Act II, Scene 6

[A suburban playground.  George, Alice, and Michelle are on stage.  Taylor is hiding.  Enter Carol.]

George:     Carol!  Over here.

Carol:      Hello, George. [A frosty embrace]

Alice:      Good afternoon, Mrs. Bush.  My name is Alice Kennedy.  I'm with the Department of Child Services.

Carol:      Of course you are.

Alice:      This is Michelle Taylor.

Carol:      Hello.

Michelle:   Hi.

Alice:      This is Mrs. Bush, Michelle.  She's married to your father.  You might go to live with her.  What do you think about that?

Michelle:   Ok.

Alice:      She's a little shy around new people.  You sometimes have to bring her out.  But she really is a good girl.

Carol:      Do you go to school, Michelle?

Michelle:   Yes.

Carol:      What grade are you in?

Michelle:   Kindergarten.

Alice:      She would start first grade in the fall.

Carol:      First grade?  Really.  You must be a smart little girl.

Michelle:   S'pose.

Carol:      What do you like to do in kindergarten?

Michelle:   Paint.

Carol:      What do you like to paint?

Michelle:   Pictures.

Carol:      Pictures of what?

[Taylor reveals herself.]

Michelle:   My mom.

Carol:      Oh.

Alice:      They use painting a lot in therapy.  It's often easier for children to paint things that bother them than talk.

Carol:      I see.  Has she had a lot of therapy?

Alice:      About what you would expect, given what's she been through.  Less and less over time, of course.

Carol:      Of course.

[George and Taylor move away from the others.]

Taylor:     Isn't she beautiful?

George:     I thought you were going to go away.

Taylor:     Tired of me so soon?

George:     Look. You were right. I was wrong. I'm making amends. What more do you want?

Taylor:     I want to make sure you follow through on your promise. You haven't been that dependable in the past.

Carol:      You miss your mom, huh?

Michelle:   Yes.

Carol:      I'm sorry about what happened.

Michelle:   I know.  Everybody's always sorry.

Carol:      Yes, we are.  That doesn't help though, does it?  You still miss your mom.

Michelle:   Yes.

Carol:      How about your father?  What do you think about him?

Michelle:   He's okay.

Carol:      He works in Manhattan.  At a big investment firm.

Michelle:   Where my mom used to work.

Carol:      Yeah.  Where your mom used to work.

Taylor:     I don't see what you need her for.

George:     I can't do it on my own.

Taylor:     It doesn't have to be her.  You could hire someone.  A nanny.

George:     I don't want her brought up by a nanny.  It would be like abandoning her.

Taylor:     Get remarried.  Find someone new.  Someone younger.

George:     Someone like you?

Taylor:     What's wrong with me?

George:     Besides the fact you're dead?

Taylor:     What's that got to do with anything?

Alice:      Sometimes there are nightmares, but all children have those.  Sometimes she thinks she sees her mother, but that kind of thing will pass in time.

George:     Don't make a scene.

Taylor:     You're the only one who can see me.

George:     You said your daughter can see you sometimes.

Taylor:     Sometimes, but not now.  Too many distractions.

Carol:      How do you feel about coming to live with me?

Michelle:   S'Ok.

Carol:      Where would you like to live?  Besides with your mom, I mean.

Michelle:   With my dad, I guess.

Carol:      Would that be better than where you are now?

Michelle:   Uh huh.

Carol:      What would be better about it?

Michelle:   He doesn't mind me being around so much.

Carol:      What do you mean?

Michelle:   He wants me.

Carol:      Oh.

Alice:      They can break your heart sometimes.

George:     It's got to be her decision.  I'm not sure I can do this without her. 

Taylor:     You don't have a choice.

 [Carol walks over to George. Taylor walks over to Michelle.]

Carol:      She's a sweet child.

George:     Yeah, a real sweetheart.  What do you say?

Carol:      I don't know, George.  You're asking an awful lot. Raising another woman's child.

George:     She isn't someone else's child. She's my child.

Carol:      You don't know that for sure.

George:     I feel it in my heart.  It wouldn't matter anyway.  She needs someone.

Carol:      Why can't that someone be someone else?

George:     Her mother trusted me.  She depended on me to take care of her.

Carol:      Because you loved her.

George:     Yes.  Because I was in love with her.

Carol:      And you expect me to raise her child?

George:     No.  I'm hoping... begging... you will help me raise Michelle.

Carol:      I guess if you can't have the real thing, you'll have to settle for second best.

George:     You're not second best.

Carol:      But you loved her.

George:     I loved you, too.  I loved you first.  And most of all.

Carol:      Do you love me now?  (pause)  I thought as much. So you need a nanny to raise your daughter and you figure you might as well get one for free.

George:     That's not why I'm doing this.

Carol:      Why do you want to torture me?

George:     I'm not torturing you.

Carol:      Every time I see that girl, you know how I am going to feel.  That you love someone else more than me.

George:     That isn't true.

Carol:      You had a child with her!

George:     That doesn't mean I loved her more than you.  It just means...  (pause)  I can't do this by myself.  I can't just go out and ask some stranger to help.  I need someone I can depend on.  Someone I can trust.  There will be times when being her father isn't enough.  Times when I can't help her.  Times when she needs a woman. I want that woman to be you. 

Carol:      I don't know, George.

George:     I know you, Carol.  You're a good person.  I want Michelle to be like you.  I'm not asking that you do everything.  I'm not asking you do a lot.  She's my responsibility.  I'll take on the lion's share of the work.  But I need you to be her role model.  I want her to emulate you.  Not her mother.  You.  And I was hoping, maybe, somewhere, we might find something we lost.

Carol:      You really are a slick bastard, George.

George:     I know.  I deserve that.  I've been a conniver and a liar and a cheat.  I've squandered the trust you placed in me.  I know.  But that's why I'm begging you.  For the girl's sake, not mine.

            I can't change what happened.  I can't put aside the pain we've felt.  I can't gloss over my transgressions.  All I'm left with is the truth.  And one little girl.  With which to redeem my life. 

I'm not going to amount to a lot in this world.  I'm not some big shot.  I can't bring about world peace, end hunger, defeat the terrorists.  I'm not going to win the big battles.  But I can win a little one.  I can make a difference, do the right thing, in the life of one little girl.  And right now, that's enough.  It's not much.  It's all I can do.  But it'll be enough.

Carol:      I don't know.  I just don't know how I can do this.

George:     Okay.  It's your decision.  Think about it.  Make up your mind.  Let me know.  Okay?

Carol:      Okay.

[George walks over to Michelle.  George, Michelle and Alice exit.  Taylor follow after George but pulls up short when George leaves the stage.  Taylor walks over to Carol, apparently to confront Carol, but Carol exits before Taylor gets there.  Taylor pulls up again.  Taylor looks around and eventually spots audience.]

Taylor:     It's all your fault, isn't it?  I can hear you breathing.  Now you are trying to hold your breath and be quiet, aren't you?  You think that makes you safe, sitting in the dark, being very quiet.

You think I can't see you out there?  All safe and protected because we up here are not real and this isn't really happening.  It's just a bunch of actors speaking a bunch of silly lines.  You're not responsible for what happened, are you?  Fuck you you're not! 

When I was standing on the edge of the World Trade Center with the heat of hell storming up the sides of that 110 story monster like the fetid breath of the dogs of war, just before I stepped over the edge, I saw you!  Your mouth agape in terror.  Your eyes glazed over without understanding.  You sat there, in the dark, in your chair, in front of your T.V., and did nothing.  You just watched me die.

Pretty soon this will all be over and you can go out to your favorite bar and have a beer and laugh about the silly play you saw and how this silly girl stood on stage and berated you, but I will still be dead!

You get to go on with your life.  But all I get to be is dead!  Where's my life?  Where's my baby?  Where's my lover?  What do I get?  You get everything, but what do I get?

You say, it's not your fault.  You voted for the other guy.  Or for that egomaniac environmentalist.  Or you didn't even vote at all.  You think that means you're not responsible?  It is all George Bush's fault?  Or some stone age billionaire hiding in a cave in Afghanistan?  You think it's all their fault?  On whose backs was this system built?  Who provides the bricks and the mortar and the bullets and the bombs? 

(mockingly) It's not my fault, I don't drive an SUV.  I'm not greedy for oil.  I drive a fuel efficient car.  I ride a bike.  I walk.  I recycle paper.  I eat organic foods and buy herbs in bulk.  I'm not a rabid fundamentalist; I celebrate the spiritual feminine principle.  I protested the war, all the wars; I carried a sign that said "No More Years."  I'm a good liberal.  It's not my fault.

FUCK YOU, IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT! 

It's your fucking system.  You designed it.  You paid for it.  You bought into it.  It's your constitution.  It was built to accommodate you.  Your pleasure.  Your desire. 

You want to watch "Friends" and "Seinfeld" and "Sex in the City," then that's what you get.  You don't want to think about politics, you just want the terrorists to go away, you want something else to think about like Paris Hilton and non-reality survival shows, that's what you get.  You want the American dream where you wallow in luxury, while the rest of the world toils in sweat shops to provide you with a satisfactory shopping experience, that's what you get. 

You want the latest video game and the hottest car and a T.V. as big as your wall, that's what you get!  You want to be environmentally friendly and do nothing that might harm the earth, that's what you get.  Courtesy of the almighty American corporation and their buddies, whichever ones you happened to have voted for last time.

And in exchange they get to rule the world.  They get to make their quarterly profit projections.  Just as long as you play by their rules.  They get to decide which choices you get to choose from.  Once every four years you go into a booth and pick from Tweedle-Dum and Tweedle-Dee and you've done your part for duh-mock-crow-sea.

That's the way you want it.  I'm dead, because you have more goodies than everybody else and the world hates you for it.  They despise you.  You sit in front of your T.V. and your computer watching adult cartoons while the rest of the world drowns in their own shit trying to be just like you and failing. 

They hate you for making their world the ass end of the universe.  They hate you for being fat while they watch their children starve to death.  They hate you for laughing at meaningless sitcoms and flash animations while they are butchered in the middle of the night by men with machetes.  They hate you for being all do-gooder and writing letters to your congressmen and giving money to the ACLU and voting for the other guy while their homes are bulldozed and their children blown to bits by landmines and their dreams incinerated along with the rest of the collateral damage.

They hate you for creating a system only you can enjoy.  They would just as soon fly airplanes into your biggest buildings as live in the world you created.

It's your system.  You created it.  You put into motion.  It's all your fault! 

[Enter Eris]

I'm dead and it's all your fault.  If somebody's has to pay, it should be you!  (points at members of the audience)  And you!  And you!  And you!

Eris:       Laura.

Taylor:     NO!  You stay away!

Eris:       It's time to let go, Laura.

Taylor:     NO!  I don't want to go!  I had a life.  I want it back!  Make them give it back!

Eris:       They can't do that, Laura.

Taylor:     Make them pay!

Eris:       You have to let go, Laura. 

Taylor:     Why?  Why can't I have satisfaction?

Eris:       Because it will never stop.

Taylor:     What do I care?  I demand blood.

Eris:       You have to give up your anger.

Taylor:     It's all I have left.  Don't you understand.  My rage is all I've got.  Without that I am nothing.  Nothing!

Eris:       You still have to give it up.  Otherwise it will just go on.  If someone dies because you were killed, then someone else will have to die because they were killed.  Eventually someone will blame your daughter for the death of someone they loved.  And then they will kill her and some of her friends.  And the cycle will repeat itself, except now, it's wormed its way into the very fabric of our existence.  It can go on and on and on.  The killing can go on forever. 

Taylor:     Maybe it should.

Eris:       You want your daughter to die?

Taylor:     No.

Eris:       Then someone has to say "stop."  You want Michelle to grow up consumed by hate, scared of people she doesn't know?

Taylor:     No.

Eris:       Neither do these people out here.

Taylor:     But it's their fault.

Eris:       Okay.  It's their fault.  (to audience, scoldingly)  You all have been very bad.

Taylor:     That's it?  You all have been very bad?

Eris:       That's it.

Taylor:     Aren't you going to hit them between the eyes with a bolt of lightning or something?

Eris:       That would be my father, Zeus, you are thinking of.  He's the one who likes to throw around lightning bolts.  I'm more into apples if you want to know the truth.

[Taylor gestures like "go ahead"]

Eris:       The thing is, these people know it's their fault.  They know that they could have done more, many times.  I'm sure they often think that.  They could have done more.  But I'm sure that they think that whatever they might have done, it wouldn't have made a difference.  It's hard to see the difference.  It's so small.  Things get washed out by the chaotic nature of life, and consequences can be so elusive.  They have had many opportunities to make the world better, but they let them pass.

Taylor:     Shouldn't they pay?

Eris:       Pay?  Well, sure, when they have done someone wrong, they should pay.  They should pay the person they have done wrong, set it right. 

Taylor:     So, make them give me back my life.

Eris:       I can't do that.  They can't give you back your life.

Taylor:     Who can?

[Eris shrugs]

Taylor:     This is it?

Eris:       It wasn't so bad.  Your life.  You were loved.  You left a daughter.  You made a difference.

Taylor:     I did?

Eris:       Most of times you make a difference are not when you stop yourself from doing someone wrong.  The true opportunities are when you open someone's eyes.  When you don't keep your mouth shut and look away.  When you help others see they might be wrong.  Like what you do up here every night, when you tell them it's all their fault.

Taylor:     That makes a difference?

Eris:       Of course.  Tonight or tomorrow or the next day, one of these people might recognize an opportunity and not let it pass this time.  They might stand up for something.  They might open their mouth and say "no" or "stop" or "please" or "thank you."  That's how you make a difference.  But now it's time to let go.  It's time to forget.  It's time to pass on.

Taylor:     Pass on.

Eris:       We all do it.  Gods and ghosts and ideas.  We all eventually run out of time.

Taylor:     Will there be more?

Eris:       Perhaps.  Maybe tomorrow night.  Or if it is Sunday, there could be a matinee.

[Eris helps Taylor exit.  Eris stops just before she exits and looks like she wants to say something more to the audience, but she thinks better of it and doesn't.]