Scene1 Liu: Music: Scarlatti, Pastoral in C major. Lili is in bed, asleep. An alarm goes off: digital. (Turns off clock.) When 1 was in the womb, my mother listened to nothing but Scarlatti. Scarlatti. Over and over. All day long she would rock by the window . . . in the dead heat of morning . . . in a lemon colored dress. She would look out at the desert and picture different forms of transportation, (She finds ber silk bathrobe and puts it on.) She'd tilt her head to one side and I was the thought that she was having. She thought me up. (She finds her slippers.) She wanted something different. That is why she called me “Lili”, thinking it was French, That is why, when she got mad, she'd say, “mais, Qu’est-ce que cest que sa? (Pronounced: may kesskuh seb kub sah? hand-on-bip.) ‘The voice of my grandmother was all around me; told me de- tails I would not remember but never-the-less just know. “A pound of butter equals four sticks.” Things like that. “Never use the inside fork.” “You can make a tasty dip from sour cream and a stirred-in packet of onion soup mix.” “Seat your guests boy, girl, boy, girl.” “Always let a frozen cake completely thaw before you serve it.” Things like that. When my mother put her hand against her belly, I could feel her pat me on the head. She was working on a promise, the de- tails of which she would not remember but never-the-less just know. I can hear her heartbeat going “thud, thwat, thud, thwat.” I can hear the crunch of Dorito chips that she is chewing aimlessly. I can see the pictures play against the inside. of her ribcage those home movies of the heart . . . I become the shape of things my mother never tried. Things my mother gave up on to have me. I can see that there’s a highway, I can see that there’s a suit- case. And I start to get a restless feeling like I want to get born but I don't know how. (Lili closes eyes. Lights up on Eleanor.) Before I attached myself to the womb, in that tiny fall, when Iwas both, when I was anything, and could be anything, before the loss of becoming specific . . . when I was single. Before I became this shape of wanting you.