Guards at the Taj and Mr. Wolf_Two Plays

by Rajiv Joseph

  This is what I do to live.

  Okay? I leave no stone unturned. Someone kidnapped my daughter while I sat 20 feet away. I looked down, and then I looked up. Ten seconds, maybe less. I looked down and I looked up.

  Beat.

  JULIE: I looked down, too. I looked down and I looked up.

  And she was gone.

  Beat. They look at each other. They bond in this moment.

  MICHAEL: What’s her name?

  JULIE: Her name was Casey.

  MICHAEL: Her name is Casey.

  How old?

  JULIE: She would be six now.

  MICHAEL: She is six now.

  (beat)

  I believe that.

  I believe that.

  Can you?

  SCENE 3.

  A hospital room. Girl sits in a hospital bed while a doctor examines her eyes with a light.

  DOCTOR: Ohhh-kay . . . we are all-most done . . .

  Follow the light . . .

  Okay, good.

  (looks at her)

  Let’s have a look at your ears.

  He takes out a scope to look at her ears. She’s frightened by it.

  DOCTOR: This? This is nothing. It’s just a magnifying glass with a light. It helps me see things that are too small to see, in your ears. Here. Do you want to look in my ears first?

  She shakes her head no.

  DOCTOR: There’s nothing wrong with you. Your health is absolutely perfect. But you’ve never been to a doctor?

  She shakes her head no.

  DOCTOR: You know, some people are just healthy. Lucky ducks.

  (he catches himself)

  I mean . . . not that you’re . . .

  In some areas we are lucky, in some other areas we are not . . .

  Boy, that was stupid.

  I’m sorry.

  She examines him, and then takes the ear scope. She inspects it.

  GIRL: (so quietly, almost inaudible) Like a telescope.

  DOCTOR: Yes, exactly! Except instead of things very far away . . . ? Things very small.

  He lets her look at it and gets up to write something down. She stares at him while he writes.

  DOCTOR: You can hear me okay . . .

  GIRL: Yes . . .

  DOCTOR: It will be loud. The noise will be difficult.

  There are so many sounds, and they will not be good sounds.

  GIRL: Already, it’s like this.

  The sounds. The loudness. That you told me about. You said you would kill yourself but then I said that by infinity offering endless possibilities, exact worlds such as the one we were living in could exist somewhere else, except without you being dead, and so you’re not, because here we are, somewhere else, but you were right, it’s so loud.

  You are not hurt or dead.

  DOCTOR: I’m . . . uh . . . You know, I uh . . .

  GIRL: Can we go home?

  DOCTOR: I’m . . . not who you think I am.

  GIRL: Can we go home?

  DOCTOR: Do you want to go home?

  GIRL: Yes please.

  DOCTOR: You’re going to go home.

  GIRL: With you.

  DOCTOR: Not with me. I’m just a doctor, inspecting you to see if you’re okay. You’re okay.

  GIRL: I want you there, too.

  DOCTOR: My name’s Jamie. Doctor Jamie.

  (beat)

  I have three children, three boys. The oldest is just out of college. The youngest is heading there next year. All three of them are just phenomenal tennis players. Which I cannot believe because my wife and I are terrible athletes. Sometimes the apples fall far from the trees.

  GIRL: Like an orchard.

  DOCTOR: Yes . . . like an apple orchard.

  GIRL: I want to go home.

  The Doctor’s beeper buzzes quietly. He checks it.

  DOCTOR: Um . . . Theresa . . . ?

  Your father is here.

  Your father is here to see you.

  I’ll uh . . . let you two alone.

  Doctor leaves.

  Michael enters, carrying an old stuffed animal.

  Michael sees his daughter for the first time after 14 years. It’s as if a devout zealot was shown that everything he faithfully believed was absolutely true. He may as well be looking into the face of God.

  Michael and Theresa stare at each other. Michael puts one hand in his hair.

  He makes a sound, but it’s inarticulate. He covers his face with both hands, and breathes very harshly. He can’t move. Theresa just stands and watches him.

  He starts to step towards her but doesn’t. He paces for a brief second, and then stops. He holds the stuffed animal out. She doesn’t take it, or react to it. He simply holds it.

  He starts coughing. He coughs too long. He sits in a chair, far from her. He rubs his face and then looks at her again. Again, an inarticulate sound, very softly.

  He leans forward, looks at her, and then at his shoes. He rubs a stain off his shoe.

  He covers his face with his hands again. He tries to clear his throat. He leans forward off the chair, and sits on the floor, and leans against the wall.

  He sits there for a long time.

  SCENE 4.

  Michael and Julie’s home, their living room. There are two framed portrait photographs on separate walls. One is of a three year-old girl. Another is of a different three year-old girl.

  Hana, 38, anxious, nervous, at her wit’s end, stares at Julie.

  JULIE: Hi.

  HANA: Where is she?

  Where’s Theresa?

  Where is she?

  JULIE: She’s not here yet.

  HANA: But where is she?

  JULIE: Michael went to get her from the hospital. They’ll be back soon. I’m Julie.

  HANA: She’s at the hospital. Is she okay?

  JULIE: They said she’s fine.

  HANA: Who’s “they”? Who said she was fine? Why is she at the hospital?

  JULIE: They wanted to make sure . . . I’m sorry you must be . . .

  HANA: I’m out of my mind. The plane sat on the runway. For two hours after we landed. The plane just sat on the runway.

  I’m sorry, I’m Hana, you’re Julie. I’m Hana.

  JULIE: He wanted me to stay home for when you got here.

  HANA: It’s fine. I have my key.

  JULIE: You still have your key?

  HANA: Yeah, I didn’t throw the key away. I mean, I put it in some drawer that I had to empty on to the floor last night, but I still have it.

  JULIE: I am happy for you.

  Awkward beat.

  HANA: Thanks.

  JULIE: Michael always believed he would find her.

  HANA: I know he did.

  JULIE: I don’t mean that like . . . that’s not accusatory.

  HANA: Okay.

  JULIE: I’m only telling you because, well, even though he was always prepared to find her . . . he wasn’t prepared for her to have been over in Sullivan County all this time.

  HANA: It’s insane, it’s insane. What is it, like an hour from here?

  JULIE: 45 minutes.

  HANA: It’s insane.

  JULIE: I know.

  Anyhow . . .

  He lost it a little bit when he found out she had been so close. He just lost it a little bit.

  HANA: What does that mean?

  JULIE: I don’t know.

  I don’t mean “lost it”.

  How does one react to something like this?

  (beat)

  No, I’m asking you. How are you reacting to this?

  HANA: It’s insane.

  JULIE: Are you okay?

  HANA: I’m . . .

  Excuse me . . . I’m so sorry.

  (beat)

  The man. They say he was a college professor.

  JULIE: Yes. Astronomy. At Sullivan Community College.

  HANA: You don’t think of people like this having advanced degrees.

  (beat)

  And he um . . .

  He killed
himself . . . in front of her.

  JULIE: He left a note.

  HANA: He left a note?

  JULIE: Before he killed himself.

  HANA: What did it say?

  JULIE: The police have it, we haven’t seen it.

  Let me get you some water.

  HANA: Thank you. That’s very . . . You’re very kind. It’s just that we, you know... we sat there on the runway for like two hours, just sitting there!

  Jesus, I sat there, I was like, oh, this is why people become terrorists and blow things up. I hated everyone and wanted them all dead. I wanted to blow everything up!

  I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that, I didn’t want to kill anyone, it’s an exaggeration.

  (beat)

  The stewardess, maybe. SMUG. Stewardesses, you know the way they get? They call them flight attendants now, I always forget to call them that, water, yes water would be great, I probably need to hydrate.

  Julie goes to get water; Hana composes herself, looks around the room.

  JULIE: (re: the house) It must be strange to be back here.

  HANA: Well. Yes. Strange to be back. Stranger that it hasn’t changed. At all.

  At least he kept it clean.

  JULIE: That was me.

  I mean . . .

  I mean, the house wasn’t particularly clean when I came here.

  HANA: Michael doesn’t notice things like dust.

  JULIE: There was a lot of dust.

  Hana walks to the photo of Theresa on the wall.

  Julie comes back with a glass of water.

  HANA: This was when she was three.

  JULIE: I know.

  Hana looks at the opposite photo.

  HANA: That’s yours?

  JULIE: That’s Casey, yes.

  HANA: Very pretty.

  JULIE: Thank you.

  HANA: How long ago?

  JULIE: She was also three. I mean, six years.

  She’s nine years old now.

  Michael and I married three years ago.

  HANA: I know.

  JULIE: Of course you know that. I don’t know why I even said it. I orient myself with that sometimes . . .

  (beat)

  We both needed a spouse.

  Not that you . . .

  I mean.

  He has great feelings of rage towards you.

  (awkward beat)

  I made up the guest room for you.

  HANA: I’ll be staying at a hotel.

  JULIE: You should stay here. Theresa will be here.

  HANA: I have a suite at the hotel. Michael and I will talk about where Theresa stays.

  (beat)

  Look, listen: I’m back in this house. I have my daughter back, you don’t. There’s this tension here between us, but really, there isn’t, because it doesn’t matter, because ultimately I don’t care.

  JULIE: Okay.

  HANA: I’m telling you this to just get it out of the way. I’m sorry if this is difficult for you, I’m sorry that your daughter is still gone, but really, I’m not actually sorry, because I have no idea what’s going on with anything, and I don’t have the capacity to feel anything for you. And I’m out of my mind, do you get that? And yes, this is very awkward, you living here, you married to Michael, you still missing your daughter, and of course there’s a part of me, the normal part of me, that wants to acknowledge all these things to make this whole encounter less weird, but I don’t have that. I don’t have anything in my head except that Theresa, God, Theresa is alive, so, not to be mean or cruel, but fuck off, because now you can just dislike me and I can stop worrying about being polite.

  Because we’ve hit rock bottom. So there’s nowhere to go but up.

  So now it’s not awkward.

  Really awkward beat.

  JULIE: All of that makes sense.

  HANA: (a confession) I don’t deserve it.

  I don’t deserve any of this.

  I gave up on her.

  (beat)

  Do you ever speak to your daughter?

  I know it’s a rule. Don’t speak to them if they are not there.

  JULIE: No. I never do.

  HANA: I always do. I can’t get out of bed in the morning without talking to Theresa.

  JULIE: I could never speak to Casey. Even if I wanted to more than anything, I could never speak to her. It would mean I had given up.

  Awkward beat.

  HANA: It doesn’t have to mean that.

  (beat)

  Everyone’s different.

  JULIE: You’re so pretty. How are you still pretty? Who stays pretty after losing a child?

  Your family has money, don’t they? You’re rich.

  (beat)

  I’m sorry . . .

  Doesn’t it seem even more unlikely that I will ever find Casey? What are the odds? It never occurred to me until today, but whatever astronomical odds were already in place for me finding Casey, they’ve pretty much doubled, tripled, quadrupled now that Michael found Theresa. Right? I mean, what are the odds?

  Whatever, Michael says we don’t dream of the day, we work towards it. Every ounce of energy is forward, is practical, is in service of the actualization of the day. But I wondered today about what it would be like.

  I just sat here and wondered.

  I wouldn’t hug her, I wouldn’t kiss her, but I would touch her face, and I would smoothen her hair, and I’d lean closely to her, and I’d say, I’d say, I’d say . . . Hello.

  (beat)

  What else could I say?

  The two stare at each other, but Julie looks away. A lengthy silence. And then the sound of a door opening. Michael and Theresa enter slowly.

  MICHAEL: We’re home.

  Theresa enters. She walks slowly, but with confidence.

  She wears the winter coat and sneakers Mr. Wolf gave her.

  Everyone stares at her.

  After a long moment . . .

  HANA: Theresa.

  Hana walks slowly, purposefully towards to Theresa.

  She touches her face.

  She smoothens her hair.

  She leans closely to Theresa . . .

  HANA: Theresa . . . I am your mother.

  She awkwardly hugs her daughter and then releases her.

  HANA: I’m your mother . . . and this is your father, and we are your parents and we love you very much.

  Theresa looks around and then looks at Julie.

  THERESA: Who is she?

  JULIE: I’m . . . Julie.

  Theresa sees the photo, hanging on the wall of her three-year-old self.

  THERESA: Who is that?

  HANA: That’s you, honey. That’s you. Many years ago.

  THERESA: That’s not me.

  HANA: Yes it is.

  THERESA: I don’t look like that.

  HANA: It’s an old picture.

  Theresa sees the other photo.

  THERESA: Who is that?

  JULIE: That’s my daughter. Her name is Casey. She’s younger than you.

  THERESA: Who lives here?

  JULIE: I do. And your father.

  THERESA: (to Hana) Where do you live?

  HANA: Vancouver. It’s in Canada.

  THERESA: I know Vancouver, I know maps.

  HANA: Oh. Good.

  THERESA: If he is my father and you are my mother, why do you live in Vancouver and why does she live here? Who are you again?

  JULIE: I’m Julie.

  THERESA: But who are you?

  JULIE: I am married to your father. I am his second wife.

  HANA: Your father and I separated.

  MICHAEL: (to Hana) Divorced. We divorced.

  HANA: (to Theresa) Do you know what divorced means?

  THERESA: Yes, I know what divorced means. Why did you get divorced?

  HANA: We had differences.

  THERESA: Is that generally why people become divorced?

  HANA: I don’t . . . I suppose . . .

  THERESA: (to Julie) Where is your daughter?

&n
bsp; JULIE: She’s not here. She was kidnapped. Just like you were.

  THERESA: Not just like I was. My life is specific to me.

  JULIE: Yes, of course, I’m sorry, you’re right. But she was also taken.

  THERESA: Has she been found?

  JULIE: No.

  THERESA: How old are you?

  JULIE: I’m twenty-nine.

  THERESA: I’m fifteen.

  JULIE: I know.

  THERESA: Where is the man you had sex with to make your daughter?

  JULIE: He died.

  THERESA: How?

  JULIE: He was in an accident.

  THERESA: What kind of accident?

  HANA: It’s okay . . . honey . . .

  JULIE: He fell down the stairs leading to the basement, because he was drunk on alcohol.

  THERESA: Alcohol used to be illegal.

  JULIE: Yes, it did, a long time ago.

  HANA: Theresa, are you hungry?

  THERESA: (to Julie) Were you sad when he died?

  JULIE: I was sad, and I was also not sad.

  THERESA: I know someone who died.

  JULIE: I know.

  Are you sad that he died?

  HANA: You don’t need to talk about that. Julie, don’t ask her about that.

  THERESA: Yes, I am sad.

  JULIE: I’m sorry.

  HANA: Julie . . .

  THERESA: He shot himself in the head.

  He did that in the bathtub so it would be easy to clean.

  He asked me permission to do it, and I said yes, he could do it, even though I didn’t want him to do it.

  He’s the only person I have ever known.

  Long awkward silence.

  HANA: What do you like to eat, honey? What’s your favorite food?

  THERESA: Chocolate candy bar.

  HANA: Chocolate candy bar? I think we can manage that. Can we manage that?

  THERESA: What kind of differences did you have?

  HANA: What?

  THERESA: “Differences” and so you got divorced. I read that divorces are unpleasant.

  Hana and Michael look at each other.

  HANA: We were sad . . . because you were gone.

  We were so sad . . .

  Your father dealt with your being gone one way, and I had to deal with it another way.

  But now you are back. And we are so happy.

  THERESA: How come he doesn’t talk?

  Hana and Julie look at Michael. He does nothing.

  JULIE: Sometimes when people are so happy, they can’t speak.

  THERESA: (to Michael) Are you so happy you can’t talk?

  (beat; Michael doesn’t say anything; maybe he slightly nods)

  Which of you wanted to get a divorce? Both of you or just one of you?