2.5 begins (day 24)

Scene 5

Light is shifting to evening. Steve is wiping down tables. Marie and Jeanette enter and sit 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 be a widow at 23 and dress in black for the rest of your life. 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: Like you do? What are you doing Jeanette? Mooning over the moon, tour guide for Americain men of a certain age?

Jeanette: Are you calling me a whore?

Marie: I'm not calling you anything. You're telling me my life sin't my own, so I want to know what you think you're doing that's so special.

Jeanette: It may be nothing special, but it's mine. If I go look at the rockets it's because I like rockets, not because my husband drags me 3000 kilometers to go see them when I don't want to or because I'm so bored sitting on my ass because my boyfriend doesn't have need for me today.

Marie: I didn't realize you thought I was such a doormat. My boyfriend has cancer. I think worrying about him is a pretty normal thing to do and not a sign that I don't have a life.

Jeanette: And how long have you been out of work?

Marie: Meaning?

Jeanette: You impugned my morality earlier, so who's the kept woman now?

Marie: I don't believe this! My boyfriend's got cancer and all my best friend can do is criticize my life and call me names.

Jeanette: Marie.

Marie: Jeanette. Go fuck your Americain and I don't care who pays you – he or his wife.

Marie departs, Jeanette catches Steve's eye.

Jeanette: Vin rouge, s'il vous plait. (she pulls out her iPod and pops in the earbuds and wipes away tears).

Steve (bringing the wine): That didn't look good.

Jeanette (pulling out earphones): Que?

Steve: You and Marie fighting?

Jeanette (shrugs): I think she's letting Gil walk all over her and she thinks I'm a whore.

Steve: Gil is sick. (Jeanette looks up waiting) And Ive never seen you charge. (Jeanette hits him) No one thinks you're a whore Jeanette. Whore's don't do the choosing.

Jeanette: Apparently she thinks the Americain wife is doing the choosing.

Steve (about to depart turns back): What is going there?

Jeanette (shrugs): Je ne sais pas. I got a ride to the space center and had fun talking about it with someone who's as mad as me. That's it.

Steve: Somethings up with those too. I'd say “Americans” but it's indecent since I am one.

Jeanette: Yeah, what's up with that? You on the run?

Steve: Think of me as Rick in Casablanca.

Jeanette: Aren't you more like the little Russian guy with the bug eyes?

Steve: Peter Lorre? Thanks a lot, besides isn't he Jewish? The bartender was Russian.

Jeanette: I thought they were both Russian.

Steve: Really, maybe.

Jeanette: What did Russians have to do with it anyway?

Steve: The bartender was a White Russian, pro-czar, anti-communist. It was probably Hollywood's way of dissing the Commies while still having a Russian as an ally to the good guys.

Jeanette: Oh. Anyway why are you here?

Steve: No one tips enough for me to get home. Gotta work.