[Title to Come]

Characters

Olivia

Helen

Setting: A well-appointed room in a seasonal resort hotel, somewhere near the ocean.

The room is tastefully done though not lavishly, in a style that leans toward the

contemporary. There has been no attempt to mimic a particular theme or regional

flavor. It is the kind of place that does not want its guests to feel very far removed from

the upper-middle-class environments from which they come. So the furnishings are not

very different from what one would find in a comfortable suburban home. There is an

easy chair, a chest of drawers, a dressing table of lacquered wood, a brass floor lamp,

various end tables, a night stand on which rests a cordless telephone, and a queen-size

bed draped with a light comforter. Attractive, yet restrained, art prints hang on the walls

in an attempt to provide an individual touch while being careful not to offend. In the

back of the room, a set of sliding glass doors leads onto a small deck and balcony. The

only conspicuous feature, standing on a small table in a corner of the room, is a large

bouquet of flowers, and this should be a rather grand display—peonies, lilies, irises, or

other flowers known for their bright colors and showiness. While the layout of the room

may follow any arrangement that seems natural and functional, the color scheme should

be done in a variety of pastels or soft colors that evoke the calm of the sea.
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Scene 1: When the lights come up it is early afternoon. Bright light streams through the

patio doors, but because of the angle of the room little finds its way inside. Two suitcases

lie on the bed, their contents haphazardly scattered between various chairs and tables.

Also lying about is the usual paraphernalia associated with a trip to the beach—a folding

chair, a portable cassette player, a cooler, bottles of lotions and oils, a liquor bottle and

pair of glasses to offer a late-night drink in the privacy of the room. Behind the

bathroom door the sounds of running water can be heard, perhaps a hair dryer blowing.

Out on the balcony, Helen is standing in the sunlight, which bathes her in a radiant glow.

She is forty-something, not particularly attractive but not unappealing either.

Nevertheless, she carries herself with a certain degree of poise, lending pride and dignity

to what would otherwise be a rather plain appearance. She is dressed for an outdoor

weekend but with a little more care and style than needed—she could be modeling for a

Land's End catalog. With her back to the audience we cannot see the expression on her

face, but the way she is leaning, almost straining against the rail, suggests that she is

captivated by something in the distance.

Helen: Liv?!

(No response.)

Liv!

(Silence.)

Liv!! You're going to miss it!

(The door to the bathroom opens and Olivia emerges, wearing a robe and trying to

dry her hair with a bath towel. She is about the same age as Helen but a slighter in

figure. In her speech and manner she exhibits a restrained elegance, and when she
 3

sits, with her back rigidly straight and chin held high, she projects an almost

statuesque appearance. This would suggest primness or arrogance were it not for an

inner humanity that shows in the rest of her bodyarms and legs that move with

delicate animationas though another, finer part of herself was straining to reach

beyond a constricting shell.)

Olivia: What is it?

Helen: Quick!

Olivia: What??

Helen: Hurry!

(But Olivia does not move fast enough, and Helen is disappointed.)

Oh, it's too late.

(Olivia sits on the edge of the bed, facing the audience, her back to Helen. She

continues working the towel through her hair, almost burying her head in it. Later,

whenever she moves around the room she avoids meeting Helen's eyes, and this

should be quite obvious. She may glance at her now and then when circumstances

make it unavoidable, but for the most part she absorbs herself in hygenic

preparations or the duties of unpacking. This is, however, something that even she is

not aware of. Helen will feel the unease in Olivia's manner, though she, too, will

sense it and respond to it without knowing it. At times she will find herself prowling

around the room, picking through both of their things with unusual curiosity, though

this, too, is largely unconscious on her part.)

Olivia: What was it?

 4

Helen: Two seagulls were sitting on the other balcony. One had a feather sticking out of

its wing. He was trying to fly away but it kept him from flying.

Olivia: How do you know it was a he?

(Pause.)

Helen: She was trying to tuck it back in, but she couldn't reach it with her beak. The

other one tried to help, but she kept trying to chase her away. She was almost pinned

against the wall, and then the other one reached over and tucked the feather in, and

then she flew away.

Olivia: Well, that proves one was a he.

Helen: Why do you say that?

Olivia: Don't couples always pick at each other?

Helen: You and Jack don't.

(Pause.)

Olivia: (with a touch of sadness) No, Jack and I don't. (A moment's pause, then she moves

toward the door.)

Helen: Where are you going?

Olivia: To get the rest of the things.

Helen: It's all in.

Olivia: All of it?

Helen: That was the last load.

Olivia: (disappointed) I wish you would have told me.

Helen: As soon as we got in you headed straight for the bathroom.

Olivia: Did I??

 5

Helen: I had just asked what you had planned for the weekend, but before I got an answer

you were out of the car. By the time everything was in you were still in the

bathroom. Or else you had jumped off the patio and left the door closed. But you

came out, so I presume you were still in the bathroom, no doubt ruminating over

plans for the weekend.

Olivia: (short pause) I'm sorry. . . . I just wanted to get out of those clothes. (pause) I felt

so grimy from the drive.

Helen: How long does it take to change clothes?

Olivia: I wanted . . . to clean up . . . a little.

Helen: I thought that's what you went into the gas station for—to freshen up . . . a little.

Olivia: That was before we got here. It's a four-hour drive.

Helen: You don't have to apologize. I managed it.

Olivia: I meant to help.

Helen: Then you shouldn't spend so much time in bathrooms.

Olivia: (lets the issue drop, but she looks around the room with a bit of bemusement) I

don't see how you always get all of this together. Between the Jack's fishing gear and

the barbecues and all the old lawn furniture in the basement I'd never find half of it.

Helen: Better that you didn't.

Olivia: Why is that?

Helen: Someone might wonder why it disappeared once a month.

(Pause. Olivia looks over all the belongings in the room, spots an enormous bottle of

calamine lotion. She picks it up, looks at it with wonder. Before she can react—)

In case you get into more poison oak.

 6

Olivia: Helen, this is enough to bathe in.

Helen: With your skin, it won't last the summer.

Olivia: You shouldn't have . . .

Helen: You wouldn't say that if you were up all night scratching.

(Silence. Olivia puts the bottle down.)

Olivia: You didn't spend all night packing, did you?

Helen: There was hardly any time this morning.

Olivia: When did you go to bed?

(No response.)

Did you go to bed?

Helen: The new client had an appointment at nine and there were problems with the

contract that had to be corrected before the meeting.

Olivia: Oh, Helen—!

Helen: What??

Olivia: Why did you have to be there?

Helen: I'm the only one who worked on it from the beginning.

Olivia: I thought that's why you hired the new clerks, so you wouldn't have to work so

much?

Helen: They're young. They get over their heads and then I have to go over all of their

work. And for some reason that seems to happen a lot on Friday afternoons.

Olivia: When they want to get away for the weekend?

Helen: So before I leave everything had better be youth-proof.

(Silence.)
 7

Olivia: (again, letting the matter drop) Well, what did we forget?

Helen: Since when have I forgotten anything?

Olivia: A weekend isn't a weekend unless you forget something.

Helen: Then it means you didn't need it in the first place.

Olivia: (no irony) Good motto to live by.

Helen: It's a motto everyone should live by.

Olivia: Is that why you never forget anything?

Helen: I don't because . . . I have everything I need. Nothing more, nothing less.

(Olivia stops, suddenly begins prowling through their things a little frantically.)

Olivia: God, my bag! Helen, did you see my bag? Did I leave it at the gas station? I

didn't leave it at the gas station, did I?

Helen: (pointing to the chair) It's right there.

Olivia: Where? (sees where Helen had pointed) Not my purse. My bag. A small brown

carry-on. Is it still in the car??

(Helen pulls it out from under a pile. Relieved, Olivia takes it, she sets it on the end

of the dresser. She notices the flowers for the first time.)

Olivia: Where did those come from?

Helen: Didn't you send them?

Olivia: No.

Helen: (trying to mask her disappointment) Oh. They were here when we came in. I

thought you sent them.

Olivia: . . . No.

(There is a moment's confusion and embarrassment, then—)

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Helen: Well . . .

(She moves toward the vase, picks up a small envelope lying on the table and removes

the card inside, reads.)

"Some birthday color for our favorite guest,

With hope that another year brings only the best."

Olivia: Let me guess.

Helen: "Jeffrey." Isn't that sweet?

Olivia: I hope you don't mean the poetry.

Helen: Now, now. Isn't it "the thought that counts"?

Olivia: Better that than the poetry.

(Helen would reply but she has already picked up the phone, pushes a button.)

Helen: Jeffrey, you're a sweetheart. . . . For what? You know for that. (She sits on the

edge of the bed cross-legged and plays with the phone cord, suddenly resembling a

girl less than half her age. Olivia notices and watches her for the longest moment so

far.) Of course they're beautiful, you know they are. I haven't been given a bouquet

like this in years. . . . We did just get in. . . . About an hour ago. . . . I was about to

call, but I had to get everything in first. . . . It takes a while when one has to do it all

by oneself. (glances playfully at Olivia) I'll be fine. The pollen's gone down in the

last few weeks. . . . That's so thoughtful of you. If I do I'll come down. . . . Yes, no

matter what time. . . . Yes. . . . We're going to head down the coast again (looks

toward Olivia) if Liv ever gets her act together. . . . You don't have to do that. . . .

Well, only if it's no trouble. . . . All right. . . . All right. . . . Yes, we will. . . . You're
 9

too kind. . . . Yes, you are. . . . You know you are. . . . All right. . . . I said, "All right."

When I say something you know I mean it. . . . Yes, I'll tell her.

(She hangs up.)

When we get back he's going to have tea ready

Olivia: (soft sarcasm) Let's not miss it.

Helen: (not registering the remark) It will be ready whenever we get back. (pause) Isn't

it nice that he extends himself so?

Olivia: Maybe he's a kindred spirit.

Helen: He's married with a daughter.

Olivia: So am I.

(Silence.)

Helen:So, where are you this time?

Olivia: Another conference.

Helen: Isn't that getting old?

Olivia: Why do you say that?

Helen: It's the fourth one this year, isn't it?

Olivia: Third.

Helen: I thought we were up to four.

Olivia: Three.

Helen: There was the ski trip in February, then four days of hiking in April, and now—

Olivia: End of May. Beginning of the summer season.

Helen: Someone should throw out the first ball.

(Pause. A realization strikes Helen.)

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There was a conference this weekend, wasn't there?

(No response.)

Wasn't there??

Olivia: I told you there was.

Helen: When?

Olivia: (guessing) Two weeks ago.

Helen: Why didn't you go?

(No response.)

You should have gone.

Olivia: Then I wouldn't be here now, would I?

Helen: It's only a birthday.

Olivia: Your birthday.

Helen: And a year from now there will be another and the next year another one after

that, so there's hardly anything special about it. (pause) I wish you would have gone

Olivia: Well, it's a little late for that now.

(Pause.)

Helen: The important thing is that you're getting work done. (pause) Are you?

Olivia: The same.

Helen: Which is . . . ?

Olivia: Not as much as I expect, and then I'm only half as satisfied as I expect.

Helen: It's not for you to critique. That's what small-minded critics are for. (pause) Have

you sent anything out?

Olivia: (short pause) Yes.

 11

(Helen looks Olivia's way, with interest.)

And??

Olivia: Two.

(Pause.)

They took two.

Helen: Liv, congratulations! Why didn't you say anything?

(Before Olivia can respond—)

That's what you didn't tell me. You were saving it.

Olivia: No . . . Yes.

Helen: Liv, that's wonderful! Now we have two reasons to celebrate.

(Olivia looks in Helen's direction.)

I signed the papers for the condo.

Olivia: (startled) When??

Helen: Last Tuesday.

Olivia: (a little shaken) You didn't say anything. . . .

Helen: I was saving it.

Olivia: . . . Are you sure you can afford it?

Helen: Williamson is finally going to retire and the board is going to vote on a new

partner. I'm next in line and everyone says the vote is only a formality. It's all

supposed to happen next week.

(No reaction from Olivia, so Helen tries a different tact.)

Oh, Liv, you'll love it. As soon as I get the keys I'll give you a set so you can use it

for working. I picked the one overlooking the park with the view of the lagoon, so
 12

you can watch the ducks when the sun comes up. And it gets the morning light, so

most of the year we can have breakfast on the balcony.

Olivia: (slightly cool) That's wonderful. . . . (Aware of her reaction, she tries to cover it.)

It sounds very nice. It does.

(An awkward pause. Then Olivia turns away. Helen watches, perturbed, slightly

hurt by Olivia's reaction. She gravitates to the pile of things on the dresser, glances

at the bag Olivia had set there, notices several paperbound books protruding from the

open flap. She takes them out—it's a stack of college catalogs.)

Liv, you aren't thinking of going back to school, are you?

Olivia: No, why? (sees Helen handling the catalogs) Oh . . . those are Jennifer's.

Helen: Jennifer's??

Olivia: (a little surprised by Helen's surprise) Yes.

Helen: I thought she had a year to go.

Olivia: Oh, no. This is the planning year. It's starting earlier and earlier—as bad as the

campaign season. Now there's a year of preparation. It's all become very tactical.

And the questions, God, the questions: Is it better to go to a bigger school far away or

a smaller school close to home? Should it be a mediocre department with big-name

professors or an excellent department with no-name professors? Do I declare a major

right away or wait till the end of the first year? How many classes should I take the

first semester? If there are a lot of organizations does that mean it is cut-throat

competitive or a school for slackers because it has so many organizations? I swear, I

feel like a contestant in a bizarre game show. There they are, doors to the future
 13

spread out in sixty-four glossy pages. And I have to read every word so we can

decide which lucky institution is going to get our hundred thousand dollars.

Helen: What happened to restless soul-searching?

Olivia: It's been replaced by market researching.

Helen: Do you come up with the right answers?

Olivia: I don't come up with any answers. (pause) Answers aren't important. At this

point it's enough just finding out what the questions are.

(Long pause. Olivia has turned away. Helen watches her, picks up some clothes and

folds them, mostly to fill time but all the while looking in Olivia's direction.)

Helen: I thought you'd been busy.

(Silence.)

I hadn't heard from you all week. But the machine was blinking one night when I got

home.

(Silence.)

Why didn't you leave a message?

(No response.)

Hm?

Olivia: I hate to talk to those things.

Helen: You could have called the office.

Olivia: I don't like to bother you there.

Helen: It's not a bother.

Olivia: They're such a stuffy outfit.

Helen: You don't call that often.

 14

Olivia: My name isn't easy to forget.

Helen: After the switchboard's closed it will ring at my desk. We have the new system

now. (pause) You could have called in the evening.

Olivia: I was hoping you wouldn't be there in the evening.

(Silence.)

Helen: So. Why did you call? Was it about this weekend?

Olivia: No.

(Pause.)

I was just wondering if you had gotten to the art show.

(Silence, but this is enough of a response for Olivia, and her disappointment is

evident.)

Helen—!

Helen: It wasn't a show, it was just an exhibit.

Olivia: But you had been talking about it for weeks.

Helen: There was a lot of work to do.

Olivia: There couldn't have been that much.

Helen: If you could have come I probably would have found the time.

Olivia: Helen—!

Helen: (insistent) I would have. (pause) Couldn't you?

Olivia: It's been busy.

Helen: That busy?

(No response.)

With what?
 15

(No response.)

With what?

Olivia: Jennifer's been going crazy over the prom. Every night this week, until the last

mall had closed, we were trooping from store to store, trying on dresses, every

combination of makeup and perfume.

Helen: Sounds exhausting.

Olivia: (after a moment's reflection, with a hint of pleasure) It was . . . a thrill, actually.

Helen: What do you mean?

Olivia: To watch her, finding of what it is to be a woman.

Helen: Isn't that going a bit too far?

Olivia: What?

Helen: A woman.

Olivia: Not after last week.

Helen: What happened last week?

Olivia: I was stripping the old chest in the basement after dinner one night and she came

downstairs, marched right up to where I was bent over the bottom drawers, and told

me she had gotten fitted for a diaphragm.

Helen: Really!

Olivia: She didn't even hesitate, just came right out with it.

Helen: What did you do?

Olivia: I said, "Better make damn sure it fits."

Helen: Liv—!

Olivia: What could I say?

 16

Helen: Aren't you worried, a little?

Olivia: What good would it do?

Helen: But do you think it's best?

Olivia: After the other night it better be.

Helen: What happened the other night?

Olivia: The village council meeting got done early. We were supposed to vote on

whether we were going to add a third-shift policeman, but only five of us showed up,

so—as usual—it was a waste of time. When I got home she and Stephen were sitting

out in the yard—of course without any lights on. There was some laughing and

giggling, so I turned on the kitchen light to signal that "Mother" was home.

Helen: What did they do?

Olivia: Came in the house. We made a pot of tea and had ice cream and strawberries

before Stephen went on his way.

Helen: No radiating guilt? Any of those things one is supposed to feel?

Olivia: Apparently that is no longer anything anyone is supposed to feel. (pause) Helen,

there aren't any mysteries anymore, not for them. They've grown up faster than we

ever did. Everytime one of those catalogs arrives she isn't just flipping through it,

window shopping. Oh, no, she's doing comparison shopping, and she knows exactly

what she wants. It isn't "maybe something in science" but physics, and not just any

physics but planetary physics, but not just any old planets. She wants to study the

rings of Saturn and then the gasses of Jupiter. And if somebody gets there she'll just

move on to something else.

Helen: You don't think she's moving too fast?

 17

Olivia: Who knows? At least she has a direction—she knows what she wants—so if she

gets a diaphragm it will give her a ticket to explore that we never had.

(Long pause. Through this Olivia has sat on the edge of the bed and begun brushing

her hair. A change comes over her. She becomes lost in thought, absorbed in

something far beyond the room or Helen or anything she is doing. Helen senses this,

acutely aware of the distance that has come between them. She sets the catalogs

down, edges beside Olivia, takes the brush out of her hand and enfolds her in her

arms. Still distracted, Olivia leans back, acquiescent in an automatic, reflexive way,

and the two recline together on the bed. Helen props her head with one arm while

the other encircles Olivia's waist and torso, cradling her almost the way a mother

would a small child. Between them there is an aura of powerful sensuality, but oddly

indistinguishable from a strong maternal tenderness. Helen gazes down at Oliva, but

Olivia continues to stare past her, at the ceiling. If their eyes meet it is only briefly.

Though Olivia is not uncomfortable with Helen's touch, she does nothing to

encourage it either.)

Helen: Liv . . . ?

(No response.)

What were you thinking?

Olivia: Nothing.

Helen: Your thoughts were very far away.

(No response.)

Hm?

(Pause.)
 18

Olivia: "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could—"

Helen: "To where it bent in the undergrowth."

Olivia: You remember.

Helen: We used to recite it often enough.

(Pause.)

Helen: What made you think of it?

Olivia: I don't know. The other day Jack was at the office and Jennifer was out running

God knows where. I went out back to sit by the creek. The water was running and

the robins were singing in the oak tree, but I couldn't hear any of it. Those lines just

kept going through my head.

(Silence.)

Helen: Now what were you thinking?

(No response.)

Hm?

Olivia: Something my mother said the other day.

(Pause.)

Helen: What was that?

Olivia: She can tell she's getting older because the time passes much more quickly.

Helen: Do believe that?

 19

Olivia: I don't know. I remember when the summer would start and the fall would seem

like an eternity away. Now we live for a weekend. We wait for them for it days, and

when it finally comes it's like a long morning. Part of a day goes by and it's like

we've overslept.

(Pause.)

Helen: I don't feel that way. The other day I was flipping through the Christmas album

and came across the pictures of all of us gathered around the tree, Jennifer holding the

doll "Aunt Helen" had given her, and it seemed like yesterday.

(Silence.)

Remember how we used to sneak between each other's rooms in the middle of the

night?

(No response.)

Do You?

Olivia: . . . Yes.

Helen: I think half of the girls in the dorm knew what was going on.

Olivia: Half of the girls were probably doing the same thing.

(Silence.)

Helen: Now what?

(Pause.)

Olivia: At times I still wonder if I should have been more straightforward with my

family.

Helen: Why?

Olivia: Maybe I wouldn't spend my life trying to talk to my mother through an iron fence.
 20

Helen: No, you'd be like me, not talking to her at all.

Olivia: What makes you so sure?

Helen: Liv, she hardly knows such things went on.

Olivia: Maybe that would have evened us. I had no idea what was going on either.

(Silence.)

Helen: Do you wish it could be easier?

(No response.)

Hm?

(No response.)

Do you?

Olivia: I wish a lot of things could be easier.

(Pause.)

Helen: We can't blame anyone. It couldn't be helped. By the time we knew what we

should have known you were married with a daughter and it was a little too late to

turn back.

Olivia: You think so?

Helen: What do you mean?

Olivia: Nothing.

(Silence.)

Helen: It hasn't turned out so bad. (pause) Has it? Jack is a good husband.

(No response.)

He compliments you on your dress when you're about to go to a party.

(Pause.)
 21

When the fish is moist and there's just the right amount of wine in the sauce.

(Pause.)

When you put on the Paco Rabane he's bought for your birthday.

(Pause.)

I'd say you make a pretty good couple—compared to most that I know.

(Short pause.)

You aren't thinking of leaving him, are you?

Olivia: No.

(Pause.)

Helen: Do you love him, in a way?

(No response.)

Do you?

Olivia: You can't help it after a while.

(Pause.)

Helen: What's it like?

Olivia: What's what like?

Helen: Being with him.

Olivia: You've been with a man before.

Helen: But not for very long, and never one I was married to.

(Pause.)

What goes through your mind while you're lying there? Do you close your eyes and

imagine some pretty place? (pause) Count the rose petals on the ceiling?

Olivia: It isn't as bad as that.

 22

(Pause.)

Helen: Do you ever think about us?

(No response.)

Hm?

Olivia: Sometimes.

(Pause. Helen reaches over, caresses the ends of Olivia's hair.)

Helen: Tomorrow we can stay in bed till noon if we like. Watch the sunlight creep across

the floor. Listen to the noises of the world. Outside and so far away. Then we could

drive over to the beach, take the trail out to the cove. There might be some shells

lying around. Maybe even a starfish or two. We could lie on the sand. Listen to the

waves crash against the rocks. Wait for the moon to come up. (pause) What do you

think?

Olivia: That might take all night.

Helen: It wouldn't be the first time.

(Pause.)

Olivia: Why do you like it better at night?

Helen: What do you mean?

Olivia: Why do you always like it better at night? You've always liked going there better

at night than during the day.

Helen: I like the night. It's the time when nothing has color or shape—everything is

cloaked behind a veil of darkness—so you can make it whatever you like.

(Helen slowly runs her finger along the side of Olivia's neck. Olivia stiffens slightly.)

I'd like to look at your eyes in the moonlight.

 23

(No response.)

You do have beautiful eyes, you know.

(No response.)

Does Jack ever say anything about them?

Olivia: He . . . doesn't notice things like that.

Helen: I do. (pause) The way the white encircles the iris, makes them shine another

moon. (pause) That's what they are—a pair of moons, shining in a heaven of blue.

(Silence.)

Olivia: If we're going to find out don't you think I should put some clothes on?

Helen: We stay out long enough maybe we won't need them. That wouldn't be the first

time either, would it?

(Suddenly, almost impulsively, Olivia, rises from the bed.)

Olivia: God, look how late it is. We don't get going soon the day will be over. (Olivia

moves to the other side of the room to pull her things together. She removes the robe

and selects a blouse and pair of pants from the pile of clothes and puts them on. This

is done hastily, without much thought. Helen watches, then—)

Helen: Liv, let me treat tonight.

Olivia: But it's your birthday.

Helen: But you had two poems accepted.

Olivia: I've had them accepted before.

Helen: But . . .

Olivia: But what?

 24

Helen: Not on my birthday. (at the window) There's plenty of the day left. We can still

get to the stables and take the trail out to the cove. Then, before the sun goes down,

we could drive to the harbor. We'll go to Vincente's, get a table looking out on the

water. After dinner we can sip amaretto and watch the sun slip into the bay.

Olivia: (very tentative) Helen, why don't we pass on Vincente's.

Helen: Why?

Olivia: I'd just rather not.

Helen: Richard will probably be expecting us.

Olivia: And as soon as we walk in he'll ask about the drive up. We'll tell him about it and

he'll want to know how we spent the afternoon and we'll tell him about that and then

he'll take us over to our table and our drinks will appear before we even asked for

them.

Helen: (half question) You want to try something else.

Olivia: It's the beginning of the season. There are probably lots of places we haven't

been.

(Olivia picks up a small flyer standing on an end table.)

What about this new Spanish restaurant?

Helen: What Spanish restaurant?

Olivia: This one. (indicating the flyer) They just opened for the season. (reading) They

have five different kinds of paella.

Helen: . . . If that's what you'd like.

Olivia: Why "If that's what I'd like"?

 25

Helen: I was just say, if that's what you'd like. (pause) That's fine. The Spanish place.

They probably have a deck, and we could watch the rest of the day slip by and feast

on paella.

(Olivia picks up the bag containing the catalogs and a small photograph falls from

where it had been tucked between the pages. Helen picks it up—it catches her eye.)

Is this . . . ?

Olivia: Oh . . . yes. She was going to send them in with the applications. I told her the

admissions people would just have to throw them out.

Helen: (still absorbed by the photograph) She's . . . changed so much since I last saw her.

(pause) I had no idea . . . (continuing to look at the photo) She looks just like you.

Olivia: That's what everyone says, but she really has Jack's face.

Helen: No, her hair is bright red and falls to her shoulders just like yours used to.

(Silence. Olivia turns away, awkwardly begins applying the final touches to her

appearance. She takes a dark green scarf out of her bag and ties it around her neck.

Helen watches, and becomes aware of her gaze.)

Olivia: (flustered) Oh . . . it's Jennifer's. (pause) We're practically the same size now. . . .

Half of our clothes end up in each other's drawers. . . . Sometimes we forget whose

are whose.

(Silence. Olivia does not know whether to finish tying it or not. Finally she turns

back to the mirror, looks in, and finishes the knot. Helen watches, then digs into her

suitcase, removes a bright red headband.)

Liv?
 26

(Olivia turns but does not move. Helen waits, then approaches her, reaches out to

remove the scarf. Helen removes the scarf, replaces it with the headband, her hands

playing over Olivia's neck and shoulders as she does so. She adjusts it slightly,

tucking the loose ends of Olivia's hair underneath. Olivia is almost frozen by Helen's

touch, still but acquiescent. Helen takes a step back, looks at Olivia with

admiration.)

There. (pause) And now you have your own ring. A ring of Saturn.

(Olivia turns to the mirror, looks in.)

What do you think?

(Pause.)

Isn't that better?

(Pause.)

Isn't it?

Olivia: Yes. Yes, it is.

Helen: Red always made you look so much younger.

(Helen picks up her purse and jacket off the chair.)

Should we go?

(No response. Olivia is still transfixed in front of the mirror.)

Liv?? Are you ready?

Olivia: . . . Yes.

(She pulls herself away, picks up her purse and takes a collapsible umbrella out of

her bag, fumbling through most of this.)

Helen: We won't need that. (pause) It's not going to rain. It's my birthday.
 27

(Helen exits. Olivia looks after her, begins to follow but hesitates, filled with great

ambivalence. She returns to the mirror, looks in, adjusts the headband, then gazes at

herself for a long moment, reaches up and touches her face in a long, soft caress.

Helen's voice calls, off.)

Helen: Liv?!?

(Olivia does not respond. She is transfixed in front of the mirror.)

Liv???

(Still no response.)

Liv!!!?

Olivia: Coming!

(Olivia hurries to the door, stops, realizes she is still holding the umbrella, does not

know what to do with it. She agonizes for a moment, finally tosses it on the bed.

Then she goes out, pulling the door closed behind her, and the lights slowly fade on

the empty room, lingering for a moment on the bed and the mound of clothes, before

the stage finally goes black.)