by Eric Lane
CLAY: (Directs flashlight beam to place in the brush.) there's a bush over there.
(EVALANA, hesitant at first, then grabs her purse and crosses past CLAY.)
EVALANA: (off) i won't run!
i promise!
(CLAY thinks, then lowers flashlight beam and switches it off. Dim moon light. Sounds of desert at night.)
CLAY: you should have seen me last week, Ev!
Darton, he cut me a break! he didn't have to, but he did cause i been loyal to him all these years! you remember when we used to work at the turkey plant together!
the smell on my hands when i'd come home and try to kiss you …
the match was against the eleventh ranked contender! brand new guy, from Montreal! Kid Canuck they call him! long blonde hair, tan, all bulked up in white trunks with a red maple leaf you know where! some rich producer's nephew or something! he was scheduled to wrestle the Sheik in the opening match, but the old guy had a hernia while they was warming up, so Darton, he give me a break and put me on the bill against Kid Canuck at the last minute!
we didn't have time to choreograph much action! i think he was kind of nervous! two minutes in he starts grabbing my hair! hard! for real! trying to get the audience more into it! he wasn't telegraphing his head butts neither! soon enough my nose was a cherry caught under a dumptruck!
the blood all over sure got the crowd into it boy! up till then they was pretty quiet, waiting for the main headliners to come out!
raking my eyes, slapping my face. i told him to ease up, it don't work like that here, but he wasn't listening. dancing around. cursing at me in French. winding his right arm up, then smacking me hard with the left until both my ears are firebells going off.
now I can take just about anything. you know me. i've been pile-drived, figure-foured, and suplexed into losses by the best of them. but on this particular night, something happened, and one pop I took in the mouth shot my adrenaline way up, my blood running all over hell now like carbolic acid, and him twisting my arm for real, not giving a flying fuck about my bad elbow, my bad back, or my five-year-old son, who don't even like to watch wrestling no more cause he's ashamed, cause his friends call his daddy a loser, and he don'tknow what to say or believe in, and the next thing i knew i had that pretty boy son of a bitch Kid Canuck down hard on the mat in a scorpion leg-lock!!
they had to haul him off on a stretcher!
i was a little dazed yet, and the crowd, they didn't know what to think!
then the referee threw my arm up under the hot lights and before i knew it all the noise in the arena was more like cheering! it was a chemical thing! at first some people in the upper bleachers stood up! and then all of them did! everywhere! stomping, and starting to chant my name! and not cause they hated the other guy! they didn't! they was cheering cause i beat the guy fair and square! he gave up out of pain, right there in the middle of the ring! i had him wrenched in that scorpion leg-lock a good two minutes screaming like a baby, like a cut pig, like a man in real pain! and they knew it! you can't fake that! they'd seen so much phoney bullshit through the years, and they could tell this match was different!
and they appreciated that!
they appreciated being shown the truth, just once in their sorry-ass lives!
Darton threw a wet towel at my face in the locker room.
i went out on a limb for you!, he says. six months of planning and promotion! tens of thousands of dollars! T-shirts! coffee mugs! now who the hell's gonna believe Kid Canuck is a contender for the federation championship when he lost his debut match to you!!
i told him i was sorry, and after a while he put his hand on my shoulder. asked me what i'd been thinking there in the ring. tell me the truth, he says. so i can go home and feel at least a little bad about firing your dumb ass.
and i wanted to say that i did it for you.
for my wife, Evalana, who i never gave nothing to believe in.
and i did it for my boy, Jesse. who only ever got to see hisdaddy get beat time and again. i wanted to tell him i did it cause my wife and child was out there in the audience.
not living in some other town.
i wanted to say you was both out there watching over me. cause where else would you be?
Ev? Evalana! (CLAY switches on flashlight and directs its beam onto the “bush” in the desert. EVALANA has run off. He directs the flashlight all around, searching in vain.) shit. (CLAY turns off the flashlight and sits down on a stone. In the moonlight, he pulls out from his pocket a colorful Mexican wrestler 's mask, and slips it over his head. He sits there in the darkness alone for a moment. He then, as a little boy might, twirls the gun on his finger, and pretends what it 'd be like to shoot himself in the head. He tries it from a couple dif ferent angles, in strange fun. Eventually he places the gun in his mouth, holds it therefor a second or two with his hand, then lets go. It remains stuck there in his mouth from here on out. Eventually, out of the darkness of the desert, EVALANA reappears.)
EVALANA: once, when i was about Jesse's age, we took a trip to California. Disneyland. we drove all the way cross country in Daddy's Ford Falcon. Ma said it was the honeymoon she never got. a lot of the highway had just been tarred, and you could feel it. i thought we was was gonna sail on forever into the future. it was somewhere in Arizona that Daddy woke us all up so we could see this great big dam at night. we stood there looking down at the bright lights and roaring darkness. Ma moved off to one side and stared down, a thousand feet.
i knew she wanted to jump.
then suddenly, she pointed at something. “look, Ev,” she said. “a rainbow!”
Shane and Darlene came running over, climbing up on the guardrail. but they couldn't see nothing. neither could Daddy.
a few hours later, somewhere outside of Flagstaff i told them i saw that rainbow too. it wasn't just Ma who saw it. I saw it too. Shane and Darlene were asleep now. Ma didn'tsay nothing. we drove on deeper into the night. then Daddy looked at me. i could see his eyes in the rearview mirror, hovering there in the blackness. “there's no such thing as a rainbow at night,” he said. “not a real rainbow anyway.”
the next day at dusk we camped on high ground. from where i stood looking down, you could see all the layers of sediment carved in the side of the mountains they cleared away for the highways a long time ago. red, black, brown, white, and sometimes almost blue, like a human vein in the side of a mountain, running parallel to the horizon. i stood there a long time, watching all the layers of earthen rainbows darkening all around me. then slowly, i noticed something, in the far distance, a cluster of fallen stars. only, it wasn't a cluster of stars, but a town. far off the highway, down there in the middle of nowhere. you wouldn't even notice it by day. but at night you could see something. twinkling. i imagined i'd been born in that town, and that that was where we was all heading back to. not Disneyland. but that town shining with tiny stars that weren't really stars, surrounded by rainbows that weren't really rainbows. but erosion. as far as the eye could see. for thousands and thousands of years. both real and imaginary. like that town down there in the valley at night. just barely shimmering. like … Eden.
(We hear the sound of their car start and drive off into the night. CLAY in mask with gun still in mouth and EVALANA slowly turn to watch the vehicle go, converging closer together as they walk and watch. JESSE has driven off into the night. Once the sound of the car has faded into the distance, CLAY in mask with gun in mouth and EVALANA slowly turn to one another. After a moment, EVALANA reaches up and removes the gun from CLAY 'S mouth and slowly points it at him. Fade to black.)
EMOTIONAL BAGGAGE
Nina Shengold
Emotional Baggage premiered at Actors& Writers, Olivebridge, New York, on October 28, 2000, where it was directed by the author. The cast was as follows:
DICK David Smilow
PHYLLIS Sarah Chodoff
LOUISE VUITTON Tad Ingram
ROLLO Joe White
AMBER: Shelley Wyant
&n
bsp; MILDRED Carol Morley
OFFSTAGE “CREW” VOICE Kevin O'Rourke
CHARACTERS
DICK: An irate Samsonite pullman.
PHYLLIS: A panicky carry-on bag.
LOUISE VUITTON: Attaché case, a drag queen wannabe.
ROLLO: A drug smuggler's duffel, beat-up and beatific.
AMBER:: Brassy, an over-the-hill overnight bag.
MILDRED: A dignified, threadbare valise from the South.
OFFSTAGE “CREW” VOICE
COSTUME NOTE: All characters should wear normal human clothing, possibly tending toward leathers, tweeds, and other luggage-like fabrics. They might also have airport stickers, tags dangling from glasses frames, ponytail holders, belt loops, etc. Use your discretion.
(A near-empty baggage claim carousel at Newark Airport, on which a few stray suitcases circle forlornly. [Actors shuffle around the periphery of the stage shoulder to shoulder, as if swept along by a rotating belt.] PHYLLIS stands crookedly, leaning on DICK as if thrown there.)
DICK: This sucks.
(An attaché case — LOUISE VUITTON —sidles after them.)
LOUISE: Where can my pickup be??
(PHYLLIS AND DICK turn in unison, facing the side wall as the “carousel” circles upstage. DICK looks back over his shoulder.)
DICK: HOW many times have you been around?
LOUISE: Please. I've stopped counting.
PHYLLIS: I'm dizzy. My straps hurt. I'm going to catch cold!
DICK: Quit whining. (Shouts into the wings.) YO, HEY!!! COME AND GET ME, YOU MORON!!!
LOUISE: Shut up or the redcaps'll grab you.
DICK: Let 'em try it. I'll smash their damn toes. Do you know what I weigh? I'm a Samsonite hardbody!
LOUISE: How hard?
DICK: I'm gonna flatten you.
(He makes an impotent lunge, nearly toppling PHYLLIS.)
PHYLLIS: Please! I've got mal de mer!
(The carousel shuts off abruptly. They lurch to a sudden stop.)
LOUISE: Uh-oh.
PHYLLIS: It stopped! The belt, the, the thing … it's not—
DICK: (hissed whisper) Cheese it, the crew. Look inanimate.
(DICK and louisefreeze in place. PHYLLIS continues to panic for a beat, then freezes suddenly. Long pause, all tense. Then:)
PHYLLIS: What —
DICK: Sssh!
(An exaggerated, stentorian “giant” voice booms from the wings.)
CREW: (offstage) LOOKS LIKE WE GOT US A COUPLE OF UNCLAIMED BAGS. LUG 'EM.
(PHYLLIS and DICK are “lifted” in unison [shoulderspulled up toward the ceiling as if picked up by giant hands], followed by LOUISE, who slaps her invisible lifter.)
LOUISE: Hands off!
PHYLLIS: Where are they taking us??
DICK: Lockup. The big house.
PHYLLIS: (eyes wide) Not—
DICK: Unclaimed baggage.
(The unseen hands “throw” them down onto a luggage rack.)
PHYLLIS: Oh God!
LOUISE: My heart.
DICK: Fuckin'screws!!!
PHYLLIS: (fea fully) … Who are those other bags?
(AMBER: saunters on, followed by ROLLO and MILDRED.)
DICK: Looks like rough trade. Maybe lifers.
AMBER:: Hey, big boy, what's in the bulge? Is that a travel umbrella, or are you glad to see me?
DICK: Fuck off, cowhide.
AMBER:: (casing LOUISE) Hey, handsome. Nice logo.
LOUISE: I'm Louis Vuitton!
AMBER:: Christ. They're all gay. (Eyeing PHYLLIS.) It's a good thing I swing both ways. Kidding.
(She barks a short, humorless laugh and plunks into a chair with her arm around PHYLLIS.)
PHYLLIS: OhGodOhGodOhGodOhGOD!!!
ROLLO: (sitting on PHYLLIS'S other side) l, babe. What are you, a carry-on?
PHYLLIS: Yes! I'm a carry-on! I was made to be carried! I would have been carried if she hadn't bought so much Duty-Free Tia Maria! I was flying First Class!
MILDRED: So was I, my dear. So was I.
(She sits with a thud.)
ROLLO: What're you in for?
PHYLLIS: Beg pardon?
ROLLO: Lost tag, missed connection? You holding?
PHYLLIS: I don't … I'm…
ROLLO: You're just off the plane from Cancun, right? A little ahem talcum powder packed into the toilet kit? A few wonky Vitamin Cs? Sensemilla-stuffed diapers?
PHYLLIS: I flew down for a Realtors'convention!
ROLLO: Did the beagle sniff you? I hate it when they sniff you.
DICK: Leave her alone or I'll pop you one right in the buckle.
ROLLO: Big man. I'm aquiver. First time in the joint? (PHYLLIS nods. ROLLO nods toward the audience.) We got some hard cases. Watch out for that camp trunk. And Rolf there, that rucksack, he'd eat you for breakfast. Most of the rest? Just a bun-cha lost luggage.
PHYLLIS: So what happens now?
ROLLO: Happens?? In this place?
AMBER:: We wait. For our legs.
LOUISE: For our pickup.
MILDRED: A gentleman caller to claim us.
ROLLO: Godot. Lefty. Guffman.
PHYLLIS: How long?
ROLLO: Some cases make bail the first night. Some do the whole stretch. Thirty days.
PHYLLIS: But… I'm carrying beach things rolled in a mesh bag! Her tankini's still damp! I could mildew!
ROLLO: So what? Little mildew won't kill you.
PHYLLIS: I'm lined!
AMBER:: I was lined once. Won't last.
PHYLLIS: I have sand in my twill! (Breaking down in tears.) This is not what I thought it would be like at all. You know, when you're still in the warehouse, you dream about having somebody to carry you? Well. First, she removed all my tags. And it says. Right there in capitals: “Do not remove under penalty of law. ”
ROLLO: Oh, you poor baby. You're fresh from the store?
PHYLLIS: From a catalog! I was just ordered!
AMBER:: Fuck me. She's a virgin.
ROLLO: Lay off. Your first trip on a plane? (PHYLLIS nods.) And that bitch—if you'll pardon my German—she lost you?? (She nods again.) That makes me so mad I could split a seam. Hell needs a separate ring for that kinda behavior. We're gonna take care of you, kiddo.
DICK: I bet you'll take care of her.
ROLLO: Stow it, you steroid-pumped piece a'petroleum. Can't you see the kid's scared?
PHYLLIS: The luggage compartment was bad enough!
MILDRED: Steerage! I was flung cheek by jowl with an R.E.I. backpack. The smell of that bedroll. I thought I'd expire, I most certainly did.
ROLLO: I was next to a dog. (Murmurs all around. This is bad.) Uh huh, yeah. Flew up from Miami alongside a doped-up Jack Russell. But not too sedated to squirt me.
AMBER:: I hate that.
ROLLO: Hey. Piss is piss. Not the end of the planet, you get me?
PHYLLIS: What are you … in for?
ROLLO: My asshole missed his plane. Checks me in at the counter, right, goes to the men's room to snort a few lines, meets some dude hawking Ecstasy, next thing you know he's in Boca Raton and yours truly is doing the carousel cha-cha in Newark. Again. I wish he would just fuckin'lose me.
PHYLLIS: You don't really mean that.
ROLLO: Oh no? I came close a few times. Hotel lobby in Bangkok. My asshole puts me down and goes out for a smoke. I was sure I'd be lifted, you know, do a stint on the black market? Wrong. No one looked at me twice. Nother time he was running some kilos offshore a'Key West. I was praying he'd stuff me with cash, hand me over to someone with class. I could've been a container. Instead of a bum, which is what I am.
PHYLLIS: I think you're kind of cute.
ROLLO: Don't melt my heart with that garbage. I'm nobody's treasure chest.
LOUISE: You can say that again.
ROLLO: What's your monogram, kid?
PHYLLIS: P.M.S.
ROLLO: Aw. That's so sweet. My name's Rollo.
LOUISE: I may vomit.
ROLLO: What
is your problem, Miss Thing? Is your toilet kit leaking?
LOUISE: I am perfectly packed.
ROLLO: Oh yeah? What's that you got rolled in that towel?
LOUISE: That 's personal!
AMBER:: What've you got, x-ray eyes?
ROLLO: You been through as many detectors as I have, you've got x-ray everything.
DICK: This guy's full of shit. He's a con man!
ROLLO: Whatever you need to believe. Though if I had those magazines sewn in my lining …
DICK: HOW did you know that??
ROLLO: We ain't so opaque as we think, my man. Not if you know how to look.
DICK: It's a trick!
ROLLO: Hey, I've done tricks. False bottoms, lead x-ray blocks. Not any more. I got nothin'to hide. What you see is what is. I've had some hard knocks, done the merchant marine, rode the rails outta Marrakech next to a fuckin'goat. Top of the bus,
Guatemala. I ain't sayin'I ain't got some miles on me. But I'm ready to kick all that shit, settle down, have a coupla fanny packs with the right girl. End of the day, it's who you got loving you.
MILDRED: Even love doesn't last. I married a satchel, raised three matching garment bags. Where are they now? Do they call? Do they write?
AMBER:: I used to hang out with a weekender bag, name of Morty. The zipper on him. I get goosebumps remembering.
DICK: Dumped you, huh?
AMBER:: He would've gone to the ends of the earth for me! He was the genuine article. Leather. Top-grain. They don't make 'em like that anymore.
MILDRED: They're all microfiber. Synthetic.
ROLLO: Uh-oh. Here comes.
ROLLO AND MILDRED: Back in my day—
MILDRED: We were valises back then. We were carried by uniformed porters. Cunard Lines. The steamer trunks! Band boxes! Linings of satin and peau de soie. Solid brass fittings.
DICK: Yeah, right. And your ancestors rode on the Mayflower.
MILDRED: As a matter of fact, they were portmanteaux. My great-great grandfather is still on display at Mount Vernon.
DICK: Well la di dah.
MILDRED: Thug!
DICK: Dust collector. White elephant!
ROLLO: (Pulls DICK aside, confidential.) Go easy on her. She's on day twenty-nine of a thirty-day stretch. And the old bag don't know about this, but her legs had a cardiac thirty-five thou in the air over Greenland. He ain't coming back.