End of act II? Day 16

Celeste is prepping the bar in the morning. He bisects a grapefruit in one swift move with a chef's knife, but half of it rolls off the bar and drops to the floor. Monsieur enters just as this happens. He shudders turns away and moves slowly to his table. Celeste comes around from behind the bar and retrieves the grapefruit..

Celeste: May I get you anything Monsieur?

Monsieur: Coffee . . . bread . . . do we have any honey?

Celeste: No Monsieur.

Monsieur: d'accord . . . join me Celeste

Celeste: there is work . . .

Monsieur: and there is time, come.

Celeste brings a tray with coffee and bread and a bowl of fruit and some cheese. He sits, and prepares a plate and gives it to Monsieur and then his own.

Monsieur: You take good care of me Celeste.

Celeste: As you have me. (he lifts his cup) Santé.

Monsieur: (he returns the toast) Santé. Celeste, I think it safe to say I will not live much longer (Celeste starts to protest). No, Celeste, I am not being morose or predicting my imminent demise. We have both faced the death before and come to terms with it. But I have done the last thing I ever expected to do and that is live a long life—an extraordinarily long life. But it will not go on forever. We have not talked about it in a long time, but I was a young man when my life ended, or so I thought.

Celeste: For me as well.

Monsieur: Oui. The prison, it is a dream now. A few movies from Hollywood, some old memories and tourists, but nothing more.

Celeste: That is good I think.

Monsieur: Ah, oui. Of course. I was only counting years in my way. The café will be yours of course.

Celeste: Monsieur...

Monsieur: There is no one else Celeste, do not be sentimental. There is no pension for us, non? Only the chance to keep working. And I have not done that for a long time. Truly you have been supporting me for many years now.

Celeste: I never thought so. It is your place.

Monsieur: Yes. But it is long since I worked with you. I have sat here for many years.

Celeste: When you stop sitting there, the café will stop being the café.

Monsieur: Eh, the people will not stop drinking because I'm dead. I am not a fool, and I will not pretend that I don't know I'm part of the scenery—the, what do the American's call it—ah yes, the “ambience.” Why can I never remember their French expressions? But, you should not dismiss yourself either. The people they will come and they will eat and they will drink and laugh and fight and cry and sometimes make love. (he pauses)

Celeste: Eh bien. Is there more Monsieur? The work, it does need doing.

Monsieur: I did not expect to live. And when the sentence was commuted and I was sent here . . . I felt cheated. I had to figure out how to make life work again. In the prison, it was not so hard because there the life it is dictated to you. I was very resentful at the start. Most times perhaps the work was so much I did not have much energy for the anger, but it was there. I had figured out before that it did not matter how long I had lived—ten years or twenty or thirty did not matter they were all but a . . . flicker . . .one life in all the world. You lived what you had. But then, especially after the war and we were paroled, suddenly, there were all these more years. I had come to terms with the end, not with a future. So, there is but one thing, and that is to live today. Every day must be worth it, yes? Because it is the only one you have. 

Celeste: You are not getting religion now are you Monsieur?

Monsieur: (Laughing) No, Celseste, fear not. We know the ones who did. I will not say it wrong of foolish now. I suppose you grab whatever you think will help you float. But, no, I saw nor see any support there, or none that isn't available without the delusions it requires. But that has not made the years shorter. Each day you wake and you do. And to look back and see this long long trail of days--like a well without a bottom. . . . .  But here is what is strange. I am old and tired and I will not begrudge the death when It comes . . . . but I want to see the launch tomorrow.

Celeste: Well that's not all that strange.

Monsieur: Celeste, I have not thought of tomorrow for more than 60 years.