The Half-Life Conspiracy

a play in two acts

by Charles Deemer

 

First performed at the New Rose Theatre in Portland, Oregon, on February 25, 1983. Directed by Gary O'Brien.

 

THE CAST (3M, 3F, in order of appearance):

Cynthia Moore, a director with the Portland Community Players;

Joe Barge, President of the Players;

Ann Barton, an actress with the Players and Cynthia's lovemate;

Robert Olson (Todd Westlake), a playwright and TV writer, Cynthia's ex-husband;

Bill Stevens, an actor with the Players;

Willow Stevens, his wife, an actress with the Players.

 

THE TIME:

The present (an election year), summer:

Act I: FRIDAY. i: The Reception (6 p.m.); ii: "Half-Life," a one-act play by Robert Olson

Act II: SATURDAY. i: The Cast Party (1 a.m.) ii: Fallout (3:30 a.m.)

 

THE SET:

The deck of Joe Barton's home in the west hills area of Portland, Oregon, overlooking the skyline of the city. For I, ii: the stage of the Portland Community Players.


 

ACT ONE

 

 

1/ The Reception (Friday, 6 p.m.)

 

(AT RISE: CYNTHIA is alone on the deck, pacing. Inside, beyond the sliding door, we hear the vague sounds of a party going on. CYNTHIA is visibly nervous about something. The sliding door opens and JOE appears long enough to say: )

 

JOE: He's here!

 

(He leaves. ANN comes out onto the deck.)

 

ANN: It might help if you screamed at me.

CYNTHIA: And why would I want to do that?

ANN: To clear the air between us before you meet him.

CYNTHIA: Ann, what difference does it make now? You and your activist friends have made your decision and who gives a damn what the director has to say about it?

ANN: No one's going to disrupt the play. We're just after support.

CYNTHIA: It politicizes everything. It's like adding a political prologue to the play, taking a position—

ANN: You can always make an announcement before curtain: “The demonstration outside the theater blah blah in no way reflects the opinion of the Portland Community Players blah blah."

CYNTHIA: I may ask Joe to do exactly that.

ANN: I think you're being paranoid over nothing.

CYNTHIA: You didn't clear it with me, and you certainly didn't clear it with Robert Olson. He may not appreciate his play being used that way.

ANN: We're not "using the play." It's like passing out leaflets at a supermarket. CYNTHIA: I know goddamn well what you're doing. It's not as if we haven't argued about this before. You can't leave well enough alone.

ANN: Well enough?

CYNTHIA: You know what I mean.

ANN: Cynthia, there are a significant number of misguided people in this community who want to pass a law that affects the way I live my life and—

CYNTHIA: This isn't the time or place. He may come out here any minute.

ANN: You're nervous about meeting him.

CYNTHIA: I've never had to deal with the playwright being around before. What if he doesn't like it?

ANN: He'll love what you've done. By the cast party, you'll be higher than a kite. CYNTHIA: After you get done with our image, I may never be allowed to direct for the Players again.

ANN: We've been in a rut. If what I'm doing is controversial, maybe it's good for us. CYNTHIA: The play's controversial enough without all your bleeding hearts out there—

ANN: Your life will be affected as much as anyone's if this—

CYNTHIA: I said I don't want to discuss it.

ANN: Which makes you an ostrich with your head in the sand.

 

(At the tail end of this, JOE enters with OLSON. There is an immediate shocked moment of recognition between CYNTHIA and OLSON before each quickly recovers; the audience doesn't have to see this, it will learn soon enough.).

 

JOE: I'd like you to meet Cynthia Moore and Ann Barton. Robert Olson.

OLSON: Hello.

JOE: Ann plays Mary, and Cynthia's your director.

ANN: I've been looking forward to meeting you.

CYNTHIA: Yes, so have I.

OLSON: I've been looking forward to seeing the play.

CYNTHIA: I hope you like what we've done with it.

JOE: Can I get you a drink, Robert?

OLSON: Bourbon and water, if you have it.

CYNTHIA: (quickly) I'll get it.

 

(CYNTHIA leaves and ANN quickly follows behind her.)

 

ANN: I need a refill myself. So nice to have you here.

OLSON: Thank you.

 

(And the women are gone. )

 

JOE: (not sure what has happened) You'll have to excuse us. We're all pretty nervous about having you here.

OLSON: I'm pretty nervous myself. So — how long have you been having the contest?

JOE: This is actually our first year.

OLSON: Really? The way you advertised, I thought it had been around for a while.

JOE: We advertised more than we should have. We were flooded with scripts.

OLSON: I can imagine. Frankly, I'm surprised you chose "Half-Life." Community theaters usually favor bedroom comedies and musicals.

JOE: We usually do ourselves. But we're more adventurous in the summer: it finally stops raining, and everyone stays outside anyway. Who cares what the hell we do?

OLSON: I'm delighted to be here. Thank you for choosing my play.

JOE: I wasn't on the selection committee. I play the newscaster voice at the end.

OLSON: Then you get the last word.

JOE: My first curtain line.

 

(There's an awkward silence.)

 

JOE: You write for television.

OLSON: Pays the rent.

JOE: What show?

OLSON: "Heart Song".

JOE: I don't know it.

OLSON: It's a soap.

JOE: Fascinating.

OLSON: What is?

JOE: The pressure. Having to write every day like that.

OLSON: There're five of us. I write the Tuesdays.

JOE: I'll watch next Tuesday then.

 

(CYNTHIA returns with OLSON's drink.)

 

CYNTHIA: One bourbon and water.

OLSON: Thanks.

CYNTHIA: More arrivals, Joe.

JOE: Time to play host.

OLSON: This is your place?

JOE: Mine and the bank's.

OLSON: I like your view. I didn't realize Portland had a skyline.

 

(Joe exits.)

 

CYNTHIA: Jesus Christ.

OLSON: That was my line.

CYNTHIA: Todd, what is this? I disqualified you. I thought I did.

OLSON: I'm not sure what you mean.

CYNTHIA: "Roses for the Road."

OLSON: You have "Roses"?

CYNTHIA: How many scripts did you enter, under how many pseudonyms? Didn't you read the rules — only one script per playwright?

OLSON: I only sent "Half-Life." My agent must've sent "Roses." I'm impressed, he's usually lazier than that.

CYNTHIA: The committee wanted to do "Roses for the Road" and once I saw your byline — Todd Westlake's byline — I had a hell of a time talking them out of it. The last thing I needed was seeing you again. So how many pseudonyms do you have?

OLSON: Only Robert Olson. But if you think I would've sent anything, knowing you were involved. I thought you were still in San Francisco with what's-her-face. What was her name?

 

(No reply.)

 

OLSON: What'd you do, break up?

 

(No reply.)

 

OLSON: Cheers. Charming way to spend a weekend, winning a play contest. Travel expenses, room and board, a small honorarium. Not to mention all the fascinating people you meet.

CYNTHIA: We'll just have to get through the weekend as best we can.

OLSON: You really wanted to do "Roses"? I told my agent to burn it. It was so bad I started writing under Robert Olson. Start all over, more or less. Cheers.

CYNTHIA: Obviously your agent didn't burn it.

OLSON: Doesn't say much for your taste, wanting to do "Roses." But then there's no accounting for taste, is there?

CYNTHIA: (distracted) What?

OLSON: I said, there's no accounting for taste. I was referring to "Roses for the Road." CYNTHIA: I know what you're referring to.

OLSON: Though it's a principle one can apply more widely. To more personal matters. To sexual preference, and so on.

CYNTHIA: I get the reference, Todd, and I'm not going to talk about the past with you. OLSON: When I asked if you'd broken up, I was referring to the present — to your happiness.

CYNTHIA: I'm goddamn happy!

OLSON: Good. Cheers. So how do you two like Portland after San Francisco? It must be quite a change. Isn't this where they have that ballot measure against gay rights and —? CYNTHIA: Todd, we have to—

OLSON: Robert Olson. I mean, if we're going to go through with this little charade, then you have to remember your lines. I'm not Todd Westlake. I'm Robert Olson.

CYNTHIA: I just don't want to argue about anything.

OLSON: I was referring to you calling me Todd.

CYNTHIA: So I'm sorry!

OLSON: Accepted. Cheers.

CYNTHIA: I don't believe this. Five minutes with you — after five years — and suddenly I feel like everything's my fault. I haven't done anything!

OLSON: I have an idea. Let's start over.

 

(A pause.)

 

OLSON: Hello, I'm Robert Olson. You must be the one directing my play. I'm so much looking forward to seeing it.

CYNTHIA: Shut up. Just pretend you've never seen me before.

OLSON: There's no invisible lady like an ex-wife. Excuse me — invisible person. CYNTHIA: Just cut the crap.

 

(BILL and WILLOW enter.)

 

BILL: Bobby, I'd like you to meet the wife. Willow, Robert Olson. She plays Heather. WILLOW: I'm so excited to meet you!

OLSON: You play Heather? How interesting.

WILLOW: "Interesting" usually means disapproval.

OLSON: No, not at all. I just didn't think of Heather being so attractive. Nice casting. CYNTHIA: Thank you.

WILLOW: And I thought I was nervous before.

CYNTHIA: Will you be coming inside soon? People are anxious to meet you.

OLSON: In a bit.

CYNTHIA: If you'll excuse me...

 

(CYNTHIA exits.)

 

WILLOW: Bill told me you write for a soap opera.

OLSON: "Heart Song."

WILLOW: You're kidding! I watch it every day.

OLSON: I just write the Tuesdays.

WILLOW: I know it's not fair to ask — but is Priscilla going to get a divorce?

OLSON: Not on Tuesday.

WILLOW: I love the actor who plays Morgan. He's so evil and sexy.

OLSON: He gets killed in a car accident.

WILLOW: Oh, no!

OLSON: He got cast in another series, so we have to kill him off. On Tuesday, I hope. BILL: I meant to ask you on the ride from the airport, but there's actually a lot of ad-libbing and improv on the soaps, isn't there?

OLSON: Mostly when actors forget their lines. Actually we develop a lot of the scenes with some theater games we play.

 

(Joe enters.)

 

JOE: There are some folks who are anxious to meet you, Robert.

OLSON: And I need a refill. Stay put, I can find it.

 

(He goes.)

 

JOE: He seems like a regular guy.

BILL: The first thing he asked at the airport was why wasn't it raining. Then he wanted to know if St. Helens was likely to erupt while he was here. How the hell am I supposed to answer that?

WILLOW: Did you get to tell him about your script?

BILL: I couldn't get a word in. You know what else he said — he'd never been to the Northwest before. He sets a play in Portland and has never been here.

WILLOW: The setting isn't all that central to the action.

BILL: That's the under-statement of the year. Nothing's central to the action. The situation in "Half-Life" is phony from top to bottom. We should've stuck with "Roses for the Road."

JOE: It's good for us to do something avant-garde.

BILL: Avant-garde is a synonym for "it stinks." Who can believe the premise? Even if Iraq did get a bomb, even if it used it, who can believe all the rest of that crap?

WILLOW: I can imagine it happening just the way he wrote it.

BILL: Come on, if Portland was being evacuated, would you hang around to play a parlor game? No way.

JOE: He's here, the play opens tonight, and the audience will tell us what they think soon enough.

BILL: Pardon the pun, but it's going to be one hell of a bomb.

WILLOW: I certainly hope you don't take that attitude on stage with you.

BILL: Don't worry about me, I'm a pro. You want some coldcuts or something?

WILLOW: I'm too nervous to eat.

BILL: Glass of punch?

WILLOW: Nothing, thanks.

 

(BILL exits.)

 

JOE: (cautious) I hope we can agree that I deserve an explanation.

WILLOW: Something came up. I couldn't get away.

JOE: You might have phoned. A quick trip to the market, a coin in the phone slot. WILLOW: I didn't think of it.

JOE: I don't think that's the reason.

WILLOW: You're right.

JOE: Well?

WILLOW: I didn't come because I feel guilty as hell.

JOE: You've felt guilty from the beginning.

WILLOW: It's getting worse. That's why I'm not seeing you any more.

JOE: I don't believe that.

WILLOW: You will.

JOE: You're involved as deeply as I am. And as voluntarily, I might add.

WILLOW: You aren't married, and you don't have children.

JOE: Oh yes, let's not forget the children. We ought to bring Olson out here, this sounds like an audition for his soap opera.

WILLOW: That doesn't make what I'm telling you false.

JOE: Willow, I know how much you care for me.

WILLOW: No. You don't know me at all.

JOE: I see. Then whose fault is that? I haven't been dreaming these past few months. When I'm told something, I believe it. You have told me some very sweet things. WILLOW: Joe, I'm still fond of you but—

JOE: "Fond" of me? Jesus.

WILLOW: It was a bad time for me. I needed to feel wanted.

JOE: How the hell am I supposed to react to that?

WILLOW: We'll always be special friends.

JOE: That's fucked, Willow. That's really fucked.

 

(OLSON returns.)

 

OLSON: Someone asked me for an autograph. I feel like a celebrity.

JOE: If you think it's bad now, wait til the cast party.

OLSON: By then I'll be drunk enough to handle it. Cheers.

 

(ANN enters.)

 

ANN: I see you escaped your admirers.

OLSON: Caught in the act.

WILLOW: If you'll excuse me, I have some errands to run before call. I hope we've done your play justice.

OLSON: In your case, I'm sure I have nothing to worry about.

JOE: Excuse me.

 

(WILLOW and JOE exit.)

 

ANN: They're having an affair. Everyone knows but poor Bill.

OLSON: I'll bet he knows.

ANN: No, he thinks she's having an affair with Dean Pill. Pill's the drama critic for the paper.

OLSON: Her reviews must be spectacular.

ANN: She even deserves some of them.

OLSON: Adultery's become the norm, hasn't it? That may make soap opera the dramatic form for our times.

ANN: Is that Robert Olson speaking — or Todd Westlake?

OLSON: Oh my. You're an investigative reporter disguised as an actress. I take it Cynthia told you.

ANN: No, I recognized you myself as soon as you walked out onto the deck.

OLSON: Have we met before?

ANN: No. I'm the dyke from San Francisco.

OLSON: The dyke. I remember.

ANN: You've changed since then. Your play shows it. To tell the truth, I'm as shocked as Cynthia that you're here. That you wrote "Half-Life."

OLSON: I thought all of you preferred "Roses for the Road."

ANN: I didn't. But it was the first round favorite. Cynthia vetoed it, and I led the charge for "Half-Life." I still can't believe you wrote it. You didn't seem to be in that kind of space five years ago.

OLSON: Well, I had this extraordinary experience, you see — my wife left me for a dyke in San Francisco.

ANN: You've recovered nicely. Better than Cynthia has, actually.

OLSON: Don't tell me: she still has a soft spot in her heart for me.

ANN: She's still afraid of herself.

OLSON: I don't remember seeing any fear when she moved out.

ANN: She still hasn't really "come out," you know. Not in Portland. She didn't like the San Francisco scene; she prefers being "discreet," as she puts it. She's afraid being openly gay will lose the business clients.

OLSON: Still in Public Relations?

ANN: Oh yes. And I doubt if anyone in Portland has the slightest suspicion that she's gay. Which is becoming a problem, to tell the truth. You've heard about our Ballot Measure 13?

OLSON: The anti-gay legislation.

ANN: Exactly, though the backers don't call it that. Cynthia's afraid to take a public stand against it. She gets angry when I do.

OLSON: I'd really love to exchange Cynthia stories with you but it feels too much like being at work.

ANN: She's living two lives.

OLSON: I live at least that many. Don't you?

ANN: I live in a community of growing homophobia. I see no advantage to burying my head in the sand.

OLSON: Then everybody here knows you're gay?

ANN: No, they don't. So far I've gone along with her. I'm not sure I can for much longer. OLSON: Maybe she has a point about your clients.

ANN: Then we should be more selective.

OLSON: Does Cynthia know you're telling me all of this?

ANN: No.

OLSON: Why are you?

ANN: Why not? We're here.

OLSON: That sounds a little macho, like mountain-climbing or foreign policy.

ANN: I love Cynthia very much. It hurts me to see her denying who she is.

OLSON: If you got rid of your homophobic clients, maybe you'd go broke.

ANN: I've never understood why gay fidelity should raise eyebrows when heterosexual infidelity in the business world is commonplace.

OLSON: That sounds so logical it has to be wrong.

ANN: I wish there was something constructive that we could all get out of this.

OLSON: Our conversation?

ANN: The surprise of your appearance.

OLSON: If you're asking me to help you get Cynthia out of the closet, no thanks.

ANN: You might at least become friends again.

OLSON: Takes two to tango, and I don't think she's interested.

ANN: There's a rally against Measure 13 tomorrow. Maybe if you'd come, she'd see you've changed and would come as well.

OLSON: Going to a rally with a hangover is a little much — and I plan to have a hangover.

 

(CYNTHIA enters.)

 

CYNTHIA: It's getting close to call, Ann.

OLSON: I've just been invited to a rally tomorrow.

CYNTHIA: My, haven't we been busy?

ANN: He knows who I am.

CYNTHIA: And how on earth could he have learned that?

ANN: (to Olson) Think about it .

 

(ANN exits. OLSON: is grinning.)

 

CYNTHIA: I fail to see what's so amusing.

OLSON: Opening night jitters. We used to spat every opening night, remember? And now you two are spatting.

CYNTHIA: We are not spatting.

OLSON: Could've fooled me.

CYNTHIA: It has nothing to do with opening night.

OLSON: Damn.

CYNTHIA: I beg your pardon?

OLSON: I was hoping marriage had nothing to do with gender.

CYNTHIA: What did she tell you?

OLSON: That coming out is bad for business.

CYNTHIA: Christ.

OLSON: Exactly — look where it got him.

CYNTHIA: As far as the weekend is concerned, you don't know either of us. I wish I could trust you.

OLSON: You can.

CYNTHIA: Even when you're drinking?

 

(OLSON looks at his watch.)

 

OLSON: I was wondering how long it would take you to bring up my drinking. I think you just set a record. Congratulations. Cheers.

CYNTHIA: Just be Robert Olson, who has never seen us before.

OLSON: Olson in the flesh. So how do you like the play?

CYNTHIA: I liked it better before I found out you wrote it.

OLSON: That's the "biographical fallacy" — that's what the whatchamacallits would say. What are they called? The assholes with all the answers?

CYNTHIA: The reviewers?

OLSON: Ah, the reviewers. The critics! They'd say, Don't confuse art with life. CYNTHIA: There are certain parallels, Todd — Robert!

OLSON: And differences as well. You left me before the planet gets nuked. Gets nuked again, I mean. Funny how we forget we've already nuked it.

CYNTHIA: Then the play isn't about our marriage?

OLSON: No.

CYNTHIA: What's the source of all the anger?

OLSON: You sound like a critic.

CYNTHIA: Then questions aren't allowed? How convenient for you.

OLSON: If you don't know the source of the anger, then why the hell are you directing the play?

CYNTHIA: I do know the source of the anger.

 

(JOE and BILL enter.)

 

JOE: Time to get to the theater.

CYNTHIA: We're on our way.

 

(She exits. As OLSON starts out, he is stopped by BILL. JOE waits behind.)

 

BILL: Bobby, wait a minute. Let me run a scenario by you before it gets too crazy. There's this alcoholic, right? He's really into the hard stuff but he never touches a drop until after five. Then he'll do a fifth a night, practically. During the day he's a well-respected high school principal. His wife is head of the PTA, the whole shot. A real Jekyll and Hyde situation. A high school principal by day but by night, when he's been drinking, he can go after the old lady in a way that makes "Virginia Woolf" look like a romance. Now it turns out the wife is having an affair with the guy's best friend. The principal doesn't suspect a thing but it does let us sympathize with him despite the booze and violence because, you know, she's really doing a number on him. And with his best friend.

OLSON: We sympathize with him.

BILL: You got it! That's really important. Maybe he also had a leg shot off in the war or something. Whatever. Anyway, it's a night when the principal is having some teachers over for a party and naturally the best friend is there, too.

JOE: We're running late, Bill.

BILL: Don't worry, I'm giving Olson a lift. So it's late in the party and most of the teachers have gone home. The principal's hitting the sauce heavy. Meanwhile his wife and best friend are out on the deck alone. Nothing heavy, just a little touchy-feely. And the principal decides to go out for some fresh air, not knowing they're out there

 

(They have exited, lights fade to BLACKOUT.)

 

 

2/ "Half-Life," a one-act play by Robert Olson (8 p.m.)

 

(The set is an interior. With the house lights still up, JOE comes forward to speak to the audience.)

 

JOE: Good evening. If you've read your paper at all this week, then you know that the setting for tonight's play is a terrorist act leading to a limited nuclear war that requires an emergency evacuation of Portland — and that in this tense moment, a man's wife admits that she has taken another woman as a lover. In this context, you might suppose that the picketing against Ballot Measure 13 going on outside the theater tonight is somehow connected to and even endorsed by the Portland Community Players. This is not the case. What happens outside on a public sidewalk is their business, and what happens here inside the theater is our business — and, I might add, our only business. Thank you.

 

(A pause. )

 

JOE: "Half-Life" by Robert Olson is the winner of the first annual one-act play competition sponsored by the Portland Community Players. When he isn't writing prize-winning plays, Mr. Olson is a writer for the daytime television series, "Heart Song." He has informed me that he writes each Tuesday episode. We've very excited about sharing this original and provocative new play with you, and we have the pleasure of having the playwright in the audience as our guest of honor. Robert, would you stand up and take a bow?...Are you out there, Robert?...I guess he's still back stage with the cast. At any rate, Robert Olson — along with our cast and director — will be available right after the play to respond to your questions about "Half-Life." I think you'll find that this is very different material for the Players, and we think that's good. Without further ado, then — oh yes, I want to remind you that our regular season continues next weekend with a brand new production of Neil Simon's The Odd Couple. This is the fifth time we've had the pleasure of bringing you this masterpiece by the master of comedy, and we have an all-new cast for you. So don't forget The Odd Couple, opening next weekend and continuing for ten weeks. And I should add that "Half-Life" will also be performed tomorrow and Sunday. And now, without further ado, the world premier of "Half-Life" by Robert Olson. Thank you.

 

(BLACKOUT.)

 

(LIGHTS UP on HEATHER. She is waiting, nervous. Three scripts rest on a coffee table. Heather's purse leans against a leg of the table. MARY rushes into the room.)

 

MARY: (played by ANN) What are you doing here? Didn't you hear the news? HEATHER (played by WILLOW) I heard it.

MARY: It's a zoo out there.

HEATHER: I know. Where's your husband?

MARY: In the garage. He's loading the camp gear.

HEATHER: Get him.

MARY: You can't be serious. Are you all right?

HEATHER: What a fucking question. Are you?

MARY: I don't know how I am. It's so crazy out there.

HEATHER: You expect to go camping?

MARY: Everyone's evacuating. Haven't you been listening to the radio?

HEATHER: You saw the traffic. You expect to go somewhere? We're going to retaliate and this thing will escalate until . . .

MARY: But it's safer south. Isn't it?

HEATHER: The winds have been east out of Seattle.

MARY: There was an announcement to evacuate. Everyone's going south. We have to do something, for Christ's sake.

HEATHER: I know. That's why I'm here.

MARY: Why are you here?

HEATHER: To find out if you've told him yet. You haven't, have you?

MARY: Heather, this is hardly the time to discuss it.

HEATHER: I can think of no better time. It's rather a last chance to do anything, don't you think? Surely we've retaliated by now — whoever the hell did this has allies who have retaliated in kind — this is the grand final escalation we've all been waiting for. I should think today is the most existential moment in human history. It's now or never, love.

MARY: You're right. I haven't told him.

HEATHER: Will you tell him now?

MARY: You mean — now?

HEATHER: The most existential moment in human history: now.

MARY: He's packing the camp gear. I'm supposed to be packing clothes and getting our — toothbrushes.

HEATHER: Your fucking toothbrushes.

MARY: One can't give up. It's not necessarily the end.

HEATHER: Mary, the proverbial button has been pushed. So much for the end of the Cold War, hey? Welcome to the New Holocaust, where everybody gets to play.

MARY: So what do you think we should do?

HEATHER: I'll kill myself before I let this madness kill me. It would be considerably more dignified.

MARY: It's not necessarily the end.

HEATHER: Do you think we're not retaliating? Do you expect North Korea to stay out of this, and all those republics in Russia with names no one can pronounce — who are sitting on tons of nuclear weapons? Look at history. Look at how any world war starts. Face it, the game's over, Mary. The dinosaurs have won. Male aggression has won. They're taking the planet with them.

MARY: It's just so hard to comprehend.

HEATHER: On the contrary, extinction is the logical conclusion of the male way of doing things. You read Power and Patriarchy.

MARY: It all seemed so theoretical.

HEATHER: When the theory's right, the consequences are predictable. The miracle is that it took men so long to blow us all up.

MARY: Don't you have an instinct to survive? Despite everything?

HEATHER: My instinct is to die with dignity. Get your husband.

MARY: Why?

HEATHER: I brought some scripts for us to read.

MARY: What are you talking about?

HEATHER: Male consciousness raising. Have you forgotten already?

MARY: You actually wrote some scripts?

HEATHER: We did talk about it.

MARY: But that was just — thinking aloud and fantasizing. I didn't expect you to go through with it.

HEATHER: But I did — even before the shit hit the fan. It's now or never, love.

MARY: John will never go along with something like that.

HEATHER: With proper persuasion he will.

 

(She takes a pistol from her purse. )

 

MARY: This is crazy.

HEATHER: I didn't nuke Seattle, love. Get John.

MARY: I don't see the point of this.

HEATHER: The point is doing it.

MARY: You're serious.

HEATHER: Very. I also have the gun. The power of the male archetype. Get your husband.

MARY: Is the point to embarrass him?

HEATHER: He won't be embarrassed. He'll be outraged.

MARY: So we read the script. Then what?

HEATHER: Then I'm on my way to find dignity. I hope you'll come with me.

MARY: I don't think I can do that. Not like this.

HEATHER: I love you, Mary.

MARY: I'm — very confused about how I feel about you.

HEATHER: Get him.

MARY: Can I talk to him alone first?

HEATHER: I don't think I can trust you. Call him from here. Then you can talk where I can see you.

MARY: Fine. You have the gun.

HEATHER: Incredible, isn't it? With the male archetype, you can get anything you want. Except what matters.

MARY: You're not acting like anything matters.

HEATHER: Death with dignity matters.

 

(JOHN enters and stops as soon as he sees HEATHER with the gun.)

 

JOHN: (played by BILL) Give her what she wants, Mary. We don't want any trouble. HEATHER: Give him a script.

 

(MARY hands JOHN a script.)

 

JOHN: What the hell is this?

MARY: Please do as she says. It won't take long.

JOHN: You know her?

MARY: She's a friend from school.

JOHN: (to Heather) You do know what's going on out there, don't you?

HEATHER: You'll read the part of Wifey.

JOHN: I'll do what?

HEATHER: We're going to stage a reading, and you're playing the role of Wifey. Mary is Hubby, and I'm the Narrator. Shall we begin?

JOHN: Look, I know it's hard to handle, but what's happening out there is real.

MARY: Do as she says, John.

JOHN: Iraq or somedamnbody has nuked Seattle and it's time to get the hell out of Portland!

HEATHER: The sooner we begin, the sooner you can join the lemmings rushing south. JOHN: Get fucking serious.

HEATHER: I am very serious.

JOHN: She's a friend of yours?

MARY: Please. It won't take long.

JOHN: You want me to read a play? A fucking play!

 

(HEATHER fires a round from the pistol up in the air.)

 

JOHN: (quickly) So what do you want me to do?

HEATHER: Read the part of Wifey. I'll begin the narration. "The Habits of Hubby," a skit in search of peace, in endless movements ad nauseam. The First Habit: Hubby is Horny."

 

(A pause.)

 

HEATHER: The next line is yours.

JOHN: I don't understand the point of this.

HEATHER: Read your line.

JOHN: Why are we doing this?

 

(HEATHER gestures with the pistol.)

 

JOHN: Okay, just point that thing the other way.

HEATHER: "The First Habit: Hubby is Horny."

JOHN: (as Wifey) "Please, dear, I just put on my face."

HEATHER: Use a high voice.

JOHN: What?

HEATHER: I want you to sound like a woman. Use a falsetto.

JOHN: For Christ's sake— . . . okay, okay. Can we start over?

HEATHER: "Hubby is Horny."

JOHN: (in falsetto, which continues below) "Please, dear, I just put on my face."

MARY: (as Hubby, in a deep voice) "I'm not interested in your face."

JOHN: "We'll be late to the party."

MARY: "I won't take a minute."

JOHN: "You never take a minute, dear."

MARY: "Fastest gun in the west."

JOHN: "Maybe when we get back."

MARY: "I'm in the mood now."

JOHN: "But I'm not."

MARY: "Just a quicky, for Christ's sake."

JOHN: "I'm dressed, I just put on my face—"

MARY: "You're never in the mood."

JOHN: "You know that's not true."

MARY: "Who the hell brings home the bacon around here? Who works his goddamn ass to the grindstone while you sit around watching soap operas? I can't even get a little satisfaction around here."

JOHN: "We can put out some candles when we get home. Make it romantic."

MARY: "Candles in July? Are you crazy? Frigid bitch."

HEATHER: "The Second Habit: Hubby Needs Understanding."

JOHN: (normal voice) Can I say something?

HEATHER No. "Hubby Needs Understanding."

MARY: (deep voice) "Hi, Carol. Enjoying the party?"

JOHN: (high voice) "Frankly, no. How about you?"

MARY: "I've been better."

JOHN: "Where's Nancy?"

MARY: "Around. Is that a new dress?"

JOHN: "Just something I picked up on sale."

MARY: "Dynamite. Really. Mike is a lucky guy."

JOHN: "Tell him that."

MARY: "You always look so sharp."

JOHN: "Keep talking, I love it."

MARY: "Really. You always have a certain aura. A certain presence. A certain— . .. oh, I can't explain it. I think you're great!"

JOHN: "Thanks, I needed that."

MARY: "It's so easy to talk to you. Nancy hasn't the foggiest notion who I am. Not really. It's like living in a vacuum."

JOHN: "I didn't know. You two always seem so happy."

MARY: "The mask we put on. I guess I'm bending your ear."

JOHN: "I don't mind."

MARY: "Do you find it stuffy in here?"

JOHN: "A little."

MARY: "Let's go out on the deck."

HEATHER: "The Third Habit: Hubby Makes His Move."

MARY: "It's great to be with someone you can talk to."

JOHN: "I know what you mean."

MARY: "That dress is a knockout. You have an incredible figure."

JOHN: "I work at it in the gym."

MARY: "It pays off."

HEATHER: Now he tries to feel your left breast. You fight him off.

JOHN: (normal voice) How long does this go on?

HEATHER: He tries to feel your left breast.

JOHN: We have an emergency going on out there!

HEATHER: Your line, Mary.

MARY: "Your breasts are incredible."

JOHN: (high voice) "Please don't . . ."

MARY: "You don't know how lonely I've been."

JOHN: "Stop it, please."

MARY: "You turn me on."

JOHN: "Let's go back inside."

HEATHER Finally he reaches inside your dress and feels your left breast.

MARY: "My God."

JOHN: "I had cancer."

MARY: "Jesus, I didn't realize, I—"

JOHN: "I had an operation."

HEATHER "The Fourth Habit: Hubby Helps With The Housework."

JOHN: (normal voice) Look here.

HEATHER "Hubby Helps With The Housework."

JOHN: I want to say something! Would you please point that somewhere else? HEATHER "Hubby Helps With The Housework."

MARY: (normal voice) Please read your lines.

JOHN: I won't put up with this.

HEATHER "Hubby Helps With The Housework."

JOHN: What do you, hate men?

HEATHER I'm not going to wait forever.

JOHN: So how many habits do we have to go through? If you expect me to take this personally, you're full of shit. I help with the housework! Tell her, Mary. I help with the housework all the time.

MARY: You seldom help with the housework, John.,

JOHN: I take out the garbage! We're in a goddamn war out there! Who has time for housework?

HEATHER "Hubby Helps With The Housework."

JOHN: I'll tell you this, you won't see any women on the front lines out there. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

HEATHER "Hubby Helps With The Housework."

MARY: Maybe we can move on.

HEATHER "The Fifth Habit: Hubby Would've Won The Game If He'd Been Coach." JOHN: So pull the trigger. I dare you.

MARY: (to Heather) I think you've made your point.

HEATHER "Hubby Would've Won The Game If He'd Been Coach."

MARY: (prompting) The Sixth Habit . . .

HEATHER "Hubby Is Laid Flat By A Mild Cold."

JOHN: (to Mary) Will you get her to stop this?

HEATHER "Hubby Goes On The Wagon For Three Days."

JOHN: Goddamn it!

HEATHER "Hubby Should've Known Better Than To Let A Woman Balance The Checkbook." "Hubby Taught Her How To Boil An Egg." "Hubby Could've Predicted It." JOHN: I quit!

HEATHER "The Tenth Habit: Hubby Could've Predicted It." "Hubby Could've Predicted It." "Hubby Could've—"

JOHN: Predicted what?

MARY: (deep voice) "I knew the Cowboys would blow it." "I know the sonofabitch would back off his campaign promises." "I knew he had his hands in the till." "I knew that marriage would never last."

JOHN: What is the point of all this?

 

(No reply.)

 

JOHN: WHAT IS THE POINT OF ALL THIS?

MARY: (to Heather) I think it's time for us to go.

HEATHER (aiming the pistol at John) "Hubby Could've Predicted It . . ."

MARY: Heather, no!

 

(Mary grabs the gun: a struggle, which John joins in — and he ends up with the pistol.)

 

JOHN: Now!

MARY: John, please— . . .

JOHN: Now, goddamn it, it's my turn!

MARY: Try to understand.

JOHN: Understand?! Who is she? What kind of power does she have over you?

MARY: She had the gun.

JOHN: Yeah, well, you seemed to be enjoying yourself. So what the hell are you trying to prove? That men are assholes?

HEATHER: How perceptive of you.

JOHN: Are you fucking serious? Do you think all that shit, all those clichés about how men are the assholes of the universe, has anything to do with what's going on out there? Seattle's been nuked! Do you comprehend that? We're in a nuclear war out there! We're talking about the survival of this country here! Try doing that without men.

HEATHER: Yes, survival is precisely what we're talking about.

JOHN: (getting crazier) The shrinks predicted this. The human mind can handle only so much — and then it cracks. Goddamn women, you think the world is all rainbows and roses. You don't perceive reality.

HEATHER: I know what reality is.

JOHN: Then you should know what's happening out there!

HEATHER: Masculinity.

JOHN: What?

HEATHER: Masculinity is happening out there.

JOHN: I don't see any cunts volunteering for the front lines, I'll grant you that.

MARY: I'm not a cunt, John!

JOHN: Let me put it this way: you have strange friends.

HEATHER: At least I accept reality — meaning, that the game's over.

JOHN: The hell it is. We recovered after Pearl Harbor and we'll recover again. Whoever did this, we'll bomb them back to the Stone Age!

HEATHER: How masculine of us.

JOHN: Who the fuck are you?

HEATHER: Someone who is leaving. It's been swell.

 

(She starts away.)

 

JOHN: Like hell, you're leaving.

MARY: I'm leaving, too, John.

JOHN: I have more to say here!

MARY: There's no point in saying anything. I'm leaving you. I've been trying to get the nerve to tell you for weeks. Don't pretend you're surprised.

JOHN: She did this?

MARY: Not really.

JOHN: It's those classes you've been taking, isn't it? All that anti-male propaganda you've been reading? Give an inch and they take a mile.

HEATHER: Woman as nigger: perfect.

JOHN: I paid for those fucking courses you're taking, sweetheart.

MARY: There's nothing to discuss, John. Good luck to you.

 

(The women start away.)

 

JOHN: So that's it. How long has this been going on?

 

(No reply.)

 

JOHN: (after them) I asked how long you've been a dyke! How long have you been queer?!

MARY: I don't want to talk about it, John. Goodbye.

JOHN: I'm not afraid to use this!

 

(Mary is the first to exit.)

 

HEATHER: Don't act like a self-fulfilling prophecy.

 

(She exits.)

 

JOHN: (after them) Mary, you get your ass back here!

 

(He holds the pistol out with both arms, G-man style.)

 

JOHN: I'M NOT AFRAID TO USE THIS!

 

(He fires. A scream. He fires again, repeatedly, until the chamber is empty. He looks at the gun. He drops it.)

 

JOHN: Jesus Christ . . .

 

(He goes to a radio and turns it on. He finds the news. He listens as the lights start down.)

 

NEWSCASTER: (voice of Joe) …Iraq taking credit for the strike, and North Korea claims to have sent missiles into Europe. Retaliation by the United States has been immediate with missile attacks on Iraq, Siberia and North Korea. Unless the U.S. accepts an immediate cease fire, Moscow has threatened to …

 

(BLACKOUT.)

 

(A pause. The STAGE AND HOUSE LIGHTS COME UP together. All the actors, as well as JOE, CYNTHIA and OLSON, are sitting casually about the set.)

 

JOE: (to audience) Any other questions?

 

(A beat.)

 

BILL: (responding to question) Let me tackle that one. That's something that went through my mind as well. He blows his wife away — I mean, I do — because, you know, she's been cheating on me — with a woman, no less. She's gay, and this is real, real hard for me to take.

CYNTHIA: He believes she's gay, is the point.

JOE: In the back row . . .?

 

(A beat.)

 

ANN: Oh, maybe I've gone to bed with her once. I really haven't come out or anything. I'm in a process of deep personal change. Obviously I've been influenced by Heather, and by the courses I've been taking. But suddenly the unthinkable has happened, it may really be the end of the world — the most existential moment in human history, as it's put — and obviously I have to go through changes quicker than I would otherwise.

JOE: Your question, sir?

 

(A beat.)

 

OLSON: I don't know how to respond to that. I don't think of it as a political play. I think it's very realistic, that it can literally happen that way. I think the end of the Cold War makes for a more dangerous world, not a safer one, because now enemies are more invisible. It's nothing I can prove. It's just how I feel about things. There's no accounting for taste.

CYNTHIA: The context is what's important, like Ann said. What's happening outside makes the rules of ordinary behavior irrelevant. Everybody is acting through a crisis. OLSON: I don't think you need any special context to explain their behavior. The context is on the front page of the newspaper every day. The world's as dangerous as ever — every day, every minute. We live on borrowed time.

JOE: The woman in the corner?

 

(A beat.)

 

OLSON: Sure, I'll answer that. I'm not gay. Why should it make a difference?

JOE: The lady in the hat . . .

 

(A beat.)

 

OLSON: I hear you — you don't like the "f-word." Again, what can I say? That's the way people talk.

JOE: Go ahead, ma'am.

 

(A beat.)

 

OLSON: But consider my point of view. I mean, here's a play set in a nuclear crisis, the beginning of a nuclear war, that tries to speak to the dynamics of why such things happen, and you're worried about a very popular if maligned little four-letter word pronounced "fuck." What the hell kind of hierarchy of obscenity is that, lady?

CYNTHIA: Robert, I think she's only suggesting that you could have made your point without using — the "f-word."

ANN: Fuck. Are we all afraid to say fuck here?

OLSON: (to Ann) Thank you. (To the audience) The point is: war is more obscene than saying "fuck." But here we are . . .

JOE: (to woman in audience) Go on.

 

(A beat.)

 

OLSON: I think that's a rationalization. If you don't like the play, fine, but don't give me that crap about f-words and melodrama and contrived situations. You dislike the play for the same reason you dislike turnips or horseradish or oral sex or whatever the hell it is you dislike. It's a matter of taste, not of reason, it's—

JOE: The gentleman in front . . .

OLSON: Wait, I'm not done yet! This is important. Reason isn't calling the shots out there. Anything can happen out there. Your so-called reason, looking at the world for motivations and causes, builds an edifice that hides what's really happening. It's pretty hairy out there, you know? I mean, we're going to end up blowing up the planet over an obsolete myth!

JOE: The gentleman in front . . .

 

(A beat.)

 

WILLOW: My character is definitely gay and radical. How would Heather make sense otherwise?

OLSON: She doesn't have to be gay and radical to make sense. Sense of what? Heather could be a conservative heterosexual and still pull off something crazy like that. Are you telling me you've never met a weird conservative heterosexual? The point is, all these labels and categories don't work. They hide what's really going on. People are more mind-boggling than we give them credit for. We fall victim to our own categories. CYNTHIA: The masculine style that's brought up in the play — is this one of the things we fall victim to?

OLSON: Of course. But, hell, that's just a part of it. We fall victim to our mode of thinking rationally. We fall victim to language itself. You know, in Zen, language isn't supposed to say anything. In Zen, language is a bulldozer one uses to push all the garbage out of the way. Reality's between the lines, in the silence.

BILL: I was going to say something, but . . . .

OLSON: The language is insufficient to express the feeling.

BILL: You must love being a writer!

JOE: Anyone else?

OLSON: One more thing, and I'll shut up. Sure, we want answers. But what's to be done out there? Kierkegaard said that there are two ways: to suffer; or to be a professor of the fact that someone else suffers. In my humble opinion, we've got too many fucking professors. Sorry for the f-word, lady.

 

(He quickly exits as Joe tries to cover with:)

 

JOE: I'd like to thank Robert Olson for . . . being with us tonight . . . .

 

(Joe applauds, the others join in, as lights come down to BLACKOUT.)

 


 

ACT TWO

 

 

1/ The Cast Party (1 a.m.)

 

(Party sounds. AT RISE: OLSON and WILLOW are alone on the deck, dancing to a country song that OLSON is making up on the spot. He sings with an exaggerated twang and is pretty high.)

 

OLSON: (singing) He's cheatin' on she

And she's cheatin' on he

And you're cheatin' on me

And I'm cheatin' on thee

So it's plain, don't you see

Since she's cheatin' on he

And he's cheatin' on she

That we're cheatin' on we

 

(He does a very bad country yodel.)

 

OLSON: Yodel-lay-he-oh A-lay-he-oh A-lay-he

WILLOW: (stopping the dance) I hate country music.

OLSON: Run that by me again.

WILLOW: I like Bach. I hate country music.

OLSON: A Bach freak? You live in Oregon and you're a Bach freak?

WILLOW: Where do you think you are? West Gulch?

OLSON: The Pacific Northwest! The land of lumberjacks and fishermen and cowboys! That's why I nuked it, you're so close to the mythological center of things. But look there: you have a skyline. The skyline of a city. Almost.

WILLOW: There was a letter in "Dear Abby" recently—

OLSON: You watch "Heart Song" and read "Dear Abby" — my kind of girl.

WILLOW: A couple from the Midwest had moved to Portland and was surprised at how progressive the city is. For example, the woman met a lesbian at work who was very open about who she was. That had never happened to her in Ohio.

OLSON: All things are relative. To dear Albert. Einstein. Cheers.

WILLOW: For the first time in her life, she found herself being friends with a lesbian. OLSON: Well, election day will take care of that . . .

WILLOW: You mean Measure 13? Oregonians aren't behind that. It's all the people moving in from out of state.

OLSON: Really?

WILLOW: California. Utah. Lots of Mormons are moving here.

OLSON: Well, let's put another Measure on the ballot and keep those fascists out. WILLOW: I didn't say they were fascists. It's a very confusing issue when you study it. Bill's probably voting Yes but I'm not sure how I'm voting yet.

OLSON: You don't want to vote No and cancel his vote, do you?

WILLOW: I can make up my own mind, thank you very much.

OLSON: My kind of woman.

WILLOW: You confuse me. On the one hand, there's something very cynical about you. But other times you seem to be having so much fun.

OLSON: I have a theory. Behold the stars!, twinkling happily away. More than we can see in L.A., as a matter of fact.

WILLOW: Aren't they lovely?

OLSON: They don't exist.

WILLOW: Well, I certainly see them up there.

OLSON: They are not shining. Poof!, the stars have vanished, to the twinkle. However: since, to toast dear Albert once again, since their little twinkles take so long to get to our own untwinkling hunk of hot rock, we don't know they're dead yet. So here we are, writing love songs and poetry and fascist ballot measures in a universe that no longer exists. Cheers.

WILLOW: I see what you mean — some cosmic explosion may already have happened, for all we know.

OLSON: Precisely! In fact, there are no more stars anywhere, in any firmament. All gone! And like you say, we won't find out that cosmic fact for thousands of years. Or until tomorrow.

WILLOW: That's very pessimistic.

OLSON: On the contrary, I toast stars that don't exist! I'd say there's a bit of good will there.

WILLOW: Your play is pessimistic.

OLSON: Neutral. Ironic but neutral.

WILLOW: Ironic how?

OLSON: We have the audacity to blow up a universe when we're the only pigeon-hole left who hasn't gotten word of the Grand Cosmic Finale. I told you, the stars are gone. Poof! Not a twinkle left in the sky — we're just very late getting the word. Ironic, yes? But a far greater irony would be to keep on living in the universe as if it still existed! That would give us the last laugh.

WILLOW: You're pulling my leg.

OLSON: Literally, that would be a pleasure.

 

(BILL and JOE enter.)

 

OLSON: "The Twelfth Habit: Hubby Runs Off With The Leading Lady."

 

(He rather whisks Willow away.)

 

JOE: I'd say he's taken quite an interest in her.

BILL: He's not the only one.

JOE: If you brought me out here to recite your litany about Pill—

BILL: I didn't.

JOE: It's your fifth drink obsession.

BILL: I've finally got it figured out. It's not Pill.

JOE: How can you believe Willow's having an affair with anyone?

BILL: I live with her. I know.

JOE: So if it's not our renowned drama critic, who is it?

BILL: I have a very clear idea about that.

JOE: The suspense is killing me.

BILL: Think about it. Joe.

JOE: This is all your active imagination inspired by alcohol.

BILL: Really think about it. It's so goddamn obvious. It hit me when I was telling Olson the plot of my script. It's like I knew subconsciously all the time and was writing it down, while consciously I suspected Pill.

JOE: So who is it?

BILL: As soon as you hear the name, you'll know I'm right.

JOE: Did you drag me out here to tell me or not?

BILL: I want to be sure I'm right. I'm going to confront her with it.

JOE: And when does this little soap opera take place?

BILL: Soon.

JOE: Not here, I hope.

BILL: The culprit's here.

JOE: This is still my castle, buddy, and a little scene like that is something I can very well do without. I'm telling you, she's not having an affair. I'd give odds.

BILL: She is, but it ain't with Dean Pill.

JOE: I don't want a scene. I mean it.

BILL: Don't worry about it.

 

(He starts off.)

 

JOE: Where are you going?

BILL: To find Willow.

 

(ANN and CYNTHIA meet BILL at the sliding door.)

 

BILL: Help yourself, I was just leaving.

JOE: (following Bill) Great party!

 

(The men are gone.)

 

CYNTHIA: Well?

ANN: I can't do this any more.

CYNTHIA: Good. Then stop. What did all that marching around really accomplish tonight? Nothing. You lost as many votes as you may've gained.

ANN: I don't mean that. The opposite, in fact. I feel like Mary in the play. I can't avoid looking in the mirror any longer.

CYNTHIA: So what is it you feel like doing?

ANN: Being who I am. Telling everybody here who I am. Telling everybody here who we are together.

CYNTHIA: Looking in the mirror means you have to play show-and-tell?

ANN: I think it does, yes. Otherwise I'm living a lie.

CYNTHIA: Everybody makes compromises. Suddenly you tell everybody here and . . . ANN: And what?

CYNTHIA: I can't believe we're talking about this. Ever since Todd got here, I feel like I'm in a soap opera.

ANN: (hamming it up) "I can't be discrete a minute longer. I have to drop the mask. I have to show the world who I really am: Ann Barton, Diesel Dyke!"

CYNTHIA: That's not funny.

ANN: We've become very different, haven't we?

CYNTHIA: Perhaps so. I thought we'd resolved this in San Francisco.

ANN: To your satisfaction, not mine.

CYNTHIA: You chose to come to Portland with me.

ANN: Because I love you. I'm just not sure how much I love myself any more. There are people out there who want to burn us at the stake, Cynthia — how can you just let that happen?

CYNTHIA: I think that's political paranoia. No one wants to burn anyone at the stake. ANN: It starts with something like this, a harmless sounding law, a little restriction here and there, no gays in public office, no this, no that, the next thing you know—

CYNTHIA: Ann, somebody can come out here any minute.

ANN: What are you afraid of?

CYNTHIA: What about our livelihood? The business world is a very conservative environment.

ANN: We've been through this a hundred times. Who needs clients who are bigots?

 

(OLSON enters.)

 

OLSON: Ta da!

CYNTHIA: You look polluted.

OLSON: Scorn rolls off my back — because, for a brief moment, I've been in love with Willow. Unfortunately, her husband has just claimed squatter's rights. Robert Olson is crushed. But don't worry, my ex! I feel a second wind coming. For one quick private moment, Todd Westlake breathes deeply . . . and I'm quickly back into my disguise. CYNTHIA: Please stay in it this time.

OLSON: Are you two spatting again?

ANN: We were, as a matter of fact.

CYNTHIA: Jesus Christ . . .

OLSON: We share heroes! To J.C. Cheers.

ANN: I think the play went very well. Don't you?

OLSON: Except for those idiotic questions at the end.

ANN: You made it clear enough you didn't like them.

OLSON: I was hoping I did.

CYNTHIA: Joe tells me you're leaving tomorrow.

OLSON: "Heart Song" calls.

ANN: When does your plane leave? I was hoping you'd speak at the rally.

CYNTHIA: By all means, speak at the rally. I'm sure you and Ann have much in common.

 

(She starts away.)

 

OLSON: Fetch the cast! I want to toast the cast.

ANN: A splendid idea. I'll get them.

 

(She exits. OLSON and CYNTHIA are alone.)

 

OLSON: Don't say it. You think I'm drunk. But I'm not! I'm the guest of honor. I'm the author of "Half-Life." And I am merely — high.

CYNTHIA: I hope you—

OLSON: Sshh! Mum's the word. You thought I forgot. Mum's the word! From now til the end . . .

CYNTHIA: And what's the end?

OLSON: Sleep.

CYNTHIA: Passing out.

OLSON: Same difference. The end justifies the means. (saluting, singing)  “Oh, say can you see? By the dawn's early light…”

CYNTHIA: I'm sincerely sorry to see you like this. You have a talent that deserves better. "Half-Life" is a thought-provoking play. I'm glad we did it. Too bad you had to make such an ass of yourself afterwards.

OLSON: (toasting) The Seventeenth Habit: Hubby Is An Asshole.

 

(The others come out onto the deck: ANN, BILL, WILLOW, JOE.)

 

OLSON: The invasion of the body snatchers! I fabricate from the swills of my insomnia a family of friends to whom you, and you alone, give flesh and bone. A toast to my cast! To actors! To body snatchers everywhere!

BILL: Hear-hear!

 

(They all drink.)

 

OLSON: (mock seriousness) I suppose you all wonder why I asked you here tonight. BILL: It's morning, Bobby.

OLSON: To play a game! We all love games, don't we? Why else are we in theater but to play games? Well, this is the "Heart Song" game. This is one of the games we play in Hollywood. I don't play it, the actors play it. I watch it. All the writers watch it. The actors play it and then we steal their best lines and rush to the office and plagiarize. ANN: It's a theater game?

OLSON: It's the "Heart Song" game. It's a game for soap operas. What is soap opera? A drama of deceit. Therefore, it is the purest form of drama in our time. This is a game about deceit, and at the studio we call it, "The Truth, the Whole Truth and Nothing But." I think it would be fun to play it. Anybody too chickenshit?

CYNTHIA: Perhaps some of us have had too much to drink.

OLSON: Don't be a goddamn mother hen. You're going to play, and they're going to play, and even I'm going to play. I've never played it before. I only watch and steal lines.

JOE: So what are the rules?

OLSON: Let me illustrate. I am "it" and I pick someone. Eenie meenie miney moe. Willow!

WILLOW: What do I do?

OLSON: I'm trying to explain. I'm "it" and I pick you. I then make up a sentence that begins with "If …" I put in everything before the comma and you complete the rest of the sentence. You can do so truthfully or falsefully. We try to figure out which. That's the point of the game.

JOE: We'd better have a dry run.

OLSON: I am "it." Willow: "If I were to commit adultery . . ." By "I", I mean you. "If I were to commit adultery . . ." You finish the sentence.

ANN: This could get pretty heavy.

OLSON: A game of deceit. "The Truth, the Whole Truth and Nothing But."

WILLOW: I can complete the sentence any way I want?

OLSON: The human imagination is limitless.

WILLOW: Okay. "I'd commit adultery with—"

OLSON: Repeat the whole sentence.

WILLOW: "If I were to commit adultery, I'd commit it with Tom Cruise."

OLSON: Do any of you body snatchers want to challenge that?

BILL: Yeah. What if Cruise isn't willing to go along?

WILLOW: I was stating a preference.

OLSON: Anyone else? Then we believe her? It's Willow's turn to be "it."

CYNTHIA: This is very exciting, isn't it?

OLSON: It depends.

ANN: On how honest we're willing to be.

OLSON: Thank you. Willow?

WILLOW: I can ask anyone?

OLSON: Anyone.

WILLOW: Ann: "If I were to play Mary again in another production of 'Half-Life' . . ." ANN: That's easy. If I were to play Mary again, I'd play her the same way — as a woman embracing her true self for the first time.

BILL: I have a question. If everyone tells the truth, how does anything happen?

OLSON: It doesn't. Interest in this game is based on deceit.

ANN: I'm "it." Cynthia.

CYNTHIA: Since we're all going to tell the truth, and nothing happens when we do, why don't we play something else?

ANN: I need a second to phrase it right.

CYNTHIA: I think we should be mixing with the others. They'll think we're hogging the guest of honor to ourselves.

ANN: Cynthia: "If I were to marry . . ."

CYNTHIA: If I were to marry . . .?

ANN: Right.

CYNTHIA: If I were to marry, I wouldn't marry you.

BILL: That's great! You're it.

ANN: I challenge that.

BILL: How the hell can you challenge? She'd have to be queer.

OLSON: Ann challenges you.

CYNTHIA: So how am I supposed to defend myself? Whom I marry is my business and if you don't believe me, what can I possibly say that would change anyone's mind?

JOE: (to Ann) She has a point. She'd have to be gay to marry you.

CYNTHIA: And even if I was gay, I certainly wouldn't marry my business partner. You know what they say about business and pleasure.

OLSON: Nicely done! Ann?

ANN: I guess that answers my challenge. Nice job.

OLSON: Cynthia is "it."

CYNTHIA: Robert: "If you were to rewrite 'Half-Life' . . ."

OLSON: If I was to rewrite "Half-Life" . . . that's heavier than it sounds.

BILL: I'd set it in Los Angeles! Sorry.

OLSON: If I were to rewrite "Half-Life," I'd try to think of an ending that was less of a self-fulfilling prophecy. I'd try to think of something so he wouldn't blow them away. I don't know if I could find anything I could believe but at least I'd look harder for it. CYNTHIA: Challenges?

OLSON: Then I'm "it." Ann.

ANN: Yes?

OLSON: "If I were gay . . ."

BILL: Oh boy.

OLSON: You'd be surprised at the insights into their characters that the actors come up with. After we play the game, we improv situations and they come to that with more depth, more dimension, as a result of the game. Makes for a goddamn tidy script.

ANN: And you like tidy scripts.

OLSON: The tidier the better.

ANN: If I were gay . . .?

BILL: You wouldn't marry Cynthia either!

CYNTHIA: I'm going to get a drink.

 

(She exits.)

 

ANN: It's really not fair to pass in this game, is it?

OLSON: There's no need to pass. When in doubt, lie.

ANN: I see. Okay: "If I were gay, then I'd be who I already am."

 

(A pause.)

 

BILL: Well, I challenge.

OLSON: Ann?

ANN: Don't challenge, Bill.

BILL: "When in doubt, lie."

ANN: But it's the truth. I'm gay.

JOE: You're not serious?

ANN: I am very serious. Hey, lighten up, it's okay, I don't bite. I've been gay for as long as I can remember. 'Bout time I 'fessed up, don't you think? Why are you all looking at me like that?

BILL: I think you're pulling our leg.

ANN: Fine. Think whatever you want.

OLSON: I believe you.

ANN: Thank you, Robert. It's nice to be accepted for who I am.

WILLOW: I believe you, too.

BILL: Come on!

 

(CYNTHIA returns. An awkward pause.)

 

CYNTHIA: Did I miss something?

ANN: Robert Olson's little game has inspired me to admit that I'm gay. I hope this won't jeopardize our business relationship.

CYNTHIA: No, of course not.

BILL: I still think you're putting us on.

WILLOW: That's because you're homophobic. I'm getting a drink.

 

(She exits.)

 

BILL: (after her) Hey, I have a couple friends who are queer!

ANN: I think I can use a drink myself.

OLSON: Let me escort you.

ANN: I'd like that.

 

(OLSON and ANN exit.)

 

CYNTHIA: (nervous) Why should it affect our business relationship? But what a surprise! Aren't you surprised?

BILL: I still think she's putting us on. She's always had a weird sense of humor. CYNTHIA: Who can say? If you'll excuse me . . . .

 

(She exits.)

 

BILL: No way. I've acted with her for two or three years now. She flirts with me.

JOE: I think I believe her.

BILL: I acted with her in I Do, I Do. I kept wishing I did, I did. If she's queer, what a waste.

JOE: Ready for a drink?

BILL: In a minute. I have an apology to make.

JOE: Oh?

BILL: It's Pill, after all. I mean, it was. Willow confessed everything.

JOE: She did?

BILL: She and Pill have been doing their little number for about three months but she broke it off last week. She's been trying to get the courage to tell me.

JOE: But you were so sure it wasn't Pill.

BILL: I guess because I'd been sure it was him from the beginning and couldn't stand living with it any longer. The truth is, I'd decided it was you.

JOE: You've got to be kidding.

BILL: In my script, it's the guy's best friend. Maybe I started confusing art and reality. Sorry about that.

JOE: Well, forget it. Did you tell Willow you thought it was me?

BILL: Didn't get a chance to. I told her I knew she was having an affair, and that for a long time I thought it was with Pill, and she just came out and confessed everything. Anyway, it's out and it's over. We can pick up the pieces.

JOE: I'm happy for you.

BILL: How about that drink?

 

(They exit. A pause. ANN and OLSON enter.)

 

ANN: You don't like any rough edges, do you?

OLSON: "The truth shall set us free." Which is probably a crock.

ANN: I feel relieved. Free, if you will.

OLSON: I feel sorry for Cynthia.

ANN: Yes.

OLSON: Discretion has its place.

ANN: So does honesty.

OLSON: There's a book that's a favorite of mine. Pygmies and Dream Giants by Kilton Stewart. Stewart lived with a tribe on some island, in the South Pacific as I recall, and the tribe had never experienced war in their society. Besides being an anthropologist, Stewart was something of an amateur shrink, so he tried to find out just what it was about their society that negated war. To make a long story short, he discovered that these pygmies believed their dreams.

ANN: I'm not sure I follow.

OLSON: Literally. If they dreamed it, it happened. It literally happened. Dreams were just as real as action. Dreams were an action. For example, if one pygmy dreamed of seducing another pygmy's wife, it was as real as committing adultery. It was adultery. So he'd wake up feeling guilty as hell, and get his ass over to the other pygmy's hut and say, Look, man, last night I made it with your old lady, and I'm sorry as hell about that, so here's my fattest pig and three chickens and a couple gallons of home brew, so let's call it even, okay? In their dreams they did any damn thing they wanted but always woke up guilty as hell, so instead of war you had all these pigs and possessions being passed around all over hell, and nobody blew anybody away.

ANN: When women had dreams like that, did they also give away family property?

OLSON: I don't remember if Stewart recorded any dreams by women.

ANN: We do dream.

OLSON: As I recall, he concentrated on male dreams.

ANN: Same old patriarchy.

OLSON: It's interesting reading, all the same. I've always wanted to mention that book in a play.

ANN: Why haven't you?

OLSON: The critics would kill me. They'd say, "Book reviews are not dramatic. Book reviews are boring." Ideas aren't supposed to be interesting in their own right. Least of all, to a playwright.

ANN: I take it the critics aren't kind to you.

OLSON: They used to love me, when I wrote fluff like "Roses for the Road." A columnist once called me "one of L.A.'s most precious natural resources." Three years later I didn't even make his list of the 200 most interesting writers in town.

ANN: What does it matter what the critics think?

OLSON: Spoken like a woman who just came out of the closet.

ANN: Thanks for inspiring me to do that.

OLSON: Maybe I can thank you for something some day.

ANN: You already can.

OLSON: Then, thanks.

ANN: "Half-Life" didn't win the contest.

OLSON: Against my better judgment, I'll say, "go on."

ANN: There's no way a community theater would take a chance with material like that. After Cynthia vetoed "Roses for the Road," the committee wanted to do another piece of mush. So I took it upon myself to write you that you'd won — and then all I had to do was convince Cynthia to convince the committee.

OLSON: You made the decision alone?

ANN: The theater was in a rut. I thought your play had something important to say about masculinity. Fortunately, you wrote back so enthusiastically about winning that no one had the heart to take the prize away. So here you are.

OLSON: And Cynthia went along with you?

ANN: She made all the difference in the world. For a while, it looked like the committee was going to disown both of us. She really got behind the play in the end. Of course, she didn't know you were Robert Olson.

OLSON: Hubby Plays Guinea Pig . . . I wish you hadn't told me.

ANN: "The truth shall set us free."

OLSON: "Don't take any wooden nickels." Or something.

ANN: Let's go inside and dance.

OLSON: You expect to find a partner?

ANN: I want to dance with you.

OLSON: You do?

ANN: That's why I asked you.

OLSON: Won't Cynthia be jealous?

ANN: She has to live her own life.

OLSON: I'm a lousy dancer.

ANN: You really do wish I hadn't told you.

OLSON: Delusions of grandeur are so invigorating.

ANN: You're still a hero to everybody else. Only Cynthia and I know the truth.

OLSON: And, alas, myself.

ANN: Consider it grist for the mill. You can write a play about all this.

OLSON: I wouldn't know where to begin.

ANN: A playwright wins a contest . . . he comes to a strange city to see the premiere only to discover that his play is directed by his ex-wife . . . who left him for a San Francisco dyke . . .

OLSON: No, for a most interesting woman indeed. But later to discover that actually he didn't win the contest at all.

ANN: See? Sounds like Hitchcock already.

OLSON: I don't like it.

ANN: I'm serious, I think this material has real possibilities.

OLSON: There's no accounting for taste.

 

(They exit to BLACKOUT.)

 

 

2/ Fallout (3:30 a.m.)

 

(JOE and CYNTHIA are alone on the deck. The background noise of the party is gone now. We hear a car driving away below.)

 

CYNTHIA: I hope Bill's not driving.

JOE: Willow, I think.

CYNTHIA: They should be fine then.

JOE: Yes, they'll be fine.

 

(A pause.)

 

JOE: We were having an affair.

CYNTHIA: I know. You said "were."

JOE: We ended it tonight.

CYNTHIA: I'm sorry. Or is that condoning adultery?

JOE: You know how these little theater flings go.

CYNTHIA: You still care for her.

JOE: Yes.

CYNTHIA: Then I am sorry.

JOE: I guess you have your own problems. Ann.

CYNTHIA: Ann? Well, that's hardly my problem.

JOE: A thing like that can hurt your business.

CYNTHIA: Then we'll have to find more tolerant clients.

JOE: I was surprised but then when I thought about it, it made perfect sense. I don't recall ever seeing her with a man. In a dating situation, I mean.

 

(A pause.)

 

JOE: Nor you.

CYNTHIA: I'm a workaholic. You've been directed by me enough to know that.

JOE: You never suspected, sharing a house with her and all?

CYNTHIA: Never. I don't see much of her other than at work. We each have our own floor.

JOE: That's good.

CYNTHIA: Actually I've been thinking of moving closer in. The drive is getting to me.

JOE: I don't blame you. I've never liked the suburbs.

 

(A pause.)

 

JOE: May I ask you a personal question?

CYNTHIA: The answer is no, I'm not gay.

JOE: Wouldn't matter if you were.

CYNTHIA: The real answer, of course, is that it's none of your damn business. And I do date men, as a matter of fact.

JOE: Anyone in particular?

CYNTHIA: A pilot for United. Given both of our schedules, we don't get to see one another more than once or twice a month. But then I've always believed in quality in a relationship, not quantity. Anything else you want to know?

JOE: Sorry, I was curious.

CYNTHIA: Being in business with Ann, I'm sure I'll be asked that question quite often now that she's come out of the closet, so to speak. People are so damn nosy.

 

(ANN enters.)

 

ANN: Cynthia, can I speak to you a minute?

JOE: I was just leaving. Where's Olson?

ANN: Stretched out on the floor in front of the stereo. He found your dixieland tapes.

JOE: Pretty drunk out tonight.

 

(He exits.)

 

ANN: I'll move out right away.

CYNTHIA: No, I'm moving out. I want to live closer in.

ANN: I don't mind if—

CYNTHIA: I mind.

ANN: Whatever you want.

CYNTHIA: I want that you take the car home. I'll get Joe to give me a lift later.

ANN: You're spending the night here?

CYNTHIA: Please don't say you fear for my safety. Alone with a man and all that.

ANN: I don't feel like I owe you an apology, Cynthia. I did what I had to do.

 

(A pause.)

 

ANN: Can we still be in business together?

CYNTHIA: I hope so.

ANN: I could take my vacation.

CYNTHIA: Perhaps you should.

ANN: We ought to be able to work together.

CYNTHIA: I should think so.

ANN: I still care for you.

 

(A pause.)

 

ANN: I'm really not an extremist, you know. I won't do anything to embarrass the business.

CYNTHIA: I hope not.

ANN: I think you're quite safe. There may be a few suspicions at first, since we live together and all, but you're very good at creating whatever impression you want. CYNTHIA: It's a present nuisance but, yes, I'm sure I'm safe.

ANN: You're a very good actress.

CYNTHIA: The keys are in my purse. In the livingroom.

ANN: Thanks.

CYNTHIA: You'll have to step over Todd.

ANN: Perhaps.

CYNTHIA: You two seem to have hit it off.

ANN: Better than I would have thought.

CYNTHIA: I didn't know you could dance so well.

ANN: I haven't danced in years. I like dancing again.

CYNTHIA: Will you be taking a vacation then?

ANN: To San Francisco, I think.

CYNTHIA: Of course.

ANN: Sure you can handle the load alone?

CYNTHIA: Summer's our slow time.

ANN: Then I'll leave Monday.

CYNTHIA: Fine.

ANN: I understand you a little better now, I think.

CYNTHIA: Then something's been accomplished.

ANN: Being who I am, I understand better who you are. Can't you say the same?

 

(A pause.)

 

ANN: Cynthia? Can't you say the same?

 

(They embrace. They are still embraced when OLSON enters.)

 

OLSON: Hubby needs a lobotomy.

 

(The women move apart.)

 

OLSON: What is it about marriage that fights become the excuse for making up? I mean, you two might as well be married, right?

CYNTHIA: (to Ann) The keys are in my purse. If you see anyone in San Francisco . . . ANN: I'll give them your best. See you back at the office.

OLSON: You're leaving?

ANN: Keep writing plays. Bye.

 

(She exits.)

 

OLSON: Where's she going?

CYNTHIA: Home.

OLSON: Alone?

CYNTHIA: I think I'll go lie down.

OLSON: Wait a minute. Listen, I know I turn into some kind of a halfass loudmouth when I'm drinking but, seriously, is there anything I can do?

CYNTHIA: I don't think so.

OLSON: You're breaking up, aren't you? Well, I have prior service. A real vet at breaking up. Not only you, I've lived with three ladies since us and broke up with every one of them. I've got experience. Know what I learned?

CYNTHIA: What did you learn?

OLSON: If you're the one being left, it's best to leave town. If you're the one moving out, it's best to throw the whole damn mess, I mean the actual labor of moving, into the lap of a good friend. Which are you?

CYNTHIA: I've been wanting to move closer in for some time now.

OLSON: How much furniture do you have? I'll help you move out.

CYNTHIA: Be serious.

OLSON: I am serious. I'll rent a damn truck and move you wherever you want to go. Into storage if you have no place to stay.

CYNTHIA: I thought you were flying right back.

OLSON: I'll get a later flight. Two hours sleep and I'm raring to go. What do you say? I'm one hell of a truck driver.

CYNTHIA: Why do you want to get involved?

OLSON: We used to be married, for Christ's sake. We had some good times.

CYNTHIA: Yes, there were some good times.

 

(A car drives away below, ANN going home alone. CYNTHIA is about to lose it..)

 

OLSON: Don't worry about it. Ann has to live her life. You have to live yours. Discretion has its place.

CYNTHIA: (bittersweet) Discretion . . .

OLSON: It's the best I can do on such short notice. I also think it's the truth.

CYNTHIA: I hated it in San Francisco. Every time we went into a gay bar, I sat in terror, worrying that one of our clients would walk in. Then one night one did — a woman whose PR we handled. The way she looked at me, so . . . so knowingly. I didn't want her to know anything about me. I didn't want to make a statement about my sexuality. Why does sexuality have to be political? It's so — personal. Maybe sex belongs in the closet, like a special part of the wardrobe saved for special occasions.

 

(A pause.)

 

OLSON: Ann told me about how "Half-Life" got done. I appreciate your support when it counted.

CYNTHIA: I'm sorry you had to find out.

OLSON: "The truth shall set us free" and so on. So what do you say? Let me rent a truck. I love driving truck! It's so goddamn macho I can't stand it. I'll turn up some country music on the radio and haul your furniture all goddamn day.

CYNTHIA: Let's talk about it when I can think straight.

OLSON: I'm staying at the hotel, the what's-it's-name. Joe knows. Give me a buzz when you're ready.

CYNTHIA: I'm going to lie down.

OLSON: I have to get a taxi.

CYNTHIA: I'll call one. Let's have a late breakfast and talk about moving me out. OLSON: I'm one hell of a macho truck driver, lady.

CYNTHIA: I'm sure you are. Goodnight, Todd.

OLSON: Sshh! Mum's the word.

CYNTHIA: Mum's the word.

 

(She exits. OLSON stares out at the skyline. Then he looks higher, to the stars in a clear sky.)

 

OLSON: Twinkle, twinkle,

Little star,

How I wonder,

What you are ...

 

(JOE enters.)

 

JOE: Taxi shouldn't be long.

OLSON: You goddamn stud.

JOE: Pardon me?

OLSON: I heard about the number you're doing with Willow.

JOE: Oh that. That ended a while back.

OLSON: How so?

JOE: You know — variety's the spice of life. Time to move on to better things.

OLSON: Better than Willow?

JOE: Surely you're not a one-woman man. Not in Hollywood.

OLSON: For me to know and you to find out.

JOE: Or maybe you're gay. Every time you turn around these days, somebody you know turns out to be gay.

OLSON: If I was a woman, I'd be gay.

JOE: That's a little convoluted . . .

OLSON: You and Willow. I think I'm jealous.

JOE: We got together when we played the leads in "Barefoot in the Park." You know how those things happen. The play ended and, well, frankly she bores me now.

OLSON: You played the newscaster, you can always fuck the radio.

JOE: I'm doing quite well, thank you.

OLSON: A real stud.

JOE: No complaints.

OLSON: View like this ought to get them in the mood.

JOE: It doesn't hurt.

OLSON: You ever make it with Willow out here on the deck?

JOE: For me to know and you to find out. Will I be seeing you again before you leave? OLSON: I'm having breakfast with Cynthia. Then I think I'm going to drive truck.

JOE: Drive truck?

OLSON: What the hell's wrong with driving truck?

 

(OLSON begins to make the sounds of driving truck — the engine roaring, shifting gears.)

 

JOE: You'll be able to see the taxi from here. Goodnight.

 

(OLSON still plays driving truck. JOE exits. OLSON suddenly gestures toward the stars, his voice trailing off as if he's sending his truck out into the universe.)

 

OLSON: Twinkle, twinkle,

Little star,

How I wonder . . .

 

(OLSON stares out at the skyline.)

 

OLSON: How I wonder . . .

 

(Suddenly OLSON makes the noise of a great explosion and his arms reach forward, then trace the rising outline of a mushroom cloud. The gesture is almost sensuous, as if he were tracing a woman's figure. When the cloud has risen, OLSON is looking up at the stars.)

 

OLSON: And it came to pass that all the stars in the firmament had ceased to shine. But how was anyone to know?

 

(OLSON looks up at the stars. Slow fade to BLACKOUT. THE PLAY IS OVER.)