|
 |
 |
 |
|
 |
 |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
||||||||
|
|
|
||||||||||
|
|||
DAN O'BRIEN | Key WestAct One: North BRIGID Hi. Sorry to bother you, but I seem to have lost my keys.
BRIGID (cont’d.) Excuse me: NIALL What are the chances? BRIGID I beg your pardon? NIALL Coming to Key West and two straight days of rain? BRIGID —Three actually. NIALL —Has it been three already? BRIGID This is the third day. NIALL Gets so you lose count around here. —I live here, I have to live here, but a person like you—
NIALL (cont’d.) . . . . BRIGID . . . Yes. . . . Well, you see, my keys— NIALL
—We’re closed, by the way. BRIGID The sign says open. NIALL Does it? BRIGID Yes. NIALL Flip it around— BRIGID It’s not even eleven o’clock— NIALL It’s half eleven, the weather’s Biblical—flip the God damned—!
NIALL (cont’d.) Thank you. Now: BRIGID —You’re welcome. NIALL What’s wrong with you? BRIGID . . . I told you: I have lost the keys to my car and— NIALL Did you now? BRIGID —Yes. —And I have reason to believe they might be here. NIALL Did you know that the human body is over 80% water? BRIGID . . . Yes, I think I read that somewhere. NIALL Doesn’t make much sense, now does it? I mean, that can’t be true: If you tried to touch someone they’d just slip right through your fingers. . . . BRIGID . . . . NIALL —Where’d you lose them? BRIGID Who? NIALL Your keys, my girl, your keys— BRIGID —If I knew that I wouldn’t be here now would I? NIALL —There’s no reason to shout, my dear! BRIGID Sorry. . . . Sorry. NIALL
No, I’m sorry. I’m the one
who should be sorry:
NIALL (cont’d) Close your eyes. BRIGID —Why? NIALL —Close them! there: Now I want you to think. BRIGID . . . About? NIALL —Backwards, think back in time. We’re
going to find your lost keys. —You can remember anything if you
just think long enough for it. . . . BRIGID Outside. In the rain. NIALL And before that? BRIGID On the road, walking. . . . NIALL And before: BRIGID In the water. NIALL —You went swimming out in this? BRIGID —I was asleep—I was dreaming of swimming— NIALL Oh, well that’s an entirely different matter altogether. . . . BRIGID —And I woke up just now and it was dark— NIALL —Late night last night was it? BRIGID I was here. NIALL . . . No you weren’t. BRIGID Yes, I was. NIALL
. . . . BRIGID —It was crowded— NIALL I remember faces. . . . I would’ve remembered your face in particular. . . . BRIGID . . . Can I open my ("eyes now")? NIALL Not yet no: BRIGID . . . I sat in the corner, had too much to drink. —I got sick in the bathroom and walked home in the rain. . . . NIALL —Home? BRIGID Mirage, where I’m staying. Know it? NIALL Sure, Jean Coyle: friend of mine. BRIGID Sure she is, but it’s not Jean Coyle runs Mirage. NIALL Maybe it’s not Mirage you’re staying. BRIGID It is, and Billy Reilly runs Mirage. NIALL I don’t know no Billy Reilly. BRIGID —Well he knows you.
NIALL . . . Does he now?
NIALL (cont’d.) —Well they’re not here. BRIGID Who? NIALL Your keys, my girl, your keys! BRIGID —Are you sure? I mean—have you looked? NIALL Of course I haven’t looked for your God damned keys. . . . BRIGID —Then how can you know for sure? NIALL Hey! BRIGID —they could be anywhere. —All I mean is how do you know if you won’t even look? —Can I? look? NIALL Suit yourself. . . .
NIALL (cont’d.) —But leave everything as you found it, understand? BRIGID . . . Jesus, do you dust? NIALL I can’t: I’m allergic. BRIGID What about health code? NIALL Do I look like a man who cares about health code? BRIGID You don’t get many customers in here, do you . . . ? NIALL You tell me, you were here last night. . . . BRIGID . . . It’s like a museum, or a mausoleum. NIALL I call it my Memory Palace: "Memory Palace in Decay." That’s from a poem by Keith Waldrop. I don’t suppose you’re familiar with his work. BRIGID
. . . . NIALL Didn’t think so. BRIGID
. . . It can’t be good for you. NIALL Of course poetry isn’t good for you. . . . BRIGID No, all this—what is this—? NIALL Careful—! BRIGID —asbestos? NIALL It’s only dangerous if you—
NIALL (cont’d.) —touch it. . . . BRIGID Sorry. —Sorry. . . . NIALL It’s all right: just don’t breathe.
NIALL A friend of mine’s a pharmacist. BRIGID I bet he is. . . .
NIALL —Put that back, please— BRIGID I’m not going to break it. NIALL Put it back, I said—! BRIGID —Why do you keep a plunger on your wall? NIALL It was my father’s. . . . BRIGID I take it he was a plumber . . . ? NIALL No, he was full of shite. BRIGID Oh: ha ha. NIALL Yes, ha ha—now put it back. BRIGID
—What’s this? NIALL What does it look like? BRIGID
It’s a compass. . . . NIALL —Now put it back.
BRIGID There seems to be a nautical theme here. —Are you fond of the ocean? NIALL No, but living on an island: there it is.
NIALL (cont’d.) —Give up? BRIGID . . . Are we playing a game? NIALL Your keys, my girl—! BRIGID No, I haven’t given up. . . . (She smiles.) I’ve just started. NIALL Well we’ll have to keep an eye out for you:
Lost things have a habit of turning up here. BRIGID I don’t, thanks—drink. NIALL And last night was what, shore leave . . . ? BRIGID
A special occasion—celebration. . . . NIALL Oh, ah . . . BRIGID It was, yes. (Smiles again.) NIALL —Celebration of what, may I ask? BRIGID My freedom; my—liberation, you could say. —Can I have a glass of water, please? NIALL Of course you may, my girl. . . .
NIALL (cont’d.) Here y’are, my girl. One hundred
percent Key West tap water: at least 80% water. BRIGID Thank you, sir. (Takes a sip:) Delish.
NIALL . . . Now I suppose you expect me to talk to you. . . . BRIGID And what is it we’ve just been doing? NIALL Chit-chat, repartee. —I was right in the middle of a very good game of solitaire, I’ll have you know. BRIGID By all means don’t let me stop you playing with yourself. NIALL —You have a wonderful way of talking. BRIGID . . . . NIALL You realize that . . . ? BRIGID Do I? NIALL Do you talk that way to everyone? or just to strangers? —Have we met before? BRIGID That’s an old line. NIALL I’m an old man. . . . BRIGID Not that old. . . . NIALL —Where you from? BRIGID Here and there . . . NIALL —Are you serious? BRIGID Yes, I’m completely serious! NIALL Well there’s no here here, my girl. BRIGID . . . I don’t understand. NIALL Just misquoting my good friend Gertrude Stein. . . . She’s a writer, you know. BRIGID Oh. NIALL
Ah. BRIGID
Ah. . . . NIALL Yes, she is. BRIGID —Does she come here often? NIALL Not as often as you might think: she’s dead. BRIGID . . . Oh . . . I’m sorry. NIALL Don’t be. She wasn’t. Ms. Stein was
what you might call an unrepentant lesbian. BRIGID I don’t. Make much of them. —Listen, nothing against your friend Miss Stern— NIALL "Stein." BRIGID —right, but I need to find my keys and get the hell out of Dodge, so if you don’t mind— NIALL Why? BRIGID What? NIALL Why leave so soon? sit down—where’s the rush? don’t you like it here in Paradise? BRIGID I don’t. As a matter of fact, no. I hate it here. NIALL You "hate" it here? BRIGID —I loathe it here! NIALL Please don’t spare my feelings— BRIGID —This has been the most miserable week of my entire fucking life! NIALL . . . And why is that, do you think? BRIGID You know . . . ? I honestly do not know. NIALL Tell me: BRIGID It’s stupid really— NIALL I would consider it a rare opportunity for, I don’t know— BRIGID —Mustaches. NIALL I beg your pardon? BRIGID There are too many men with mustaches here. It’s like Iraq. NIALL That’s the reason you "loathe" Key West: mustaches? BRIGID Yesterday I was out walking, in the rain, and this
guy—with a mustache—drives by in a pickup truck
and flicks a cigarette at me. NIALL You do, but— BRIGID I’m sorry— NIALL —takes all kinds. BRIGID
. . . . NIALL . . . You know what I think: BRIGID Tell me: NIALL You’re bored. BRIGID No, I’m not— NIALL Stands to reason: Beautiful young woman without a young man. . . . BRIGID What makes you think I don’t have a young man? NIALL Do you? BRIGID . . . . NIALL . . . Or young woman, then?—this is Key West, after all. BRIGID I don’t think I know you well enough— NIALL How long’ve you been down here so? BRIGID Three days. I told you: —Long as it’s been raining. . . . Rain doesn’t bother me, though; I prefer rain to sun any day. NIALL You do. BRIGID ("Yes.") NIALL Let me understand something: BRIGID What: NIALL You’ve come to Key West and you don’t like the sun? BRIGID Rain either, truth be told. —I don’t like "weather," as a rule, as a topic of conversation. —I prefer rooms. NIALL
New York. BRIGID . . . ? NIALL That’s where you’re from: New York City—am I right? BRIGID
Is it that obvious? NIALL It’s your ("face")— BRIGID Oh, God—! NIALL A person gets to have a kind of face on account
of where she lives. And your face says "New York City." BRIGID
—Well fuck you too! NIALL
The Bronx was once quite beautiful, my girl! Dutch
farmland, the Iroquois BRIGID —And you’re wrong: I’m from New Haven. NIALL . . . Oh my, it’s worse than I thought. BRIGID But I grew up in New York. So that’s very astute of you, very—perceptive. NIALL . . . . BRIGID In the Bronx. NIALL —You don’t say! BRIGID —I do, I do say! NIALL You’re not just telling me what you think I want to hear, now are you? BRIGID I don’t know, I don’t know you—what is it you want to hear? NIALL . . . Where in the Bronx did you say? BRIGID Are you familiar with the Bronx? NIALL I grew up in "the Brahnx." BRIGID —You don’t say! NIALL I do so say! BRIGID Zerega. NIALL —Zerega, I know Zerega.
I used to run through Zerega every morning in m football uniform on
my way to school because this gang of Italians used to chase me and
beat me just for being Irish. BRIGID No. NIALL You look Italian—a little: the hair . . . BRIGID I thought you said I looked New York. NIALL The two aren’t mutually exclusive, my dear. BRIGID Well I’m not. —I’m a little Italian. My mother’s mother was Italian, I think, but I’m Irish all the way. NIALL . . . Ah. BRIGID . . . Oh. NIALL . . . Yes, well . . . you don’t sound very Oirish. BRIGID Well that’s because I’m not. —I’m American. NIALL —But you’re also Irish. BRIGID Irish-American. You know what I mean. NIALL As long as we’ve got all the hyphens in place. . . .
NIALL (cont’d.) You’d have to be Black-Irish, that’s what you’d have to be . . . with your hair. . . . BRIGID
. . . . NIALL —Irish-American, you don’t say. BRIGID —80% Irish. American, yes. NIALL That’s a curious figure, "80"—how do you figure that figure? BRIGID Three out of four grandparents were Irish. And one of them was fat. NIALL That’s not very funny, you know. BRIGID "But seriously folks, I’ll be here all week." NIALL You were setting me up for that one? Were you setting me up? BRIGID No— NIALL
—Don’t you dare set me up, girl! BRIGID . . . . NIALL . . . Because you’re dealing with a world-class
bullshitter here, and you can’t bullshit a bullshitter. (Smiles:) BRIGID Sure . . . ancient Irish proverb. —Can I have some more water please? NIALL You’ve not finished with that one yet.
NIALL
What do you do up there in sunny New Haven? BRIGID I attend Divinity School.
NIALL
I’m sorry: I thought you just said "Divinity School." BRIGID I did. NIALL Well. BRIGID Yes. NIALL —You don’t say. . . . BRIGID Well, I did actually. —Twice—say. NIALL —"Divinity School" . . . what are you studying to be, better than the rest of us? BRIGID —A priest.
NIALL Priestess? BRIGID Priest is fine. NIALL Or "priestperson," would you prefer? I know how you young women are these days— BRIGID Priest is fine, thanks. NIALL And what religion would it be that allows a beautiful young woman like yourself to become a dirty old priest? BRIGID The Episcopal Church. NIALL
—I might have known! BRIGID —What have you got against the Episcopal Church? NIALL Oh now look, I’ve got nothing against Episcopals—they’ve a right to exist. Alls I’m saying is it rubs me the wrong way to see an 80% Black-Irish-American-Girl turning her back on the Holy Mother Church of Rome. BRIGID The Catholic Church won’t ordain female
priests; they condemn abortion, birth control; NIALL —You don’t believe in the Virgin birth? BRIGID Not literally, no— NIALL —You believe in what, the gist of it? BRIGID I believe in the metaphor of the virgin birth. NIALL I believe that makes you an atheist, my girl. BRIGID
The virgin birth is just a metaphor by way
of the Greeks: Leda and the Swan, Persephone and the Serpent—they
all have virgin births. The only Gospel—only one of the four
sanctioned Gospels—that mentions a Virgin birth is Luke, written
by a Greek for a Greek audience. NIALL Not anymore, anyway. BRIGID Not anymore. . . . You’re very funny. —Or
at least you think you are. . . . NIALL
. . . . BRIGID —I don’t mean to freak you out. NIALL No— BRIGID I’m curious, that’s all— NIALL Some of my best friends are believers! BRIGID —We’re not that different, you know, Catholic and Protestant, Episcopal, once you get out of Northern Ireland. We believe in the same God. It’s just that the Episcopal God is much more— NIALL Metaphorical. BRIGID I was going to say "personal," but— NIALL A "fuzzy" God. BRIGID You can sit down and have a conversation with
Him. NIALL Don’t you miss it though?—confession, like? BRIGID We have confession, you just have to make an appointment first. —I can arrange one for you, if you’d like. NIALL . . . I know what you mean about the Catholics. BRIGID What do I mean about the Catholics—? NIALL I was raised Catholic, and they committed all sorts
of atrocities on me. BRIGID It would have to be. NIALL I was born left-handed, you see, and every
day at school they’d tie the thing behind my back and make me
write with my right. "Write with your right!" they’d
shriek—the crows, the banshees. BRIGID . . . You see? the trouble literal-mindedness gets you into? NIALL I’ve another if you have a minute: BRIGID Well . . . NIALL Sitting in class, daydreaming, twelve like,
hunched over one of those inexplicable adolescent erections. It was
a burgeoning bright tumescent spring day, and who should come patrolling
the aisle but Sister Mary Frigidquim slapping her twelve-inch ruler
like it were a baton. . . . She glances down at the conspicuous if
I do say so myself bulge in my trousers—and she presses it—with
her ruler! The bitch depresses the part of my pants that appears to
harbor an erection—like it were nothing—like she were testing
the firmness of a cake. . . . BRIGID . . . . NIALL You don’t mind me asking—? BRIGID —No, I’m not. Are you? NIALL What?—celibate? Go on! BRIGID Even after what happened with the erection? NIALL Even after!—you could say because of
what happened with the erection—and it was the celibacy thing
that kept me straight. BRIGID I don’t know— NIALL It’s lunacy— BRIGID It’s contrary to human nature— NIALL It’s self-hatred is what it is— BRIGID It’s a Papal ruling based on medieval West-European economics. NIALL —Is it now? BRIGID There’s no call for it anywhere in the Gospels. NIALL Isn’t there though? BRIGID None whatsoever. NIALL Well now . . . ! BRIGID Mind if I smoke? (Rummages in bag for
cigarettes, lighter.) NIALL And why is that, do you think? BRIGID It’s complicated really. . . . NIALL It would have to be. BRIGID —It’s the body-soul dichotomy: People who hate the body are perceived as holier than those who love it. —I should know: I’m anorexic—or I used to be, anyway.—The body is the vessel that carries the soul on its journey through the world. No more the real person than the map of a country is the actual country. The body is not the soul. The body most often obscures the soul. —Since the dawn of time people have been trying to strip away the body—through abstinence, mortification—to get at who we really are. . . . Burn the map, the thinking goes, find the country.
NIALL You really are a divinity student, aren’t you? BRIGID You think I’m what, a nerd? NIALL A what? BRIGID I don’t know—a "nerd"? NIALL Ha! BRIGID I don’t have my degree yet. . . . NIALL Well you should have it! You should have that
by now, I think . . . ! BRIGID . . . . NIALL —God, I know I know you. BRIGID I don’t think so. NIALL The way you argue with me, the way you smoke that cigarette— BRIGID I’m a lesbian, by the way. NIALL . . . . BRIGID . . . . NIALL . . . You don’t say. BRIGID I did. Actually. Say. —You realize you say "you don’t say" quite a lot? NIALL Well that’s because you keep saying things that surprise me. —Why do you keep doing that? BRIGID
. . . . NIALL . . . May I ask you a question so? BRIGID Shoot: NIALL Did you walk through that door a lesbian? or was it something I said? BRIGID —Don’t be cute! NIALL It’s an honest question—! BRIGID I used to date men—I’ve loved men but— NIALL —You’ve changed— BRIGID People change—! NIALL I’ve heard of that happening. . . . BRIGID Can I have another glass ("of water") ? NIALL
Of course you may, my girl. . . . BRIGID I’m not a lesb—I am a lesbian. I’m not an alcoholic. Now you’ve got me all mixed up. NIALL
. . . . BRIGID You ask a lot of questions for a man whose bar is closed. NIALL How else do you get to know people, I think? BRIGID Do you know a lot of people . . . ? NIALL That’s because I don’t like people very much. BRIGID You’ve been very kind to me. NIALL That’s only because I don’t know
you yet.
BRIGID —Bridge.
NIALL Sorry? BRIGID That’s my name. It’s short for Brigid.
NIALL Pleased to meet you, Bridge. —I can’t call you "Bridge," it’s far too pedestrian. BRIGID Oh ha ha— NIALL I could call you Biddy or Bridie, or the Latinate "Brigitta"—or in Irish, the hard G: Brigg-id. (Still holding her hand.) .
. . Or maybe I should call you Saint Brigid. —Would you like
that? Patron Saint of Poets. . . . BRIGID Brigid is fine. NIALL A good 80% Irish-American name, Brigid. BRIGID
Pleased to meet you, Niall. . . . NIALL Yes: BRIGID I think I will have that drink now. NIALL What! —A flesh-and-blood drink? BRIGID I’m not a fucking fish, Niall! NIALL Wine, then? —Wine? A finger of filthy Chardonnay? BRIGID Whiskey please, Mr. O’Neill: my throat’s a little sore from— NIALL Oh you poor girl—
BRIGID —all that singing last night and— NIALL One hot toddy coming up—with lemon? BRIGID Yes please, thank you, Niall. NIALL
. . . May I ask you another question so, Brigid? BRIGID . . . ? NIALL How is it you’ve come to know my last name? BRIGID . . . Do I? NIALL You said it just a second ago. BRIGID I must’ve read the sign. NIALL Which sign? BRIGID The sign outside. NIALL Oh no, dear: That sign says "The Second Coming." BRIGID Does it? NIALL It used to light up. BRIGID Sounds like a gay bar. NIALL —Who told you my name, Bridge? BRIGID I must’ve heard it somewhere. NIALL "Billy Reilly"— BRIGID I was looking for a place last night, a quiet place
to drink, and Billy Reilly mentioned your bar: Looks like a house from
the road but inside you’ll find a pub, he said. He must’ve
said your name, "Niall O’Neill," and it stuck with me
because that’s my name too. NIALL . . . . BRIGID . . . . NIALL . . . It’s a common enough name, O’Neill.
Half your Irish diaspora’s got it: "On horseback, camel-back,
ass-back they came." (Brings her the whiskey.) BRIGID I remember yours.
BRIGID (Cont’d.) —Jesus! NIALL Calm down— BRIGID It’s close!
NIALL
—Lightning won’t come through the window, my girl— BRIGID —How do you know? NIALL We’re in a flood zone—we ought to be afraid of drowning!
BRIGID . . . I’m sorry. NIALL . . . It’s all right. BRIGID I just have this fear . . . NIALL . . . It’s far away now, over Cuba. —It
always rains harder over Cuba. And do you know why? Because they’re
Communists, that’s why. . . . (Another flash of lightning,
thunder.)
NIALL
"North south east west." BRIGID
But I’m Episcopal— NIALL Come on, you might learn something: "North south: BRIGID "North south east west." NIALL "Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews" BRIGID "Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews" NIALL "from a sudden and unprovided for death" BRIGID "from a sudden and unprovided for death" NIALL "deliver us, O Lord." BRIGID "deliver us, O Lord." NIALL Amen. BRIGID
Amen. NIALL . . . There. Feel better? BRIGID I thought you said you weren’t religious. NIALL I’m not—I’m Catholic.
BRIGID . . . When I was a girl, I wouldn’t go to the bathroom during thunderstorms. NIALL . . . Would you not? BRIGID I thought: if lightning can strike the reservoir, and the reservoir is connected through the pipes all the way to my house, and to my toilet . . . and the water in the toilet is connected to my body, well, when I—when I "pee" . . . then all it takes is one bolt of lightning in the Catskills and pphhhhttt, I’m toast. NIALL This was a very real fear of yours? BRIGID Yes. NIALL And did someone ever give you the impression that electrocution via the Catskills whilst peeing was even a remote possibility? BRIGID I don’t think so . . . NIALL You just thought— BRIGID
It could happen! NIALL
It could happen—! BRIGID —Yes, why not? NIALL Why not you?—you could be the exception to the rule? BRIGID Hey, lightning strikes— NIALL Aye, sometimes twice. . . . BRIGID . . . You think I’m what, weird? NIALL I would never call another human being "weird." . . . Much less an anorexic lesbian priest afeared of pissing in storms. BRIGID That’s not very funny. NIALL Well I thought it was— BRIGID —And I’m not an anorexic anymore. NIALL Now you’re just splitting hairs— BRIGID And I’ve heard a few stories about you, "Niall O’Neill." NIALL . . . From who? BRIGID My father. NIALL . . . Who’s your father? BRIGID Your brother. NIALL . . . . BRIGID . . . . NIALL How old are you? BRIGID Twenty-three. NIALL I’m having—. BRIGID It was a long time ago—when I saw you
last. I was a girl. I was playing on the floor by the front door, in
the morning, and you came into the apartment when the rest of the family
was asleep. You had a key, why did you have a key? NIALL . . . I don’t remember that— BRIGID It happened— NIALL I’m not saying it didn’t— BRIGID It happened, I’m telling you— NIALL It might have happened. I’m just saying—! I don’t—. You’re going to have to give me a minute
on this one. . . . BRIGID My father said you were a pathological liar. NIALL . . . Did he now? BRIGID He said you were in the witness protection program. NIALL —Ah right: Harold would say that. . . . BRIGID He said you killed someone—something
involving drugs—do you deal drugs?—or smuggle? NIALL Well that’s very exotic. . . . BRIGID You were dating Huey Newton’s girlfriend
and the Panthers wanted you dead, so you stole your mother’s
collection of early-American coins and her Buick Century and headed
out west. —Or Key West. —Or San Francisco, or
Alaska—nobody ever really knew for sure where you were. . . . NIALL . . . . BRIGID Stroke. Two years ago. NIALL He was—. He was younger than me—. BRIGID We didn’t know where you were— NIALL You could’ve hired someone— BRIGID We did—no one could find you: no bank accounts, no credit cards, no tax records—you don’t exist, Niall. NIALL How did you find me, then? BRIGID —Aren’t you upset? I just told you your brother’s dead— NIALL Of course I’m "upset"—! BRIGID Did you two have a falling out? over what? NIALL Nothing— BRIGID Then why did you leave like that? why you did sneak into the house? why did you talk to me and only me and give me that Bible? NIALL —Look, I’m sorry to disappoint you, Brigid, but there’s no secret here: I was dating a black girl. Joyce wasn’t Huey Newton’s girlfriend, but she was black, which was bad enough for the Bronx Irish—and she’s the one who stole your grandmother’s car. BRIGID And the coins? NIALL Forty bucks at a pawnshop bought me bus fare to Chicago. BRIGID Did you kill anyone? NIALL At that point no. BRIGID So how do you think a story like that gets started? NIALL Your father was the pathological liar—it’s true: He lied all the time. Our mother lied. They all lied, the whole fucking clan did—it was what they did for conversation. They never thought they were lying, which is why they were so good at it—which is what the Irish do: They’re too frightened, or maybe just too sinister, to know people. You know? Actually get to know them. So they make up all sorts of charming lies to cover up their appalling lack of knowledge. BRIGID Do you ever lie? NIALL God, you look so much like her. . . . BRIGID . . . . NIALL It’s startling: the hair. . . . BRIGID No. NIALL Do you talk to her? BRIGID —Not if I can help it. NIALL You should talk to her. If you were my daughter,
I’d want to know where you were. BRIGID Don’t say "lesbian" like that, it sounds like a nationality— NIALL Gay then, "gay"— BRIGID You know there was a theory there for a while
that you were gay. My dad met someone at a company picnic once who
said he’d seen you in Nashville singing country’n’western
songs with a guy named Ray. —Ray ate grass, apparently—some
kind of fruitcake vegetarian. NIALL . . . And what did your father say? BRIGID "Nah, Niall’s too tall to be queer." NIALL Too tall! BRIGID That’s what he said. —So how about it: you and Ray? NIALL What do you want, Bridge? BRIGID . . . What do you mean? NIALL This is all what, a coincidence? BRIGID I don’t want anything from you— NIALL Lightning struck twice? BRIGID I didn’t come here looking for you, if that’s what you mean—I haven’t thought about you in years— NIALL Then how did you find me? BRIGID I told you: I left my keys here last night and— NIALL We’re closed. BRIGID . . . I know— NIALL No you’re not listening: The bar’s been closed over a year now. I don’t run it anymore. —I’m retired. —This is where I live. So you couldn’t have been here last night. BRIGID . . . . NIALL So tell me the truth this time, Bridge: Why are you here? BRIGID I stole a car. NIALL . . . . BRIGID Yeah— NIALL Oh. Well— BRIGID It’s not a big deal. NIALL —How is it not a big deal? It’s a big fucking deal to steal a car! BRIGID I know, but it’s not—I mean, I know whose car it is— NIALL Knowing the person doesn’t make it any less of a crime, my girl! BRIGID It wasn’t a "crime." It was stupid. —I know the person I stole it from— NIALL —So those aren’t your keys? BRIGID —What? NIALL The keys you’re looking for—they’re not even your keys. BRIGID . . . I’m sorry, Niall. I don’t mean to dump this on you—. NIALL Take a bus, then—back to New York. —New Haven. Wherever you’re from. If you hate it here—if you lost your stolen keys: why not take a bus? BRIGID I have to bring the car back, don’t I? NIALL Do you? BRIGID I can’t just leave it here— NIALL Call AA, then. BRIGID What are they going to do, give me a twelve-step program for hot-wiring a car? NIALL —Triple-A, you know what I mean. BRIGID I don’t have triple-A, and I can’t ask the police. —Can you hot-wire a car? NIALL Sure. BRIGID Really? NIALL Yeah, what kind of car is she? BRIGID I don’t know. NIALL —You stole a car and you don’t know what she is? BRIGID I wanted to drive it, not sell it. NIALL You may be a lesbian, my girl, but you’re still very much a woman. . . . BRIGID It’s domestic. I think. NIALL Oh, I don’t do domestic. . . . BRIGID —What kind of car do you drive? NIALL I’m not letting you near my car, my girl— BRIGID I don’t want your car—I want to find my keys and go home! NIALL —You go home with that car you’ll get arrested. You can’t "borrow" a car without permission then chalk it all up to a misunderstanding. BRIGID Unless it’s your mother’s car. (Smiles.) NIALL . . . . BRIGID Yeah. NIALL Well that changes everything. That’s
not stealing, that’s adolescence. BRIGID —She doesn’t know I stole it. —She knows it’s gone, I’m sure, but she doesn’t know it was me. NIALL Why’d you steal it? BRIGID We had a fight. NIALL About what: BRIGID Doesn’t matter. NIALL —What was the fight about? BRIGID I told you it doesn’t matter. NIALL So stealing the car was an act of vengeance? BRIGID . . . . NIALL Dump it then. Leave it here. I know some people who’ll take it, give you some cash. —Go back to Divinity School without the car and you know nothing. You had an "identity crisis" and left New Haven for a little R & R and you’re feeling “much better now.” . . . Nobody will suspect you, an Episcopal priestperson. BRIGID I don’t know if I can do that. NIALL Why not? BRIGID I’m a terrible liar. NIALL I bet you are. BRIGID —I don’t think I could live with myself is what I mean. NIALL You can forget almost anything if you just put your mind to it, my girl. BRIGID Is it that easy? NIALL . . . .
NIALL (cont’d.) . . . Would you care for one?
BRIGID Are you okay? NIALL It’s a medication I’m on for a virus. It makes my hands shake.
BRIGID . . . How’d you get your name? NIALL What? BRIGID It’s kind of—redundant, isn’t it? NIALL . . . It is redundant. That’s precisely
what it is.
BRIGID What does my name mean in Irish? NIALL Don’t know. . . . We’ll have to look it up, won’t we . . . ? BRIGID Are you rich? NIALL . . . "Rich"? BRIGID My dad used to say you had a lot of money. —From the drugs, or something. He said you drove a Rolls Royce. NIALL —Jaguar, actually.
BRIGID I know: I just didn’t understand the word you used. NIALL —"Jaguar" BRIGID —You mean "jaguar" NIALL That’s what I said: Jaguar. BRIGID Expensive car, the Jag-u-ar. NIALL —Not the one I’ve got: I got mine on the cheap. BRIGID How? NIALL You know those police auctions where they
sell off the cars they’ve confiscated?
BRIGID Why’d they confiscate it? NIALL —The fuck does it matter why’d they confiscate it? BRIGID It matters a lot. I mean, aren’t you curious?—who owned it before, why the police had it? NIALL I know why the police had it, and I’m saying it doesn’t matter. BRIGID —To you. NIALL To me. BRIGID So tell me: it matters to me: NIALL ("No.") BRIGID Why not? NIALL You’d be— BRIGID What? NIALL I don’t know—"disturbed." BRIGID
. . . Oh God please you have to tell me now! ! NIALL They didn’t so much confiscate as retrieve
it. . . .
BRIGID Jesus . . . NIALL Yes . . . BRIGID —Was it an accident? NIALL Not unless he’d been accidentally shot
in the back of the head.
BRIGID God . . . NIALL I cleaned it up—interior was soaked all to hell. But other than that, she’s a steal. BRIGID Where is she?—it? NIALL Round the back, under a tarp. I don’t drive it. BRIGID Why not? NIALL It’s haunted. BRIGID Oh come on— NIALL It’s very real to me.
BRIGID . . . . NIALL I take it you don’t believe in ghosts. BRIGID Not really, no. NIALL You believe in souls but not in ghosts? BRIGID I believe in ghosts in the metaphorical sense— NIALL If it’s a metaphor then it’s not a ghost, my girl! —You’re trying to have it both ways. BRIGID —I think you can only be haunted by what you know, by what you’ve done. So unless you were the one who killed the man in his car, you’ve got nothing to worry about. NIALL . . . . BRIGID . . . . NIALL —Mind-reading: BRIGID . . . ? NIALL Does it happen—yes or no. BRIGID No. NIALL ESP? BRIGID I think people are more perceptive than they realize. NIALL —This is exactly what’s wrong with your generation! You never take a stand on anything. Say what you will about the ’60’s— BRIGID Was I saying anything about the ’60’s? NIALL At least we believed in things. We had faith, passion. We got our hands dirty— BRIGID And look where that got you. NIALL . . . . BRIGID I said "you" but I meant your generation. . . . NIALL . . . Stigmata? BRIGID No way. . . . NIALL Spontaneous combustion— BRIGID Nope. NIALL —I think it’s beautiful: Flesh—poor mudmade flesh—bursting into flames. Doesn’t it just, I don’t know—wake you right up? BRIGID Has it occurred to you—? NIALL What: BRIGID —that spontaneous combustion is a scientific impossibility considering the fact that our bodies are 80% water? NIALL Oh well, you can make statistics say just about anything. . . . BRIGID
. . . . NIALL Do you think I’m loony? BRIGID No— NIALL Because I have been institutionalized. More than once. —But so was Sylvia Plath, and she was a right-on woman. Not to mention our friend James Joyce. . . . BRIGID Was he institutionalized? NIALL No, but his daughter was. It’s hereditary, nuttiness: so look out. BRIGID . . . . NIALL —Alls I’m saying is there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your theology, Brigid. —And there’s proof. BRIGID Where? NIALL The people themselves. BRIGID But you’re forgetting— NIALL What: BRIGID People lie: For instance, I’m not in Divinity School. I made that up. NIALL . . . . BRIGID . . . . NIALL . . . Why? BRIGID
I was scared. NIALL —Of me? BRIGID I don’t know—I don’t know you—but I’m telling you the truth now— NIALL Why would you be scared of me? BRIGID I say things when I’m nervous, I exaggerate— NIALL —Is it pathological? BRIGID They’re not lies. They’re—embellishments—like what you said about my family—our family: We can’t help it. Whatever’s happened, we always think of something better. NIALL Better than what? BRIGID . . . . NIALL So you didn’t steal your mother’s car? BRIGID Oh no, I did do that— NIALL Well thank God something’s true. BRIGID —And I did lose her keys—on the beach, I think—in the sand. . . . —And I want to be a priest—one day: I don’t want kids. I don’t want breasts. I want to fall in love, for once—and find out the truth—what’s real—you know?—in life: what’s really going on? NIALL . . . . BRIGID . . . Can I ask you a big question? NIALL . . . . BRIGID Do you believe in God? NIALL Oh, Christ— BRIGID I’m serious— NIALL Are you asking me—? BRIGID Why not? NIALL —Do you know how much I detest that fucking question? BRIGID I don’t see why you need to get abusive about it— NIALL It all depends on what you believe: I say yes to your question and I say yes to your God. BRIGID —So who’s your God? NIALL Tennessee Williams. . . .
BRIGID This is a family propensity—to derail dangerous conversation with banter. NIALL Who derailed? You’re the one who brought up "God," for fuck’s sake—and I never banter! BRIGID You can’t not banter! It’s like a twitch, you’re like a boxer! NIALL —I pray. All right? I get down on my knees, on a more or less nightly basis, and I pray. To the real God, a flesh-and-blood God, and not for Christ’s sake a metaphorical God. BRIGID —Why? —Why do you pray? NIALL Because it feels good—it makes me feel like a child again. BRIGID . . . Once, when I was seven, around the side
of my house I turned the corner into sunlight and felt my head explode,
or melt away. Like someone had pulled the plug in a tub and all the
water rushed out and all the inside of me rushed out. . . . My brain
was like the leaves on a tree, my spine its trunk, my bones its branches.
. . . The whole world was made of me. And I was nothing—a cloud,
water . . .
NIALL It sounds like you did have a seizure. BRIGID I did have a seizure. I have seizures all the time: I’m epileptic. NIALL . . . Are you now? BRIGID Yes. NIALL Alcohol brings them on, you know. BRIGID That and strobe lights, I know. —And
cigarettes, thanks. (She lights a cigarette.) NIALL What sort of medication? BRIGID Are you familiar with medication for epilepsy? NIALL Now listen, twenty minutes ago you were an Episcopal priest. BRIGID I want to be a priest, I explained that to you— NIALL Do you have some I.D.? BRIGID . . . ? NIALL Anything with a picture on it—name? driver’s license? BRIGID —As it turns out, no, I do not have a driver’s— NIALL You stole your mother’s car without a driver’s license? BRIGID If you’re going to do it, I say go all the way—! NIALL A student I.D. then?—library card? BRIGID —I don’t have any identification—not on me! NIALL Why not? BRIGID —No credit cards, no driver’s license, no fucking birth certificate! —I don’t exist, Niall—you should know what that’s like—I’m telling the truth about who I am and you’re just going to have to believe me. NIALL . . . You lived in an apartment building when you were a child. BRIGID So . . . ? NIALL 713 Florence Ave., 8th Floor. I remember because I used to visit. I gave you that Bible—I remember it now. BRIGID I don’t understand— NIALL You said you were walking around the corner of a "house" when you had your religious experience— BRIGID We moved when I was eight— NIALL To? BRIGID A house—in the suburbs— NIALL When was this? BRIGID When I was eight? ’84, ’85—and
while we’re on the subject of paranoia: didn’t you have
an accent?
NIALL This is my voice is my voice my dear— BRIGID Now you’re just putting it on— NIALL —I am putting no such thing on! BRIGID Two minutes ago you sounded like some guy from the Bronx! NIALL I am some guy from the Bronx! BRIGID So what’s with the phony brogue? NIALL —I am Irish from the Bronx! BRIGID You may have been born in Ireland, but you left when you were what? five? six? —How do I know you are who you say you are? You could be just some drug dealer who killed my uncle, and because he was nobody, nobody noticed he was gone. You took his car, his black "jag-u-ar," and you moved into his house. And you’re playing along with me because you don’t want me to find out. NIALL . . . . BRIGID . . . . NIALL That would be quite a story, now wouldn’t it. . . . BRIGID . . . I’m angry.
NIALL . . . . BRIGID Do I look like her? NIALL . . . Not so much look like her as act like her. BRIGID . . . Did you two ever have something together? NIALL . . . . BRIGID I know it’s crazy. I’m sorry. NIALL I’d like you to go. BRIGID —Why? NIALL I’m not mad at you, I’m— BRIGID —Did you love her? NIALL . . . . . BRIGID You loved her and she loved you—am I your daughter? NIALL
—You’ve got quite the nerve .
. . ! BRIGID It’s all right—! NIALL Coming into my house and digging—! BRIGID —I said it’s all right . . .
!
NIALL
. . . How old are you? BRIGID Twenty-three. NIALL Could be . . .
BRIGID . . . I’ll leave you alone— NIALL No— BRIGID I shouldn’t be here— NIALL Sit down— BRIGID I have to go— NIALL Where are you going? Where could you possibly have to go now?
NIALL (cont’d.) Do you need some money? BRIGID . . . ? NIALL I have money, lots of it—if that’s
what you want.
BRIGID I don’t want money— NIALL Don’t be embarrassed to ask— BRIGID —"your father." NIALL . . . . BRIGID . . . Do you have money? NIALL How much do you need? BRIGID Depending on what you’ve got . . . NIALL Five hundred? a thousand?—just say it: BRIGID Okay. NIALL Okay.
NIALL Here: BRIGID Thanks. I’ll pay you back. NIALL It’s a gift. BRIGID —No, I’ll pay you back:
Two: South
|
|||
 |
|
|
|