Take Ten II

by Eric Lane

  BOY: NO, I haven't got a date.

  FRANCES: That's too bad. (BOY reaches down and removes a paperback novel from his satchel. He opens it, stands reading. FRANCES watches him.) You're cute. Did anybody ever tell you that? Real cute. (BOY looks at her, says nothing.) Oh, don't go get carried away ' cause I say that or nothin'. I don't mean nothin' by it, except to say it. I say things. That's my nature. My mother says I should change it but I say, that's stupid. How can you change your nature? But hey, it's okay, ' cause I'm all bark and no bite. That's what my friend Rosie says anyway and she should know. I never even kissed a boy til last year and that wasn't much, I can tell you. Now her, on the other hand, Rosie, that is, is a different story. You might say she was no bark at all and biting all the time, if you know what I mean. And I feel confident that you do. Yeah. Me and her is opposites. Total opposites. But, like in our case what they say is true that opposites attract. That's why we're such good friends. You ever had a friend like that? I bet you have. Somebody so different that you just gotta be near that person ' cause like by bein' near them you get to be more like yourself? Maybe I ain't sayin' it right. Like you can be added to by knowing them. And also, at the same time, be more than just yourself? Rosie's beautiful. Okay, she's got long blonde hair that hangs straight down her back. And she's real tall, and thin, but not too thin, she's got a nice shape on her, ' cause I do think it's possible for a girl to be too thin. But Rosie's not. She's beautiful. I think my mother wishes I was more like her. ' Cause Rosie bein'my friend is of course over the house all the time and sometimes I look at my mother sometimes and I can see her thinking why can't my own daughter Frances be more like that Rosie? But I think, I'm not Mom, I'm just not. And really, if my mother knew what was going on behind those beautiful blue eyes of Rosie's half the time she wouldn't wish that at all.

  BOY: Where do you live?

  FRANCES: In Philly Philly I live in South Philly Right on Fifteenth and Snyder in the shadow of the Melrose Diner. You ever been to the Melrose?

  BOY: NO.

  FRANCES: Lots of people have. It's a famous diner.

  BOY: Oh.

  FRANCES: Anyway, that's where I live. You live in Germantown. I remember I asked.

  BOY: Right.

  FRANCES: Funny. You don't seem like a Germantown boy.

  BOY: Well… I haven't lived there very long.

  FRANCES: Where'd you live before? (Pause.) You're from out here, aren't you?

  BOY: Yes. Although …

  FRANCES: Though I wouldn'ta picked you for aJersey boy, neither.

  BOY (getting suddenly nervous) I wish this train would come.

  BOY: Although …

  FRANCES: Though I wouldn'ta picked you for a Jersey boy, neither.

  BOY: You just did.

  FRANCES: I woulda thought you were from England or someplace. The way you talk. Fancy like.

  BOY: Well …

  FRANCES: I haven't met many boys in New Jersey like you.

  BOY: Originally I'm from upstate New York.

  FRANCES: Maybe that explains it.

  BOY: (getting suddenly nervous) I wish this train would come.

  FRANCES: You got a girlfriend? I'm just asking. Being such a big mouth, I'm just curious. Rosie says sometimes, will you shut the fuck up for Christsake's Frances, why do you have to stick your fat face in everything all the time? But secretly I think she likes it. ' Cause that's like another quality we don't have in common. She's shy. That is, unless she don't want to be. Hoo Boy! So do you? I'm just asking. You don't have to answer or nothin', if you don't want to.

  FRANCES: Okay, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry. (Pause.) Was I … being a little bit too forward there, just for a minute?

  BOY: Why don't we just drop it?

  FRANCES: That's like a problem I have sometimes. Everybody tells me. I don't know when to stop.

  BOY: Let's forget about it.

  FRANCES: Really?

  BOY: Yes! I mean, yes. It doesn't matter.

  FRANCES: Hey. Okay. (Pause.) Are you sure? Are you sure it doesn't bother you, my prying?

  BOY: Yes, I'm sure! Now can we please not talk about it anymore!

  FRANCES: Because like I only mean the best. (Pause.) Rosie says that about me sometimes. She says Frances, sometimes you may be a pain the ass, but you got a heart as good as gold. (Pause.

  For a moment neither says anything.) So what are you doin' all alone in New Jersey on a Saturday night?

  (He looks at her.)

  BOY: I'm going home. I'm on my way home.

  FRANCES: To Germantown, right? (Pause.) Like, when you get off this train, do you transfer to the Broad Street, or the El, or the trolley, or what? (Pause.) I'm only asking because I want to know everything about you.

  BOY: Why? I mean … why do you want to know?

  FRANCES: No reason. Just curious. Hey, don't get all defensive or nothin'. I don't mean nothin' by it. I'm not out to get you. (Pause.) You seem nice is all. I'm interested. Is that a crime?

  BOY: NO, of course not. I'm sorry. It's been a long evening. FRANCES: So? What train are you going to take?

  BOY: Well, I would usually take the train from Reading Terminal. (Pause.) But tonight I'm staying with a friend. In Center City.

  FRANCES: Oh. That's nice. Center City. Is it, like a boy friend or a girl friend? Listen to me, I sound like my mother. Stop me if I start to pry.

  BOY: It's a man friend.

  FRANCES: My mother would be relieved!

  BOY: I don't think so.

  FRANCES: Waddya mean? (Pause. The BOY doesn't answer.) Is this like, a really good friend?

  BOY: Yes.

  FRANCES: That's nice. It's nice to have a really good friend.

  BOY: We're very close. Of course, he's a lot older than me but somehow that doesn't matter so much. Sometimes it evenseems that I'm older than him sometimes. Do you know what I mean?

  FRANCES: No. (Pause.) Yeah. Rosie sometimes bawls me out for my bad behavior. Sometimes we're walkin'down the street and she says to me, “Frannie,” that's what she calls me when we're really gettin' along, “Frannie,” she says, “You don't give a boy a chance. You're always chasin' after ' em. After ' em all the time, they don't want you like that. They want to be like chasin' after you.” What I don't say is that sure, they want to be chasin' after you, Rosie, I mean, she weighs about a hundred pounds and looks like somethin' on a TV screen, but me, I've always been an exception and I've got a personality to prove it, you know what I mean? So forgive me if sometimes I start to feel that I should take the front seat in my life here, okay? (Pause.) What were you doing in Jersey?

  (There is a pause. The BOY drags his feet on the concrete platform, unsure and nervous about whether to go on. He seems like he knows that if he goes on, he won't be able to stop. Finally he takes a breath and goes on.)

  BOY: I went to see my parents.

  FRANCES: Yeah?

  BOY: They live here. I say my parents although it's really just my mother and my sister I went to see. My father, he lives in Florida.

  FRANCES: Oh, Florida! That's nice! You ever go down and visit him there?

  BOY: NO. (Pause.) So I went to see my mother and sister. (Pause.) I had something to tell them. (Pause.) Although I don't want to tell you what it was.

  FRANCES: Sure. No problem.

  BOY: My mother started crying before I'd even gotten to the point. Before I'd even told her. I guess she could kinda tellwhat I was going to say before I said it. So she went out on the porch, and when I followed her out there she begged me not to say what I was going to say and then she said I would be killing her if I told her. Then when she saw she wasn't going to stop me she went back inside, I think so the neighbors couldn't hear. And I told her. Then she cried. And then my sister came in and she cried. Then my mother accused me of… well, it doesn't matter. Then I cried. And then I called a taxi… and I came here. (The BOY sits on his haunches and covers his face with his hands.) I'm sorry.

  FRANCES: What are you sorry for?
It don't matter.

  BOY: I don't even know you.

  FRANCES: So? So what's that matter?

  BOY: Sometimes I also don't know when to stop.

  FRANCES: Listen. You gotta do what you gotta do. I know that.

  BOY: Sometimes… I just don't know what the right thing to do is.

  (Pause.)

  FRANCES: My mother is a jerk, that's one thing I know. She acts like she knows what the right thing to do is all the time and she don't. Times I do what she tells me, it only makes things worse. Then other times I do like I want, and that don't work out, neither. (Pause.) You oughta try tellin'somethin' like that to my mother. It'd be worse. Much worse. (Pause.) You wanna know what I think?

  BOY: What?

  FRANCES: I think we oughta band together. You and I. Make the world, I don't know, like … better. Make it safe for democracy or something. What do you think?

  BOY: Sure. Maybe. I don't know.

  FRANCES: Rosie's good like that. She always knows what to say.

  BOY: What you said was okay, I guess.

  FRANCES: All right then.(Pause. After a moment, FRANCES begins humming, quietly singing to herself a tune. She looks at the BOY, who is still sitting on his haunches, kneeling a few feet away from her.) Would you, like, touch me? In some way, some simple way, no sex or nothin', just … hold my hand or somethin'. Just to make me feel… better?

  (BOY, staying crouched over on his haunches, moves closer to the GIRL. He looks at her for a moment. Then he lays his head down on her knee, his face turned toward the audience. FRANCES lays her hand on his head as lights fade.)

  A RUSTLE OF WINGS

  Linda Eisenstein

  A Rustle of Wings was originally produced at the Vanguard Theatre Ensemble, Fullerton, California, in April 1999, where it was the second-place winner of the Sixth Annual West Coast Ten-Minute Play Contest (Jill Forbath, Artistic Director). It was directed by Sandy Silver. The cast was as follows:

  MIRA SHARON CASE

  JEWELL DELLA LISI

  SHRAINE LESLIE WILLIAMS

  FRANKIE JON TAYLOR CARTER

  CHARACTERS

  MIRA: She wants it. Bad. If she only knew what it was.

  JEWELL: A mystery in shades. She wears a black leather jacket with wings attached to its back.

  SHRAINE: Mira's friend.

  FRANKIE: Mira's friend (female or male).

  (At rise: A bar. Smoky. Very noir. A melting riff of saxophone music.) in a pool of light.)

  MIRA: Ever dreamed of flying? Sure you have. Everybody's had that dream—skimming above the sidewalk, the earth tilting below. Soaring, never even needing to touch down.

  The more you plod along in real life, the more your dreaming self yearns for the air. Hungers for the rustle of wings. For the faint brush of feathers against your face.

  Everybody thinks they want to fly. Until they actually meet somebody with wings, that is. That's when it gets… complicated.

  I knew that the first time I saw Jewell.

  (Sax music. A smoky blue light on JEWELL. She is wearing shades and a black leather jacket. She poses, languid. Checking out the scene.)

  (MIRA is on a bar stool. She sees JEWELL. Can't take her eyes off her.)

  She was something. Something else.

  (JEWELL catches her eyes, smiles, and glides over toward MIRA.)

  And oh my God. She is actually coming over here.

  (As JEWELL turns, we see that there are small wings attached to the back of her jacket. Note: These should be very noticeably fake —i.e., plastic, papier mâchÉ, or aluminum foil and wire.)

  JEWELL: Hey.

  MIRA: Hey. (Beat.) I, um, like your wings.

  JEWELL: Thanks.

  MIRA: Quite the conversation piece.

  JEWELL: Only if you notice them. Most people don't.

  MIRA: Funny. I can't believe that. They're so cool. Where'd you get them?

  JEWELL: The usual place. (Indicating “ up” with her eyes.) MIRA: Well. I've never seen anyone who had them.

  JEWELL: You just haven't looked hard enough. (Beat.) Do you want to touch them?

  MIRA: How did you know?

  JEWELL: (Smiles.) Be my guest.

  (MIRA strokes them tentatively with a finger.)

  MIRA: Wow. That's… they feel so silky. I wouldn't have expected … Yipes!

  (MIRA gives a little shudder —leaps back.)

  JEWELL: What?

  MIRA: How'd you do that?

  JEWELL: Do what?

  MIRA: They moved! At least it felt like they did.

  JEWELL: Interesting reaction.

  MIRA: Sorry. I know that sounds too weird.

  JEWELL: Not at all. It's one of the signs.

  MIRA: Signs?

  JEWELL: Signs. Portents. Small but significant. In a series of recognitions. It means… you're one of us.

  MIRA: Ah. I'm, oh boy, feeling a little dizzy.

  JEWELL: Didn't you know?

  MIRA: All of a sudden.

  JEWELL: Or at least suspect? That you weren't like the others.

  MIRA: (gathering up her purse to flee) Excuse me.

  JEWELL: Can I touch yours?

  MIRA: (Freezes.) What?

  JEWELL: wings.

  MIRA: My, ah—

  JEWELL: Can I touch your wings?

  MIRA: I don't, uh, I don't have, uh, wings, oh my God, I have to go now, sorry.

  JEWELL: But you do, Mira. You do. You have the kind of wings nobody sees.

  (A beat. Lights down on JEWELL, immediately up on SHRAINE and FRANKIE—who enter, continuing the conversation.)

  SHRAINE: Whoa. Now that is one great pickup line. FRANKIE: Awesome.

  SHRAINE: Wings, huh? On her jacket, like a biker? That's hot. MIRA: No.

  FRANKIE: Maybe she was a pilot! Everything you have heard about stewardesses? Goes double for pilots.

  MIRA: It wasn't a logo, Frankie. These were real wings. Attached, to, to her back. I think.

  SHRAINE: Like, what, a bird? This girl had bird wings? MIRA: N … no …

  SHRAINE: Angel wings?

  FRANKIE: Oooh, oooh, no, Mira met a real live fairy. (SHRAINE and FRANKIE laugh.)

  MIRA: Come on, you guys.FRANKIE: Uh-oh, Mira's got it ba-ad.

  MIRA: She was shimmering! It was incredible. Radiating off her, like heat on pavement.

  SHRAINE: WOW. Like a mirage.

  MIRA: Maybe she was. A mirage. Jeez, she'd have to be. Otherwise, how come nobody else noticed her? Why wasn't everybody in the place following her around like crazed bloodhounds?

  SHRAINE: Mira, honey, everybody does not have the same taste as you.

  FRANKIE: 'll say.

  MIRA: No, no, no! This isn't “you like blondes, I like brunettes,” Shraine. This was objectively measurable charisma. Of rock star proportions. Like, if you were holding a Geiger counter next to her, you'd be deafened by the clicking.

  FRANKIE: WOW.

  SHRAINE: SO then what? Did you get her number?

  MIRA: No, I …

  FRANKIE: Oh, Mira, not again. You let her get out of there without … oh girlfriend.

  SHRAINE: YOU are hopeless!

  FRANKIE: Hopeless.

  SHRAINE: YOU do this every time.

  MIRA: didn't know what to say!

  SHRAINE: She's giving you this major voodoo, and

  FRANKIE: Mira tanks. Again.

  MIRA: (distraught) It wasn't like that!

  FRANKIE: Well, go on, then!

  (Lights back up on JEWELL. They all look over at JEWELL, expectantly. Saxophone music restarts.)

  MIRA: I didn't run. Not because I didn't want to. More like I couldn't, because when she looked at me it was like my feet were nailed to the floor.

  JEWELL: But you do, Mira. You have the kind of wings nobody sees.

  (MIRA laughs nervously.)

  MIRA: Ohhh, like a bird? Not me. Oh, no. Unless it's, um, a wren, maybe. Something brown and gray, hops around mostly, picks up straw and stuff, God I'm babbling, am I saying this
out loud, or is this just rushing through my head while I stare at her gape-mouthed?

  JEWELL: You don't have to say anything.

  MIRA: Oh, thank God, she can't hear what I'm thinking.

  JEWELL: I know what you're thinking.

  MIRA: Noooo!

  JEWELL: That you can't even feel them yet. But that's all right. To make them move, you have to practice. Here.

  (JEWELL touches MIRA in the center of her back.)

  MIRA: Oh!! (miragoes up on her tiptoes, sways, like she's going to top ple over.)

  JEWELL: See. (Smiles.) I know you can feel that.

  MIRA: Feel it? My heart is fluttering, racing, faster than I can count.

  JEWELL: Six hundred beats a minute, actually. Like a bird.

  MIRA: And I think, oh, I get it, that's why birds have such short life spans. That's the price of flight. Their heart outruns their life, outruns their good sense. You can't live with that kind of heart-pounding excitement, and last.

  JEWELL: Now: try to move them. You know you can.

  MIRA: Move them? I can't feel anything except this pounding, this shuddering, in my head and my chest and my knees and … (She stops.) Except suddenly, I could.

  JEWELL: Yes.

  MIRA: was this itching, this intense feeling crawling up my spine. And I could hear the beating of thousands of pairs of wings, like a humming. It started to fill the back of my throat with something sweet, something I'd never tasted. It got me so dizzy, I had to hold onto the table, or I knew I'd topple over. I was afraid to let go, and afraid to look at her. So, I ducked my head, and looked at the ashtray for a really really long time, until my head stopped spinning. And when I looked up again? She was gone.

  (Lights down on JEWELL, lights up on SHRAINE and FRANKIE. They all sigh.)

  FRANKIE: That. Is. Mira, what can I say.

  SHRAINE: One of those moments. Major.

  FRANKIE: Defining moments.

  SHRAINE: I can't believe you …

  FRANKIE AND SHRAINE: You looked at the ashtray??

  MIRA: Yeah. I know. (A beat.) It doesn't seem fair. Somehow. That you don't get another chance.

  SHRAINE: no. That's how it works. A story like that? It's like the myths, or the fairy tales. You seize the moment, or else … poof.

  FRANKIE: The moment passes. That's how it works.