Angels in America: A Gay Fantasia on National Themes: Revised and Complete Edition (27 page)

     
(Suddenly looking around)
You seen a lady around here, dumpy lady, stupid . . . hat? She . . . Oh boy. Oh boy, no she’s off watching the hearings. Treacherous bitch.

JOE
: Who?

ROY
: Did you get a blessing from your father before he died?

JOE
: A blessing?

ROY
: Yeah.

JOE
: No.

ROY
: He should have done that. Life. That’s what they’re supposed to bless. Life.

(Roy motions for Joe to come over, then for him to kneel. Joe hesitates, then kneels
.

     
Roy puts his hand on Joe’s forehead. Joe leans the weight of his head into Roy’s hand. They both close their eyes and enjoy it for a moment.)

JOE
(Quietly)
: Roy, I . . . I need to talk to you about—

ROY
: Ssshah. Schmendrick. Don’t fuck up the magic.

     
(He removes his hand)
A
Brokhe
. You don’t even have to trick it out of me, like what’s his name in the Bible.

JOE
: Jacob.

ROY
: That’s the one. A ruthless motherfucker, some bald runt, but he laid hold of his birthright with his claws and his teeth. Jacob’s father—what was the guy’s name?

JOE
: Isaac.

ROY
: Yeah. The sacrifice. That jerk.

     
My mother read me those stories.

     
See this scar on my nose? When I was three months old, there was a bony spur, she made them operate, shave it off. They said I was too young for surgery, I’d outgrow it but she insisted. I figure she wanted to toughen me up. And it worked.

     
I am tough. It’s taking a lot . . . to dismantle me.

     
(He winces; he’s having trouble masking the pain he’s in)

     
Now you have to go.

(Joe stands, slowly, reluctant to leave.)

JOE
: OK, I— But I.

     
The person I’m staying with?

     
It’s not a . . .

     
(Forcing himself to say it)
It’s a . . . man.

(Pause.)

ROY
: A man?

JOE
: Yes.

(Little pause.)

ROY
: You’re with a man?

JOE
: Yes I . . .

(He doesn’t look at Roy. Roy however is looking hard at him.)

JOE
: Yes. I, I guess I am, yes, it’s someone I met, recently, we—for three weeks now, actually, we . . .

     
(He laughs, embarrassed)

     
Although I don’t know if I, if he wants to, um, continue what . . .

     
And I’m going kinda crazy, a little, I can’t, I don’t know what I’ll do if he, if he . . .

(Joe looks at Roy, who is now looking away.)

JOE
: I guess it’s a surprise to you, that I’m— I hope this is OK. There’s no one I can talk to about it, I never wanted to talk about, about this, but now I’m going pillar to post, looking for, for oh Lord I don’t know—
(Another laugh, angry, then, putting the word in air quotes)
“Sympathy”? I suppose? Which I never used to need, which I never wanted, never allowed or even, um
felt
for myself, I always found the whole idea of it just contemptible, just . . . repulsive—
(Continue below:)

ROY
(Very soft, adrift, strange)
: Yeah . . .

JOE
(Not hearing Roy, continuous from above)
: —and I know how . . . preposterous this is, coming at you with this, but you . . .

     
I know you care for me. I know that. And I’m so—

(Roy starts to stand up.)

ROY
: I gotta . . .

JOE
: You . . . Oh I’m sorry, I’m— What, the . . . um, bathroom or . . .?

(Roy walks unsteadily. The IV tube in his arm extends to its full length and then pulls. Roy looks down at it, remembering it’s there. In a calm, disinterested manner he pulls it out of his arm, which starts bleeding profusely.)

ROY
: Ow.

JOE
: Roy, what are you—

(Joe starts for the door. Roy stands still, watching dark blood run down his arm.)

JOE
(Calling off)
: Um, help, please, I think he—

(Belize enters with the portable oxygen, and then sees Roy.)

BELIZE
: Holy shit.

(Belize puts on rubber gloves, starts toward Roy.)

ROY
(To Belize)
: Get the fuck away from me.

JOE
(Going toward Roy)
: Roy, please, get back into—

ROY
(To Joe)
: SHUT UP!

     
Now you listen to me.

BELIZE
(To Roy)
: Get your—

ROY
(To Belize)
: SHUT UP I SAID.

     
(To Joe)
I want you home. With your wife. Whatever else you got going, cut it dead.

JOE
: Oh. Oh I, I
can’t
, Roy, I need to be with him, I need to, I’m—

(Roy grabs Joe by the shirt, smearing it with blood.)

ROY
: YOU NEED?
Listen to me. You do what I say. Or you will regret it
.

(Roy lets go of Joe’s shirt, turning from him, disoriented, looking for the bed:)

ROY
(To Joe)
: And don’t talk to me about it.
Ever again
.

(Belize moves in, takes Roy to the bed and begins bandaging the punctured arm.)

ROY
(To Joe)
: I . . . never saw that coming. You kill me.

BELIZE
(To Joe)
: Get somewhere you can take off that shirt and throw it out, and don’t touch the blood.

JOE
: Why? I don’t unders—

ROY
: OUT! OUT! You already got my blessing— WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME?

(He has a terrible wracking spasm.)

BELIZE
(To Joe)
: Get the fuck outta here!

JOE
(To Roy)
: Please, wait, let me just wait till—

ROY
(Exhausted)
: Till
what
? You what, you want to stay and watch
this
? Well fuck you, too.

(Joe leaves
.

     
Belize finishes bandaging Roy’s arm, both of them silent for as long as this takes
.

     
When he’s finished with the arm, Belize straightens up a little. Roy looks blankly at the bandage, then:)

ROY
: Every goddamn thing I ever wanted they have taken from me. Mocked and reviled, all my life.

BELIZE
: Join the club.

ROY
: I don’t belong to any club you could get through the front door of.

     
You watch yourself you take too many liberties.

     
What’s your name?

BELIZE
(A beat, then)
: Norman Arriaga. Belize to my friends, but you can call me Norman Arriaga.

ROY
: Tell me something, Norman, you ever hire a lawyer?

BELIZE
: No Roy. Never did.

ROY
: Hire a lawyer, sue somebody, it’s good for the soul.

     
Lawyers are . . . the High Priests of America. We alone know the words that made America. Out of thin air. We alone know how to use The Words. The Law: the only club I ever wanted to belong to. And before they take that from me, I’m going to die.

(Roy has a series of awful spasms, the worst so far; they shake him violently. Roy grabs Belize by both arms. Belize tries to control Roy’s body as he convulses in horrible pain. Roy hangs onto Belize; they’re in a tight, desperate embrace, both shaken by Roy’s agonized spasming
.

     
During this seizure, Ethel appears.)

ROY
: Sssshhh. Fire. Out.

(The pain subsiding a little, Roy forces the convulsions to abate. Through the remainder of the scene, with grim effort, conserving his resources, he just manages to keep his body under his control.)

ROY
: God have mercy. This is a lousy way to go.

BELIZE
: God have mercy.

ROY
(Seeing Ethel)
: Look who’s back.

BELIZE
(Looking around, seeing no one)
: Who?

ROY
: Mrs. Reddy Kilowatt.

     
Fucking horror. How’s . . . Yonkers?

BELIZE
: I almost feel sorry for you.

ETHEL
: A bad idea.

ROY
: Yeah. Pity. Repulsive.

     
(To Belize)
You. Me.
(He snaps his fingers)
No. Connection.

     
(Looking at Ethel)
Nobody . . . with me now. But the dead.

Scene 2

Same day. Louis sitting alone, cold, on a park bench
.

Prior enters and sits on the bench, as far as he can from Louis
.

PRIOR
: Oh this is going to be so much worse than I’d imagined.

LOUIS
: Hello.

PRIOR
: Fuck you you little shitbag.

LOUIS
: Don’t waste energy beating up on me, OK? I’m already taking care of that.

PRIOR
: Don’t see any bruises.

LOUIS
: Inside.

PRIOR
: You are one noble guy.
Inside
. Don’t flatter yourself, Louis.

     
So. It’s your tea party. Talk.

LOUIS
: It’s good to see you again. I missed you.

PRIOR
: Talk.

LOUIS
: I want to . . . try to make up.

PRIOR
: Make up.

LOUIS
: Yes. But—

PRIOR
: Aha. But.

LOUIS
: But you don’t have to be so hostile. Don’t I get any points for trying to arrive at a resolution? Maybe what I did isn’t forgivable but—

PRIOR
: It isn’t.

LOUIS
: But. I’m trying to be responsible. Prior. There are limits. Boundaries. And you have to be reasonable.
(Unable not to ask) Why are you dressed like that?

PRIOR
(A challenging, cold smile)
: You were saying something about being reasonable.

LOUIS
: I’ve been giving this a lot of thought. Yes I fucked up, that’s obvious. But maybe you fucked up too. You
never trusted me, you never gave me a chance to find my footing, not really, you were so quick to attack and . . . I think, maybe just too much of a victim, finally. Passive. Dependent. And what I think is that people do have a choice about how they handle—

PRIOR
(Cutting to the chase)
: You want to come back. Why? Atonement? Exoneration?

LOUIS
: I didn’t say I wanted to come back.

(Pause.)

PRIOR
: Oh.

     
No, you didn’t.

LOUIS
(Softly, almost pleading)
: I can’t. Move in again, start all over again. I don’t think it’d be any different.

(Little pause. Prior looks hard at Louis.)

PRIOR
: You’re seeing someone else.

LOUIS
(Shocked)
: What? No.

PRIOR
: You are.

LOUIS
: I’M NOT. Well, occasionally a . . . He’s a . . . just a pickup, how do you—

PRIOR
: Threshold of revelation. Now: Ask me how I know he’s a Mormon.

(Louis stares, shocked; Prior’s as surprised as Louis.)

PRIOR
:
Is
he a Mormon?

     
(Little pause, then impressed and frightened:)