A STRANGER SEQUEL
ACT I
Setting: Kourou, coast of French Guiana just north of Cayenne. It is a small seaside bar. The kind of place that's upscale enough that locals go there for something special and local enough that tourists love to “discover” it. It's especially popular with the rare Anglo toutists as the waiter is “Steve” an American. There are sidewalk tables and an inner bar—typically French, it's for standees only. “Monsieur,” an old man, sits at one of two inside tables USL, just inside the arch that defines inside/outside.
It would be useful if the set were a turntable, so different elements could be swung to CS, thus scene 1 would have the outdoor tables DC, while this scene would have the bar DC and in the background the tables and the sea.
Scene 1
Gil enters and sits alone at an outdoor table—he looks beaten down though not destitute.
Steve (approaching): Mornin' Gil.
Gil: I'm dead. (Monsieur glances up)
Steve: Tough night?
Gil: (pauses) No....cancer.
Steve: You?
Gil: That's why I'm the one dying. Wine.
Steve: Ok. (exits and returns with a glass of red and sits. Gil just stares out.)
Gil: Yesterday. Today. Tomorrow. You always assume there are all three. One day you're living forever the next your dead.
Steve: You're not dead. And no one lives forever. And for that matter, at some point there wasn't a yesterday. (Gil shrugs in that stereotypical Parisian pout. Steve glances around, no customers, so sits) But seriously, cancer, what kind?
Gil: That's the real joke. Not only can it kill you, but even if it doesn't it does. (Steve waits uncomprehending). Testicular—talk about sucking the life right out of you.
Steve: Jesus.
Gil: Yeah, well, I suppose you deal with it right? Never any guarantees. Like you said, no one lives forever.
Matt and Anne enter, Steve gets up and moves to them.
Matt: Pardon, Je crier...I mean... Je....parlez vous Anglais?
Steve: Yes, what ….
Anne: You see, I told you this was the place.
Steve: ...would you like?
Anne: Do you have a menu?
Gil: It's the same menu everyone has.
Matt: What?
Steve: Pardon. Do not mind Monsieur Gil. He is right, but perdu.
Matt: What?
Anne: May we see it?
Steve: You wish to eat?
Anne: I just want to look. (Gil snorts)
Steve gives Gil a look as he walks inside grabs a simple single page paper menu and hands it to the woman. The man looks expectantly.
Steve: Did you wish to look as well Monsieur? (Gil snorts)
Matt: (pauses to wonder whether he does and decides not) No, I'll have a beer; it's cold right?
Steve: (heading to the bar) Konenbourg!
Anne: He didn't ask me what I wanted.
Gil: You got the menu.
Anne scowls
Matt: He's got a point. It's what you said you wanted...to just look.
Anne: You can't seriously...
Steve returns with beer
Woman: Do you have a wine list? (Steve flips over the menu—a pause as she reads). I'll have the Beaulieu Chardonnay, s'il vous plait.
Steve: Oui madame.
Gil: My mother died. (Monsieur glances up)
Anne: (after a moment decides to respond) I'm very sorry. No wonder you're not yourself.
Steve (returning with wine): Don't be fooled. He is very much himself. Are you here for the launch?
Matt: No, just for a drink.
Steve: No, the launch, the rocket launch.
Anne: You have rockets?
Matt: Didn't know there was a launch. We came for something different from the usual Yucatan/Caribbean thing.
Anne: I thought the rockets were all in Florida.
Steve: This is the European Space Agency's launch site, not the US's Friday is their first manned launch.
Gil: It's the start of a new era they tell us. Hope it's better than this one.
Monsieur: (speaking quietly but absolutely) All eras are the same—neither better or worse. Unless, perhaps, the people they should change.
(Marie enters and sits with Gil)
Marie (taking his hand): How you doing?
Gil: Great of course.
Marie: Should you be drinking before the tests?
Gil: Afraid I won't pass?
Marie: Gil, come on. You want them to be able to get the best information so you can get the best treatment right?
Gil: I don't really want to be treated at all. I don't want my balls cut off and then my veins filled with poison. Is that so unreasonable?
Marie: If the choice were to just be fine otherwise, no it wouldn't be. But the option is to fill your whole body with poison and watch it rot away piece by piece (he doesn't respond, so chidingly) balls first .
Gil: Well, if you put it like that...
Marie: C'mon, we're supposed to be at the doctor's in two hours and you know what the traffic's like between here and Cayenne.
Gil: I really don't want to go...
Marie: God Gil, I wish you didn't have to, but you need to. I want you toB because I want you here for a long time. It sucks, but we'll get through it.
Gil: Will “we”? You're not the one...sorry, I know...Merde! All right. Let's get the hell out of here.
Jeanette is coming in as they depart, Jeanette starts to reach out to give each an embrace, but Gil brushes past and Marie clutches her arm and gives her one of those “we need to talk” looks and heads out with Gil.
Jeanette: What's up Steve?
Steve: They'd better give you the details Jeanette, but Gil's not well.
Jeanette: Damn. Well, that's a hell of a start to the day. I was hoping to talk them into a ride up to the space center.
Steve: Launch isn't until Friday right?
Jeanette: You don't just show up for the climax Steve. It's the build-up. I go up there, I feel like it could be me someday. Can you imagine, being up there, seeing....it all.
Steve: It would be neat.
Jeanette: Neat? It is so much more than "neat." I want to colonize Mars or somewhere. Start new. (Monsieur looks up) Right Monsieur? Wouldn't you like to be able to start over somewhere?
Monsieur (smiles): I started over here Jeanette. But the reality is, you do not start over. You and everyone else is always with you. (Jeanette starts to object or just be disappointed) Non, Jeanette, I do not mean to sound the doom. But, the change, it is something you do, not the place you are....but sometimes, the place, she helps.
Matt: Excuse me, miss, but if you could show us the way we could give you a ride, I'd like to see the launch site. (Anne just stares at him).
Anne: Is that why we're here? I thought we were doing something other than the usual.
Matt: Ok, sorry, of course, nevermind. (he looks at Jeannette) perhaps another time.
Anne: Really. You expect me to buy this?
Matt: Sorry, you know I'm an enthusiast, I got excited. But it's fine, let's hit the beach okay?
Anne: Lovely. (They sip their drinks and stare out to sea)
Jeanette (returning to her conversation with Steve and Monsieur): C'est la, I can catch the bus I suppose.
Monsieur: Why does the space interest you so? You are a very, social, young woman, wouldn't colonizing Mars be rather lonely?
Jeanette: I don't claim to make sense Monsieur. I am energized by the crowds, but I really don't like, oh, parties with lots of people, but I do like a few friends, and sometimes I like to be alone—but only when there is something to do. Maybe I think on Mars there would always be something to do.
Monsieur: Would there? Such as?
Jeanette: Staying alive.
Monsieur: Ah (and he sits back to contemplate this)
Lights out
Scene 2
Afternoon the man and woman are back, they have obviously been on the beach.
Anne: Why didn't you just say, I want to go see the first manned launch? Did you really think I'd say no?
Matt: I thought you'd come with …. desire …. if it was to go someplace new and fun. And if we saw this too, then you'd say oh, isn't that nice. Otherwise you'd have just come along.
Anne: Matt. Could you just trust me? I actually like your company. No I don't give a damn about spaceflight per se, but that doesn't mean I can't enjoy watching a launch with you. It's beautiful here, so let's enjoy it? It was a wonderful swim today, let's have a good dinner, and mess around?
Matt: (laughs) I love you. I don't know why it gets the way it does.
Anne: Routine. Routine kills everything. When you date, the other person is the thing that makes things special. When you marry, they're just part of the everyday.
Matt: So you think people shouldn't marry?
Anne: Maybe...no, “marriage” has nothing to do with it. It's living together, the fact that the other is an inevitable part of ones day, not an option, not something to look forward too.
Marie and Gil enter, take a table, and order drinks from Steve.
Matt: Am I that bad?
Anne: You're missing the point. I'm not talking about “you” or “us.” I'm just talking about what happens to people. It's hypothetical discussion.
Matt: Isn't “hypothetical” just a euphemism, like asking for advice by saying, “I have a friend who . . .”
Anne: I thought you liked science? Surely you can recognize that it's possible even necessary to conceive a subject in the abstract.
Matt: Yes, but somehow as soon as it involves people...
Anne: You assume it has to be about you. Damn. See...we're doing it again. A minute ago you said you loved me and now we're fighting.
Matt: So it was about us. (woman lays her head in her arms).
Steve returns with wine for Marie and Perrier for Gil
Steve: So what's the word?
Gil: Oh, you know, they won't know anything for days, but of course they tell you it's all going to be well.
Marie: The doctor said there didn't seem any evidence that it had spread. It looks contained; that Steve caught it early, and surgery and some preventive chemotherapy should take care of it and he'll be fine.
Gil (stares at her): Fine?
Marie: Yes, fine. Alive, cancer free.
Steve: That sounds pretty good Steve.
Gil: Want to trade balls? (to both) Sorry. Look, I think I'm going to go to my place and try to paint, get my head in some other space. (to Marie) Ok?
Marie (squeezing his hand): Sure, Gil. (he gets up) Gil, I love you (she rises and kisses him, he embraces her briefly, nods to Steve and leaves).
Steve (patting Marie's shoulder): He'll be ok. It's a lot to take.
Marie: I know Steve, but it's no fun being the focal point for it. It's like instead of being there for him, I'm his primary target.
Matt: I'm sorry. Look, you had a great plan. Let's make it special. We'll have dinner and see where the evening goes.
Anne: (teasing) I like my plan better.
Matt: I didn't want to presume.
Anne: Don't presume, chase (and she gets up and starts to exit. He sits confused.) Matt. Pursue. (Matt drops cash on the table and follows her out).
Lights out
Scene 3
It is evening, the bar is busy, but not hyper. Monsieur sits at his table, now USR, while USL a guitarist and accordianist/bongo player alternate between French folk songs and Caribbean beat insturmentals. Steve and Celeste converse at the bar.
Celeste: Vraiment? Gil has the cancer?
Steve: Oui. He's pretty shaken. Goes between bravado and doom—mostly doom.
Celeste: When not doom, he will beat it?
Steve: When not doom, Marie says he'll beat it, and then he gets resentful, then aplogoetic.
Celeste: That sounds like doom too.
Steve (shrugs): On the up side, he left this afternoon hoping to start painting again; that could help. (He departs with drinks to take to customers out front.)
(Monsieur raises a hand)
Celeste: Un moment, Monsieur. (He pours a glass of red wine and takes it to Monsieur, there is a brief conversation.)
Jeanette (entering and standing at bar): Allo, Celeste. Dos Equis. (He opens a bottle and pours it into a glass). Mostly tourists tonight?
Celeste: It's always mostly tourists, except when there's a hurricane.
Jeanette: (laughing) Wimps. You going to the launch?
Celeste: Can't miss it from here. Can't see much more up there.
Jeanette: I suppose, but there's such a rush when you're in the crowd. I was up there today and the energy—it's like being near one of those generators that make your hair stand on end, yes?
Celeste: Van de Graf I think they're callled. I guess I don't like crowd energy.
Jeanette: And you tend bar?
Celeste: I run the bar. If I don't like the mob, I can do something about it.
Jeanette: Really? You just run out and get a different clientele?
Celeste: You're argumentative tonight.
Jeanette: (shrugs smiling) May be. I'm on the prowl.
Celeste: Ah...some Languedocs out there comparing the Caribbean and Mediterranean—you could give them a baseline.
Jeanette: (smiles) C'est possible. (she wanders off).
Steve (returning): How's Jeanette?
Celeste: She is Jeanette.
Steve: What else does one need to be? (Celeste smiles)
Gil (approaching bar, just noticeably drunk): Celeste, Steve, ça va?
Celeste: It goes. You?
Gil: Not heard? I'm a dead man.
Celeste: You are here. You are talking. I have never talked to the dead before.
Gil: You are like a beast. You know only the present, so you mistake it for the continuum of life.
Steve: I've got customers (departs).
Celeste: You underestimate beasts. Maybe the beast it does not know the consequences, but it does not ignore its wound. And if in its ignorance it does not mistake its current condition for some other possible condition then it is wiser than you.
Gil: Oh, very wise. We'll see how wise you are when you're world is turned inside out.
Celeste: (somewhat testily) You see Monsieur over there? (we see just a bare reaction from Monsieur—enough to let us know he hears—as he does all things in the bar--Celeste catches himself on the edge of saying more than he wishes and stops.)
Gil: Yes, I see him. So?
Celeste: Nothing. You want something, or you had enough?
Gil: What? Does he have cancer?
Celeste: No. Drop it. I was going to give an example of people who know better than to mistake one circumstance for another.
Gil (turns and looks at Monsieur's back): Really? Because he seems to be permanently in that circumstance. I can't imagine how he stands it. The same thing every day. Does he ever move?
Celeste: He would tell you it is never the same.
Steve (returning): Two chardonnays, a Mai Tai, tourists!, Konenburg.
Gil: and a whiskey. (Celeste and Steve both look at him) And a whiskey.
Celeste: Anything special?
Gil: Uh...American.
Celeste: Jack Daniels?
Gil: Sure.
Steve: So, how's the painting?
Gil: Great! That's why I'm here, celebration.
Steve: Good, don't overdo it ok?
Gil: You playing Marie?
Steve: Like Marie, I'm a friend who wants you to get better. You're not planning on going out in some artistic blaze of glory are you?
Gil: (somewhat sobering) No. I'll do the surgery of course, but I don't want to do the chemotherapy. For the past six hours I've been 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'd prefer to 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 damn muse. 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.
Gil downs his whiskey and crosses to Monsieur.
Gil: Monsieur. Celeste says you don't mistake one circumstance for another.
Monsieur (pausing in laying out another hand): Monsieur Gil, n'est ce pas? I am not sure what Celeste meant, but if it means I'm compos mentis, I would like to think so.
Gil: Clever. You sit here everyday and watch everyone and lately it seems taken up philosophy with typically philosophical opaqueness.
Monsieur: It is a curious metaphor for an artist, this opaqueness. If your paints they were not opaque you could not see them, yet everyone thinks that what one says should be “transparent” as if one should see through words rather than face the words.
Gil: Opaque, transparent, I don't care, you're not saying anything now, you're just trying to be smart. You never confront anything directly.
Monsieur: Monsieur Gil, Ihave never confronted anything any other way.
Gil: Yeah, well then maybe you've just never had anything to confront that was bigger than whether to put the jack on the queen.
Monsieur: I apologize for interrupting your conversation. You should indeed follow whatever muse works for you.
Gil: Oh, is that what you call facing up to things? Just apologize and turn away. (rising anger) Is it!?
Monsieur: I am an old man. If you are hoping to start a fight you will have to find some one younger—and in another bar.
Gil: Are you throwing me out? YOU... (Marie, pleadingly, and Celeste, threateningly, approach).
Marie: Gil, can we talk? (Celeste hovers)
Gil (looks at Marie and Celeste and realizes he has crossed a line. He looks back to Monsieur): Pardon Monsieur. I am upset.
Monsieur: Of course, please do not think of it.
Marie: Come on Gil. (they find a table which is outside but right near Monsieur). It's awful, but it's not the end. Steve said you're working; that's great. Look at the bright side.
Gil: I've got a deadly disease and whether they cure it or not, I get gelded in the process. What's the bright side?
Marie: You're working. I'm still here. We're still here. Lance Armstrong won most of his Tours after he had it and he became a dad. Gil I love you, why are you so angry with me?
Gil: Armstrong used dope. He didn't get that baby the old fashioned way. I don't want to take up biking.
Marie: (starts to rise, sits) Well, I'm glad you didn't get around to me in that response. I'm here Gil, but, I can't take much more of being the punching bag. Gil, are you sure this is just about the cancer?
Gil: Oh great, cancer isn't a good enough reason to be upset. I must have other issues. I need space. (exit)
The Matt and Anne return to the bar, Steve greets them
Steve: Welcome back, I hope you enjoyed your dinner.
Woman: We did, and then..
Matt: Anne . . . .
Anne: (to Steve) Don't worry dear we won't make a scene (glances around) any tables left?
Steve: One just opened up (he crosses to Marie and talks she nods, Steve returns) This way.
Anne: You didn't make her move for us....she could join us.
Steve: Truly she was leaving (Marie is just stepping away)
Anne: Please, dear, you're welcome to stay if you wish.
Marie: Non, thank you...I was just recovering from a departure (she heads into the bar).
Anne: From a departure?
Matt: Anne, it's not our business
Steve: Marie will be fine madame, chardonnay?
Anne: Oh, hmm, yes, thank you.
Steve: And monsieur?
Matt: Oh, let's go tropical. How about a daiquiri (Steve rolls his eyes)?
Steve: Oui (departs)
Anne: Thanks.
Matt: For?
Anne: For this evening. For here. It is nice.
Steve (returning with drinks): Madame, monsieur. Anything else?
Matt: No, thanks. Not for me. Anne?
Anne: I'm fine.
Steve: Very good...
Matt: Say, you're American right? What's your name?
Anne: You think only Americans have names?
Steve: Yes, I am. It's Steve.
Matt: Hi Steve, Matt. This is my wife Anne.
Anne: Nice to meet you.
Steve: And you, If you need anything else, just ask . . .
Anne: One moment, if she wants one, bu--Marie, isn't it--a drink on me.
Steve: Yes, madame. (exits, in the background we see him talk to Marie and gesture to the table, Jeanette enters).
Matt: Bonding or trying to pick her up?
Anne: (shrugs ala parisienne) Just showing I like it here.
Lighting shifts to emphasize Marie and Jeanette they are leaning against a colonnade and talking.
Jeanette: Marie, so what's going on? Gil is sick?
Marie: Cancer.
Jeanette: Santa Maria
Marie: Yeah. The doctor says it should be ok, but you know they always say that. I'm scared, and he's scared, and....he's....not making it easy on me. Maybe I'm not making it easy on him. I'm trying. But everything I say seems to just piss him off.
Jeanette: I'm sure it's just because he's scared. You can't take it personally.
Marie: I know, and I can't take it any other way. (Jeanette nods) The worst? Christ I don't want him to lose his balls either. (she cries) I feel so shallow. Damn. Oh hell, Jeanette, in one way it doesn't make any difference at all, yet... You just don't know. You don't know how you'll react. There was this movie, some world war II thing, a British pilot is burned—you know his face is just a mask—and his girl just won't see him, dumps him, and you're so angry at how shallow she is. But....reallly...do you blame her....or are you so sure you aren't her.
Lights shift to Matt and Anne during their scene we see Jeanette head into the bar to get a drink
Matt: Look, not to kill the mood, but I thought I'd go up to the space center tomorrow; do the tour before the big day.
Anne: Ok, I'll go to the beach, or maybe go up to Cayenne and shop.
Matt: Okay. . . You can come with me.
Anne: Can I? (then kindly) Matt, you've got your chance, go visit. I'll watch the launch with you, but the rest really doesn't interest me. It's ok.
Matt: I need to get up early to get there. Shall we head back to the hotel?
Anne: Do you mind if I stay a bit? It's two blocks, I'll be fine. I'll take a taxi if you want.
Matt: I can stay.
Anne: And you can go. You want me to enjoy it, let me enjoy it. I like sitting out here; you want your rest.
Matt: Ok...you sure?
Anne: (leans over and kisses him) I'm sure. It's ok.
(Matt leaves after a moment Marie comes over)
Marie (lifiting her glass slightly): Thank you. I've never had someone by me a drink before.
Anne: That's hard to believe.
Marie: Well, friends yes, but not a stranger.
Anne: Sit?
Marie (sitting): You too have a departure?
Anne: Of a sort, I suppose. Old married couple spat.
Marie: You do not look old, and I wish I could have such a thing.
Anne: Thanks, but why would you want a spat?
Marie: Ah, not the spat as such, but to be so clearly a couple that you can have one.
Anne: It's a two-edged sword.
Marie: Aren't they all?
Monsieur: Non, the guillotine, it has only one edge.
Marie (startled): Oh, Monsieur, you are not supposed to be listening.
Monsieur: Pardon.
Marie (to Anne): Never mind Monsieur. He says nothing to anyone—well nothing of consequence (there's a shuffling of cards)–he tells no stories, yes?
Anne: Yes. Anyway, the problem with being a couple who can fight, is that you tend to do so.
Marie: Doesn't everyone fight?
Anne: I don't think we used to so much. You start to bicker when the little things are the only things you see. What do you fight about?
Marie: Ay. Gilbuert. He, I..., he has cancer.
Anne: I'm sorry.
Marie: Yes, but it is not like there is no treatment. The chances of survival are really quite high, but he...he acts like he has been sentenced to death.
Anne: Well, a lot of people still feel that way about cancer—for so long it was true.
Marie: I know, but he is young, he is not stupid, he knows the odds are good, but ...ay....I think it is something else and I said so and he leaves because I have none of the sympathy.
Jeanette comes out with a drink and looks around, sees Marie and hesitates
Anne: Ah. Maybe he just needs more time to get used to the idea. It's a big shock, especially if you're young. I had breast cancer at 39—I thought it was the end of the world too.
Marie: Ay, I'm sorry. I do not think...
Anne: It's ok. It's 12 years now. But it is something that stays with you. You never forget your mortal after that.
Matt returns
Matt: Anne, I'm sorry. We don't have to go tour the base, we don't even have to see the launch.
Anne: (looking up pleased yet slightly annoyed) I want to see the launch. I just wish you'd said, “I want to see the first manned launch.” No, I wish you could have known it was ok to say that.
Seeing Matt has joined the group Jeanette comes over too.
Matt: I do, really, or...I
Jeanette: Bon soir...
Marie: Jeanette, this is Anne and
Anne: Matt
Jeanette: Bon soir, I am sorry, am I interupting
Anne: No, in fact you came at just the right moment. Aren't you the rocket lover?
Jeanette: Oh, yes.
Anne: My husband wants to go tour the base, or whatever they call it, tomorrow. Maybe you could guide him.
Matt: Anne are you serious?
Anne: Why not? You go there and Marie can take me shopping in Cayenne. What do you say Marie?
Marie: Well, I, I suppose yes, we could do that.
Anne: C'est bon. She holds up her glass. To tomorrow then.
Matt: (who does not have a drink) To tomorrow then. Meet you here at 9:00?
Anne: Nine? How about 10:00?
Matt: Well, ok.
Anne takes Matt's hand and stands
Anne: I think we'll return your table to you now. It was very nice to meet you Marie, Jeanette.
Marie (kisses her cheek): And you, thank you.
Matt and Anne exit holding hands
Lights out
Scene 6
a few hours later
Steve: Monsieur, it's late no one is in, shall we close?
Monsieur: (glances up from his cards and looks around, looks at Celeste who nods) If you wish.
Steve: It's your call. It's your bar.
Monsieur: For now. Probably not much longer now (pause) though I've thought that before. You're friend Gil, he is not well?
Steve: Testicular cancer.
Monsieur: That is a disease. I mean he's not …. responding well.
Steve: They haven't started treatments yet. The surgery is Friday.
Monsieur: No. I'm sorry. I meant he thinks he's dead.
Steve: Oh, yeah. Yeah, even Marie can't seem to get him to be even a little optimistic.
Monsieur: It is perhaps because he is already dead.
Steve: Pardon.
Monsieur: Deciding to live. It is not as easy as everyone seems to think. Everyone, they seem to think it is inevitable.
End Act One
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