Angels in America: A Gay Fantasia on National Themes: Revised and Complete Edition (16 page)

(Then with sudden violence, Roy grabs Joe’s lapels and pulls him close, shaking him violently.)

ROY
: What did you want from me?! What was all this?! What do you want, treacherous ungrateful little—

(Joe grabs Roy by the front of his robe, and propels him across the length of the room, slamming him against a bookcase. Joe holds Roy at arm’s length, the other arm ready to hit.)

ROY
(Laughing softly, daring Joe)
: Transgress a little, Joseph.

(Joe releases Roy.)

ROY
: There are so many laws; find one you can break.

(Joe hesitates, then turns and hurries out
.

     
Roy doubles over in great pain, which he’s been hiding while Joe was in the room. As he sinks to the floor:)

ROY
: Ah, Christ . . .

     
Andy! Andy! Get in here! Andy!

(The door opens, but it isn’t Andy. A small Jewish woman dressed modestly in a fifties hat and coat enters the room. The room darkens.)

ROY
: Who the fuck are you? The new nurse?

(The figure in the doorway says nothing. She stares at Roy. A pause. Roy forces himself to stand, then he crosses to her. He stares at her closely. Then he crosses back to a chair, and sits heavily.)

ROY
: Aw, fuck. Ethel.

ETHEL ROSENBERG
(Her manner is pleasant; her voice is ice-cold)
: You don’t look good, Roy.

ROY
: Well, Ethel. I don’t feel good.

ETHEL ROSENBERG
: But you lost a lot of weight. That suits you. You were heavy back then. Zaftig, mit hips.

ROY
: I haven’t been that heavy since 1960. We were all heavier back then, before the body thing started. Now I look like a skeleton. They stare.

ETHEL ROSENBERG
: The shit’s really hit the fan, huh, Roy?

(Roy nods.)

ETHEL ROSENBERG
: Well the fun’s just started.

ROY
: What is this, Ethel, Halloween? You trying to scare me?

(Ethel says nothing.)

ROY
: Well you’re wasting your time! I’m scarier than you any day of the week! So beat it, Ethel! BOOO! BETTER DEAD THAN RED! Somebody trying to shake me up? HAH HAH! From the throne of God in Heaven to the belly of Hell, you can all fuck yourselves and then go jump in the lake because I’M NOT AFRAID OF YOU OR DEATH OR HELL OR ANYTHING!

ETHEL ROSENBERG
: Be seeing you soon, Roy. Julius sends his regards.

ROY
: Yeah, well send this to Julius!

(He flips the bird in her direction, stands and moves toward her, intending to slam the door in her face. Halfway across the room he collapses, in terrible abdominal pain.)

ETHEL ROSENBERG
: You’re a very sick man, Roy.

ROY
: Oh God . . . ANDY!

ETHEL ROSENBERG
: Hmmm. He doesn’t hear you, I guess. We should call the ambulance.

     
(She goes to the phone)

     
Hah! Buttons! Such things they got now.

     
What do I dial, Roy?

(Pause. Roy looks at her, then:)

ROY
: 911.

ETHEL ROSENBERG
(Dials the phone)
: It sings!

     
(Imitating dial tones)
La la la . . .

     
Huh.

     
Yes, you should please send an ambulance to the home of Mr. Roy Cohn, the famous lawyer.

     
Beats me. A pain in his gut. Bad. A bad pain.

     
What’s the address, Roy?

ROY
(A beat, then)
: 244 East 87th.

ETHEL ROSENBERG
: 244 East 87th Street. No apartment number, he’s got the whole building.

     
My name?
(A beat)
Ethel Greenglass Rosenberg.

     
(Small smile)
Me? No I’m not related to Mr. Cohn. An old friend.

     
(She hangs up)

     
They said a minute.

ROY
: I have all the time in the world.

ETHEL ROSENBERG
: You’re immortal.

ROY
: I’m immortal. Ethel.
(He wills himself to his feet)

     
I have
forced
my way into history. I ain’t never gonna die.

ETHEL ROSENBERG
: History is about to crack wide open. Millennium approaches.

Scene 6

That night, Prior’s bedroom. Prior, in bed, even more frightened than before. Prior 1 stands before him, wearing a weird hat and robes ornamented with strange signs over his coarse farmer’s tunic. He carries a long palm-leaf bundle
.

PRIOR 1
: Tonight’s the night! Aren’t you excited? Tonight She arrives! Right through the roof! Ha-adam, ha-gadol . . .

PRIOR
2
(Appearing, similarly attired)
: Lumen! Phosphor! Fluor! Candle! An unending billowing of scarlet and—

(Prior flings off his covers. He’s prepared.)

PRIOR
: Look. Garlic. A mirror. Holy Water.
(He squirts water at Prior 1 from a small plastic squirt bottle)
A crucifix. FUCK OFF! Get the fuck out of my room! GO!

PRIOR 1
(Leering a little; to Prior 2)
: Hard as a hickory knob, I’ll bet.

PRIOR
2: We all tumesce when they approach. We wax full, like moons.

PRIOR
1
(A barked command)
: Dance.

PRIOR
: Dance?

PRIOR
1: Stand up, damnit, give us your hands, dance!

PRIOR
2: Listen . . .

(A lone oboe begins to play a little dance tune.)

PRIOR
2: Delightful sound. Care to dance?

PRIOR
: Please leave me alone, please just let me sleep.

PRIOR
2: Ah, he wants someone familiar. A partner who knows his steps.
(To Prior)
Close your eyes. Imagine . . .

PRIOR
: I don’t—

PRIOR
2: Hush. Close your eyes.

(Prior does.)

PRIOR
2: Now open them.

(Prior does
.

     
Louis appears. He looks gorgeous. The dance tune transitions into a lovely instrumental version of “Moon River.”)

PRIOR
: Lou.

LOUIS
: Dance with me.

PRIOR
: I can’t, my leg, it hurts at night.

     
Are you . . . a ghost, Lou?

LOUIS
: No. Just spectral. Lost to my self. Sitting all day on cold park benches. Wishing I could be with you. Dance with me, babe . . .

(Prior stands, gingerly putting weight on his bad leg. He’s surprised there’s no pain. He walks to Louis
.

     
They begin to dance. The music is beautiful.)

PRIOR 1
(To Prior 2)
: Hah. Now I see why he’s got no children. He’s a sodomite.

PRIOR
2: Oh be quiet, you medieval gnome, and let them dance.

PRIOR
1: I’m not interfering, I’ve done my bit. Hooray, hooray, the messenger’s come, now I’m blowing off. I don’t like it here.

(Prior 1 vanishes. Prior 2 watches Louis and Prior dance.)

PRIOR
2: The twentieth century. Oh dear, the world has gotten so terribly, terribly old.

(Prior 2 vanishes. Louis and Prior dance
.

     
Louis vanishes
.

     
Prior dances alone, his arms holding empty air, as if not realizing that Louis has gone
.

     
The lights return to normal
.

     
Then suddenly, the sound of the beating of enormous wings
.

     
Prior opens his eyes. The pain in his leg returns.)

Scene 7

Same night, continuous with
Scene 6
. Split scene: Prior alone in his apartment; Louis alone in the park
.

Again, the sound of beating wings
.

PRIOR
(Looking up in terror at the ceiling)
: Oh don’t come in here don’t come in—

     
(Limping back to his bed. Scared, broken, he calls out)
Louis!

     
(Summoning defiance)
No! My name is Prior Walter, I am . . . the scion of an ancient line, I am . . . abandoned I—NO. My name is . . . is . . .
Prior
and I live . . .
here and now
, and—

(The lights in the room intensify slightly as, to Prior’s horror, an inhuman voice comes out of his mouth:)

PRIOR
: —
in the dark, in the dark, the Recording Angel opens its hundred eyes and snaps the spine of the Book of Life and
—

(Prior clamps his hand over his mouth; the lights return to normal.)

PRIOR
: Hush! Hush! I’m talking nonsense, I—

     
(Trying to calm himself)
No more mad scene, hush, hush . . .

(Louis is on a bench in Central Park. Joe approaches, stands at a distance. They stare at each other. Louis stands.)

LOUIS
: Do you know the story of Lazarus?

JOE
: Lazarus?

LOUIS
: Lazarus. I can’t remember what happens, exactly.

JOE
: I don’t . . . Well, he was dead, Lazarus, and Jesus breathed life into him. He brought him back from death.

LOUIS
: Come here often?

JOE
: No. Yes. Yes.

LOUIS
: Back from the dead. You believe that really happened?

JOE
: I don’t know anymore what I believe.

LOUIS
: This is quite a coincidence. Us meeting.

JOE
: I followed you.

     
From work. I . . . followed you here.

(Little pause.)

LOUIS
: You followed me.

     
You probably saw me that day in the washroom and thought: there’s a sweet guy, sensitive, cries for friends in trouble.

JOE
: Yes.

LOUIS
: You thought maybe I’ll cry for you.

JOE
: Yes.

LOUIS
: Well I fooled you. Crocodile tears.
(He touches his heart, shrugs, then harshly)
Nothing.

(Joe reaches tentatively to touch Louis’s face. Louis pulls back.)

LOUIS
: What are you doing? Don’t do that.

(Joe withdraws his hand and takes several steps back, ready to run.)

JOE
: Sorry. I’m sorry.

LOUIS
: I’m . . . just not—
(Warning him away)
I think, if you touch me, your hand might fall off or something. Worse things have happened to people who have touched me.

JOE
: Please.

(Joe walks up to Louis.)

JOE
: Oh, boy . . .

     
Can I . . .

     
I . . . want . . . to touch you. Can I please just touch you . . . um, here?

(He puts his hand on one side of Louis’s face. He holds it there.)

JOE
: I’m going to Hell for doing this.

LOUIS
: Big deal. You think it could be any worse than New York City?

(Louis takes Joe’s hand away from his face and holds it, then:)

LOUIS
: Come on.

JOE
: Where?

LOUIS
: Home. With me.

JOE
: This makes no sense. I mean I don’t know you.

LOUIS
: Likewise.

JOE
: And what you do know about me you don’t like.