by Eric Lane
SIOBHAN: OK …
(The WAITER speaks in different voices. The italics are “the entity.”)
WAITER: First I want to thank this waiter for allowing me to speak to you today. Oh, that’s OK. Go ahead. Thank you. You’re welcome. I love channeling. Well we thank you. But you need to breathe and allow me to come through. OK. You should probably breathe too. You breathe too. (She does.) You are not to kill yourself today. You have more to do.
SIOBHAN: How did you know?
WAITER: You’re going to kill yourself? Ohmygod. Please don’t interrupt me. Sorry.
SIOBHAN: Sometimes I just want to die.
WAITER: You people are so funny. You do not ever die. But do not leave this planet now. I agree. Bad karma. I am here for you. Waiting. And helping. This too—shall pass. That’s true it will. And killing your earth body is not how you are meant to exit this world. It’s just not smooth. It is not the way out. There are many of us here waiting to greet you. (Laughs.) But we are not in any hurry to see you here. Stay there. Have fun. He’s right. You should listen to him or her or them.
SIOBHAN: It just gets so hard sometimes.
WAITER: So, take a pill, gurl. Get a therapist. Read a book. Learn a life lesson. I’m not through. Oh, sorry. I thought you were. I have more to say. Well, go ahead. I am all ears. Stop seeing married men. What? Who, me? Yes, you. It’s not the agreement you should be making in this life. He started it. You men confuse the need for sex with the need for nurturing. You must learn how to nurture each other. This goes for your straight friends too. OK. Are you done now? My shift is almost over. I think so.
CASSIE: Are there any words for me?
WAITER: He’s gone now. No, I’m not. I’m still here. Oh, sorry.
CASSIE: What should I do?
WAITER: Stop shopping. There is too much stuff in the world.
CASSIE: I can’t believe the spirit told me to stop shopping.
WAITER: He didn’t that was me. But I agree. Yeah. How many little black dresses do you need?
CASSIE: Seven.
SIOBHAN: I don’t feel better. When will I feel better?
WAITER: You may never feel better. And as soon as you know that—you will feel better.
CASSIE: Does that make you feel better?
SIOBHAN: Not so much.
WAITER: You must get back in touch with your inner child.
SIOBHAN: My inner child is dead.
WAITER: She’s a rough customer. I will help you. Picture this … A little bunny frolics by a stream. A cute little happy bunny. A butterfly lands on his nose. The bunny giggles.
SIOBHAN: Goooo ga … Gooooo … little bunnies. (SIOBHAN makes happy baby faces.)
WAITER: Very good. Give me one. I want to get in touch with MY inner child too. No, no, no. You must get in touch with your inner adult. Your inner child is way too present. How rude.
CASSIE: What about me? What should I do?
WAITER: You are fine. You add color to the world.
CASSIE: That’s true I do add color.
WAITER: Would you like anything else before I go? My shift is almost over. Young man! Isn’t there something you need to cancel? Oh, right.
CASSIE: That reminds me. (She calls.)
WAITER: (He texts.) Bradley. I can’t see you. I only date available people. End of story.
CASSIE: Bradley. If you get free … come down to Café Sha Sha and have coffee with me. The waiter here channels. It’s great fun.
WAITER: Now. Let’s all act happy. It’s a choice. Smile. It gives your face value.
SIOBHAN: You sound like my mother.
WAITER: Hey! Mothers keep the earth alive … Except the ones that kill it. Like mine. But that’s a different story for another day. Just smile and psych yourself out. Denial is a good thing sometimes. (He smiles.)
CASSIE: I love it. He is right. Like right now? (She smiles.) I’m very depressed. But would you ever know it? No. Because I buck up. I move on. And I will continue to shop. I won’t apologize for it. I am helping the economy. I’ll stop shopping when I cross over.
SIOBHAN: I will smile too. No matter how angry I am.
WAITER: Revenge is not the answer. If you are going to seek revenge—you better dig two graves. I got that in a fortune cookie once.
CASSIE: Don’t think about it. Whatever it is.
WAITER: Don’t.
SIOBHAN: Don’t think about it.
CASSIE: Nam myoho renge kyo.
WAITER: Smile. You smile too. I always smile.
CASSIE: Yes.
SIOBHAN: Yes …
(They all smile. SIOBHAN takes out her gun.)
SIOBHAN: (Singing.) I’m safe now. All my doors are locked. All my guns are cocked. Killers lurk outside.
WAITER: That’s a little dark.
CASSIE: It is, but that’s what makes you interesting. (She begins song.) We’re safe now …
WAITER AND CASSIE: (WAITER joining CASSIE.) All our doors are locked. All our windows down.
SIOBHAN: (Sung.) But killers lurk outside.
WAITER: (Sung.) But maybe they’ll go away.
CASSIE: (Sung.) They all got captured now.
WAITER: (Sung.) The bunnies lurk outside. (Entity.) And they frolic by a stream.
CASSIE: That’s right.
SIOBHAN: Bunnies frolicking. Happy. Little. Bunnies.
(CASSIE and WAITER continue to smile. SIOBHAN tries—but it is hard. She alternately smiles and looks worried—and holds her gun or perhaps gets up to look outside … waiting … watching … as … lights start to fade to black. Slower fade on SIOBHAN and gun. Blackout.)
END OF PLAY
THE RENTAL
Mark Harvey Levine
The Rental was first produced in August 1998 at the MET Theatre in Los Angeles, California. It was directed by Chuck Rose, with the following cast:
SONYA Carolyn Lawrence
HAROLD Gary Paul Clark
The Rental received its Equity premiere in May 2005 at the Phoenix Theatre in Indianapolis, Indiana. It was produced and directed by Bryan D. Fonseca, with the following cast:
SONYA Sara Riemen
HAROLD Michael Shelton
SONYA’s apartment, early morning. There is a knock at the door. Sonya staggers out, half awake, tying on a robe. At her door is HAROLD, a thirtyish, normal-looking man in a nice coat. He carries a bouquet of flowers, a clipboard, and a picnic basket.
HAROLD: (Through door.) Hello, Sonya? It’s Harold!
SONYA: … Who?
HAROLD: (Through door.) Harold! Valerie sent me. Valerie Persky?
SONYA: Valerie …?
(She opens her door a little. She gapes at all the stuff he has.)
Oh my God!!! What did she do?
HAROLD: (Handing her the flowers.) Happy Birthday from Valerie Persky. I’m Harold, your boyfriend.
(He kisses her in a familiar manner, and enters.)
SONYA: I … I … What?!
HAROLD: (Quickly.) Let me get this stuff in the fridge … Honey, did I wake you? I did. I’m so sorry. Sit down, relax, I’ll be right back. Is this the kitchen? Great.
(He exits to kitchen. SONYA grabs a baseball bat she has by the door.)
SONYA: Excuse me! Excuse me! Hello? Who are you?
HAROLD: (Offstage.) I’m Harold! Harold, your boyfriend.
SONYA: My boyfriend?!
HAROLD: (Offstage.) Yeah … You know, for your birth—?
(He reenters and sees her with the bat. He ducks behind the couch.)
Aaaah! Don’t shoot!
SONYA: … It’s a baseball bat.
HAROLD: All right, don’t hit.
SONYA: I’m pretty sure I’d remember having a boyfriend.
HAROLD: From Valerie! I’m from your friend Valerie! Wait, wait … I come with a card.
(He holds out a standard “enclosure card,” which she grabs and opens.)
SONYA: Well, this IS her handwriting. (Reading.) “Sonya … what do you get for the girl who deserves everything? Well, you
deserve a really great boyfriend, so I got you one, for today at least. Don’t wear him out, ha ha. Happy thirtieth! Love, Valerie.” (Pause.) You gotta be kidding.
HAROLD: You had no idea I was coming. Okay, okay … this happens occasionally. Once they sent me to the wrong house; I thought I was gonna have to date an eighty-year-old guy named Lou …
SONYA: (Waving bat.) They?! Who’s they? What is this?
HAROLD: Wait! I’m your birthday present! From Rent-a-Boyfriend, Ltd.! … Apparently, I’m a SURPRISE birthday present.
SONYA: Rent-a-Boyfriend, Ltd.?!
HAROLD: I can explain, if you promise not to shatter my skull.
(Still suspicious, she lowers the bat.)
Thank you. (The company speech.) “Rent-a-Boyfriend, Ltd., has been providing the finest in temporary romantic relationships to the discriminating woman since 1985.” I’ve been rented to you for our sixteen-hour “affaire de coeur” package. I’m sure you’ll enjoy it, it’s one of our most popular ones.
SONYA: I’m going to kill Valerie for this.
HAROLD: Listen, this is a generous gift. And I can promise you a relationship that, though brief, will create a burning, romantic memory that will shine in your heart to the end of your days. (Pause, she snickers.) They make me say that.
SONYA: So you’re a … a gigolo?
HAROLD: No, no, no. A professional boyfriend. It’s a specialized craft. There’s six months of training, three months of supervised infatuation …
SONYA: Valerie rented me a boyfriend.
HAROLD: It’s a very thoughtful present. She told me that … um, that you’ve had a lot of … disappointments in this area. Well, Sonya, you’re about to have the most fantastically romantic day of your life.
SONYA: This is crazy …
HAROLD: (Really selling it.) Is it? Sonya, today you have someone who cherishes you the way you should be cherished. Who adores the way you curl your fingers in your hair, the way you move across a room. The way you hold a baseball bat. Someone who lives and breathes and dies upon the merest glance of your cobalt blue eyes …
(Sonya’s starting to crack.)
… and all you have to say is yes, I deserve this. Yes, at long last. Yes.
SONYA: … Yes.
HAROLD: (Whipping out a contract.) Sign here.
SONYA: (Signing.) I don’t believe I’m doing this. But you know what, I DO deserve it.
HAROLD: Of course you do. And initial here, and here.
SONYA: (Initialing.) After all the creeps, the bad dates, the blind dates, the personal ads, the—(HAROLD kisses her full on the lips the moment she finishes signing.)—mmmph!
HAROLD: Thank God we got that over with. Finally, I can hold you in my arms. Hello, sweetheart. Happy birthday.
SONYA: Wh—Okay. We’ve started, right?
HAROLD: Right. Your boyfriend has come to whisk you away on a fun-filled birthday celebration! I’ve got a picnic here I think you’ll like. Salami and egg sandwiches! Chinese noodles in sesame oil! Chocolate raspberry mousse cake!
SONYA: How do you know what my favorite foods are?!
HAROLD: Valerie told me. But remember, I’m your boyfriend. I know all about you. You like Louis Prima records and old Dick Van Dyke reruns. Your books are in strict alphabetical order. You never wear beige. You live in constant fear you’ve left your purse somewhere.
SONYA: My God.
HAROLD: But Valerie never told me you wake up first thing in the morning looking breathtakingly gorgeous. I thought that only happened in the movies.
SONYA: Wh-what? Oh God. I must look like hell.
HAROLD: You’re stunning. Look at you. Your eyes are—
SONYA: Wait, wait … this is a little much for me right now, okay? I don’t like to be cherished before my first cup of coffee.
(He takes out a “travel cup” of coffee and hands it to her.)
HAROLD: Ah! I brought you some. Dark-roast Kenyan. Your fav—
SONYA: (Overlapping.)—My favorite … of course. I don’t believe this.
HAROLD: Sonya, my dear, this is just the beginning …
(She sits stunned on the sofa, sipping coffee. HAROLD starts to massage her feet. SONYA protests, then, with an “I give up” wave, lets him.)
First, I make you breakfast. Then it’s off to Lavender Springs Spa, where you get a mud bath and a massage while I see how many sonnets I can compose about you. Then our picnic lunch in a secluded grove,—
SONYA: (Stunned, softly overlapping.) Uh-huh …
HAROLD:—a drive along the coast, sailing in the bay—
SONYA: (Falling under his spell.) Yeah sure …
HAROLD:—Our reservations at La Coupole are for seven-thirty, and afterwards a horse-drawn carriage takes us to—
(He produces two tickets from his pocket.)
SONYA: The Eric Clapton concert?!!! Oh my GOD!!! I love you!!!
(She throws her arms around him. Then realizes what she’s doing.)
I’m sorry! I mean … Wow. You ARE good. Are you sure you’re just here for one day?
HAROLD: It’ll be a day to remember.
SONYA: (Makes a little noise of disbelief.) I … gotta get dressed. Would you … excuse me for a minute? Don’t go anywhere.
HAROLD: Of course.
SONYA: I’ll be right back. (As she leaves.) Oh my God … Oh my God!
(She exits. He produces a Dustbuster-type sweeper and begins to casually clean.)
(Offstage.) So … um … Harold. Do you do this often? I mean … how many … uh, girlfriends do you—
HAROLD: Sonya … right now there are no other women for me. I’ve never met anyone like you.
SONYA: (Offstage.) Oh … my … GOD.
(She hops in, half dressed, putting on shoes.)
Well, I’ve certainly never met anyone like—What the HELL are you doing?
HAROLD: Dusting.
SONYA: Don’t! Don’t … do that. Just … sit. Sit! Stay! You win. You are officially the best boyfriend I have ever had. Or ever will have.
(She exits. He appears a little concerned over this last remark.)
HAROLD: Really?
SONYA: (Offstage.) Are you kidding? Gold medal, Boyfriend Olympics, one-day sprint.
HAROLD: I was a little worried. We got off to a kinda weird start there, what with you swinging a baseball bat at me.
(SONYA reenters, fully dressed.)
SONYA: (Peeved.) You’ve been my boyfriend ten minutes, already we’re reminiscing? Anyway, I didn’t SWING it, I brandished it.
HAROLD: … in a threatening manner.
SONYA: How do you “brandish” in a nonthreatening manner?
HAROLD: All I’m saying, is, is we started off on the wrong—
SONYA: What the hell did you expect, a strange man comes bursting through my door, kisses me … you kissed me! You’re lucky I didn’t bash your brains in!
HAROLD: (Beaming.) We’re having our first fight! Oh honey!
(He hugs her.)
SONYA: I’m not sure I’m ready for this kind of relationship.
HAROLD: I’m sorry, sweetheart. Let’s forget about it.
SONYA: Yeah … yeah … we let it go too long …
(He laughs. She leans back and relaxes into his arms.)
I have to admit, this is nice. Y’know, this is all I wanted. Just to be in someone’s embrace. Is this too much to ask?
HAROLD: Absolutely not.
SONYA: You know what? I want to walk down the street swinging our arms like we’re fifteen.
HAROLD: Okay.
SONYA: I want to sit at a restaurant and stare into each other’s eyes and completely annoy everyone else.
HAROLD: You got it!
SONYA: I can’t wait to show up at yoga tomorrow. You’ll drop me off with a quick kiss, and then watch as I—you’re not gonna be here tomorrow.
HAROLD: Forget about tomorrow.
SONYA: It’s just … kinda hard. Here I am, in your arms. And then you just leave? It’s not fair. This is all I g
et? One really romantic day? For the rest of my life?
(She starts to cry a little.)