Angels in America (28 page)

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:)

     
Well, goddamn.

     
Ask me how I knew.

LOUIS
: How?

PRIOR
(Furious)
: Fuck you! I'm a prophet!

     
Reasonable? Limits?
Tell it to my
lungs
, stupid, tell it to my lesions, tell it to the cotton-woolly patches in my eyes!

LOUIS
: Prior, I . . . haven't seen him for days now, I just—

PRIOR
: I'm going, I have limits, too.

(Prior starts to leave. He has an attack of respiratory trouble. He sits heavily on the bench. Louis reaches out to him; Prior waves him away
.

     
Louis cries. Prior looks at Louis.)

PRIOR
: You cry, but you endanger nothing in yourself. It's like the idea of crying when you do it. Or the idea of love.

     
So. Your
boyfriend
—

LOUIS
: He's not my—

PRIOR
: Tell me where you met him.

LOUIS
: In the park. Well, first at work, he—

PRIOR
: He's a lawyer or a judge?

LOUIS
: Lawyer.

PRIOR
: A Gay Mormon Lawyer.

LOUIS
: Yes. Republican too.

PRIOR
: A Gay Mormon Republican Lawyer.
(With scathing contempt) Louis
. . .

LOUIS
: But he's sort of, I don't know if the word would be . . . well, in a way sensitive, and I—

PRIOR
: Ah. A
sensitive
gay Republican.

LOUIS
: He's just company. Companionship.

(Pause.)

PRIOR
: Companionship. Oh.

     
You know just when I think he couldn't possibly say anything to make it worse, he does. Companionship. How
good
. I wouldn't want you to be
lonely
.

     
There are thousands of gay men in New York City with AIDS and nearly every one of them is being taken care of by . . . a friend or by . . . a lover who has stuck by them through things worse than my . . . So far. Everyone got that, except me. I got you. Why? What's wrong with me?

(Louis is crying again.)

PRIOR
: Louis? Are you really bruised inside?

LOUIS
: I can't have this talk anymore.

PRIOR
: Oh the
list
of things you can't do. So fragile! Answer me: Inside: Bruises?

LOUIS
: Yes.

PRIOR
: Come back to me when they're visible. I want to see black and blue, Louis, I want to see blood. Because I can't believe you even
have
blood in your veins till you show it to me. So don't come near me again, unless you've got something to show.

(Prior leaves.)

Scene 3

Night of the following day. Roy's hospital room. There are several new machines, monitoring Roy's condition, which is considerably worse. Roy is sleeping a deep, morphine-induced sleep. Belize enters, carrying a tray and a glass of water. With some difficulty he wakes up Roy
.

BELIZE
: Time to take your pills.

ROY
(Waking, very disoriented)
: What? What time of . . .

     
Water.

(Belize gives him a glass of water. Roy takes a sip.)

ROY
: Bitter.

     
Look
out there. Black midnight.

BELIZE
: You want anything?

ROY
: Nothing that comes from there. As far as I'm concerned you can take all that away.

     
(Seeing Belize)
Oh . . .

BELIZE
: What?

ROY
: Oh. The bogeyman is here.

     
Lookit, Ma, a schvartze toytenmann.

     
Come in, sweetheart, what took you so long?

BELIZE
: You're flying, Roy. It's the morphine. They put morphine in the drip to stop the . . . You awake? Can you see who I am?

ROY
: Oh yeah, you came for my mama, years ago.

     
(Confiding, intimate)
You wrap your arms around me now. Squeeze the bloody life from me. OK?

BELIZE
: Uh, no, it's not OK. You're stoned, Roy.