Work In Progress

Or

Hall of Mirrors

Or

Jenna Crawley and the Audience

Or

Here's To You Looking At Me Looking At You

Or

Fair Phantom

Or

I Don’t Know

A strange little piece of theater by Carlin Salisbury

Author's Note: This play is a work in progress (which is not why that is the main title of this play). I post it here to be torn to shreds by avid theater fans. This is because it is when that happens, and ONLY when that happens that I can pick up the pieces and stick them back together to make a more sensical, beautiful piece of work. Among other things, the main title IS under review (although I am considering keeping the "alternate" titles ala Clarice Lispector's Hour of the Star.) I would very much appreciate it if you took the time to point out character or plot incongruities, staging problems, pace issues, redudancy, and any other flaws you can think of. Your criticism means more to me than your praise. This is not an invitation for flames. If you want to yell and scream for no reason fine. But I'd much perfer if you told me WHY you hated this if you did. It would be much more helpful and much more mature. That is all. Thank you.

Cast of Characters

Jenna Crawley, a confused but bright young woman in her mid-twenties living in two worlds at once.

Chance Fields, a driven but as of yet unemployed man in his late-twenties, Jenna’s fiancé.

Mindy Lynde, a skeptical psychiatrist.

Henri Falkner, a “perfectly respectable businessman,” Chance’s roommate and best friend.

Rachel Reynolds, a stressed out business exec who talks in run-on sentences, Jenna’s best friend.

Settings:

Jenna’s Apartment: Completely bare except for one table center stage and one chair facing the audience. Staging for the first few lines in Act One should be identical to the last few lines of Act Two.

Mindy’s Office: A desk and swivel chair. An arm chair and a couch with an end table, but only in the scene with Jenna.

Henri’s Apartment: A couch facing the audience and an imaginary TV right in front of it. A door on stage right. All other furniture is at your discretion.

Café: A round café table with two chairs. Perhaps a “Today’s Special” sign. Maybe not.

Bus: Four chairs next to each other with an aisle in between the middle chairs. Perhaps a pole.

Rachel’s House: A kitchen with cabinets, a sink, and a counter on stage left. A couch and a coffee table somewhere. Scattered arm chairs. Can be the same furniture as Mindy’s office.

Time Frame:

The span of a day, February 24th 2007.

Scene 1: Jenna and Chance’s Apartment

The stage is bare except for Jenna, who sits quietly at a table with her feet up, smoking a cigarette. On the table is a note and a gun. She sits there a moment.

Jenna: It always ends the exact same way it begins.

Chance enters briskly, ignoring her at first and walking past her half way across the stage before he stops and turns to look at her.

Chance: Jenna. Where’s all our furniture?

Jenna: Good morning to you too, Chance.

Chance: Jenna, where is it?

Jenna: I sold it.

Chance: Why’d you do that?

Jenna: I left you a note.

Chance walks over to read the note.

Chance: It says, “See you soon, assholes.”

Jenna: Yeah. It’s a suicide note.

Chance: Are you trying to kill yourself?

Jenna: I woke up this morning and I thought to myself, I want to write a suicide note today. Who knows, maybe I’ll feel like killing myself too, just to make it more, you know, authentic. But then I sat down with my Irish coffee and I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to say to the world. No brilliant last words. Nothing like that. I couldn’t even write out the words “I love you.” About anyone. Imagine that, Chance. I mean, I can say it. I say it to you often enough. Can’t write it down though. (She takes another drag off her cigarette). Wonder why that is.

Chance: So you wrote “See you soon, assholes?”

Jenna: Oh please, I wasn’t talking about you. Chance. You’re a far better person than me. I was talking about them.

Chance: Who?

Jenna gestures at the audience.

Jenna: Them. You know? Those folks, always just sitting there, watching me.

Chance: Jenna… We talked about this.

Jenna: Oh Chance, please don’t make that sound. That disappointed Chance sound you make.

Chance: Jenna, do you love me?

Jenna: Yeah, sure.

Chance: Then why can’t you write it down?

Jenna: I guess because it makes it, you know, permanent. Static. Love needs… love needs plasticity. Love is like… It’s a word that shouldn’t really be written down, you know? Think about it. When you say it, it sounds so pretty. Love. Love. Loooooooove. Soft. Smooth. Flowing. It looks ugly on paper. So short. So strange.

Chance: I’m moving out.

Jenna: So fast?

Chance: I’m going back to Henri’s. (Jenna sticks out her tongue). Oh Jenna, please don’t make that face, he’s not so bad once you get to know him.

Jenna: Does this mean the wedding’s off?

Chance: No… I just think, you know, you should keep seeing your psychiatrist for a while. We’ll just put it on hold. Just until you, well… until you stop writing four word suicide notes addressed to the voices in your head.

Jenna: They’re not voices, Chance, they’re people. I’m not insane.

Chance: Yeah. OK. (Pause). Well, I’m going to… I guess I can’t take my stuff, because you sold it.

Jenna: Your stuff is in the broom closet. I figured it wasn’t really mine to sell.

Chance: I’m glad. I’m glad you didn’t sell it. (Pause). You never really thought of us as a couple, did you?

Jenna: Is this because I didn’t sell your stuff?

Chance: No, Jenna, it’s—you don’t consider my stuff part of your stuff, you don’t consider me part of you.

Jenna: Well you’re not part of me, Chance, and I’m glad you’re not, too. I don’t think it’s legal to marry yourself.

Chance: This isn’t a joke, Jenna.

Jenna: Did you hear me laugh?

Chance: I have a job interview in twenty minutes.

Jenna: Break a leg.

Chance: Don’t say that.

Jenna: Why?

Chance: Because things you say have a habit of coming true.

Chance exits. Jenna turns to the audience.

Jenna: This is what I mean. I don’t know what’s wrong with the world. Some people, they just don’t see it. Sometimes, we only get an hour and a half to live. If we’re lucky, we get two hours. But we’re resurrected again, and again, and again through the ages and so we’re kind of immortal. (Pause.) I don’t want this kind of immortality. This sort of monotony. Repeating everything all the time. Lean in close, I’ll tell you a secret. Closer. Yes, I’m talking to you, you guys who sit there watching us every day. Come on. That’s it. Yeah. OK, here it is, are you ready for it? I’m not a real person. Yeah, I was surprised too when I figured it out.

Scene 2: An office

Chance is sitting in a swivel chair, facing the audience.

Chance: Yes—yes sir. Chance as in “Take a chance” and Fields as in “Flanders.”… Well, I know it’s a silly name, sir… Yeah, it does kind of sound like a baseball stadium, but—Oh, yes, sir, of course, down to business. I left Stern and Bailey because they weren’t taking advantage of my abilities… What? Oh, I can do all kinds of things, sir. I have a BA in English and— the University of Washington… No, I didn’t go to graduate school… Well, I made the dean’s list all four years and you can do all sorts of things with an English degree… Well there are a couple of reasons I chose not to go to grad school. For one, my father died on the day of my college graduation and I needed to help my mother out for a year or two, and then after that, see, I met Jenna—Yes, sir, I know you didn’t ask for my life story. But you did ask why I didn’t go to grad school, and well, see, if you knew Jenna…(Chance looks as though he’s looking for the right place to interrupt) But sir, if you’d just listen to me, call my references, look at my resume, I am overly qualified for this and I promise— Yes sir. I know interrupting people is impolite. I’ll let you talk now, sir.

Scene 3: Mindy Lynde’s Office

Jenna is lying on a couch as Mindy sits in a chair with a clip board.

Mindy: So you say you’re still seeing things.

Jenna: I’m not seeing things, Dr. Lynde, I’m seeing people.

Mindy: And these delusions are becoming more frequent.

Jenna: Oh, incredibly frequent. They’re there all the time. And everything feels the same.

Mindy: How’s that?

Jenna: Well for instance, I sold all my furniture today. And I realized my living room was exactly like everywhere else I go. Like, take this office. It looks exactly like my living room.

Mindy: Oh, I doubt that.

Jenna: Well of course you do.

Mindy: What’s Chance think about all this?

Jenna: He doesn’t like it. He moved out today.

Mindy: How do you feel about that?

Jenna: I’m OK with it.

Mindy: Are you really?

Jenna: Well, yeah. I am. I mean, it was kind of inevitable, wasn’t it? I’m not exactly the easiest person to live with. I sell my things, write suicide notes, and on top of that I never do the dishes.

Mindy: Tell me about the suicide note.

Jenna: What? Oh. It turns out I can’t write suicide notes. I think it’s an art. All I could think to say was, “See you soon, assholes.”

Mindy: Was this anger directed at Chance?

Jenna: Anger? What makes you think I was angry? I was wondering if they’d let me kill myself. But all they did was stare at me.

Mindy: Tell me again about this group of people, Jenna.

Jenna: Why don’t you ask them? They’re right there after all.

Mindy: Jenna, we’ve talked about this. I can’t address your delusions because they don’t exist.

Jenna: Did it ever occur to you that we’re the ones who don’t exist, and we’re just figments of their imagination, playing out a script for their amusement.

Mindy: How existential of you, Jenna.

Jenna: It’s not existential, it’s true. I mean, think about it, Dr. Lynde. Your first name is ‘Mindy.’ Mindy Lynde. How funny does that sound? No parent would ever name their child that.

Mindy: It’s not that absurd, Jenna.

Jenna: No, it is, really. Your name is Mindy Lynde. One syllable short of “Mindy Lindy.” But you’re the epitome of the shrink stereotype. Look, your hair’s in a bun, you wear glasses and carry a clipboard, you even ask me how I feel all the time.

Mindy: And how does that make you feel?

Jenna: I hope you’re not trying to be funny. Because they’re not laughing.

Mindy: Are you reacting well to the medications?

Jenna: You mean the Tic-Tacs?

Mindy: It’s Haloperidol.

Jenna: Yeah, that’s what it says on the bottle, but they taste like orange Tic-Tacs.

Jenna holds up a Tic-Tac container with the label pulled off and a new white label that says in messy scrawl “Haloperidol” on it.

Mindy: Well that’s pure coincidence.

Jenna: I’ll bet it is. (Pause). Say doc, how about prescribing me some sweet tarts? I prefer them to Tic-Tacs.

Mindy: I think that’s all the time we have for today. We’ll see you next week, Jenna.

Jenna (to audience): Well, folks, what do you think? Tic-Tacs? (She opens up the container and pops one in her mouth.) How about you guys, you want some?

Scene 4: Henri’s Apartment

Henri is playing video games. Chance is moving his things back into the apartment.

Chance: You know, sometimes it’s nice to help your roommate move in.

Henri: Uh huh.

Chance: That was a hint, Henri.

Henri: And that was me ignoring it.

Chance: Look at you. You never do anything. Don’t you have any goals?

Henri: Sure do. I’m gonna get rich quick then use the money to go to Jamaica. All sorts of things are legal there that aren’t legal here, if you know what I mean.

Chance: Ah, the old Jamaica dream. How sweet would that be, eh?

Henri: See? I have a goal. A dream, which you share.

Chance: Yeah. But in the meantime, I’m stuck here moving in and trying to get a job.

Henri: You’ll see. I’ll make it to Jamaica. And you’re coming with me.

Chance: You’re such a good friend, Henri.

Henri: I know.

Chance: And do you know what good friends do? They help their friend’s move in.

Henri: Oh, come on, I totally helped you.

Chance: All you did was set up the TV so you could play your video games.

Henri: Oh yeah, thanks for that by the way. I’ve been meaning to buy a new TV ever since you moved out and took it, but, well, you know…

Chance: Rather get high?

Henri: See? We really are like brothers, Chance.

Chance: Jenna never even watched TV. She thought it was a waste of time. She said the same thing about video games.

Henri: Well Jenna’s a stone-cold bitch.

Chance: Jenna’s my fiancé.

Henri: What?! (He turns away from the game he was playing and then turns back) Aw, man, Chance, you let the alien cut my head off! Now I have to start from a continue point. I can’t believe you haven’t called it off with that crazy demon spawn.

Chance: Yeah, she’s not too fond of you either, but at least she never called you names.

Henri: Nah, she just stuck her tongue out at me like a two-year-old. And she says I’m immature? Chya.

Henri kicks his feet up on the coffee table, sniffs and wipes his nose on his shirt.

Chance: There are times that you act like a frat boy.

Henri: And there are times when she acts like she wants to cut out my heart and put it in a jar.

Chance: She sure is different, that’s for sure.

Henri: Dude, your girlfriend’s crazy. She wrote you a suicide note today and didn’t even try to kill herself.

Chance: You know, she has this idea… that she’s living the same day over and over again? She told me once that she woke up one morning and realized it was exactly the same as the day before. Tomorrow and yesterday blending together.

Henri: Sometimes I get that way, too.

Chance: Really?

Henri: Yeah.

Chance: What’s it like?

Henri: It’s like… You’re there, in that one moment, right? And then all of a sudden, it’s another moment… and then it’s the old moment again! And you’re like, “Whoa, time travel!” Only it’s not, because it’s actually another moment but it’s just like the first moment. And then you order two pizzas.

Chance: Pizza?

Henri: When you’re high for three days straight, you get some killer munchies, bro.

Chance: I have a feeling I didn’t get that job.

Henri: Where did that come from?

Chance: I was thinking about Jenna, and it’s when I started talking about her that I realized he wasn’t paying attention anymore. He didn’t really want me in the first place.

Henri: You told a possible employer about your psycho girlfriend? I think you’re a little nuts yourself, dude!

Chance: I got a thing with her later.

Henri: You just had a fight with her this morning and now you’ve got a thing?

Chance: It wasn’t a fight. Jenna and I never fight.

Henri: Yeah, because she doesn’t—

Chance: If you were going to say what I think you were going to say, I’m gonna rip your balls off.

Henri: Hey, man, you’re the one who says she doesn’t—

Chance: What did I just say?

Henri: Love you enough to be emotional with you. One way or the other.

Chance: Yeah, well Jenna’s a very emotionless person anyways.

Henri: You mean I get to keep my balls? (Long pause.) OK, dude, look, I’m sorry.

Chance: Why should you be? You’re right.

Henri: Look, I would kill to have a girl like Jenna. You know, minus the psychotic bitch part. I mean, emotionless chicks? Shit, Chance, that’s like finding the Holy Grail. No crying, no “why did you forget our anniversary?” no fucking whining…

Chance: Is it wrong that I kind of want that?

Henri: Dude, it’s totally wrong.

Chance: She doesn’t think… she doesn’t think a lot of things are, well, worth it. You know what she said when I asked her to marry me? “OK.” A straight-faced, what-the-hell kinda response, you know? “I got nothing better to do, might as well marry this guy!” I mean, what do you say to that?

Henri: Hell, Chance, I wouldn’t ask a girl like that to marry me in the first place.

Chance: Yeah. Yeah. Well… Jenna has this theory that we don’t exist, that we’re just some figments of some collective imagination.

Henri: What’s that, some Freudian shit?

Chance: Actually, it was a popular theory of Rene Descartes.

Henri: The painter?

Pause.

Chance: No.

Pause.

Henri: Oh. Wanna play?

Scene 5: Jenna’s Apartment

Jenna sits at a table and is writing things on a piece of paper which she keeps scribbling out. Writing and scribbling out. Writing and scribbling out. She looks up at the ceiling. She licks her lips. She writes something, and scribbles it out. She begins to feel ill. She swallows and keeps writing. She hesitates. She turns the paper upside down. She scribbles it out. By now, she feels so ill she runs off stage and throws up.

Scene 6: A Sidewalk café

Jenna is sitting at a table for two, drumming her fingers. She glances at the audience, then does a double take.

Jenna: Oh, there you are. I knew you’d show up eventually. You know, sometimes I wonder how I get here. You know how I told you I’m not a real person? Well it’s true. And this café, it doesn’t exist either. It’s just like my living room, and Dr. Lynde’s office. You know? Anyways, I’m waiting here for my friend, Rachel, just like I did last night. And she’s always late. And you know what she always says to me?

Enter Rachel, who sits down looking flustered.

Rachel: Oh, Jen, you wouldn’t believe it, Bill Hartman’s trying to steal the Nike gig right out from under me.

Jenna (to audience): Yup, it’s always about Bill Hartman. (To Rachel) Hey, honey, don’t worry about him, you know that in the end he’ll just end up fumbling the whole presentation and your boss will ask you to take it anyway.

Rachel: Aw, Jenna, you’re so sweet. How are you and Chance?

Jenna: Oh, he moved out today.

Rachel: Is this because of your imaginary friends?

Jenna: I don’t think they appreciate you calling them that.

Rachel: Well I don’t mean any offense to them, dear, but I get too annoyed with real people to worry about how stupid imaginary ones are. (She takes out a cigarette)Got a light?

Jenna graciously obliges.

Jenna: How’s Allan?

Rachel: He’s my husband. How should I know?

Jenna: You have a point. I lived with you all throughout college and you never had a clue what was going on with me.

Rachel: Damn skippy.

Jenna: If you’re not careful, you might just lose him.

Rachel: Oh please, Jenna, don’t go all Nostradamus on me. Well sweetheart, how are you going to pick up the extra rent?

Jenna: Chase hasn’t been paying much anyway, being out of work like he is. As for me, the checks keep coming in the mail.

Rachel: You know, I would kill to work at home. Be a real “arteest.” But not those bullshit “I do it for the artwork” dumb fucks, nah, like, I’d want to get paid like you do.

Jenna: My paintings are getting all weirder now… I keep painting rows upon rows of blank faces…

Rachel: Sweetheart you need to get your head checked.

Jenna: That’s what Mindy’s for.

Rachel: Who?

Jenna: Oh my psychiatrist.

Enter Chance.

Chance: Hey, sweetheart, how are you?

They kiss.

Jenna: You’re early.

Chance: Well I finished moving in faster than I thought. Hi, Rachel.

Rachel: Chance. It’s been a while.

Chance: Really.

They look at each other a moment. Jenna takes this time to address the audience.

Jenna: They used to date. Rachel introduced us. Apparently, the sex was great.

Rachel: Really, Jen, what is this, the director’s commentary on the DVD of your life?

Chance: And with that corny humor you became an ad executive how?

Rachel: Oh Chance, always the charmer.

Chance (to Jenna): Well, babe, what’s say we catch a matinee?

Jenna: You were early and Rachel was late.

Chance: What?

Jenna: I barely got to spend five minutes with her.

Rachel: Oh dear, don’t worry about it. (She kisses Jenna on the cheek) I have a presentation to get together anyways. And I should probably pick up some fast food for Allan. He’s been complaining that I never cook for him anymore.

Rachel exits. Chance takes her seat.

Chance: So what movie do you want to see, babe?

Jenna (after a long silence): I love you.

Chance: I love you too, sweetheart.

Jenna: See, I don’t get that. I don’t get why when you say it you sound so sincere, but when I try, I sound like I’m reciting lines from a movie script.

Chance (quietly): Maybe… you don’t mean it… like I do.

Jenna: Or maybe you’re a better actor than I am.

Chance: Jenna, why do you have to do this? Act like this whole thing is a fucking movie or something!

Jenna: You just said “fuck.”

Chance: Yeah, I guess I did.

Jenna: But… but you never say “fuck.” Only characters like Rachel and Henri say “fuck.”

Chance: You mean people, Jenna, those are people.

Jenna: But you… you said fuck. That’s new.

Chance: Well maybe it’s a convenient plot twist for the development of my character.

Jenna: Or maybe you changed it…

Chance: Or maybe I was pissed off enough to just come out and say it.

Jenna (to audience): You guys get it, don’t you? Chance broke the mold. I don’t think he was supposed to say fuck. Do you know what this means?

Chance: Jenna, you’re talking to the “Today’s Special” sign.

Jenna: Maybe we’re not locked into a circle of inevitability. Maybe, by sheer force of will, us characters can alter the plot. Is there such a thing as destiny?

Chance: I don’t think the sign is very receptive, Jenna.

Jenna: Oh don’t be angry, Chance. They may seem like they’re being passive, but really I think they’re enjoying this, aren’t you guys?

Chance grabs Jenna by the arm angrily.

Chance:Jenna!

Jenna: Let go of my arm, Chance.

He takes a moment, and then obliges.

Jenna: Thank you.

Chance mumbles.

Jenna: What?

Chance: You have absolutely no emotion, do you?

Jenna: Are we having another fight?

Chance: No! No, we’re not! Do you want to know why? Because we never fight! It’s always just me yelling at a brick wall until my throat gets sore and I give up!

Jenna: Well that’s a silly thing to do.

Chance: You’re the wall, Jenna.

Jenna: That’s an even sillier notion. I’m a character, Chance.

Chance: No. You’re not a character. You’re a part of the scenery. You don’t react to anything. You don’t care about anything. You’re the epitome of apathy.

Jenna: That was a cruel thing to say, Chance.

Chance: Was it? Hm, maybe it was. Did it hurt? (He waits for an answer, she provides none.) I thought so. (Pause). I, uh… I don’t feel much like a movie anymore. (He turns and begins to leave.)

Jenna: Chance, wait—

He stops but does not face her.

Chance: You know what, Jenna, you almost sounded like you cared for a moment.

Jenna (To audience): He’s gone now. Is he gone for good? I’m not sure. He’s right about one thing. It didn’t hurt. At least, not like you’d expect it to. Everything feels scripted. Maybe he was supposed to do that. I don’t know… But… But what if I can change it? What if I can completely turn this thing around? What if it’s supposed to end up with Chance and I split up but I keep us together? Who am I kidding, how should I know how this ends up? And if I did know, could I even change it? I’m asking too many questions to a large crowd of people who never talk to me. OK. OK, guys, let me ask you a question. If somebody handed you the script to your life, and you held it in your hands, and you knew exactly how everything was supposed to happen… would you follow it? Regardless of the ending, whether it was happy or sad, would you say to the person, “OK, I’ll play the part.” Would you be content to be an actor? I used to love being spontaneous. When I was a kid I used to set off the fire alarm at school just so the sprinklers would come on and I could dance in the water. I got in a lot of trouble for that. I don’t feel like anything’s spontaneous anymore. Not since you guys showed up. There’s just a part of my life that feels overly rehearsed… (Pause). I’m going to change it. I know I can. If Chance can say fuck, well then— well then I can write the words “I love you” and mean them. Really mean them. I’m going to be a person. Not a character. I’m going to be real. Just like you. Just watch. You’ll see.

Scene 7: Jenna’s Apartment

Jenna sits at a table and is writing things on a piece of paper which she keeps scribbling out. Writing and scribbling out. Writing and scribbling out. She writes a long sentence. She looks at it. She turns it upside down. She crumples up the paper and throws it in the trash. She puts her arms on the table and stares at the audience for a long time.

Scene 8: A Bus

Rachel is standing up holding onto a handrail as she argues with her husband on the phone. If it is easier, she can be sitting in a seat but if so, then Henri must do the opposite and stand.

NOTE: These simultaneous monologues can be added upon, cut, or improvised as the actor sees fit. The main point of each must be maintained, however, especially Rachel’s.

Rachel: Well you never specified what kind of home-cooked meal you wanted, Allan… Well of course Denny’s takeout counts as home-cooked, I mean, isn’t that their whole selling point?... Well if you didn’t want takeout, you should have said something…

The bus stops. Henri gets on and sits down (or stands—whatever it is, it’s opposite from Rachel’s stance.) He is also talking on the cell phone.

Henri: This policy is going to save your life one day, Mr. LaRue, I promise you that… It was a play on words, sir, of course life insurance doesn’t save your life, but it will make things much easier on your family once you pass away… Yeah, I guess it was a bad joke. Is your name French?

Henri freezes and Rachel begins anew.

Rachel: Now that’s just ridiculous, I always listen to you! It’s rude to make accusations like that, you know that’s exactly the reason that Chance and Jenna’s relationship is on the rocks, because they don’t trust each other—Don’t interrupt, Allan, I’m lecturing you— and if Chance would just trust Jenna when she tells him she loves him, they would be a whole lot happier… Of course you take Chance’s side, you’re a man but think where Jenna’s coming from here, Allan… Now that’s stupid… Well it’s obvious I’d disagree with you, because I simply don’t think about Chance and Jenna more than you and me…

Rachel freezes and Henri begins.

Henri: What I’m saying here, sir, is that if you sign up with our company, we’ll cover things no other company will… (Man on phone asks “like what”)… We get that question all the time, sir and so let me ask you this in reply—have you or any of your relatives ever dealt with assassins?... No, no, sir I’m not threatening you, I’m just saying that most other agencies knock down the rewards for abnormal circumstances, like… OK, let me give you another example. Have you or any of your relatives ever been abducted by aliens?

Henri freezes and Rachel comes in.

Rachel: Stop being such a dumbass and get it through your thick skull and ingrain it in that tiny little peanut of yours that you call a brain! I fucking love you, OK, Jesus, Allan, you’re behaving just like Chance!... Why would I want you to be like Chance, he’s being a jackass?... OK, I’ll say it again—yes, without profanities. I love you. I love you so much that I am going out of my way to pick up Denny’s takeout for you even though it’s my lunch break and I had a hankering for Chinese. You’re the only man in my life… You always come first—Oh, hold on, dear, I’m getting another call. Hello?... Bob Hartwell, you conniving son of a bitch, give me back my fucking Nike project!

Rachel walks off the bus while ad-libbing a conversation with Bob. As she does, Mindy Lynde gets on and mirrors Henri’s position on the opposite side of the bus.

Henri: I assure you, sir, that death by vampire bites is quite common all around the world!... Yes, just as frequent as alien abductions… Werewolves? Don’t be silly, sir, werewolves don’t exist! Let me ask you this, sir: what other agency guarantees to continue to cover your spirit after you pass on?... Yes, that’s right, sir, spirits don’t need life insurance seeing as they’re dead and all, but it sure would be nice to feel secure, wouldn’t it?... Well alright, sir, I understand. Thank you for your time. (He hangs up and looks at an abandoned news paper near him and then quickly dials another number). Madame Electra? No, no no, I don’t need any spiritual advice, I just wanted to let you know about our life insurance plan…

The bus stops and Henri exits. Mindy’s phone rings.

Mindy: Bernard, is this you? I told you not to call this number anymore… Because I’m off the clock, alright? If you want to make an appointment, call my secretary… No, Bernard—No. No, pills aren’t a painless way to die. You feel dizzy, you feel nauseous—yeah, it’s the hangover from hell… Exactly, you don’t want to die by hangover… It doesn’t matter if they’re sleeping pills, Bernard, you shouldn’t be trying to kill yourself at all. Call a help line and talk to them about it, I know a really good one… Yes, I know I’m your psychiatrist, but not at these hours, or else this phone call is costing you ten bucks a minute…

The bus stops and Jenna gets on and stands in Henri’s place.

Mindy: Yes, I realize that, Bernard, but—Jenna!— OK, Bernard, just take the razorblade away from your wrist a moment and I’ll call you back. (She hangs up). Jenna, how are we doing?

Jenna: Hello, Mindy— Dr. Lynde. Your hair is down.

Mindy: See? Not the complete stereotype.

Jenna: Did you just leave a man holding a razorblade to his wrists?

Mindy: Oh he won’t do anything, he knows he’s anemic.

Jenna: What?

Mindy: Bernard’s a wild hypochondriac. All his suicide-attempts are half-assed. New technique, actually. I call it the “grin and bear it” technique. Tell them to suck it up, you know? So where are you headed?

Jenna: Doctor. I think I’m pregnant.

Mindy: Oh? Did you take a pregnancy test?

Jenna: No… But I threw up this morning.

Mindy: It could have been some bad fish.

Jenna: I don’t eat fish. Plus, I’ve been getting these headaches and I want to sit down all the time. (She sits down)

Mindy: Does anyone else know about this?

Jenna: No. Not Chance, not Rachel, not anyone.

Mindy: Not even your audience?

Jenna: Are you talking as my shrink or my friend?

Mindy: Your shrink. And it’s costing you a discounted rate of five bucks a minute because I like you. (She grins.)

Jenna: Well they know now, don’t they? I just told you.

Mindy: Jenna, this could be fantastic news for you. I think a baby is exactly what you need to bring you back into the material world.

Jenna: Dr. Lynde, this isn’t the material world (she gestures at the audience) that is. I mean, we’re on a “bus” with four seats and no doors.

Mindy: Then what did you walk through when you got on?

Jenna: Never mind.

Mindy: Jenna, I think we’re making real progress here.

Jenna: What am I going to do with a baby, Dr. Lynde, if I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself?

Mindy: You’ll do what you have to. You’ll do what you know.

Jenna: Right. I’ll follow the script.

Mindy: Follow the what?

Jenna: The routine. You know, moms read all the baby books, and then they buy the baby clothes, and then they worry about whether or not the baby is deformed.

Mindy: Yes. Oh, you will be adorable with a baby. I think it will help with your commitment issues. Bring out emotions in you that you’ve suppressed due to your audience delusion.

Jenna: This is my stop.

Mindy: That’ll be fifteen bucks.

Jenna blinks at her, then reaches for her wallet. Mindy, who was obviously joking, just shakes her head.

Mindy: I’ll, um, add it to your bill.

Jenna leaves. Mindy brings out her phone again.

Mindy: Hello, Bernard? Oh for God’s sake, Bernard, just step down from the window. Yes… Yes… Very good!... Oh, I’m no hero… I’ve been to your apartment, Bernard, you’re on the ground floor and a tumble out a window a whopping three feet from the ground would not break your neck.

Scene 9: Chance and Henri’s Apartment

Chance is sitting at the table working on a house of cards. Henri enters. He is excited. Chance does not look up from his house of cards.

Henri: Dude—dude, I did it, man, I did it.

Chance (absently): Did what exactly?

Henri: I caught the big one. I sold this huge plan to some billionaire old guy.

Chance: Why does a billionaire need life insurance?

Henri: He doesn’t.

Chance: Good thing, too, considering it’s a scam.

Henri: It was an impulse buy, a, uh, whatdayacallit, goodbye gift for his kids, so they wouldn’t have to worry about anything. No other agency would cover a ninety-four-year-old smoker with Cancer.

Chance: You are such an asshole.

Henri walks over to Chance’s table and bangs it, knocking down Chance’s house of cards. Chance looks at the card carnage a moment, then looks up at Henri. Henri shrugs.

Henri: Hey, what do you know, I am an asshole.

He pulls out a wad of cash.

Henri: But I’m an asshole with a million bucks.

Chance: Can’t you just get a nice respectable job like normal people?

Henri: Normal people like you, you mean?

Chance: At least I’m trying.

Henri: What I do may not be respectable, Chance, but at least it pays the bills. And I’m good at what I do. You know all those Internet sites that tell you to pay twenty bucks now and they’ll send you a hundred later?

Chance: Are you going to tell me you teamed up with Al Gore and invented them?

Henri: No, I scammed the creator out of a thousand bucks selling him fraud insurance.

Chance: What in God’s name is that?

Henri: Fuck if I know.

Chance: You are so going to hell.

Henri: Want to go to Jamaica first?

Chance: What— you bought the tickets?

Henri: Hell yeah.

Chance: Oh my God, Henri, that’s—but oh. No. No, wait, Jenna. She’d never go for it.

Henri: Since when do you need permission from your girlfriend?

Chance: Since she became my fiancé.

Henri: What would it take for you to forsake that bitch?

Chance: I don’t know. Every time I think I’m leaving, something always draws me back to her. Maybe it’s fate—or something. I just, I just like being with her is all. I don’t care if she’s crazy.

Henri: Do you care if she doesn’t love you?

Chance: I… She loves me.

Henri: You’re sure?

Chance: Never been more certain of anything in my life.

Henri looks about to say something when the phone rings. He quickly answers.

Henri: Yeah?... No… No, you’ve got it right. Just one ticket now. My buddy’s too whipped to go to Jamaica with me. Thanks. (He looks at Chance) Travel agent.

Chance: You’re going alone?

Henri: Gotta live life now, bro. You never know when it could end.

Chance: Like in two hours?

There is a pregnant pause.

Henri: Are you planning on killing me, Fields?

Chance: Are you planning on dying, Falkner?

Another pregnant pause. The two burst out laughing. Henri puts a brotherly arm around Chance’s shoulders.

Henri: Aw, hell, man, you crack me up!

Chance: It was Jenna’s idea.

Henri stops laughing.

Chance: No, no, I mean—she has this theory—

Henri: Always theories with this girl, what is she, some sort of scientist?

Chance: She’s an artist, she thinks about these things.

Henri: No, she draws things. Hell, it doesn’t take much thought to draw a thing, Chance, all you gotta do is put a pen to paper. Fuck, I could do it!

Chance: Aw, no, I don’t think you can paint like she can. She sees things in this world that it takes the average person a whole lifetime staring it in the face to see.

Henri: Like that little delusional audience of hers?

Chance: Like the feather of a seagull floating on the surface of the sea.

Henri: What are you, Cyrano Da fucking Vinci?

Chance (muttering): De Bergerac.

Henri: What?

Chance: Never mind, I just now know why you failed English so badly.

Henri makes a fist.

Henri: I ought to give you a reminder of who your friends are here, Fields.

Chance: You hit me and I’ll know who my friends are, Falkner!

There’s a tense silence. Henri lowers his fist. They start to laugh again. Henri musses Chance’s hair.

Henri: It’s OK, man, I forgive you.

Chance (squirming out of Henri’s grip): What if she’s right though?

Henri: What if who’s right?

Chance: Jenna.

Henri: Oh, I thought you meant the seagull feather on the sea.

Chance: Shut up. I mean about the audience.

Henri: What, invisible people, watching your every move like Big Brother? Jesus, Chance, you need to get out of her head and back into your own for a while.

Henri has become disinterested and begins to make himself a sandwich.

Chance: If only I could get into her head, Henri, then I wouldn’t have to do this crazy dance… Seriously, though. It makes sense, doesn’t it? Don’t you feel like you’ve done all this before?

Henri: Everyone does. It’s called Déjà vu, bro.

Chance: And don’t you do things that you sometimes can’t really explain? You just— do it? Like you feel you have to?

Henri: Sure I do. It’s called obsession. Like you, with your girlfriend. I get that way about the Red Sox sometimes.

Chance: It feels sometimes like I’m detached from myself. Like my memories. How did we meet, Henri?

Henri takes his sandwich, sits on the couch, and puts his feet up.

Henri: High school. I hit on Rachel and you came in and were all, “She’s taken, dweeb.” And I laughed so hard that you still said “dweeb” in high school that I couldn’t be mad at you anymore. Hey—how is Rachel anyway? I think I saw her on the bus, but I was working.

Chance: Oh she’s swell. I don’t think she remembers you.

Henri: Well then why don’t I remind her?

Henri makes a lewd gesture.

Chance: She’s married, Casanova.

Henri: Like that ever stopped me before.

Chance: You weird me out a little bit sometimes.

Henri: Ditto, Mr. Paranoid. So you really think people are watching us? Right this very second?

Chance: Who knows, maybe.

Henri and Chance both turn and look at the audience for a moment. They begin to laugh awkwardly and look at each other, before going back to being busy again.

10. Doctor’s Office

Jenna is reading a magazine. She tears out a page from it and picks up a pen and begins to write. She writes all over the page, pressing harder on the pen each time until she bursts out in a frustrated cry. She looks out at the audience.

Jenna: I’m trying to figure out how I can change this. Like, I could get up right now and leave this office, never look back over my shoulder and never think about it again. But I have no way of knowing if I was always meant to do that. But if I’m meant to go in to see the doctor, how can I know that either? It really is a pickle… (She thinks.) What if… What if I did a cartwheel right now across the room?

Jenna walks over to stage left and cartwheels across the stage.

Jenna: But what if I was meant to do that as well. (She sits back down on the couch.) I just don’t know what to do, folks. What would you do in this situation? Right. You guys never answer me. (She thinks some more.) I know!

NOTE: Provided are a few options for Jenna’s next move. It is crucial that this is NOT the same every night of the performance. Jenna’s options are not just limited to those offered here, they can be any outrageous thing thought of, planned in advance, or improvised on the spot. Any number of these antics can occur, from one to all of them, at the actor’s/director’s discretion.

Option A: Jenna takes a program.

Jenna:…Hey what’s that paper you all have? Where can I get one? Ah, there’s one. (She picks one off the table and begins to read allowed the parts and the people playing them. She says her own name and stops.) Well. That’s silly. I don’t remember playing a girl called (Insert actress’s name here) (She hands program back to audience member). These names are arbitrary. Please disregard them. I’m not (actress’s name.) My name is Jenna. Jenna Crawly, and if you forget that, well then maybe you’re just in the wrong place now, aren’t you?

Option B: Jenna decides to get an umbrella. She goes off stage and return. She pops it open.

Jenna:… Look at me! I’m opening an umbrella indoors! Ooooh, bad luck! Good luck everywhere BEWARE! Jenna’s got an umbrella! (She starts to hum Aerosmith’s “Janie’s Got a Gun.” She stops and looks at the audience. She closes the umbrella and puts it down.)

Option C: Jenna calls Egypt.

Jenna: Salam Alekhum? (She holds the phone away from her ear and looks at the audience.) He’s going on in Arabic now. I never spoke Arabic. A girl I know in college taught me that. (Back to phone). What? Oh, you speak English. My name is Jenna Crawley. I’m calling from (theater/district/city/state/country in which this production is taking place.) Yeah, I’d like to order McDonald’s? What? Where is (theater/district/city/state/country)? Oh, it’s (address/location). Well, I know that’s not in the general Cairo area, but I heard that McDonald’s delivers in Egypt. Sir? Sir! (To audience) He hung up.

Option D: Jenna stubs her toe. She hobbles around a moment, then looks up at the audience.

Jenna: Well what are you staring at, what’d you expect? Actually, I was going to try jumping off the table, but I stubbed my toe on the leg.

Option E: Jenna flies off the table. She climbs up on the table and jumps down.

Jenna: Wow, that wasn’t as far as I thought it was.

Mindy Lynde from Off Stage (as “Nurse.”)

Mindy: Jenna Crawly? The doctor will see you now.

Jenna looks at the audience and winks.

Jenna: Well? Wish me luck!

Scene 11: Rachel and Allan’s House

Rachel knocks and calls from offstage.

Rachel: Allan? Allan, are you home? Allan, get the door, dear. (She waits.) Allan?

There is the sound of a fumbling of keys. Rachel stumbles onstage with her arms full of groceries.

Rachel: Allan? (She dumps the groceries on the table, on top of a note. She begins to unpack them and put them away). Oh, you are so lazy. Look. Look at what I did for you, I didn’t go to Denny’s, I went to the grocery store instead. I’m cooking you a homemade dinner, just as you commanded, your Majesty. Now don’t get overly excited, it’s just spaghetti. You know I’m not an amazing cook. But I’m going to make it Amatriciana, you know, because you like clogging your arteries so much with bacon. Don’t be mad at me when you drop dead from a heart attack one day.

Rachel has finished putting the groceries away and goes to throw away the bags when she notices the note on the table. She reads it. She sits down in a kitchen chair. She stares blankly at the audience. She gets out her phone.

Scene 12: Chance and Henri’s Apartment

Chance and Henri are playing video games. Chance’s phone rings.

Henri: Ignore it, bro.

Chance: It might be Jenna.

Henri: Exactly why you shouldn’t answer. Leave her hanging. Let her chase you for once.

The phone continues to ring.

Chance: Henri, I gotta answer this.

Henri: Pansy.

Chance pauses the game and answers the phone.

Chance: Hello? Rachel?

Henri: Dude! Give me the phone.

Henri makes a grab for the phone, Chance pushes him off.

Chance: No, no, I’m not busy.

Henri: You call Resident Evil not busy? You’re killing zombies here!

In the process of this next line, Jenna enters and is perched off to the side on a stool in the dark. She should stare at the audience, even if they can’t see her.

Chance: Oh. Dinner? Yeah, I skipped lunch… Don’t be stupid, if I remember right you make fantastic spaghetti… Jenna? Sure, I’m sure she’d love to come. I’ll give her a call. Yeah, we’ll be over as soon as we can. You don’t want the food to get cold. Right. See you later. (Hangs up.) Rachel wants to have Jenna and I over for dinner.

Henri: Thanks for the invite, Chance.

Chance: Oh don’t be such a baby, Henri, I told you, you won’t get laid! She has a husband. He’ll probably be there, too. (He begins to dial Jenna’s number. Lights up on Jenna as she lets her phone ring and stares blankly at the audience.)

Jenna: I might as well answer. It won’t make a difference anyway.

Jenna mechanically answers the phone.

Jenna: Hello.

Chance: Jenna. I’m sorry for this morning.

Jenna: You were wrong, you know. I was hurt. A little.

Chance: Yeah, probably not as much as you should have been. But Rachel has invited us over for dinner. I won’t go without you.

Henri: Dude, you’re giving up free food for the psycho bitch?

Jenna: I’m not very hungry.

Chance: She really wants us to come.

Jenna: I’m not hungry.

Chance: For once in your life, Jenna, would you not be difficult with me?

Jenna: I think I’ll stay home.

Chance: Jenna. I apologized. I’m trying to give you the chance to come back to me.

Jenna: I don’t know if I want to, Chance.

Chance: Jenna. Tell me what’s wrong. Please, Jenna. I can fix it. I can help you.

Jenna: You can’t fix it… and you’ve already helped so much already, Chance. I can’t bring you down anymore. I don’t want to disappoint you anymore.

Chance: Jenna—

Jenna: Stop saying my name like that, Chance. Like you’re inside my head.

Chance: It’s the one place in the world that I can’t get into with a passport and visa.

Jenna: There’s good reason for that. There are nasty things inside my head. (She looks at her belly and rubs it.) There are nasty things inside of me.

Chance: I don’t believe that.

Jenna: I wish I could say I love you, Chance.

Chance: Jenna, don’t break up with me on the phone, it’s so crass.

Jenna: It’s better this way. In a few years, you’ll understand.

She makes to hang up. Chance turns and looks right at her.

Chance: Don’t hang up, Jenna.

She stops. She looks away from the audience and into his eyes.

Chance: I know you were going to. I know you better than you think. Better than I thought. I may not know what goes on inside your head, but I’m willing to spend a lifetime trying to figure it out. Jenna, just give me one more chance. I’m willing to give you a million more.

Henri: Jesus Chr—

Chance kicks Henri hard in the shin.

Henri: Ow!

Chance ignores him, still staring at Jenna.

Jenna: Chance…

Chance: Marry me, Jenna. Marry me.

Jenna: Chance…

Chance: Jenna—don’t do this to us.

Jenna: I… I just don’t know. Um. Maybe. I don’t know, I just need some time, OK? Don’t expect me at dinner. Goodbye.

Chance: Goodbye…

They each hang up but their gaze lingers on each other until the lights fade to black.

End of Act One