The Last Five Years
Page 2
I’m sorry, can I say this?
You know what makes me nuts?
The fact that we could be together,
Here together,
Sharing our night, spending our time,
And you are gonna choose someone else to be with—no, you are.
Yes, Jamie, that’s exactly what you’re doing:
You could be here with me,
Or be there with them—
As usual, guess which you pick!
No, Jamie, you do not have to go to another party
With the same twenty jerks you already know.
You could stay with your wife on her fucking birthday
And you could, God forbid, even see my show.
And I know in your soul it must drive you crazy
That you won’t get to play with your little girlfriends—
No I’m not, no I’m not!—and the point is, Jamie,
That you can’t spend a single day
That’s not about
You and you and nothing but you.
“Mahvelous” novelist, you!
Isn’t he wonderful, just twenty-eight!
The savior of writing!
You and you and nothing but you—
Miles and piles of you,
Pushing through windows and bursting through walls
En route to the sky!
And I. . .
I swear to God I’ll never understand
How you can stand there, straight and tall,
And see I’m crying,
And not do anything at all. . .
The lights start to rise on JAMIE’s side. He looks perplexed but not unhappy, as he dials. The lights stay up on CATHERINE for a bit, while she continues to cry, then fade during JAMIE’s call.
JAMIE Rob? Yeah, listen. You know how my lease is up? You know how I want to get a new apartment? What if I said I was gonna get one with Cathy? Rob? Yeah, I’ll meet you there in five minutes.
SCENE 4
MOVING TOO FAST
JAMIE
Did I just hear an alarm start ringing?
Did I see sirens go flying past?
Though I don’t know what tomorrow’s bringing,
I’ve got a singular impression things are moving too fast.
I’m gliding smooth as a figure skater,
I’m riding hot as a rocket blast—
I just expected it ten years later.
I’ve got a singular impression things are moving too fast.
And you say, “Oh, no,
Step on the brakes,
Do whatever it takes,
But stop this train!
Slow, slow! The light’s turning red!”
But I say, “No! No!
Whatever I do,
I barrel on through,
And I don’t complain.
No matter what I try, I’m flyin’ full speed ahead!”
I’m never worried to walk the wire.
I won’t do anything just half-assed,
But with the stakes getting somewhat higher,
I’ve got a singular impression things are moving too fast.
I found a woman I love,
And I found an agent who loves me—
Things might get bumpy, but
Some people analyze ev’ry detail,
Some people stall when they can’t see the trail,
Some people freeze out of fear that they’ll fail,
But I keep rollin’ on.
Some people can’t get success with their art,
Some people never feel love in their heart,
Some people can’t tell the two things apart,
But I keep rollin’ on.
Oh, oh—maybe I can’t follow through,
But oh, oh—what else am I s’pposed to do?
The lights come up on CATHERINE, making a call. Throughout the call, she is very consciously using her “professional” voice.
CATHERINE Hello, this is Catherine Hiatt, I’m calling for Mike Stelmyer—thank you. [She’s on hold.] Hi, Mike, it’s Cathy Hiatt—no, this won’t be long, I’m sorry if I’m interrupting. Well, two things—I was checking to make sure you got the reviews I sent from this summer—yes, I got some nice notices from the local papers. I thought you would enjoy them. Okay, well, I can send out another set of those, sure. Right, well, the other thing was just, you know, checking in, seeing if you saw anything you wanted to send me in for, I feel like I’m in a really good place right now. . . Yes. Yes, I certainly will, as soon as I’m doing something in the city, I will make sure I let you know. . . Oh, okay, I understand. Thanks for taking the time, Mike—I’ll call you soon!
She holds the phone for a minute, trying not to feel rejected, then puts it on its cradle. Lights down on CATHERINE.
JAMIE
I dreamed of writing like the high and mighty—
Now I’m the subject of a bidding war!
I met my personal Aphrodite—
I’m doing things I never dreamed of before!
We start to take the next step together—
Found an apartment on Seventy-third!
The Atlantic Monthly’s printing my first chapter—
Two thousand bucks without rewriting one word!
I left Columbia and don’t regret it—
I wrote a book and Sonny Mehta read it!
My heart’s been stolen!
My ego’s swollen!
I just keep rollin’ along!
And I think, “Well, well, what else is in store?
Got all this and more
Before twenty-four!”
It’s hard not to be sure I’m spinning out of control!
Out of control!
I’m feeling panicked and rushed and hurried!
I’m feeling outmaneuvered and outclassed,
But I’m so happy I can’t get worried
About this singular impression—
I’ve got a singular impression things are moving too fast!
Blackout.
SCENE 5
A PART OF THAT
Eight months before Scene 3. A book-signing party for JAMIE’s just-released novel. CATHERINE is sitting idly next to a pile of Jamie’s books while JAMIE signs them. Someone has asked her what it’s like being married to JAMIE.
CATHERINE
One day we’re just like
Leave It to Beaver.
One day it’s just a
Typical life,
And then he’s off on
A trip to Jamie-land:
Staring catatonic out the window,
Barely even breathing all the while. . .
And then he’ll smile,
His eyes light up, and deep within the ground,
Without a sound,
A moment comes to life,
And I’m a part of that.
I’m a part of that.
I’m a part of that.
Next day it’s just like
It never happened—
We’re making dinners,
We’re making plans.
Then he gets on the
Mule train to Jamie-land:
Handful after handful of Doritos,
Circling the apartment, logging miles. . .
And then he smiles,
His eyes light up, and how can I complain?
Yes, he’s insane,
But look what he can do,
And I’m a part of that.
I’m a part of that.
I’m a part of that. . .
And it’s true,
I tend to follow in his stride,
Instead of side by side,
I take his cue.
True, but there’s no question, there’s no doubt—
I said I’d stick it out
And follow through,
And when I do—
Then he smiles,
And where else can I go?
I didn’t know
The rules do not apply.
And then he smiles,
While he invents
The world that’s passing by,
And I’m a part of that.
I’m a part of that.
I’m a part of that,
Aren’t I?
I’m a part of that,
I’m a part of that.
I’m a part of that.
At some point, she picked up a book—now she starts to give the book back, looks briefly at the dedication page, then quickly closes the book and hands it over.
SCENE 6
THE SCHMUEL SONG
Their second Christmas together. JAMIE hits a switch and the lights on the Christmas tree are illuminated. JAMIE has a small gift-wrapped box in his hand. He holds it out toward CATHERINE, then mischievously takes it back.
JAMIE Ah! First, a story. New and unpublished. A little Christmas story. I call it “The Story of Schmuel, Tailor of Klimovich.” Merry Christmas.
He pulls a pad out of his back pocket—it is absolutely covered with scribbles and would be completely indecipherable to anyone but JAMIE himself. He clears his throat melodramatically and begins to read.
Schmuel would work’til half-past ten at his tailor shop in Klimovich,
Get up at dawn and start again with the hems and pins and twist.
Forty-one years had come and gone at his tailor shop in Klimovich.
Watching the winters soldier on, there was one thing Schmuel missed.
“If I only had time,” old Schmuel said,
“I would build the dress that’s in my head,
A dress to fire
The mad desire
Of girls from here to Minsk,
But I have no more hours left to sew”
Then the clock upon the wall began to glow. . .
And the clock said:
“Na na na na, na na na,
Oh, Schmuel, you’ll get to be happy!
Na na na na, na na na,
I give you unlimited time!
Na na na na, na na na,
So, Schmuel, go sew and be happy!”
But Schmuel said, “No, no, it’s not my lot—
I’ve gotta make do with the time I’ve got.”
Schmuel was done at half-past ten and he said, “Good night, old Klimovich,”
Put on his coat to go, but then the clock cried, “Wait! Not yet!
Even though you’re not wise or rich, you’re the finest man in Klimovich!
Listen up, Schmuel—make one stitch and you’ll see what you can get!”
But Schmuel said, “Clock, it’s much too late.
I’m at peace with life, I accept my fate. . .”
But the clock said, “Schmuel!
One stitch and you will
Unlock the dreams you’ve lost!”
So Schmuel, with reluctance, took his thread.
He pulled a bolt of velvet and he said:
“I should take out my teeth and go to bed,
I’m sitting here with talking clocks instead!”
And the clock said:
“Na na na na, na na na,
Oh, Schmuel, you’ll get to be happy!
Na na na na, na na na,
I give you unlimited time!
Na na na na, na na na,
Just do it and you can be happy!”
So Schmuel put the thread through the needle’s eye
And the moon stared down from a starless sky,
And he pushed the thread through the velvet black
And he looked, and the clock was turning. . . back!
So he grabbed his shears and he cut some lace
As the hands reversed on the old clock’s face!
And his fingers flew and the fabric swirled—
It was nine-fifteen all around the world!
Ev‘ry cut and stitch was a perfect fit,
As if God Himself were controlling it!
And Schmuel cried, through a rush of tears,
“Take me back! Take me back all forty-one years!”
And on it went, down that silent street,
‘Til Schmuel’s dress was at last complete,
And he stretched his arms, and he closed his eyes,
And the morning sun finally started to rise.
And the dress he made on that endless night
Was a dress that would make any soul take flight!
Not a swatch, not a skein had gone to waste—
Ev’ry ribbon and button ideally placed,
And sewn into the seams
Were forty-one seasons of dreams
Dreams that you could feel
Coming real.
And that very dress, so the papers swore,
Was the dress a girl in Odessa wore
On the day she promised forevermore
To love a young man named Schmuel
Who only one day before
Had knocked at her kitchen door.
Finished with the story, he puts the pad back in his pocket and takes out the little box again.
Plenty have hoped and dreamed and prayed, but they can’t get out of Klimovich.
If Schmuel had been a cute goyishe maid, he’d’ve looked a lot like you.
Maybe it’s just that you’re afraid to go out onto a limb-ovich.
Maybe your heart’s completely swayed, but your head can’t follow through.
But shouldn’t I want the world to see
The brilliant girl who inspires me?
Don’t you think that now’s a good time to be
The ambitious freak you are?
Say goodbye to wiping ashtrays at the bar!
Say hello to Cathy Hiatt, big-time star!
’Cause I say:
Na na na na, na na na na
Cathy, you get to be happy!
Na na na na, na na na
I give you unlimited time!
Na na na na, na na na
Stop temping and go and be happy!
He pulls a magazine and a business card from his back pocket.
Here’s a headshot guy and a new BackStage,
Where you’re right for something on ev’ry page—
Take a breath,
Take a step,
Take a chance. . .
And now he opens the top half of the little box and takes out a lovely watch.
Take your time.
Have I mentioned today
How lucky I am
To be in love with you?
The lights fade.
SCENE 7
A SUMMER IN OHIO
Six months before Scene 5. CATHERINE, writing a letter to JAMIE.
CATHERINE
I could have a mansion on a hill.
I could lease a villa in Seville,
But it wouldn’t be as nice
As a summer in Ohio
With a gay midget named Karl
Playing Tevye and Porgy.
I could wander Paris after dark,
Take a carriage ride through Central Park,
But it wouldn’t be as nice
As a summer in Ohio,
Where I’m sharing a room
With a “former” stripper and her snake:
Wayne.
I could have a satchel full of dollar bills,
Cures for all the nation’s ills,
Pills to make a lion purr;
I could be in line to be the British Queen,
Look like I was seventeen,
Still I’m certain I’d prefer
To be going slowly batty
Forty miles east of Cincinnati.
I could shove an ice pick in my eye,
I could eat some fish from last July,
But it wouldn’t be as awful
As a summer in Ohio
Without cable, hot water,
Vietnamese food,
Or you.
I saw your book at a Borders in Kentucky
Under a sign that said “New and Recommended.”
I stole a look at your picture on the
inside sleeve,
And then I couldn’t leave.
Richard, who was with me, got uncharacteristically quiet,
Then he said, “All things considered, I guess you don’t have to buy it.”
So I smiled like Mona Lisa and I lay my Visa down!
He wants me, he wants me,
But he ain’t gonna get me!
I’ve found my guiding light—
I tell the stars each night:
“Look at me! Look at him! Son of a bitch!
I guess I’m doing something right!
I finally got something right!”
No, it’s not Nirvana, but it’s on the way.
I play Anita at the matinee,
Then I’ll get on my knees and pray
I can state in my next bio:
I’m never gonna go back to Ohio!
I could chew on tin foil for a spell!
I could get a root canal in Hell,
But it wouldn’t be as swell
As this summer is gonna be!
’Cause the torture is just exquisite
While I’m waiting for you to visit,
So hurry up, schmuck, get unstuck and get on the scene!
Love,
The Midget, the Stripper, Wayne the Snake
And Mrs. Jamie Wellerstein—
That’s me!
Blackout.
SCENE 8