do strike?

E: Well, strike’s at least at nine. If at all. The planes should just drop out of the sky.

H: Wonderful. We’ll have flight attendants grabbing parachutes and bailing. WHAT IS THAT SOUND?

E:(taking her hand)Nothing. Flaps lowering.

H: Brake flaps? American planes do not make that sound...oh, what’s that?

E: Hand massage.

H:(squirming) It’s so--odd.

E: Yes.

H: How is it that you fly standby, I never asked.

E: My grandfather worked for American for nigh on 40 years. We get a limited number of non-rev tickets anywhere that American or American Eagle go. You have unlimited tickets, you’re D-1, no?

H: D-2, and I was number 25 on the list, I had to leave.

E: I was 55.

H: If we didn’t leave then we might not have got out until Monday. And I have no money. Five dollars.

E. Me either, I’m broke. $50 left in my checking. I’ll have to transfer a grand from savings. I can pay for stuff like this with my parent’s credit card.

H: What are you going to do when you get home?

E: See some friends, watch movies, actually have my car to drive around in.

H: Oh, I’m so glad we’re out of there. I feel like we’re talking about what we’re going to do when we get out of prison.

E: Well, what are you doing to do when we get on the outside?

H: I want to get back to College Station. I want to take a whole week off, but I have to take off a few days and go back on Thursday for a lab. I can’t let my work slip too much, I want to get home!

E: (still tries to show his good side in the story)Yes, me too...but I don’t have to be back until Sunday. I wasn’t planning on being back until then. I was going to be driving back as well, but they let me out of it. Jon and Rich. Jon needed me to drive him back, or help him anyway, he had a test right when he got back, a final exam. He needed to get back by Sunday morning for the final and the drive is 25 hours. Rich only has a permit so we didn’t trust him driving. What really happened was Jon got angry about something and yelled at me. After a $250 dinner he just wigged over us smoking some cigarettes. It was really very stupid. I would never gamble with my grades like that. He called me selfish. Said we’d done everything I wanted to do on the trip. As if I hadn’t seen Titanic’s musical two times before that I’d need to spend $35 and waste a day in Colorado. He only wanted to see it because his girlfriend likes musicals. Fucking ordinary man. It just wasn’t true at all. I think he was just jealous because Rich worships him for some odd reason. And I’m an old friend of Rich’s. They were going anyway and invited me, Rich was paying. So I go and he blames me because I distract Rich from building him up. I just wish I had complained a little less. I can’t help it. They’d do stupid things and I’d set them right I was thinking. And I’m the one who got a damn ticket for my trouble. 90 in a 75. $65. In Colorado.

H: (perhaps a bit embarrassed by the attempt to be revealing) God, we’ve been here forever.

Airplane Voice: Welcome to America West Flight 687 Non-stop service to Los Angeles International Airport. Please sit tight and we’ll be on our way momentarily.

H: Yes, finally.

E: Hillary.

H: That was...intense.

E:(breathing out) Yes it was.

8

(Las Vegas Airport, 3:45pm Friday, eating at a table near the mini-food court)

E: So I am an illustrious 19 years of age. You’re...18?(she nods) I’m not really 19. I’m 9 or 27 alternately but seldom am I 19. When’s the next flight?

H: 5:50 or so, we don’t have to get there until 5:15. And it’s right there. We have about an hour forty-five to kill.

E: The lady at the ticket counter said I should buy an $86 ticket to LA and use my non-rev from there.

H: It’s an idea.

E: I have rich relatives in LA. I don’t know them but I have them. I might get a hotel room.

9

(Waiting in Las Vegas, Gate 32, 5:15 Friday)

E: I’m number 55 on the list. I’ll never get out on it. I should buy that ticket to LA.

H: You should.(looks at him, softly challenging)

E: I’ll want to make sure you get on first. Wanna backrub?

H: Sure.(Back rub time, he is damn good at it, little by little she begins almost moaning softly) I love animals. I might go be a feline specialist. Are you a cat person or a dog person?

E: Cat.

H: Me too. I cut them up, patch them up, revive them and pat them on the head. They’re so delicate. Little little little little paws and claws, hearts. Little ones. Everyone thinks being a vet is petting rabbits. It’s more like...

E:(cracking a grin)More like putting your arm up a horses’ ass.(more than was called for)

H: (giggles, some silence, he pushes harder and massages her arms, it is long and sensual, they almost lose the realization that they are in public. He kisses the back of her neck a few times, the palm of her hand)I...I...("don’t think that..."she is about to say)

E: I want very badly to kiss you.

H: Not here, not in an airport.

10

(missed the plane to Ft. Worth, Las Vegas, 5:45pm Friday)

Hillary: The flight to LA costs $86? That’s starting to look good.

Elliot: I think so, we could check it out.

H: I have to call my father.

E: Well, we have to run, sweetie. I don’t know when the next flight is and the strike might start at 9. It’s almost 6:30 and I got’to jet. Think you’ll make the next Dallas flight?

H: No. All the people that gave up seats or were oversold are going to be rolled over onto the 7:30. Do you want me to come with you?

E: Hey, I like you, hon. I want you to go, but it’s an $85 ticket. Your call. (he is preparing to go, rather slowly)

H: If I go to LA, we’ll find a place to stay.

E: What if we get out right away.

H: You’ll have to stay with me if I’m going to go.

11

(in line to get tix to LA, 6:45pm)

Hillary: I’m going to call my father. (she leaves, Elliot waits, it is 6:50, she returns)

H: I’ll go check with American to see if I should go. (she leaves, Elliot paces and paces, moving up in line. When he gets to the front of the line his head turning and craning to see if she’s coming is reminiscent of Scene 2, he takes out a scrap of paper and a pen, real props, and writes his phone numbers and email down. He orders a ticket from an imaginary person, pays and is almost ready to give up and leave when she comes huffing in with heavy baggage in tow. While she orders her ticket he stands behind her, scratching her back with one hand, lightly and affectionately.)

12

(8:45pm Friday night, almost landed in LA, darkened plane)

Elliot: I believe in the Random and the Purpose. A higher consciousness. If there is a cigarette butt on the floor over there.

Hillary: On an airplane?

E: Right, how gauche, no seriously. We’re anywhere then. People walk by. None of it really matters but you throw down this cigarrette butt. And then Citizen Whothefuck picks it up walks to the garbage can and drops it off. Because of that butt his course was altered. On his way to the can he crashes into blank person and that is what is important because then blank person goes about his way in a world now delayed by five seconds. I’m walking by to find out how much I’m not getting on a flight to Dallas and I see you sleeping there. Did I trip on the carpet? Was I looking out the window and an, inexplicable burst of light out of the corner of my eye? I don’t know, I looked over and you were sleeping and here we are.

H: How much is one or the other?

E: One or the whatwhat?

H: How much is random and how much is purposeful?

E: Well I think we have a pretty damn inefficient universe here, I’d be surprised if one in a million choices or even one in a billion actions had any sort of effect. But it can be the smallest of things. It doesn’t have to be the angels singing the hallelujah chorus or the witches from McB, it can be a particle of dust.

H: Just the right particle of dust.

E: Yep.

H: What religion are you?

E: Jew.

H: What do you believe? As a Jew I mean?

E: Meaning if you paint within the lines?

H: Yes, Judaism. And what’s a shiksa?

E: If we got married and I was mad at you, you’d be a shiksa.

H: Non-Jew marries a Jew? Is there a word for the men?

E: Oh yeah, sch-something. Everything in Yiddish is Sch-something. Great great language. Sch-...shrapnel shnikeys, shit, what do you believe?...schmeck! It’s schmeck! Or schveck. It’s not nice whatever it is. "If you can’t say something nice, say it in Yiddish."(turns to her)

H: I’m a protestant. Go to a Southern Baptist Church.

E: Isn’t A&W Mormon?

H: (a bit Texas) What? Noitain’t.

E: I thought it has some kind of religious affiliation. Brigham Young is Mormon. What is the A&M mean?

H: Guess.

E: Agricultural and Maritime.

H: Close, Agricultural and Military.

E: Ooh, fun, I stand corrected. We [jews] don’t really officially believe in anything after death. That’s why we bury so quick and no open caskets.

H: Really, I didn’t know that, no open caskets.

E: No, they’re morbid. I say this to the girl carrying sheep balls in her backpack.

H: I’m a bit upset about the sheep testicles. We got them (she begins to demonstrate fondling testicles with her hands, this should be very strangely erotic and disturbing, she seems to be unaware of this) and they were very round and soft (gestures) and the tubules were red and functional then they got into the formaldehyde- the most disgusting thing in the world- and they started getting harder. You know how that it? They were all pink and tender and little now they’re harder and they’ve lost some color. Bluish-green. They were so nice and soft. Sometimes I just spent time cutting the samples and letting the blood leak out.

E: (hiding his strange arousal, unable to continue that line of speech, pause) So. If you want to try something difficult now: go on believing for a week that when you’re dead you’re dead.

H: You did?

E: Yeah. It’s fucking tough? Yes.

H: Do you now?

E: I’ve always had a huge "I may be wrong" factor in this. If I die and the next thing I see is Jesus and Peter I’ll just be like, "Hey, guys, can you blame me? With that evidence?" And they’ll give me a dictionary to look up the word "faith" and let me in. I don’t think I’m going to Hell.

H: (this is very conversational, not freaky) I know I’m saved. I go to a different church though, more Episcopalian, and I agree with most of what they’re saying, it’s close to what I was raised.

E: Do you think you believe it because you were raised it?

H: No, it’s sensible.

E: Well, what happens to the 70% of the Earth that doesn’t love Jesus?

H: I can’t imagine people in forests or whatever that never heard of him getting put into Hell, but I bet that their place in Heaven is farther away from God.

E: Farther away from God. But the pearly gates aren’t 12.5 feet tall embossed with 24 karat gold print saying "Heaven" in Helvetica font?

H: (looking at him) No they aren’t. That’s not important.

E: I don’t always know what I believe but it’s usually not a fixed thing. I have to move my position to see a different angle you know? You can’t see behind every corner by standing still. Sounds like a proverb.

H: I’m going to Heaven.

E: See you there. (smiles)

H: I thought you believed Jesus was a prophet.

E: Some of us do. Some think a prophet some just a man some think he’s a story. I was watching this great comedy show and a sketch was set in this remedial writing class at some night school or community college and God was in their class and they were critiquing the bible! They were like- "I enjoyed the structure, very imaginative!"- "I got a little lost with all those begats" (she laughs) - (whinnying New York woman) "I really liked the character of Jesus in the second half. He was such a nice guy!"- and then the teacher says "I enjoyed reading this, God, it was a bit long. But I wanted to ask you one thing: why do you allow suffering? The flood, God, you could have let some of those people live. And the tower of Babel, isn’t unity important? If I were God, I’d be a nice God, not a wrathful God. Why can’t you be nice" and they all turn to him and ask "why?" "why?" "WHY?"...And he waves his hand and lightning strikes them all down. He gets up and walks out, going "I have got to stop doing that."

E: Do you spend more time on the Old Testament or the new?

H: We look at the old but we spend most of the time on the new.

E: Yeah, I’m not really that into the religion side more the tradition & the culture. I don’t go to temple much.

H: You don’t practice? (a bit appalled)

E: (unapologetic) Nope, I’m a revolving door Jew: in the door on Rosh Hashanah, out the door on Yom Kippur. My parents too.

H: But do you study theology at all? (head shake from him) How can you not wonder, and want to know, what that consciousness really is?

E: Because I operate under its rules whether I know them or not. No point in my pretending to know them to feel safe.

H: Aren’t people happier when they know, though?

E: Blissful ignorance. No offense. No proof just ideas accepted as facts.

H: I Know, though.

E: That’s good. I don’t know and I’m unhappy and depressed.

H: How can you be so...well...how can you stand not to be happy all the time?

E: Are you happy all the time?

H: Yes I am.

E: Then who knows? I’m probably wrong not to paint within the numbers. It’s all just sugar to me. Things that aren’t really sweet. You just pretend they’re sweet or remember them as having been sweet.

H: What’s not sweet?

E: Life, sweet for those watching it, not those living it. Religion, things you buy things you eat, nice restaurants nice clothes nice car. Sex. Maybe Love. They’re sugar. Not bad for you in small quantities but not really beneficial. Bad in large amounts. Life will kill us all. Unhealthy. But I don’t know. Anything.

H: Everything is sweet. Everything is God.

H: What was that?

E: Just the Earth.

E: Let’s go to LA and get a room to sleep there the night.

H: We’d have to get separate beds.

E: (still pressing the attack) That’s fine, I want to be with you more. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to but I do want to wake up next to you tomorrow morning.

H: That might be something.

13

(Saturday 2:30am, Super 8 Motel, LA)

14

(Waiting Lounge, Las Vegas Airport, 2:30pm)

15

(Friday, 4:30pm, Las Vegas Airport, at a table near the mini-food court)

H: What would you do if you couldn’t act?

E: Why do you ask? I guess I’d be the guy in the wheelchair bit parts on a sitcom or something. You mean for physical reasons, right? not "what if you sucked?"

H: Some of the Ultra-Vegans came, cornered me at the clinic and asked what would I be if I weren’t going to be a vet or get into vet school, which is about the same thing.

E: Well, I always try to write. Or I could be a sit down comedian.

H: Say something funny.

E: (his jokes are pre-thought out, he makes them seem like he’s just coming up with them, like a stand-up comic)I was thinking of reviving Tito Jackson’s solo career. I’d call his first album, "Un Pocito de Tito."

H: Not bad not bad kinda cute, go again.

E: Umm...I could be a great acting teacher. I’d have to have a last name that ended in slavsky and implied a relation to some famous playwright, like Michael Chekov, he’s Tony’s cousin. I’d be Elliotstantin Mametslavsky.

H: Too obscure.

E: Then I’d write a book with a really pretentious title like "I, the Character". And little acting students would talk about how incredibly PROFOUND it is over Super Skinny Lattes and Parliament Lights.

H: Pretentious actors are funny, you can mine that for a while.

E: Milk those sacred cows?

H: Do you ever stop thinking?

E: Or talking? God I hope not. When I stop thinking, I’m dead. What would you do if you couldn’t vet?

H: I don’t know. I don’t know what I’d do. I’ve put so much into this.

E: I guess I’m fine as long as I can find something to do that’s not 9 to 5. I’d rather be hung by my toenails than work in an office for the rest of my life or some stagnant place like that.

H: I’ll work a lot as a vet, lots of hours.

E: Yeah, but you’ll be helping...something, an animal, lots of them. You’ll be healing. There’s a reason for it. Animals are so much better than people. (she laughs) No, really. I hate it when those people preach against birth control. As if there were some shortage of humans on this planet. (she laughs again, against her better judgment) We cover this entire fucking rock.

H: Most of the vets in the clinic are vegetarians. Me too. Some are Vegans. They don’t eat any meat fish eggs anything. I wonder how they live, but they’re not all that skinny.

E: Beans and rice.

H: That must get old.

E: See, I can’t understand not eating animals on principle either. They do it. Animals eat animals and there’s plenty of them left. No cow protests. Millions of species are chewing on each other right now.

H: So, this country needs some more cannibalism?

E: Sure, we’ll set up a political party.

H: The animals are mistreated, though. It’s not like they’re kept in the greenest of green pastures before they’re fed some poison in their grass. They sit in pens until they’re slaughtered. Veal? They put those little calves into cages so small they can’t move so they can’t develop muscles so they’ll be softer. It’s worse than a zoo. It’s a concentration camp.

E: I like the zoo, don’t knock the zoo. I love watching animals in smaller cages than we are. They’re better treated than us too.

H: We’re not in cages.

E: Honey, can you get on a flight to Kenya with me? Can you drop A&M and the weekend with your family and I drop my trip to New York and we both take our plane tickets and go to Paris.

H: I’ve never been to Paris.

E: Come with me to Paris.

H: Can’t.

16

(Saturday 4 a.m. Hotel Room in a Super 8, L.A.)

H: (yawning) Three, four hours of sleep? (going in and out of the bathroom, dressing, he is on the bed with his shirt off and his plaid pajama bottoms, he slowly gets up, making sure she is looking at him. She sits on the bed and pulls on socks. He takes off his flannel pants [keeping on his boxer-briefs] and puts on, slowly, his pants)

H: You aren’t shy are you.

E: No, I’m not. (very veiled resentment) Four A.M. theory time. Sugar is the reason the world is still around.

H: Ugh. Okay, fine fine go on, I’ll sit this one out.

E: Whenever we want something more from life, some assurance of God or some connection we have the luxury of mistaking it for Sugar. Things not truly sweet. My point: There’s no sugar. What do people do?

H: They use saccharine.

E: No. They-

H: They look for the real thing.

E: Yes hey right! They look for the real thing and they find it or they don’t. They don’t find it they blow everything up and sift through the ashes until there’s nothing left. Like we have to prove that we’re on the right track here, so we pick fights with every other country on Earth so we know we’re better, we’re sure we’re right. Vietnam. But our bullets couldn’t prove to us that we were on the side of truth and justice that time so we blew shit up. Or, conversely, we find it. We know there’s a God and that you do this this and this and this to get into Heaven: there is no more Heaven. We’d get discontent if we actually knew, if it was easy, we’d spoil it. Even in Heaven most of us would probably get bored. No more mystery or conflict. Other than that 1% of mystery, life is a formula.

H: You wouldn’t get bored with Heaven. Heaven isn’t just some...

E: Vacation spot?

H: Heaven is not something to joke about and neither is Hell. People talk about Heaven on Earth and Hell on Earth but you can only find some of Heaven on Earth. Only a fraction of Hell. Hell has its own place, and it’s worse. Worse than anything on Earth.

E: And if there’s no Hell?

H: There is Hell.

E: In one form or another. Pop culture. No, No, then there’s just us, if there isn’t one. Just you and me. Here. And it’s now.

H: We should fly to Paris.

E: Sure.

H: ...no.

17

(Friday 5:20pm, Las Vegas International Airport)

Watching people board the flight to Dallas

H: We need a bomb. Damn! That lady is getting on because she took the voucher from the last one. Okay you run up to her and grab her or stab her or something and I’ll grab her ticket.

E: Then I’d never see you again.

H: The price you pay.

E: Let’s do it.

H: We need a bomb, we really need a bomb.

18

(Friday 4:45pm, Las Vegas)

Elliot: Yes, a $65 ticket. 90 in a 75. The guy was really nice. He was sure that we had illegal drugs in the car. We reminded him of his wild and crazy college days. I bet if he knew we couldn’t score anything he would’ve busted us. We were, after all, driving an illegally rented car.

Hillary: How?

E: Rich paid off this 30 year-old Serbian grad student that lives downstairs from him with much money and unwilling sexual favors.

H: A thirty year old?

E: Yup.

H: How old is he?

E: Twenty.

H: Wow.

E: Yepper. It pisses me off thinking about it. The ticket. It wasn’t so bad at the time. Now I can’t find the fucking ticket, I’m all ahngsty. I love that word ahngst / much better than aynkst.

H:(preoccupied) What do you do to get rid of it when you’re angry?

E: To vent? I act. That’s what’s great about it. I put whatever I’m feeling out there. If you’re doing a scene where you have been waiting all your life and you’re 47 you have to know what that’s like to do it. You have you relate it to yourself. I think about how I’ve wasted these 19 years doing bullshit and I wonder if I can change where I’m going or if I’m locked in here or if I’m stuck in the same conversation and never making any sort of connection with people then I get up and I can just lay it all out. I can just look at the play and see the potential to be someone else in me right there. It can almost be embarrassing somethings, how much of yourself or how much of themselves people go up there and show you. But the point isn’t to masturbate. I...

H: It’s good that you can vent like that. I drive very fast.

E: To get rid of tension?

H: Very fast.

E: Many tickets?

H: Three. My dad knows I do it so he knows about the tickets, he’s afraid I’ll crash but you gotta do something. So I’ll drive and turn up the radio all the way. Sometimes I’ll just scream. And sometimes people see me screaming and I just laugh because they have no idea how good it feels and how important it is to me. Usually at night I just drive for miles and miles. Roll the windows down.

E:(impressed with her candor, maybe slightly embarrassed) Don’t tell the insurance company that.

H: Don’t you worry. My dad does....I can’t believe my dad is...somewhere, right now.

E: Whatwhat?

H: He’s walking around right now. Looking at his watch talking to someone right now.

E: Yeah.

H: We always talk about people like they’re at a fixed point so we can step back and look at them.

E: Objectively observe them.

H: I should call him. (starts to get up)

E: No, (extends hand, gentle) stay a while longer with me. Talk.

H: Okay.(takes his hand)

19

(6:15am Saturday, LAX waiting room)

Elliot: Here, the little shop opened. Got you one for later.

Hillary: That’s sweet, thanks.

E: They said I just have to bring the ticket over and they’ll give me a boarding pass.

H: You’re getting out? For certain?

E: Looks that way. Are you too? (implied "I could stay")

H: The guy over there says they have 50 spaces on the plane left and only 25 people waiting. I am number 25 of course, which stinks.

E: So, you’re out too. I have to go back there, we’re boarding soon. Is there anything you’ve ever wanted to say to someone you’re never going to see again? Here’s my number by the way- with email. (gives her the actual scrap of paper)

H: Good, email.

E: Anything?

H: I don’t know.

E: You are...sweet, beautiful, and I would go to Paris with you right now. I, love you a little already.

H: That’s really nice. Really nice.

E: I should go. (stands, waits for her to get up and hug him, she takes her time, thinking there still is time) Hug me. (they embrace, he strokes her back, she is somewhat still) Kiss me, even her in the airport.

H: No. As much as I want to. No.

E: You’ll know if you’re on in a few minutes?

H: I will.