The Stage

Window is heading towards the Audience.

A room. A window in the back wall, the bottom half covered by a sack. An iron bed along the left wall. Above is a small cupboard, paint buckets, boxes containing nuts, instrument case about the size of that of violin, etc. More vases by the side of the bed. A door, up right. To the right of the window, a mound: a kitchen sink, a step-ladder, a coal bucket, a lawn-mower, a shopping trolley, boxes, sideboard drawers.

Eric is alone in the room, sitting on the bed. He wears a leather jacket.

Silence

He slowly looks about the room looking at each object in turn. He looks up at the ceiling, and stares at the bucket. Ceasing, he sits quite still, expressionless, looking out window. Outside, was snowing. Like leathers of different-beings, snow seemed to float on the invisible layer of atmosphere.

Eric turns his head slowly from sky down to the coffee shop in the front. Lady in the béret was already there for about an hour. Her expression, her anxious gait, her clothes, and the way she did her hair told him that she was a lady, that she was there waiting for someone who loves her, and that she was dull there. . . . Inside him, Eric was silent, but the images of lady were recreating. She remembered these tales of easy conquests, of trips to the mountains, and the tempting thought of a swift, fleeting love affair, a romance with an unknown man, whose name she did not know, took possession of her. The eyes of the lady outside the window met with his eyes. Eric was there but the lady was also there inside and outside him.

Silence

Now, the lady is out of Eric’s sight. The white van, with family inside, one boy, one girl, and their parents, erased the lady. Although it was just a moment, that moment must have been enough. He already saw the leathers that were floating inside the van.

Father. Wasn’t the musical brilliant, dear?

Boy. I never knew you were that sensitive, father.                 (All laugh.) By the way, wasn’t the actor Lysander look like Mr. Simpson? (Brief silence and everyone laugh again.)

Mother. James, just be careful that you don’t tell that to Mr. Simpson next day in your school. (Giggles.)

Girl. I’m pretty sure this dumb-dumb will tell everybody mom. . . .

Boy. Thanks my dear young sister. (Frowns at the girl.)

Girl. You’re welcome! (Smiles mischievously.)

Parents laugh, Eric smiles. He doesn’t even know who Mr. Simpson is; nevertheless he smiles.

(Stays in front of the window for a minute. his eyes stay one place for few seconds and move again.)

He then draws a curtain and drags his body to the bed right opposite the window. He let his body upon the soft bed and all closes his eyes.

Curtain.