39th step

He exits. Monsieur watches, then lays his head on his arms. He seems very small.

Marie: Monsieur? Monsieur?

Monsieur (lifting head): I am very tired Marie.

Marie: Can I get you anything?

Monsieur: N . . . a glass of wine I think.

Marie (trying to be playful): I do not think that will wake you up Monsieur.

Monsieur: I do need to wake up Marie. A little pleasure at the end of the day is plenty.

Marie (hesitates): Ok, anything special?

Monsieur: Non, the red s'il vous plait. (Marie goes behind the bar and pours and brings the glass) Merci Marie. Do you know I almost married a Marie once?

Marie: Non. I'm sure you loved her very much.

Monsieur: I told her I didn't think I did, but we could marry if she wished.

Marie: You are always honest monsieur, so I will be. I do not think that was very nice.

Monsieur (chuckles): And you are always very polite Marie. Non, it was not nice. I did think it was true, but then I thought it was true because I did not think love was. Only a day later, I was starting to think differently, or at least I knew it was possible to be happy. It was as though a cloud were lifting . . . but then the sun stabbed my eyes and . . . (he shakes his head)

Marie: Monsieur?

Monsieur: I thought because it did not matter that it did not matter what or if I chose. That if it did not matter then it did not matter whether one did A or B.

Marie: That what did not matter?

Monsieur: Anything, everything. Ah, there's the mistake see. “Anything” and “Everything” they are not the same, yes? (he looks at her for a moment) I think that you think differently, but I do not think that there is some big purpose or reason to life. We just are. We live and we die. In this sense, nothing matters. But that does not mean it does not matter what you do. My life it does not matter to the universe, but it matters to me to the people I know. It will not matter when I am gone

Marie: Oh, monsieur . . .

Monsieur: Non, Marie, it will not. It most certainly will not for me. And for you? You may remember me kindly or not, but your life will go right on regardless of my cessation. But. While I am here I affect you, you affect me. So our choices matter. They matter to us individually, and they matter to those around us.

Marie: This does not seem so profound Monsieur.

Monsieur (smiles): You are gaining in honesty Marie.

Marie: I did not mean . . .

Monsieur: Stop. Do not apologize. I do not mean because I affect you I should be nice for the sake of being nice—not if it stops me being something else more important.

Marie: Like being honest?

Monsieur: Précisément. If you offend me with honesty I should not be offended. I think that is why my Marie did not walk out. . . though she cried. I also think that perhaps she understood that I felt more than I knew. I told her I did not think I loved her. I think perhaps she thought otherwise (shrugs) pêut etre. (he takes a sip of the wine) Won't you have some too?

Marie: I am working monsieur.

Monsieur (looking around): This day of too much excitement seems to mean there is no business. You will take a taxi to get monsieur Gil?

Marie: Yes.

Monsieur: Then as your boss, I say you may join me.

Marie: Oh, god, that reminds me, what happened to Steve?

Monsieur: Get your wine (she does and returns). Eh bien, our Steve, he made a choice.

Marie: Celeste told me earlier you said he was wasting his time here.

Monsieur: Non, non, non. I said he was wasting away. We were discussing life in prison, yes? And like now, I had grown philosophical. I said surviving prison, really surviving life—it is the same thing, yes? (Marie nods, shakes her head)--so, surviving life, it is all about deciding to live. It is the choice we make every day. Maybe many times, though we do not know it. If you are not choosing, you are wasting away. Monsieur Steve, he said he was not making choices, so I said he, like many prisoners, was wasting away.

Marie: I see . . . maybe. But this choice, surely it wasn't to be arrested.

Monsieur: Non. And I think he confused the idea of choice with action and with doing something noble. He could do exactly what he has been doing and not waste away, as long as he chose to do it. Consciously.

Marie: I don't think I understand.

Monsieur: Every moment you are conscious you are alive. When you are not, you might as well be dead. You have stood at the edge of a cliff, yes? Felt the pull? That wondering what if I just stepped off?

Marie: Yes, I guess, yes, sure.

Monsieur: It is not the urge to suicide. Or maybe the suicide it is the same urge. It is that suddenly you know life is a choice. You can step off the edge or not. Standing still, it is still a choice, yes?—the choice most important. It is what keeps you alive, yes?

Marie: Yes.

Monsieur: Every day, every moment, you are always on the cliff, only most people they do not see it or they deny it. Live every moment on the cliff.

Long silence while Marie ponders

Marie: So Gil. He was choosing to die?

Monsieur: I do not thinks so. I think the suicide, it is the decision to make a choice, but because most people do not realize that life is a choice, they think the only choice is death. And for Gil, he feels like this disease will rob him of his choice, that it will choose for him, so he takes a stand and chooses first.

Marie: I can understand that.

Monsieur: But non! All our lives end. Period. Full stop. It does not matter what you do. So the disease is not making a choice for you. Death is not a choice. It is inevitable. If you want to live, you must do so now. Always now.