Conversations 3

 Conversations 3

Marie and Jeanette at a table

Jeanette: So, find someone new. Between his “work” and dying, you sure aren't taking up much of his mental space.

Marie: Jeanette, have you ever loved someone? I care about him. I care that I'm not “taking up much of his mental space.” Merde. If all I needed was a fuck I'd find somebody new, that's not it.

Jeanette: Maybe it is. Marie, you can “let him be” by getting on with your own life, or you can die while sitting here nobly “letting him be” till he's ready to notice you again. By the time he notices you again, you could be single again anyway, so why sit here and pine away?

Marie: I swear you must never have cared for anyone.

Jeanette: I care about you, but you're deaf. It's that Catholic upbringing. You want to dress in black and be a widow at 23. Well they aren't going to let you join the union because you didn't marry first, so you might as well come the rest of the way into the 21^st century and live for yourself.

Marie departs, Jeanette catches Steve's eye and lifts her glass.

Jeanette: Encore s'il vous plait.

Gil and Steve standing at bar

Gil: I'll do the surgery of course, but I don't want to do the chemotherapy. I'm working like I haven't in ages—ever. I don't want to have to stop because I'm comatose and puking.

Steve: So you'll stop because you're rotted away by cancer?

Gil: Yes, if that means I can work up till then.

Steve: How about working through the chemo and then keeping going?

Gil: You don't get it. When you're doing it, when the..muse...is with you, you don't stop.

Monsieur: There's no goddam muse. (he stands) You. You are your muse. You decide whether to work, to live, to die. Don't blame the chemo, don't blame the cancer, and don't idolize them either. Take some responsibility for your life.

(He walks into the restaurant and disappears; everyone is stunned)

END OF SOME ACT