2011 FINALIST MULTISTAGES NEW PLAY CONTEST REMEMBRANCE (Excerpt)
A Play by Jeffrey Harper
The mind is a city like London,
Smoky and populous: it is a capital
Like Rome, ruined and eternal,
Marked by the monuments which no one
Now remembers. For the mind, like Rome, contains
Catacombs, aqueducts, amphitheatres, palaces,
Churches and equestrian statues, fallen, broken or soiled.
The mind possesses and is possessed by all the ruins
Of every haunted, hunted generation’s celebration.
– Delmore Schwartz
(From Act 1, page 27. MOSCOW 1933. The laboratory of Russian neurologist Dr. Alexander R. Luria. Mikhail, recently returned from Paris, is conducting experiments with Solomon Shereshevsky, a man with apparently infinite memory. Mikhail’s childhood friend Nikolai, a history professor and officer in the secret police, has come to warn Mikhail not to speak to old friends, especially about politics. MARIYA, a librarian at Nikolai’s university, enters. She has rich brown hair. She is MIKHAIL’S childhood love.)
MIKHAIL
Mariya--
MARIYA
Am I interrupting? Your mother just told me you’re back--
(Seeing NIKOLAI, frightened)
Oh, I should go –
MIKHAIL
No, come in, come in--
(He embraces her.)
Mariya, this is Solomon Shereshevsky, Doctor Luria’s extraordinary patient with infinite memory--
MARIYA
Hello--
MIKHAIL
And you remember Nika--
MARIYA
Of course--
NIKOLAI
(He kisses her on both cheeks. She flinches.)
Been ages! Mariya you look wonderful! But it takes Misha’s return from Paris for me to see you. Every time I stop by the university library, I’m told you’re busy or out--
MARIYA
Yes, so very busy—and my supervisor forbids us from spending time that rightfully belongs to the people on personal business. I meant no offense, truly no offense.
NIKOLAI
None taken. Ideologically sound reasoning, even if personally, well…I keep waiting for you to become the writer we all thought you would and see your name on a book.
MARIYA
Oh, no, no, I don’t have the—talent, I suppose. I’m just a librarian—taking care of other people’s books. It’s quite enough.
SOLOMON
You said your name was Mariya?
MARIYA
Yes.
SOLOMON
I can’t understand it. Mariya, Masha, Manya, Marusya, Musya, Mary—all variations on the same name. While, finally, as an adult, I grasp the idea, I can’t reconcile myself to it. They’re not the same woman.
(As SOLOMON speaks, PLAYERS appear, portraying the different women. Or, perhaps for greater comic effect, a single actress attempts to transform herself into SOLOMON’S various incarnations.)
Mariya has a strong build and fair skin—except for a slight flush in her cheeks. She’s blond, her gestures are composed, and she has a look in her eyes that says she’s up to no good. Masha is a bit younger, frail, wears a pink dress. As for Mary, that’s a very dry name—a dark figure, sitting by the window at twilight. As for Musya, that’s something else again. What impresses me most is her magnificent hairdo. She’s also short and shapely—probably because of the “u” sound. But Manya—maybe that’s who you are. Manya is a young woman, shapely—a brunette with sharp facial features and a matted complexion—no shine on her nose or cheeks. I don’t see how you could be Mariya.
MARIYA
Some days I wish I weren’t.
NIKOLAI
Mariya, are you, in fact, Mariya?
MARIYA
Well, I’ve always wanted to be blond--
MIKHAIL
None of us are whom we seem to be—that’s what I learned in my six months of psychoanalysis in Paris.
MARIYA
It took you six months to figure that out?
MIKHAIL
The doctor said I was a difficult patient.
MARIYA
And were you cured?
MIKHAIL
(Pauses, then straightforwardly)
I have no idea.
(A beat)
Well, what shall we do? Lunch? Vodka?
NIKOLAI
I can’t--
MIKHAIL
You’re always dropping in to say you can’t stay--
NIKOLAI
I’ll make it up to you. And I know you want time with your childhood sweetheart—even though she’s not a Parisienne.
MIKHAIL
French women! Awful! Impossible! Thank God I’m back in Russia!
MARIYA
Obviously you weren’t cured of lying.
MIKHAIL
But at least I know why I lie.
NIKOLAI
I’ll be away for a few weeks. I’ll plan a proper visit when I get back. I’m so glad I saw you Mariya—Manya, Masha, Musya—whoever you are--
MARIYA
I’ll tell you when I find out. Nice to see you too, now a full professor--
NIKOLAI
(Reflexively paranoid)
How did you know?
MARIYA
(Reflexively frightened)
Uh—a colleague—mentioned your name--your book, I think. Should I not have been told?
NIKOLAI
No, oh, no, not at all, I’m just, I’m flattered that you knew.
MARIYA
It’s a great honor for you, and greatly deserved, I’m sure.
NIKOLAI
Thank you. Well, goodbye all.
(NIKOLAI exits. An uncomfortable pause.)
MIKHAIL
(To SOLOMON)
So, what shall we do? Continue with some experiments? Doctor Luria left me a list.
SOLOMON
Actually, I need to practice on my own for the performance this evening. I’m refining my technique.
MIKHAIL
How so?
SOLOMON
(As background corresponding images and music appear)
Formerly, in order to remember an object, I’d have to imagine the whole thing. If I were given the word “horseman,” I’d see the fellow in full cavalry regalia galloping down the plane wielding his saber. Now, all it takes is an image of a boot in a stirrup. My images aren’t as vivid, as clear. It’s easier.
MARIYA
(Her depressed, weary grief begins to seep into her words.)
Yes, sometimes it’s better not see things too clearly.
SOLOMON
That’s what I’ve found. Earlier—as I told you, Mikhail—to remember the word “America,” I’d have to stretch a long rope across the ocean, from Gorky Street to America.
(PHOTOGRAPHS of Ellis Island, the Statue of Liberty, immigrant faces.)
It’s not necessary anymore. Instead, I just set up a bust of Uncle Sam so I don’t go through those complicated operations.
MARIYA
But if I asked you, would you throw a rope to America for me? Would you take me to America with you?
SOLOMON
I think—yes, I would—I think—I don’t know—impossible, of course.
(A beat, then sweetly)
I would try.
MARIYA
I hope you will.
SOLOMON
I must go and rehearse. I want to practice remembering the nonsense syllables—you know, the lists of “Mavva-nassa-navva-samma-savva-vassa.” Oh, Mikhail, my regular assistant called today—actually his wife did—he seems to have some problem with the authorities—she couldn’t say—but he can’t attend tonight. Could you fill in for him?
MIKHAIL
I’d be honored. Do I have to memorize any lines?
SOLOMON
No, I’ll do that. I know I should be angry with this fellow—but I guess I can forgive him this one time--
MIKHAIL
You can forgive, but you can’t forget.
SOLOMON
(Oblivious)
Yes, that’s right. Maybe you could write something for me to begin my show.
MIKHAIL
I’ll try.
SOLOMON
It was nice meeting you, Manya. Your voice looks and smells like violets and vanilla—so sweet and pleasant.
(He exits.)
MIKHAIL
Isn’t he incredible? Have you heard of him?
MARIYA
From friends and newspapers. Is this all he does now?
MIKHAIL
Yes. He studied violin, gave it up after a hearing loss, did odd jobs in the provinces, before joining the Party in 1917--
MARIYA
He’s Party?
MIKHAIL
Yes, he’d been a reporter and head of a union organization, believe it or not.
MARIYA
I have no trouble believing that.
MIKHAIL
He has the entire world in his head.
MARIYA
How sad.
MIKHAIL
Mariya, what’s wrong?
MARIYA
(Holding back the tears)
My father has gone to prison again--
MIKHAIL
What for?
MARIYA
For nothing, because he’s a Ukrainian, because of the seksots--
MIKHAIL
Seksots?
(THREE SEKSOTS, in workers’ clothes, are illumined, crying out accusations.)
SEKSOT #1
Foreman Volny only delivered half the railroad ties we requisitioned, claiming shortages! He refuses to acknowledge that his uncle was a priest of the Orthodox Church!
SEKSOT #2
The electrician Kaval refused to disclose the membership in the Jewish Social Democratic Bund of his cousin’s wife’s uncle!
SEKSOT #3
The Chinese agent took the job as a tram car driver in order to crash headlong into a car filled with Soviet officials!
MIKHAIL
(To MARIYA)
But what did they accuse him of?
MARIYA
He was a senior official in the timber business. The first time he went to prison they made him sign a confession saying he cut too little timber to spare the trees until they could be returned to their former owners.
MIKHAIL
Why did he sign the confession?
MARIYA
Because, while his left hand was broken and his eyes were swollen shut with blood, he could still write with his other hand. And he knew that the rest of his family would enjoy the same treatment if he didn’t confess. He got ten years, released after one—you know, a big mistake, terribly sorry, now screw off and go back to work—on we go. Then they arrested him again. This time, they made him confess to cutting too much timber to destroy the forests.
(A beat)
Another ten years. And I don’t know where he is, where they sent him. He was tried in Moscow—he was sent here for business when the NKVD came for him.
SEKSOT #1
In my district in Kiev, I have successfully denounced sixty-nine enemies of the state!
SEKSOT #2
(Sneering, to SEKSOT #1)
That figure is pathetic enough to make yourself suspicious. In my Kiev district—one hundred enemies successfully identified!
SEKSOT #3
(Roaring viciously, to SEKSOTS #1 and #2)
If I ran your cell, I’d have you both shot as wreckers, saboteurs, and traitors! In Odessa, the Ukraine, I alone discovered and denounced two hundred and thirty sons of bitching, shit-eating anti-Soviet scum!
(Lights out on SEKSOTS.)
MARIYA
No one knows where he is. I’ll probably lose my job, my apartment, as will everybody in our family—we’re enemies of the state now--
MIKHAIL
Mariya, I’ll help you—do whatever—I love you--
MARIYA
You’ll help me? But Mikhail, darling, what is to be done?
MIKHAIL
I don’t know, but--
MARIYA
People do too many things here. So, you love me. Still. I wonder sometimes how we remember love. The love you have for me—and me for you—how it’s so much a part of childhood. Whether my love for you is a teenager’s love. Ten years later—whatever it is—you come back, and I still love you—I suppose—but whom do I love?—you or the boy I knew? Or do I love you how I loved you then? I don’t mean to hurt you. I just want to tell you what’s in my heart. What’s left of it.
MIKHAIL
I wouldn’t want you to lie. Unless you didn’t love me. Then I’d want you to lie a lot.
MARIYA
This country is full of lies, Mikhail. The library I work in is a storehouse of lies. We collect them every day and arrange them on shelves for public consumption. There’s often no food in the stores, so we feed on lies instead.
MIKHAIL
Your letters were always so cheery—before they stopped. That was your lie.
MARIYA
Yes.
MIKHAIL
You never responded to my questions, let me know anything.
MARIYA
I moved, and I told my old landlady not to forward your letters, to throw them out. I’m sure they were being read. Anything that comes from the West--
MIKHAIL
What Nikolai said was true--
MARIYA
What did he say?
MIKHAIL
When I first saw him last week—we embrace—but then he’s yelling at me for asking an old friend in the street about the famines in the Ukraine--
MARIYA
Jesus Christ, Mikhail--
MIKHAIL
All I--
MARIYA
You didn’t--
MIKHAIL
I’d been back two days—I’d heard things in Paris—terrible things—but it just seemed too incredible, too horrible to believe--
MARIYA
Believe it. Believe it all. And don’t say a word. You were lucky Nikolai warned you. Not everybody would have done that, not even old friends.
MIKHAIL
That’s what he said. Is it true you don’t write anymore?
MARIYA
Yes. Not a word. And even if I did I’d tell you the same thing.
MIKHAIL
Why don’t you write?
MARIYA
Because I refuse to write lies. And I’m too big a coward to risk my life and my family’s life for my own untalented impressions.
MIKHAIL
But you still trust me enough to confide. Why? I’ve lived abroad, I’m from the Ukraine. The police probably think I’m a spy--
MARIYA
Not “probably”—they do.
MIKHAIL
How do you know?
MARIYA
Because anyone with a foreign connection is watched. Because we’re a country of spies, spying on each other. It’s our patriotic duty to spy. Be careful what you tell Nikolai--
MIKHAIL
But you said he helped me like a true friend--
MARIYA
Yes. Like a friend. But Nika had to be Party to become full professor – at least now. But that creates obligations – for him, and one day maybe for us. He once provided a reference that helped get my library job. Which I regret–-it’s why I’ve avoided him for years.
MIKHAIL
But we grew up together. What if he just wants to help?
MARIYA
If – such peril in that little word. There are others Nika must help to keep his position, to survive. And that means he must find others to help him. Which I won’t do.
MIKHAIL
So I should stop seeing my oldest friend.
MARIYA
It’s too late. He knows you’re here. Keep him close enough so he believes you’re not hiding anything from him. Far enough away so you can hide things.
MIKHAIL
Don’t trust any friends.
MARIYA
Trust that one day you won’t recognize your friends.
MIKHAIL
But why do you trust me?
MARIYA
Because, Misha, you’re a harmless, trivial man. You ride the coattails of other people’s lives. You could go to Paris and forget and ignore your family, your sick father, chase women, have your psychoanalytic adventure, your vagabond’s experiment, and not really give a shit about what was happening to us back here. I’d even guess that the reason you came back to Moscow is not because your father was sick, but because you ran out of money and couldn’t afford your enchanting escapades anymore.
MIKHAIL
How did you know? Were you spying on me in Paris, too?
MARIYA
I know you, Misha.
MIKHAIL
How can you say you love me then?
MARIYA
Because maybe I’d have done the same thing as you if I’d had the chance. And still would. Look at me—I’m one of the bricklayers of lies—stacking them up every day.
MIKHAIL
“A trivial, harmless man”--
MARIYA
I know—maybe I’m just a bitter, cruel bitch—but can you know--
(Tears come)
—how much I long for a person, a place—a life—that could be trivial and harmless?
(A beat)
MIKHAIL
Nikolai told me to stay away from him for a while. I suppose I should do the same for you. I don’t want you in more danger.
MARIYA
We’re all in danger. I hope you’ll stay in Moscow, but for your sake, for my sake, do something to make yourself invisible--
MIKHAIL
Make myself even more harmless--
MARIYA
Yes. Do your work if you want, but don’t register with any scientific groups. Register your residence back in the Ukraine. It takes them months to transfer papers and trace people. They’ll lose you for a while. Then change residences again. They won’t catch up--
MIKHAIL
What if I have papers saying that I’m an assistant to Doctor Luria?
MARIYA
They don’t care. There was an old Bolshevik who was accused of murdering himself. When he showed the NKVD his papers, they said he was an impostor who’d stolen them from the dead man. So he had a childhood friend vouch for him in court. She identified him as the living dead man, but they sentenced him anyway to fifteen years. So much for papers. And you wonder why I don’t write anymore. And stop wearing those clothes—they’re too nice. Don’t dress up. Be like all of us. Be afraid.
(Pause)
MIKHAIL
Can I see you again?
MARIYA
See me?
MIKHAIL
I missed you.
MARIYA
Now that you’re here. In Paris you could forget me.
MIKHAIL
I –
MARIYA
If I’d have gone to Paris, I’d have forgotten you. But I didn’t.
MIKHAIL
Didn’t?
MARIYA
I didn’t abandon my family and my love for Paris.
MIKHAIL
I’ve never forgotten how we were together. Remember?
MARIYA
I remember how much your leaving hurt me – and still does.
MIKHAIL
Is there –
MARIYA
No one. Here, the safest intimacy is with strangers who will never know you.
MIKHAIL
Or with a foreigner – trivial and harmless.
(Pause)
MARIYA
Perhaps.
(A beat)
MIKHAIL
What if I loved you and recalled nothing of our past? Would you let me love you and not know you?
MARIYA
It might be the only way I could.
(A beat)
My Misha.
(A beat)
You shouldn’t have come back.
MIKHAIL
Why?
MARIYA
Because we’ll separate again--
MIKHAIL
No--
MARIYA
Here, whatever you have, whatever you had, will be taken away – whatever you missed or remember.
MIKHAIL
I missed your voice – though I could never conjure it. Do you still sing?
MARIYA
To myself. At night. When there’s no one to hear.
MIKHAIL
I’ll teach you a song I heard in Paris and then you can sing me to sleep--
(MIKHAIL begins to sing Cette chanson est pour vous. Lights dim.)
***
[END OF EXCERPT]
© Jeffrey Harper. May not be reproduced or transmitted without author's permission.
A Play by Jeffrey Harper
The mind is a city like London,
Smoky and populous: it is a capital
Like Rome, ruined and eternal,
Marked by the monuments which no one
Now remembers. For the mind, like Rome, contains
Catacombs, aqueducts, amphitheatres, palaces,
Churches and equestrian statues, fallen, broken or soiled.
The mind possesses and is possessed by all the ruins
Of every haunted, hunted generation’s celebration.
– Delmore Schwartz
(From Act 1, page 27. MOSCOW 1933. The laboratory of Russian neurologist Dr. Alexander R. Luria. Mikhail, recently returned from Paris, is conducting experiments with Solomon Shereshevsky, a man with apparently infinite memory. Mikhail’s childhood friend Nikolai, a history professor and officer in the secret police, has come to warn Mikhail not to speak to old friends, especially about politics. MARIYA, a librarian at Nikolai’s university, enters. She has rich brown hair. She is MIKHAIL’S childhood love.)
MIKHAIL
Mariya--
MARIYA
Am I interrupting? Your mother just told me you’re back--
(Seeing NIKOLAI, frightened)
Oh, I should go –
MIKHAIL
No, come in, come in--
(He embraces her.)
Mariya, this is Solomon Shereshevsky, Doctor Luria’s extraordinary patient with infinite memory--
MARIYA
Hello--
MIKHAIL
And you remember Nika--
MARIYA
Of course--
NIKOLAI
(He kisses her on both cheeks. She flinches.)
Been ages! Mariya you look wonderful! But it takes Misha’s return from Paris for me to see you. Every time I stop by the university library, I’m told you’re busy or out--
MARIYA
Yes, so very busy—and my supervisor forbids us from spending time that rightfully belongs to the people on personal business. I meant no offense, truly no offense.
NIKOLAI
None taken. Ideologically sound reasoning, even if personally, well…I keep waiting for you to become the writer we all thought you would and see your name on a book.
MARIYA
Oh, no, no, I don’t have the—talent, I suppose. I’m just a librarian—taking care of other people’s books. It’s quite enough.
SOLOMON
You said your name was Mariya?
MARIYA
Yes.
SOLOMON
I can’t understand it. Mariya, Masha, Manya, Marusya, Musya, Mary—all variations on the same name. While, finally, as an adult, I grasp the idea, I can’t reconcile myself to it. They’re not the same woman.
(As SOLOMON speaks, PLAYERS appear, portraying the different women. Or, perhaps for greater comic effect, a single actress attempts to transform herself into SOLOMON’S various incarnations.)
Mariya has a strong build and fair skin—except for a slight flush in her cheeks. She’s blond, her gestures are composed, and she has a look in her eyes that says she’s up to no good. Masha is a bit younger, frail, wears a pink dress. As for Mary, that’s a very dry name—a dark figure, sitting by the window at twilight. As for Musya, that’s something else again. What impresses me most is her magnificent hairdo. She’s also short and shapely—probably because of the “u” sound. But Manya—maybe that’s who you are. Manya is a young woman, shapely—a brunette with sharp facial features and a matted complexion—no shine on her nose or cheeks. I don’t see how you could be Mariya.
MARIYA
Some days I wish I weren’t.
NIKOLAI
Mariya, are you, in fact, Mariya?
MARIYA
Well, I’ve always wanted to be blond--
MIKHAIL
None of us are whom we seem to be—that’s what I learned in my six months of psychoanalysis in Paris.
MARIYA
It took you six months to figure that out?
MIKHAIL
The doctor said I was a difficult patient.
MARIYA
And were you cured?
MIKHAIL
(Pauses, then straightforwardly)
I have no idea.
(A beat)
Well, what shall we do? Lunch? Vodka?
NIKOLAI
I can’t--
MIKHAIL
You’re always dropping in to say you can’t stay--
NIKOLAI
I’ll make it up to you. And I know you want time with your childhood sweetheart—even though she’s not a Parisienne.
MIKHAIL
French women! Awful! Impossible! Thank God I’m back in Russia!
MARIYA
Obviously you weren’t cured of lying.
MIKHAIL
But at least I know why I lie.
NIKOLAI
I’ll be away for a few weeks. I’ll plan a proper visit when I get back. I’m so glad I saw you Mariya—Manya, Masha, Musya—whoever you are--
MARIYA
I’ll tell you when I find out. Nice to see you too, now a full professor--
NIKOLAI
(Reflexively paranoid)
How did you know?
MARIYA
(Reflexively frightened)
Uh—a colleague—mentioned your name--your book, I think. Should I not have been told?
NIKOLAI
No, oh, no, not at all, I’m just, I’m flattered that you knew.
MARIYA
It’s a great honor for you, and greatly deserved, I’m sure.
NIKOLAI
Thank you. Well, goodbye all.
(NIKOLAI exits. An uncomfortable pause.)
MIKHAIL
(To SOLOMON)
So, what shall we do? Continue with some experiments? Doctor Luria left me a list.
SOLOMON
Actually, I need to practice on my own for the performance this evening. I’m refining my technique.
MIKHAIL
How so?
SOLOMON
(As background corresponding images and music appear)
Formerly, in order to remember an object, I’d have to imagine the whole thing. If I were given the word “horseman,” I’d see the fellow in full cavalry regalia galloping down the plane wielding his saber. Now, all it takes is an image of a boot in a stirrup. My images aren’t as vivid, as clear. It’s easier.
MARIYA
(Her depressed, weary grief begins to seep into her words.)
Yes, sometimes it’s better not see things too clearly.
SOLOMON
That’s what I’ve found. Earlier—as I told you, Mikhail—to remember the word “America,” I’d have to stretch a long rope across the ocean, from Gorky Street to America.
(PHOTOGRAPHS of Ellis Island, the Statue of Liberty, immigrant faces.)
It’s not necessary anymore. Instead, I just set up a bust of Uncle Sam so I don’t go through those complicated operations.
MARIYA
But if I asked you, would you throw a rope to America for me? Would you take me to America with you?
SOLOMON
I think—yes, I would—I think—I don’t know—impossible, of course.
(A beat, then sweetly)
I would try.
MARIYA
I hope you will.
SOLOMON
I must go and rehearse. I want to practice remembering the nonsense syllables—you know, the lists of “Mavva-nassa-navva-samma-savva-vassa.” Oh, Mikhail, my regular assistant called today—actually his wife did—he seems to have some problem with the authorities—she couldn’t say—but he can’t attend tonight. Could you fill in for him?
MIKHAIL
I’d be honored. Do I have to memorize any lines?
SOLOMON
No, I’ll do that. I know I should be angry with this fellow—but I guess I can forgive him this one time--
MIKHAIL
You can forgive, but you can’t forget.
SOLOMON
(Oblivious)
Yes, that’s right. Maybe you could write something for me to begin my show.
MIKHAIL
I’ll try.
SOLOMON
It was nice meeting you, Manya. Your voice looks and smells like violets and vanilla—so sweet and pleasant.
(He exits.)
MIKHAIL
Isn’t he incredible? Have you heard of him?
MARIYA
From friends and newspapers. Is this all he does now?
MIKHAIL
Yes. He studied violin, gave it up after a hearing loss, did odd jobs in the provinces, before joining the Party in 1917--
MARIYA
He’s Party?
MIKHAIL
Yes, he’d been a reporter and head of a union organization, believe it or not.
MARIYA
I have no trouble believing that.
MIKHAIL
He has the entire world in his head.
MARIYA
How sad.
MIKHAIL
Mariya, what’s wrong?
MARIYA
(Holding back the tears)
My father has gone to prison again--
MIKHAIL
What for?
MARIYA
For nothing, because he’s a Ukrainian, because of the seksots--
MIKHAIL
Seksots?
(THREE SEKSOTS, in workers’ clothes, are illumined, crying out accusations.)
SEKSOT #1
Foreman Volny only delivered half the railroad ties we requisitioned, claiming shortages! He refuses to acknowledge that his uncle was a priest of the Orthodox Church!
SEKSOT #2
The electrician Kaval refused to disclose the membership in the Jewish Social Democratic Bund of his cousin’s wife’s uncle!
SEKSOT #3
The Chinese agent took the job as a tram car driver in order to crash headlong into a car filled with Soviet officials!
MIKHAIL
(To MARIYA)
But what did they accuse him of?
MARIYA
He was a senior official in the timber business. The first time he went to prison they made him sign a confession saying he cut too little timber to spare the trees until they could be returned to their former owners.
MIKHAIL
Why did he sign the confession?
MARIYA
Because, while his left hand was broken and his eyes were swollen shut with blood, he could still write with his other hand. And he knew that the rest of his family would enjoy the same treatment if he didn’t confess. He got ten years, released after one—you know, a big mistake, terribly sorry, now screw off and go back to work—on we go. Then they arrested him again. This time, they made him confess to cutting too much timber to destroy the forests.
(A beat)
Another ten years. And I don’t know where he is, where they sent him. He was tried in Moscow—he was sent here for business when the NKVD came for him.
SEKSOT #1
In my district in Kiev, I have successfully denounced sixty-nine enemies of the state!
SEKSOT #2
(Sneering, to SEKSOT #1)
That figure is pathetic enough to make yourself suspicious. In my Kiev district—one hundred enemies successfully identified!
SEKSOT #3
(Roaring viciously, to SEKSOTS #1 and #2)
If I ran your cell, I’d have you both shot as wreckers, saboteurs, and traitors! In Odessa, the Ukraine, I alone discovered and denounced two hundred and thirty sons of bitching, shit-eating anti-Soviet scum!
(Lights out on SEKSOTS.)
MARIYA
No one knows where he is. I’ll probably lose my job, my apartment, as will everybody in our family—we’re enemies of the state now--
MIKHAIL
Mariya, I’ll help you—do whatever—I love you--
MARIYA
You’ll help me? But Mikhail, darling, what is to be done?
MIKHAIL
I don’t know, but--
MARIYA
People do too many things here. So, you love me. Still. I wonder sometimes how we remember love. The love you have for me—and me for you—how it’s so much a part of childhood. Whether my love for you is a teenager’s love. Ten years later—whatever it is—you come back, and I still love you—I suppose—but whom do I love?—you or the boy I knew? Or do I love you how I loved you then? I don’t mean to hurt you. I just want to tell you what’s in my heart. What’s left of it.
MIKHAIL
I wouldn’t want you to lie. Unless you didn’t love me. Then I’d want you to lie a lot.
MARIYA
This country is full of lies, Mikhail. The library I work in is a storehouse of lies. We collect them every day and arrange them on shelves for public consumption. There’s often no food in the stores, so we feed on lies instead.
MIKHAIL
Your letters were always so cheery—before they stopped. That was your lie.
MARIYA
Yes.
MIKHAIL
You never responded to my questions, let me know anything.
MARIYA
I moved, and I told my old landlady not to forward your letters, to throw them out. I’m sure they were being read. Anything that comes from the West--
MIKHAIL
What Nikolai said was true--
MARIYA
What did he say?
MIKHAIL
When I first saw him last week—we embrace—but then he’s yelling at me for asking an old friend in the street about the famines in the Ukraine--
MARIYA
Jesus Christ, Mikhail--
MIKHAIL
All I--
MARIYA
You didn’t--
MIKHAIL
I’d been back two days—I’d heard things in Paris—terrible things—but it just seemed too incredible, too horrible to believe--
MARIYA
Believe it. Believe it all. And don’t say a word. You were lucky Nikolai warned you. Not everybody would have done that, not even old friends.
MIKHAIL
That’s what he said. Is it true you don’t write anymore?
MARIYA
Yes. Not a word. And even if I did I’d tell you the same thing.
MIKHAIL
Why don’t you write?
MARIYA
Because I refuse to write lies. And I’m too big a coward to risk my life and my family’s life for my own untalented impressions.
MIKHAIL
But you still trust me enough to confide. Why? I’ve lived abroad, I’m from the Ukraine. The police probably think I’m a spy--
MARIYA
Not “probably”—they do.
MIKHAIL
How do you know?
MARIYA
Because anyone with a foreign connection is watched. Because we’re a country of spies, spying on each other. It’s our patriotic duty to spy. Be careful what you tell Nikolai--
MIKHAIL
But you said he helped me like a true friend--
MARIYA
Yes. Like a friend. But Nika had to be Party to become full professor – at least now. But that creates obligations – for him, and one day maybe for us. He once provided a reference that helped get my library job. Which I regret–-it’s why I’ve avoided him for years.
MIKHAIL
But we grew up together. What if he just wants to help?
MARIYA
If – such peril in that little word. There are others Nika must help to keep his position, to survive. And that means he must find others to help him. Which I won’t do.
MIKHAIL
So I should stop seeing my oldest friend.
MARIYA
It’s too late. He knows you’re here. Keep him close enough so he believes you’re not hiding anything from him. Far enough away so you can hide things.
MIKHAIL
Don’t trust any friends.
MARIYA
Trust that one day you won’t recognize your friends.
MIKHAIL
But why do you trust me?
MARIYA
Because, Misha, you’re a harmless, trivial man. You ride the coattails of other people’s lives. You could go to Paris and forget and ignore your family, your sick father, chase women, have your psychoanalytic adventure, your vagabond’s experiment, and not really give a shit about what was happening to us back here. I’d even guess that the reason you came back to Moscow is not because your father was sick, but because you ran out of money and couldn’t afford your enchanting escapades anymore.
MIKHAIL
How did you know? Were you spying on me in Paris, too?
MARIYA
I know you, Misha.
MIKHAIL
How can you say you love me then?
MARIYA
Because maybe I’d have done the same thing as you if I’d had the chance. And still would. Look at me—I’m one of the bricklayers of lies—stacking them up every day.
MIKHAIL
“A trivial, harmless man”--
MARIYA
I know—maybe I’m just a bitter, cruel bitch—but can you know--
(Tears come)
—how much I long for a person, a place—a life—that could be trivial and harmless?
(A beat)
MIKHAIL
Nikolai told me to stay away from him for a while. I suppose I should do the same for you. I don’t want you in more danger.
MARIYA
We’re all in danger. I hope you’ll stay in Moscow, but for your sake, for my sake, do something to make yourself invisible--
MIKHAIL
Make myself even more harmless--
MARIYA
Yes. Do your work if you want, but don’t register with any scientific groups. Register your residence back in the Ukraine. It takes them months to transfer papers and trace people. They’ll lose you for a while. Then change residences again. They won’t catch up--
MIKHAIL
What if I have papers saying that I’m an assistant to Doctor Luria?
MARIYA
They don’t care. There was an old Bolshevik who was accused of murdering himself. When he showed the NKVD his papers, they said he was an impostor who’d stolen them from the dead man. So he had a childhood friend vouch for him in court. She identified him as the living dead man, but they sentenced him anyway to fifteen years. So much for papers. And you wonder why I don’t write anymore. And stop wearing those clothes—they’re too nice. Don’t dress up. Be like all of us. Be afraid.
(Pause)
MIKHAIL
Can I see you again?
MARIYA
See me?
MIKHAIL
I missed you.
MARIYA
Now that you’re here. In Paris you could forget me.
MIKHAIL
I –
MARIYA
If I’d have gone to Paris, I’d have forgotten you. But I didn’t.
MIKHAIL
Didn’t?
MARIYA
I didn’t abandon my family and my love for Paris.
MIKHAIL
I’ve never forgotten how we were together. Remember?
MARIYA
I remember how much your leaving hurt me – and still does.
MIKHAIL
Is there –
MARIYA
No one. Here, the safest intimacy is with strangers who will never know you.
MIKHAIL
Or with a foreigner – trivial and harmless.
(Pause)
MARIYA
Perhaps.
(A beat)
MIKHAIL
What if I loved you and recalled nothing of our past? Would you let me love you and not know you?
MARIYA
It might be the only way I could.
(A beat)
My Misha.
(A beat)
You shouldn’t have come back.
MIKHAIL
Why?
MARIYA
Because we’ll separate again--
MIKHAIL
No--
MARIYA
Here, whatever you have, whatever you had, will be taken away – whatever you missed or remember.
MIKHAIL
I missed your voice – though I could never conjure it. Do you still sing?
MARIYA
To myself. At night. When there’s no one to hear.
MIKHAIL
I’ll teach you a song I heard in Paris and then you can sing me to sleep--
(MIKHAIL begins to sing Cette chanson est pour vous. Lights dim.)
***
[END OF EXCERPT]
© Jeffrey Harper. May not be reproduced or transmitted without author's permission.