Weekend at San Basilica

Weekend at San Basilica

ACT ONE

Scene One

A guest house of the sprawling, opulent castle, San Basilica, somewhere along the California coast. On the right of the stage is one bedroom; on the left another---the two separated by a white, octagonal-tiled early 20^th century bathroom with connecting doors to the bedrooms. Both bedrooms are decorated in outlandishly extravagant taste, combining authentic antiques with heavy Grustarkian junk. Through the upstage windows one has the feeling of wondrous space: immaculate gardens and perpetual sunlight.

At rise, a pleasant-looking, compactly-built young man, KEVIN KOSHKARIAN, is in the bedroom to the left. HE is dressed in subdued Ivy League style and is in the process of taking a personal inventory of the room on a laptop.

KEVIN Bedspread: one cherub with harp, one diamond with leaf scroll---one cherub without harp---one diamond with leaf scroll and set of roses---one cherub with harp, etc. Bedpost: dark wood, grape vines, grapes. Canopy: same as bedspread---

(An engine starts upm outside and the sound of a large vehicle is heard. HE stops dead in his tracks in disbelief, then rushes to the window.)

Shit, that’s the bus! Wait! Wait for me. Damn it, they’ve taken off! I never heard of such a thing---the tour going off and leaving someone behind. Don’t they keep a count, for Christ’s sake! I can hear Phyllis now in her own soft, sweet, understanding way. "People don’t just get left behind, Kevin. Could it be you didn’t really want to come home? If it is, you must tell me, dear. I’m sure a great many people get left behind at San Basilica."
                                                  (sitting on the bed)
Well, what do I do now, Dr. Bellagio? Do I go down to one of the service people and start complaining? A lot of good that’ll do. There’ll be another tour in less than an hour, and it’ll give me a chance to take more notes, and the more notes the more accurate my report to Mr. Christiansen, and the more accurate my report the better the reproductions. Supposedly. But, boy, I’d love to have that tour guide fired! There was something really arrogant about him from the beginning. I think it was the way he kept swiveling his hips when he walked almost like he had an imaginary motorbike between his thighs. I bet he makes out like gangbusters. I should try walking like that. I can just see Phyllis when she asks me what I was doing for three hours. Learning to walk like this, sweetheart. Then she’ll say something like, "Oh, Kevin, you look like you have hemorrhoids."
                                                 (back to the notepad)
One desk---sort of Louis Quartorze---exotic wood inlay--- (As HE continues his inventory, a small Asian houseboy appears stage right carrying a large valise. HE enters the bedroom on the right followed by a pretty blonde YOUNG WOMAN dressed in the style of a flapper. SHE smiles at the houseboy as HE sets the suitcase down and indicates for him to place it on the bed. HE bows and exits. SHE gazes about the room, sighs ecstatically. SHE opens the valise and begins unpacking a collection of organdy and silk period creations. As SHE trails the fluttering clothes to the closet, SHE eyes herself in the mirror above the dresser, now and again winking at her reflection. Through all of this, SHE sings "Ramona". Although the tune is relatively accurate, the lyrics are not.) YOUNG WOMAN Ramona,
I hear the mission bells above---
Ramona,
They’re singing out our song of love!
(Entering the bathroom, singing with even more fervor, SHE lets her dress slip to the floor in a graceful narcissistic gesture. KEVIN hears her through the door, cannot believe his ears.) YOUNG WOMAN Ramona,
When day is done I hear your call---
Ramona,
We’ll meet beside a garden wall!
I bless you,
Caress you,
And pray the day I taught you to care---
I’ll always adore you,
The rambling rose you wear in your hair,
Ramona,
I need you,
My own.
(KEVIN listens incredulously, gradually working up enough courage to slowly turn the door handle and to peek in. Seeing YOUNG WOMAN in the process of removing her slip, HE gasps and slams the door shut. But rather than embarrassment, SHE appears delighted.) YOUNG WOMAN Madame Spinoza! (A smile of contentment crosses her lips, and SHE sashays toward the door leading to his room, smoothing her slip back over her trim figure, patting her hair in place. SHE opens the door gradually, coquettishly, looking to both sides as if afraid there may be another person besides Kevin. Then, seeing the coast clear, SHE leans against the jamb and crinkles her nose.) YOUNG WOMAN Hi!
(KEVIN says nothing, just gapes at her dumbstruck. SHE waits a few moments, then since he remains horrified and mute, SHE returns to the bathroom, a trifle deflated. SHE observes herself in the mirror again, this time critically. But what she sees reassures her there must be something wrong with him. SHE shrugs, turns on the shower, pulls her slip over her head and reveals a flattening bra and vintage panties, SHE stops pensively, then irritably, then turns the shower off. In a thunder of decision, SHE marches back to the door and throws it open.) YOUNG WOMAN You a pansy or something?
                                                  (KEVIN simply blinks at her, still frozen to the spot.)
Well? Are ya?
                                                  (KEVIN opens his mouth, but not a syllable emerges.)
Don’t be ashamed. If you’re a pansy, then you’re a pansy. I’m very broadminded. If you’re a goddamned pansy, then you’re a goddamned pansy.
                                                  (HE still cannot bring himself to speak. Finally SHE turns in disgust.)
Goddamned pansy!
                                                  (SHE reenters the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.)
My first invite and just my luck to be quartered next to a purple pansy!
                                                  (Again she regards herself in the mirror and again she is pleased with what she sees.)
What you need, sugar, is a drinky-winky. But it’s still only afternoon, and Mr. Huomo doesn’t allow more than one cocktail before dinner. But, Mr. Huomo, that’s just unfair to a poor widdle lamb who has lost her way---baa---baa---baa…
                                                  (In a petulant little gesture, SHE opens the medicine cabinet to deposit her
                                                   toothbrush. There inside are two bottles of champagne and two champagne
                                                   glasses.)
Oh, Mr. Huomo!
                                                  (holding her hand against her heart)
I promise! I won't tell a soul. Oh, Mr. Huomo, you're jusy peachy-keen!
                                                  (removing one of the bottles and one of the glasses and pouring herself a drink)
It’s just like I dreamed it!
                                                  (toasting herself in the mirror)
                              I’m in heaven when I see you smile,
                              Smile at me,
                              Little Lena---
Oh, Lena, you’re the cat’s meow!
                                                  (pensively)
Well, how do you know he’s a pansy? Just because you stood there in your scanties and couldn’t get a rise out of him? Maybe he’s just old-fashioned. Remember what Madame Spinoza predicted. She sat in her little tent at the Solvang Fair wearing her little turban of black stars and red moons and she said, "Soon, soon…in the smaller house near the great house, you will find your heart’s desire…a strange dark man."
                                                   (lifting her glass toward the closed door)
So no matter how strange you are, strange dark man, there’s nothing we can do about it, because it’s all…KISMET!
                                                  (returning to the bedroom, champagne glass in hand, dancing as she does)
Ja-da! Ja-da! Ja-da-ba-da-boom-de-ay! (Quickly, SHE slips into her demurest dress, a little navy blue affair with a jumper and a red and white anchor on the jumper. Still singing her own version of "Ja-Da", she pads back to Kevin’s room, playing innocent and girlish, the champagne bottle in her hands. KEVIN is still sitting on the edge of the bed, speechless.) LENA Bonjour!
                                                 (when there is no response)
Some champagne?
                                                 (SHE pours him a glass.)
You’d better drink it now because when we’re in front of all those people we’re only allowed one itty-bitty cocktail. Forgive me. I seem so bold at times. It’s just a cover up. You see, I was the oldest of fifteen children, and when my father ran off and my mother had to go to work in the sewing machine factory, I was left to bring up my fourteen brothers and sisters.
                                                (HE continues to gape at her and doesn’t touch the glass.)
Oh, all right.
                                                (SHE reaches down, removes a shoe and fills it with champagne.)
Here. What the hell’s the matter with you anyway? What is it---you don’t speakee the English? Jesus, any man I know would go wacky over drinking champagne from a pretty, seductive young woman’s slipper! Why, I had this beau once---and he was pretty important, let me tell you---a big, big man on Wall Street---when I say big, I mean the biggest! No, I won’t mention his name, because what’s done’s done, and anyway his wife has it in for him. But just let me say he’s about the biggest thing there is in tungsten! Whatever the hell that is. He got such a thrill---such an absolute wicky-wacky thrill out o’ drinking champagne from my slipper, why he wouldn’t drink out o’ anything else but my slipper! Bicarbonate of soda, even! I had to keep leaving the slipper at his house and walking home hobbling on one heel.

KEVIN

This…this is all make believe.

LENA

What make believe?

KEVIN

You---this---

LENA

This? You think that swimming pool down there is make believe? That swimming pool encrusted with Indian opals and Persian sapphires forming a seventy-five foot bas-relief of Mr. Huomo and his mother! And over there---the main house---Casa Imperioso---do you think that’s make believe? With its thirteen sterling silver turrets and its thirteen fourteen carat gold cannons? Make believe? Why, do you know what I had to go through before I could get an invite to this "make believe"? I had to sign with Thomas Ince, fly non-stop from Cincinnati to Orange, New Jersey and murder my second husband!

KEVIN

Bellagio warned me. He said the more I refused to cope the more I’d retreat into a world of fantasy. But I never dreamed it would be like this!

LENA

Bellagio who?

KEVIN

Bellagio Bellagio. My shrink.

LENA

Well, if ya ask me, he should shrink his name. One Bellagio is enough. And he sounds like a wop.

KEVIN

It’s one Bellagio---Aaron Bellagio. And he happens to be Jewish.

LENA

Oh, a hebe.

KEVIN

Wop! Hebe! Pansy! This can’t be my fantasy---I’m a liberal, for Christ’s sake!

LENA

Please don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.

KEVIN

Don’t take the Lord’s name…! I’m hallucinating. I’ve got to be hallucinating.

LENA

I never met anyone like you before.

KEVIN

I bet it’s the "e" Harlene Hoyer gave me at the Christmas party. She swore by it, says she takes it all the time. I got sick the next day. Wait a minute! At the office. Danny Crumpler. He hates me. He wants my job. He could have slipped acid in my diet Pepsi. There must be something I can do. There must be something I can take.

LENA

Have you tried an enema?

KEVIN

An enema?!!!

LENA

I mean, now and again it’s good. Not as a steady diet, but now and again. Cleans you out.

KEVIN

I don’t need an enema! I need Dr. Bellagio!

LENA

Maybe he needs an enema, too.

KEVIN

Jesus, I’m losing my mind and all you can think of is enemas.

LENA

All right. I was only trying to help. If it’s all that bad, I mean something really bad---what you need is a session with Mr. Huomo. He can cure anything.

KEVIN

Huomo? Claudius Julian Huomo?

LENA

What other Mr. Huomo is there?

KEVIN

He’s been dead for years.

LENA

Mr. Huomo? He’s in the main house right now---right this moment.

KEVIN

Where?

LENA

There! Casa Imperioso! Up there in one of the silver turrets---counting his money. (quickly, looking toward heaven) I was just kidding, Mr. Huomo.

KEVIN

Can you see him?

LENA

Of course you can’t see him! It’s too far away. But he’s there.

KEVIN

How do you know he’s there?

LENA

Everybody knows he’s there! (KEVIN shakes his head tolerantly, takes her face in his hands.) KEVIN Child, child…
(quickly withdrawing)
My God, what am I doing? I mustn’t be drawn further into this acid trip. I’ll destroy myself. Yet you feel so---alive.

LENA

Of course I’m alive!

KEVIN

Your skin---it’s so smooth and warm and real---

LENA

Hey, your palms are all sweaty!

KEVIN

What a rotten thing to say!

LENA

But they are---they’re all sweaty. I bet you messed up the rouge.
(viewing herself in a mirror above the dresser)
See, what did I tell you? You made the rouge all splotchy.

KEVIN

I can’t even dream up a woman who’ll accept me the way I am.

LENA

Whatdya talking about---dream me up?

KEVIN

Even my dream women bear the seeds of Phyllis.
(looking up to heaven, the way Lena had done before)
No, Phyllis, I was just kidding. I didn’t mean that.

LENA

You know what? You give me the heebie-jeebies.

KEVIN

Why the hell doesn’t the next tour bus arrive?

LENA

You can’t say I didn’t try, Madame Spinoza. I did my duty and that’s that. He may be a strange dark young man for some other dame. Not for little Lena.
                                                   (SHE moves to the bathroom door.)
I met some queer birds in my time, but you, bimbo, you take the cake! (SHE slams the door behind her, moves through the second door, slamming it also, and is back in her bedroom pacing angrily. At last SHE lights a cigarette and sits on the edge of the bed as the lights dim temporarily on her side of the stage.) KEVIN This has to be an acid trip. But I had a few of those in college, and they were nothing like this. I mean, they were all jumbled and incomprehensible and Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds-ish. This is incomprehensible, too, but not in the same way. I mean, that oversexed flapper with a brain the size of a microbe---she’s real. I touched her---she’s real flesh and blood. I mean, flesh at least. I wouldn’t know about the blood unless I dismember the cunt. Murdered her second husband, my ass! Am I in some sort of time warp? But that’s impossible. That kind of thing only happens in the Star or the Globe. YOUNG REAL ESTATE EXECUTIVE VISITS SAN BASILICA AND SCREWS 1925 FLAPPER! There’s got to be some rational explanation. Wait a minute! Wait a Goddamned Minute! It’s the guys at the office. They all got together and planned this---they knew which bus I’d be on and what room I planned on copying and made sure the bus would leave me here. No wonder I couldn’t find my cell phone. They hid it on me. In the meantime, they hired this hooker and had her dress up in a whatdyacallem hat? Kloche---that’s it! And slip into the other bedroom! Of course, it’s a practical joke---and they want to see how long it takes me before I go screaming down the corridor and try to drown myself in the Indian opal encrusted swimming pool! Well, fellas, have I got news for you! (All at once the phone on the desk rings---the ancient phone on the desk with a ring not at all like the phones of today. KEVIN jumps. The phone continues to ring.) KEVIN Uh-oh! I guess that’s gonna be someone pretending to be Claudius Julian Huomo! I bet that’s it, isn’t it?
                                                  (in a much smaller voice, staring at the instrument, but afraid to raise the receiver.)
Isn’t it?
                                                  (The phone has stopped ringing.)
I shoulda answered it. I shoulda said I'm Calvin Coolidge. (A long pause. HE glances about the room with a certain confusion. Suddenly we hear sounds of people. HE jumps from the bed.) It's the next tour! Thank God, they've come---and I can get out of this place. (HE makes a dash for the door, swings it open and enters the hallway. The lights dim in his room and rise in Lena’s room. SHE has heard the sounds, too. SHE rises, douses her cigarette. FIVE PEOPLE---TWO YOUNG MEN and THREE YOUNG WOMEN---enter the hallway from the left. THEY are all dressed in sports clothes of the 20s, the Young Men in white ducks, the Women in pleated skirts. The Young Men are ARCHIE WEATHERBY and LESS FARNSWORTH. The Young Women: ADELE ALLEN, MILLICENT CARSTAIRS and INEZ GOUTERMAN. Inez is the only unattractive one with a hooked nose, horned-rimmed glasses and short straight hair, Kevin hastens toward them.) KEVIN Thank God, you’ve… (Seeing their clothes, HE stops dead in his tracks.) ARCHIE Hello there!

MILLIE

Is there something wrong?

KEVIN

I---I thought you were the tour.

LES

The tour?

ADELE

What tour? (KEVIN cannot bring himself to answer.) MILLIE We’re all going over to the game room to play a little mahjongg before dinner. Why don’t you join us…Mr…?

ADELE

Will you?

KEVIN

What? (LENA has opened her door, leaning against it forlornly, longing to have them ask her. Now and again, SHE clears her throat, but the Others are too absorbed in Kevin to notice.) INEZ The mahjongg’s a bore, but the scotch is great. It’s hidden in one of the pool table pockets.

ADELE

Stop that, Inez. The whole idea is that the winnings go to Mr. Huomo’s favorite charities.

INEZ
Don’t be a ninny. C.J.’s charities, my ass.

ADELE

I hate when you say things like that. And stop calling Mr. Homo "C.J."!

INEZ

It’s better than some of the names I can think of.

MILLIE

Hush, Inez. Do come. If you don’t like mahjongg, there’s always bridge or billiards. (KEVIN stares at them, then rushes back in the room and slams the door.) ADELE Well, of all the…!

LES

Queer duck. I wonder who he is.

MILLIE

(laughing, directing her remark toward Inez)
Probably some Bolshevik.

ARCHIE

In Mr. Huomo’s home?

MILLIE

Why not? We're all Bolsheviks under the skin, aren’t we? (THEY all laugh, except Inez. THEY begin to exit.) ARCHIE I say, did you see the clothes! Awfully odd. (LENA gazes after them, then slowly retires in her room, closes the door behind her. Lights dim and rise in Kevin’s room. HE is sitting on the bed shivering.) KEVIN It’s no joke. I know that now. They’re too cheap to hire six people! But if it’s not a joke, and if Danny Crumpler didn’t spike my diet Pepsi with acid, then what the hell is it? (HOUSEBOY enters from stage left, padding to Kevin’s door and rapping. KEVIN jumps in terror.) KEVIN Who---who is it?

HOUSEBOY

Daza. (KEVIN tiptoes to the door opening it just enough to peek out with one eye.) KEVIN Daza who?

HOUSEBOY

Daza long since you been away,,, (HE bursts into joyous laughter. Lights rise in Lena’s room. SHE moves to the door and tries to listen. KEVIN opens the door further and eyes Houseboy with contempt.) KEVIN Well?

HOUSEBOY

Daza long since you been away,
I think of you most all of the day…

KEVIN

Will you stop that and tell me what you want!

HOUSEBOY

Mr. Huomo---he try to call before.

KEVIN

Huomo? He tried to call me?

HOUSEBOY

Yes, sahib. He say you come to dinner seven-thirty sharp.

KEVIN

Huomo himself?!

HOUSEBOY

Moreorless.

KEVIN

Moreorless what? That it was Mr. Huomo, or that it was me he was calling?

HOUSEBOY

Who can say? If Mr. Huomo believe it you, then it you. If you believe it Mr. Huomo, then it Mr. Huomo.

(KEVIN is more confused than ever as HOUSEBOY glides to Lena’s door and taps.)

LENA

Who is it?

HOUSEBOY

Allah.

LENA

(Smiling and opening the door)
Allah who?

HOUSEBOY

Allahlone
By the telephone…

(THEY BOTH burst into laughter.)

LENA

Before---when I first arrived---you were Oshie.

HOUSEBOY

                                               Ohshie got rings on her fingers
                                               And bells on her toes---
                                                     (HE begins to dance and LENA joins him.)
                                               Elephants to ride upon
                                               Her little Irish nose!
                                               Ohshie got rings on her fingers
                                               And bells on her toes---
                                               Elephants to ride upon
                                               Her little Irish nose!

(Now LENA sings along---the same lyric since that is all either can remember. KEVIN watches them, a scowl on his face.)

KEVIN Now that’s really stupid.

(LENA and HOUSEBOY stop.)

KEVIN

S-t-u-p-i-d. Stupid.

HOUSEBOY

(bowing and exiting)
Seven-thirty.

LENA

You hurt his feelings.

KEVIN

So what?

LENA

He’s only a poor little Chinkie.

KEVIN

Chinkie?!

LENA

Mr. Huomo employs a great many little Chinkies. After all, Chinkies are a White Man’s Burden.

KEVIN

You’re a goddamned racist!

LENA

I never raced in my life! I can’t even drive! (SHE goes back to her room slamming the door and KEVIN goes to his room. HE begins pacing.) KEVIN This isn’t happening. This just isn’t happening. Is it, Dr. Bellagio?
                                                 (HE grabs the telephone.)
Hello?…Operator?…I want to make a person-to-person call to Dr. Aaron Bellagio in Westwood Village…What?…It’s in Los Angeles…It’s right past Bel Air…How do you what?…B-e-l-A-I-r…Of course, there’s such a place!…Look, the area code is 310. The number is 874-3211. I know it’s a lot of digits. Take that up with SBC…SBC…that’s the telephone company…Look, just try dialing it and see what happens…What is dialing?…Never mind.
                                                 (HE slams the phone down and races to the window.)
I’ve gotta get out of this place. But it’s miles to the entrance and who knows what I’ll find if I can get out---Pierce-Arrow Billboards and trolley tracks?
                                                 (collapsing on the bed)
This has got to be a dream! One of those dreams where you wake up and say, "Thank God, that was a dream"…Only to find it’s still a dream. I’ve got to do something to awaken myself, to know I’m Kevin Koshkarian, and it’s the 21rst century and I work for the R.K. Christiansen Development Company. I know! I’ll think of something pleasant---think of the pleasantest thing I can think of.
                                                 (after a moment)
I’m fifteen again, and I’m in love. Judy Ginser. Oh, Judy, Judy Ginser! From Highland Park. There I am in the old white frame house after Dad lost all his money---for the third time. She’s supposed to come over to study together---algebra---she was terrible in algebra. I can hear the squeaky brakes of the bus on the corner. It passes every fifteen minutes, and every fifteen minutes my ears go up like a Doberman’s. Each time the bus stops, I hold my breath waiting. I look out the window to the corner, but no Judy Ginser. She never came. Judy Ginser never showed up. Why is that what I think of? If Judy Ginser never came, why is that the pleasantest memory of my life? (A long pause. Outside we hear shouts of people playing in the swimming pool, but HE does not bother to go to the window.) I see all kinds of things now---flashes of things---shooting a water pistol from the second story window of the apartment in Milwaukee, then running for cover---swimming in the Caribbean and praying Phyllis would be called home so I could have access to every gorgeous thing on the beach---the day the twins were born and all I could think of was the responsibility---all kinds of things. But isn’t that supposed to happen when you die---your whole life flashes before you? Oh, my God! Is that what I am---dead? And God is an Asian houseboy? Oh, Christ! I want my Mama! (He bursts into tears. LENA, who has been dressing for dinner, stops instantly and runs in through the bathroom doors.)

LENA

What is it? What’s the matter? (Kevin’s face is in his hands. LENA goes to him with great compassion.)

LENA

Oh, please. If there’s something that’s that wrong, please see Mr. Huomo. Please. (SHE sits beside him, caressing his shoulder, involuntarily pushing her thigh against his. HE responds, instinctively, sensually. Their lips meet passionately. Then HE jumps up from the bed.) KEVIN No.

LENA

What?

KEVIN

That’s how I got this way.

LENA

What way?

KEVIN

Dead.

LENA

DEAD?!!!

KEVIN

Too much masturbation. Before the bus pulled out, I was working on my laptop and must have keeled over and died.

LENA

I ain’t never seen nobody who needs Mr. Huomo as bad as you do.

KEVIN

No, thank you. I can do quite well without your---Mr. Huomo.

LENA

Well, if not Mr. Huomo, I still say an enema.

KEVIN

And I can do quite well without you and your high colonic fetish. My God, do you realize you could be my great-grandmother?

LENA

Your what??!

KEVIN

My great-grandmother!

LENA

I’ll be nineteen next week!

KEVIN

(laughing)
Nineteen next week!

LENA

What’s so funny about that? Stop laughing at me!
                                                 (slapping him across the face)
You lousy lemon-sucker!
                                                (bursting into tears)
All right, so I’ll be 24 in November.
                                                (hitting him with her fists)
I hate you, you crummy bastard! (HE seizes her wrists to ward off the attack, falling onto the canopied bed on top of her. The fighting turns into wild passion. Then SHE frees herself, sits up and straightens her dress.) LENA Gee whiz!

KEVIN

That was wonderful.

LENA

Yeah.

KEVIN

I can’t be dead.

LENA

If you are, you’re a pretty hot corpse.

KEVIN

Look. I don’t know if you’ll believe me, but I don’t belong here. I mean, not like you or the others before in the hall. You see, I was here on a tour. There’s no such thing as San Basilica anymore. I mean, it’s here, but it’s only a place people visit like a museum. It belongs to another age---as does Mr. Huomo and his mother. I was here because I’m involved in a real estate project for "robust, active senior citizens." It’s called Versailles Village, and you can have your choice of homes: Hampton Court, Hadrian’s Villa and San Basilica. Not the real things, of course. Just upscale three or four bedroom homes named after them. But the main hall---there’ll be certain replicas of some rooms in these places. And so I came here to jot down a few of the pieces and duplicate them in a reasonable facsimile---with synthetics, of course.

LENA

You mean you wasn’t invited?

KEVIN

No. I wasn’t invited.

LENA

I don’t see how you could get past the gate if you wasn’t invited.

KEVIN

That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I came on a tour.

LENA

But there ain’t no tours.

KEVIN

Not in your time, but in my time.

LENA

Your time is my time
And my time is your time…

KEVIN

No wonder my generation is so screwed up.

LENA

Will ya stop talkin’ about your time and your generation! For cryin’ out loud, you make me feel like I was dead!

KEVIN

Well, you could be, you know.

LENA

Yeah, but I ain’t! Gee, I don’t see why we gotta fight all the time. We just met, and it’s been one battle after another.

KEVIN

Hey! Give me your name and some facts.

LENA

Huh?

KEVIN

If I ever get out of here, I can look you up. Go right through the records---home town, parents, everything. I could make a fortune! REAL ESTATE EXEC RETURNS FROM PAST WITH INDISPUTABLE PROOF! Now come on.

LENA

I think we’re gonna fight again.

KEVIN

No, honestly. Look. My name’s Kevin. Kevin Koshkarian.

LENA

You a Polak?

KEVIN

Never mind that. What’s your name?

LENA

Lena.

KEVIN

Lena what?

LENA

Martina.

KEVIN

Lena Martina?!

LENA

Yeah.

KEVIN

Is that for real?

LENA

Well, it was originally Martine with an "e"---my father was French---somewhere he was related to the Dukes of Burgundy, but I never had the time to trace it back that far. When I got into films, I changed the "e" to an "a".
(suddenly aware of the laptop)
What’s that?

KEVIN

It’s called a laptop. Think of it as a large notebook.

LENA

Ain’t never seen nothin’ like that.

KEVIN

I’m not surprised.

LENA

I gotta stop saying ain’t. Especially here at San Basilica.

KEVIN

Where were you born?

LENA

Wichita. That’s in Kansas.

KEVIN

I know it’s in Kansas.

LENA

Well, who knows where they mighta moved it in your time.

KEVIN

You said films. Have you done any? These can always be checked.

LENA

I done quite a few. With big stars, too.

KEVIN

Like?

LENA

Like Thomas Meighan and Wallace Reid and Richard Barthelmess, that’s who.

KEVIN

The names.

LENA

You go to movies a lot?

KEVIN

Well, no---I mean, not these.

LENA

Ready? (Kevin’s fingers are poised on the keyboard.) Runaway Wives.

KEVIN

Yes?

LENA

Runaway Daughters.
(HE looks up skeptically.)
Runaway Wives broke records.

KEVIN

Oh.

LENA

Blue Desert. Blossoms in Springtime.

KEVIN

I can check all these when I get back. Wait! I can check them right now on Google.

LENA

Barney Google?

KEVIN

Who’s Barney Google?

LENA

Who’s your Google?

KEVIN

It’s not logging on. I get a blank screen. Okay. Tell me more about yourself.

LENA

Well, I flew non-stop from Cincinnati to Orange, New Jersey, and I murdered my second husband.

KEVIN

Then that’s true? I mean, it wasn’t just my hostility.

LENA

You had nothing to do with it! I only just met you.

KEVIN

Never mind.

LENA

Why the hell are you always in the picture?

KEVIN

I said never mind. Now where did you murder your second husband?

LENA

Ceylon.

KEVIN

They don’t call it Ceylon anymore. They call it Sri Lanka.

LENA

They didn’t care what they called it when they arrested me.

KEVIN

So where was this?

LENA

On his rubber plantation---only God knows what they call it now.

KEVIN

What was his name?

LENA

Edmund. Edmund Carlton. He would have been Sir Edmund Carlton had he been born before his older brother. But I didn’t care if he was Sir or not. He cared, but I didn’t.

KEVIN

How did you meet him?

LENA

London. I was there in a show.

KEVIN

What show?

LENA

Hooray, Jeanette! I was in the chorus. And still married to my first husband. You see, that’s why I ran away and went on the stage. To get away from Hunky.

KEVIN

That’s not a name---that’s a description.

LENA

Huh?

KEVIN

Never mind.

LENA

Hunky was a coal-miner in Pittsburgh. Six foot five with arms like ham hocks. He could break a man’s neck like that.

KEVIN

He beat you.

LENA

He wouldn’t dare!

KEVIN

So why did you leave him?

LENA

I got sick of him belching and picking his teeth with his fingernail.
(Romantic music begins in the background.)
I met Edmund at a private club in SoHo. He was so handsome---so classy. It was him who began my education, turning me from a raw, naïve American chorine into a lady of sophistication. His barristers handled the divorce from Hunky. And so Edmund and I were married, and he brought me to the plantation. Ceylon. Ceylon with its sultry moonlit nights and swaying palms…
(Music stops.)
Whatsamatter?

KEVIN

I asked for facts.

LENA

These are facts.

KEVIN

Some facts!

LENA

Well, of all the crust! May I drop dead on the spot if what I tell you isn’t the Lord’s honest truth!

KEVIN

Sounds pretty fictional to me.

LENA

Fictional! I don’t have to tell you things I ain’t---I mean I never told a soul.

KEVIN

(to himself)
Of course this could be true. This is another era, and people didn’t do all their living on a shrink’s couch or in front of a TV set. Things happened to them.
(to Lena)
Go on with your story. (Romantic music resumes.) LENA Ceylon. Ceylon with its sultry moonlit nights and palm trees and smell of jasmine. Ceylon with its orange sunsets and emerald mornings….

KEVIN

Never mind that. Get to the murder.

LENA

I had everything. Everything but a husband.

KEVIN

What?

LENA

How was I to know he was--- (SHE makes an incomplete gesture below the waist.)

KEVIN

What does that mean?

LENA

You know--- (SHE repeats the gesture.) KEVIN Impotent?

LENA

A war injury.

KEVIN

(aside)
It’s conceivable. A lot of men had war injuries like that in those days. I read Hemingway.

LENA

Huh?

KEVIN

Never mind. Go on.

LENA

He could have told me. I would have understood. I wouldn’t have married him, but I’d have understood. I tried to bear up, or, as Edmund’s family would say, "Keep a stiff upper lip. But I couldn’t. Not with Edmund drinking the way he did and humiliating me in front of the Guv’nor. The nights became unbearable, and the days even worse. And then I met Hans.

KEVIN

Hans?

LENA

The overseer. He was Dutch and big and blond with arms like ham hocks. At first he was just someone to cry to. But soon it was love---love as I’d never known it---love with water lilies and burning passion. Maybe I could have resisted him had Edmund not been drinking from sunup to sundown. But Edmund drank. And Hans barely touched seltzer water.
(Music again.)
Hans and I would meet secretly, taking our love on the wing whenever we could snatch a bit of sweetness, a taste of beauty. But it was not to last. Not that I was afraid of Edmund discovering. No, Edmund was too busy drinking and going to doctors. No matter what there was between Hans and me, I was still married to Edmund. He was my husband, and I was his wife. And I had to break with Hans. But I couldn’t face him. Instead I sent him a letter with my jade ring in it---a letter he never received.

KEVIN

Edmund?

LENA

(shaking her head)
Anna Sing.

KEVIN

Who?

LENA

Edmund’s Eurasian housekeeper. She hated me from the moment I stepped foot onto Carlton Manor. She intercepted the letter and brought it as proof of my infidelity to Edmund. My houseboy told me. He hated Anna Sing as much as Anna Sing hated me. I flew out of the house to tell Hans---to the rubber shed behind the native’s quarters. I begged Hans to take me away---I didn’t care where---what did it matter? He took me in his great strong arms and held me tenderly. Then the door flew open. It was Edmund---drunk, disheveled. Before I could speak he shot Hans in the stomach. I ran to get the gun away. I didn’t know it was too late---that Hans was dead. We struggled, Edmund and I. The gun went off again. Edmund fell to the ground. Dead like Hans.

KEVIN

But it wasn’t your fault.

LENA

So the jury decided.

KEVIN

It was obviously post-traumatic stress disorder.

LENA

(raising one eyebrow, then beginning to cry)
But how? How does one live with this behind them?

KEVIN

(taking her in his arms)
No. Don’t. Whatever you did, you mustn’t feel guilty. Guilt is the worst.

LENA

Where does one go when one has been responsible for the deaths of two human beings? From one broken down club in Singapore to another broken down club in Pago-Pago.

KEVIN

I know.

LENA

Did you sing in a broken down club, too?

KEVIN

Of course not. But I know guilt.

LENA

And then I found Mr. Huomo----

KEVIN

I’ve never been through anything like you’ve been through, but you see I live in a different time. Not that it isn’t a violent time, mind you. But it’s a different kind of violence---an impersonal violence. It’s like---well, a maladjusted war vet who grabs his old army M-1 and takes pot shots at innocent civilians---or a maniac who gets hold of a flame-thrower and starts shooting it off in an elementary school.

LENA

You remind me of Hans. Of moonlit nights and bamboo reflected in black pools and soft music and the scent of jasmine in the air.

KEVIN

Lena! Lena! (THEY sink to the floor, kissing passionately.) KEVIN Maybe---across the sands of time, this was meant to be! (HE kisses her neck. SHE opens her eyes, glancing toward the ceiling.) LENA Dance, dance, dance,
Little Lena---
Youth is fleeting
To the rhythm beating
In your heart!
(KEVIN’s mouth falls on hers. More passion.) KEVIN I should call Phyllis. Phyllis will worry. (Suddenly there is the sound of a gong. KEVIN continues kissing her.) KEVIN Oh, Lena! I mustn’t get involved!

LENA

Involved in what? That’s the dinner bell!

SLOW CURTAIN