2.7 starts day 27

I may have jumped ahead here. We'll see.

Scene 7

Steve: There is no one left, shall we close?

Monsieur: As you wish.

Steve: It's your call (glances to Celeste).

Monsieur: I was agreeing. Of course, close. Steve.

Steve: Yes?

Monsieur: I assume you are planning on returning Monsieur Gil's money?

Steve: Of course. I was just making sure it got to Gil.

Monsieur: Yes. I do not think this Jacob is evil. But that does not mean he would not have taken the money.

Celeste: Why are you coddling him? You've never had any patience for religious zealots before.

Monsieur: Maybe it is because I do not think he is a religious zealot. There is something...oh, he tosses “god” around, but there's no dogma. He has not said anything like “you must do this and then.”

Celeste: He will.

Monsieur (smiles): Maybe Celeste, I am trying to convert him? That would be an irony eh? To swell with conceit now?

Celeste: There are things worth believing in.

Monsieur: Ah, Celeste, this is where we have always differed. You took up the revolutionary cause, not me. I agreed with some of its thinking, yes. But it dreamed of changing, doing. This I do not do. I live Celeste. That is all. It is more than sufficient.

Steve: Monsieur, if I may, who are you? And you Celeste?

Celeste: We should close.

Monsieur: Assis. Celeste bring some wine for all of us. (Celeste crosses to bar and gets a bottle and two more glasses) Bon. Who am I? Who are we? D'accord. We are criminals n'est ce pas?

Celeste: I do not take that name.

Monsieur: But no, but it is the name we were given yes? And I cannot say I did not earn it. (Celeste shrugs) So, Celeste, he was, is, the revolutionary. One such must break many laws n'est ce pas, some big some little. Ultimately they may say treason, oui? But, Celeste, is young and he is not the focus of the prosecution. So he gets the petit crimes, the burglary, the conspiracy, these things. Yes?

Celeste: Yes, you know well. (He looks at Steve) This is 1951, I am among the last ever sent here as a prisoner.

Steve: You were sent to Devil's Island! (Monsieur laughs)

Monsieur: Pardon Steve, Hollywood gave it this name. Non, he was sent to the prison colony of Guiana. Almost everyone here who has been here awhile has a criminal past.

Celeste: It is my story, I will continue. I was almost the last. It was the perfect place for political prisoners. Send us away from the homeland. So, I come and like all I am scared and do not know my way. But I am lucky. A trustee takes me as a friend (he gestures to Monsieur) and keeps me from becoming lost to the system. He teaches me how to live, here, now.

Monsieur: I taught nothing.

Celeste: You taught me everything. Without you, then I would be a criminal.

Monsieur: Or maybe a successful revolutionary?

Celeste: I do not believe in the revolution anymore.

Steve: But, shouldn't you both want to change things? Fight the system?

Monsieur: I am not saying you should not. But, I would say work for the changes, not for or against any system. What is the Gandhi expression you like Celeste?

Steve: Let me guess, be the change you want in the world?

Monsieur: It is famous I guess?

Steve: On the edge of being hackneyed Monsieur.

Monsieur: Vraiment? That is too bad. It is a good statement. You be it, don't create something else to be it.

Steve: But you monsieur? What is your story?

Monsieur: I am a murderer.

Steve (truly shocked): No, who, why?

Monsieur: yes, an Algerian whose name I did not know, and for no reason, because the sun it was too bright.

Steve: I don't understand.

Monsieur: If I. Another person, they would have made it clear it was an accident, that I did not mean to do it. But, I did. I had just felt happy for the first time in a very long time, had even thought of the future, that I might be married and what that could mean, and then there was a gun in my hand and the stabbing sun.

Celeste: Monsieur was convicted of murder because he did not believe in god and was sentenced to the guillotine.

Steve: The guillotine?

Monsieur (nodding): Oui, that terrible invention of mercy. And I had resolved myself to it. I was ready to die. I had come to terms with it. I understood. It did not matter whether one lived 10 years or 40. One came into the world and one left and the world spun on. You could only have lived whatever you got. You must understand and accept that everyday, this is your life. It's all you've got. So, I was ready to walk out before the crowds and let them shout and taunt and hate. It was that that should have told me I had not quite come to terms.

Steve: How so?

Monsieur: I was still imagining the future and their reaction. So imagine my condition when my appeal was heard and my sentence commuted to life, deportation to the devil's island as you say. There is some irony in being deported from one colony to another I think. So here I arrived. And yes, I was on the island not the mainland prison when I first came. Dying would have been much easier. It is much easier for the young to imagine death than it is to imagine a life that goes on and on. No one who is 20 or even 30, maybe not even 40 faces just how long life can be. Some may come to it sooner—people like me who are in jail forever: for life.

finishing 2.6 on 26

Jacob: Gil, perhaps we could get something together up at Tres Palmes. It might be easier to talk where there are not so many memories.

Gil: What's wrong with here?

Jacob: It might be easier to talk where there are not so many memories.

Steve: Suit yourself Gil. You're always welcome here...where you've always been welcome.

Jacob: If you'd rather stay here Gil.

Gil: I want to see Marie.

Steve: I think that's a really good idea.

Jacob: Is it? She seems to be the source of a lot of …. stress.

Steve (steadily): Monsieur our sources of stress are frequently are greatest sources of support as well. Gil and Marie have a lot to deal with now, and I think we would best help them by giving them the space to deal with it.

Jacob: I'm not interfering.

Steve: Yes. You are.

Jacob: A young man comes to me . . .

Gil: I'm not sure where my phone is... oh, got it.

Steve: No. A young man blundered into a room where a man who had been scouting the local scene recognized him.

Gil: Marie? Yeah, listen, sorry. Can I.......sure. Sure, meet me at my place.

Jacob: Are you implying...?

Steve: Gil, you need a hand getting home?

Gil: No. I'm good. Thanks. Look see you in the morning okay?

Steve: Ciao, dude.

Gil grins

Jacob: I'm headed back that way.

Gil: Thanks. I appreciate the talk, but I just need a little head space on the walk and then some time with my girl.

Jacob: You still look unsteady.

Steve: If you think I'd let you take him alone, you're wrong.

Jacob: What is wrong with you! Your friend needs help.

Steve: And he's headed straight for it.

Jacob: You're an enabler you know that. That's the problem with places like this. No one can see beyond their little circle. There are bigger things in this world then this bar.

Monsieur: Ah, non.

Jacob: What! You're saying this is all there is?

Monsieur: Non. You are saying there is more. I am saying it is all here. You do not need space, or foreign vistas, or a bigger city. Once I had no more room to move than if you put four walls around this table. At first it was hard. But, as maman used to say, you can get used to anything. And I realized finally, that I could see the whole world through my little window, indeed simply in the cracks in my walls. I could be trapped in a tree trunk or chimney and see just one little square of sky above you and I'd still have the whole world. Non monsieur, there is nothing bigger than this bar.

Jacob: God is bigger.

Monsieur: If you cannot find him in this bar, than he is not big enough to be everywhere. (Jacob starts to respond) And if you can find him here? Then there is nowhere bigger.

end of 2.5 start 2.6 day 25

Gil enters obviously already drunk

Gil: Rum and Coke, light on the Coke, maybe skip the Coke.

Steve: Umbrella?

Gil: Cute.

Steve: Rum and Coke, or just rum?

Gil: Grog, maybe that's what I need.

Steve: Isn't that mainly water and molasses?

Gil: Like Coke right?

Steve: I guess. Rum and Coke it is. (Gil sits staring off into space and does not notice Jeanette, who has returned to her iPod isolation.)

Steve returns

Steve: Here you go. So, what's up? Or down from the looks of you.

Gil: I've sat in my studio for 24 hours and produced shit. No, producing shit would mean I'd done something; I've done nothing.

Steve: Yesterday you said you were going all out.

Gil: Yesterday I was. Came here to celebrate. Fought with Marie and that was that.

Steve: So, oiling the gears?

Gil: Drowning. Literally if I can manage it.

Steve: Got it. (Anne and Matt enter as does Jacob separately) Look I've got customers, but I'll be back. In the meantime, if fighting with Marie is what did you in, maybe you ought to try making up.

Gil: Bring another when you come.

Steve nods.. Gil downs the drink looks around, everyone is busy. He tosses obviously too much money on the table and leaves. The bar continues to function for a few minutes and then Steve looks over, crosses to table, picks up money and looks around. He pulls out cell phone and dials.

Steve: Marie? Listen Gil just came in bought a Rum and Coke and must've drunk it in one gulp when my back was turned and he's gone and left like 50 euro to pay for it. He said he hasn't been working—just sitting there. I'm worried. Call when you get this.

Monsieur: Steve.

Steve (crossing to him): Oui Monsieur?

Monsieur: What has happened?

Steve: Gil, Monsieur, I am afraid he is … suicidal. He came in clamoring for rum, then gulped it down and left 50 euro to cover it. It must have been all the money he had.

Monsieur: But why do you think suicide?

Steve: We all thought he'd been painting non-stop for the last two days, but apparently he's been in his studio, but doing nothing—that's why he wanted rum, he said. (Monsieur nods) Do you think I should call the police? (Monsieur flinches)

Monsieur: Non . . . eh bien. Do you think it necessary? (Marie arrives)

Steve: Oh, good, did you get my message?

Marie: What? No, I've had my phone off I was . . taking a test. (she is pulling out her phone and checking messages)

Steve: A test? For Gil? But Gil was here. (She is getting the “you have messages” and hits “1”)

Marie: What? Not for him . . . for me. What was the message? (Steve starts to speak and she waves him off and listens, we watch her reaction). How long ago? Have you done anything?

Steve: Fifteen minutes at most. No, we were just trying to decide what if anything....

Marie: I'll go back and check his place

Steve: Why don't you go to yours—isn't that where he'd go next? I can check his place (he looks at Monsieur for permission, who nods).

Marie: Ok. I'll call you from my place.

(Lights fade out come back up)

Scene 6

(Marie and Steve at a table)

Steve: Do you want to report this to the police?

Marie: To the police? You want to make him a criminal?

Steve: No, I want to find him. Being missing isn't a crime.

Marie: Suicide is. They aren't going to take us seriously unless we make it sound serious.

Steve: Surely, they'd understand with the cancer....

Marie: Steve, the French may not put much faith in God, the majority may not even believe, but we are a Catholic country and suicides still get buried in unhallowed ground.

Steve: He's not dead, he's missing.

Marie: For the wrong reasons. If they find him for these reasons, he'll be in a hospital—for his mind not his cancer.

Steve: Oh, come on.

Marie: It gets better, I wouldn't be able to see him as I'm not his wife, just his whore.

Steve: What? You're his girlfriend, surely even Catholic France permits girlfriends.

Marie: I'm pregnant Steve. That “test” I was taking....

Steve: (pauses, smiles) Congratulations.

Marie: Thanks. (shakes her head) Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck (glances up) Pardon Monsieur. (Monsieur waves it off).

Jacob and Gil enter

Marie: Gil!

Jacob (to Gil): Is this the one? (Gil nods)

Marie: Oh Gil, where have you been?

Jacob: He's been getting help (said with an edge for the rest of those present).

Marie: Help? Why didn't you come to me?

Jacob: You are part of what he needed help with.

Marie: Gil, I'm talking to you.

Gil: I don't know Marie. Everything just got confused.

Marie: I understand.

Jacob: Gil was adrift and needed an anchor.

Marie: Pardon. We have not met. May I ask who you are?

Jacob: I am the Reverend Jacob, I was holding a healing meeting this evening when your friend stumbled in—very much in need of healing I might add.

Marie: Healing?

Jacob: I am in the service of the Lord and those who seek is help are healed.

Marie: What, what...denomination are you?

Jacob: The Lord does not have denominations.

Marie: Oh, one of those.

Jacob: (somewhat arrested) What? One of what?

Marie: I know where my church is monsieur. Where is yours?

Jacob: Mine is anywhere I'm needed. God does not require a church.

Marie: No, I'm sure you are all he needs—or rather you are all you need.

Marie: Gil, how much money did you give him to be healed?

Jacob: He has given me no money.

Marie: Monsieur. Thank you for your assistance, but up until the last few minutes my boyfriend has never had any trouble speaking for himself. Did you heal him by stealing his tongue?

Gil: Marie. Chill. He hasn't done anything terrible. At all. He's been really nice and listened.

Marie: I haven't?

Gil: I didn't say that, but if you recall, the last time we saw one another I left—unhappy.

Marie: And I've been trying to get ahold of you all day. Did you listen to any of my messages Gil. Any?

Gil: No.

Jacob: Sometimes

Marie: Monsieur if you interrupt this conversation one more time

Gil: Marie, he's just trying to

Marie: You prefer his help? Go for it. (she exits)

Gil: Marie!

Jacob: There will be time. Let her go for now. You said you lost your money here?

Gil: Steve.

Steve: Gil.

Gil: Listen when I left I paid for my drink but I think I must have paid too much.

Steve (glances at Jacob and at Monsieur): You left 5 euro, more tip than usual. You want the change?

Gil: Five! It was like 50!

Steve: Gil, you were pretty lit when you were here, maybe you dropped it on the way over or after you left.

Gil: Seriously? Shit. Well, I'd better see if I get lucky and find it on the way back to my place.

Jacob: Are you sure? I would have sworn....

Monsieur: Sworn what monsieur?

Jacob: I was in earlier and I thought he put down too much too.

Gil: You were here?

Jacob: Yes, of course I did not know you then....and (looks around) perhaps I'm mis-remembering.

Steve: You were watching other customers pay?

Jacob: Please, when Gil told me he lost his money, it triggered the memory.

Gil: Let it go everyone. I must have dropped it.

Steve: Gil have you eaten?

Gil: I just told you I've lost my money.

Monsieur: Monsieur Gil, we are not worried about your money. If you are hungry, have something to eat.

Jacob: I'll be happy to pay for his meal.

Steve: That's very nice monsieur, but there is no need. Gil is an old friend.

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. 

End of 2.4 for 23

Jeanette and Matt arrive during the toast

Matt: Anne! You're here....as is...

Mdala (looking at Matt): Ah, I should have known that this was your husband.

Matt: What's that supposed to mean?

Mdala: Monsieur. Only that she told me that her husband was an afficianado of space travel, and because she is Americain, and I had met you at the center, I should have connected the two.

Anne: Hi Matt. Hi Jeanette, won't you join us?

Matt: Us? You're together?

Anne: I met him because of the Billi Bi.

Matt: Billi Bi?

Anne, Mdala, and Jeanette: Mussel soup.

Matt: Mussel soup?

Steve: Ordering?

Matt: No, well, I guess. I'm confused.

Anne: Have a seat dear and we'll go all through it. (he sits) Jeanette?

Jeanette: Is Marie here?

Anne: She went back to her place; said she might catch up with us later.

Jeanette: Well I think I'll go around and see if I can catch up with her. Thanks Matt (he half rises and she gives him the cheek pecks) Great day!

Matt: Yes, thanks for showing me some of the off-the-path stuff.

Jeanette: A bientôt.

Anne: So dear what would you like? We shouldn't keep Steve waiting and my Billi Bi is getting cold (she sips it) no just right. Try some?

Matt: Mmm. Not bad, but not what I want just now. A beer Steve, I'll think about food.

Mdala finishes his soup and pays his check.

Mdala: Bon jour madame, monsieur, I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay. (to Matt) I suppose it likely we will see each other again.

Matt (cooly): I suppose we might. (Mdala nods and exits)

Matt (leaning in to Anne): So how did you hook up with the wacko?

Anne: He seemed very nice to me and I simply asked what he was eating because it looked good, and we chatted just enough for him to learn that I had a husband who liked rockets and that he didn't.

Matt: He was asking if you had a husband?

Anne: He asked if I was alone and I said only because I'd set my husband up on a date with a French bombshell.

Matt: A date!?

Anne (dead pan): Matt. I'm making fun of you.

Matt: Why?

Anne: Because your jealousy is silly—especially when you've spent the whole day with a very pretty girl who is young enough to be your daughter—or your mistress.

Lights out