Alysse Aallyn

Category: #PLAYS

  • Inspired Pleasure – the dance diaries of Alysse Aallyn

         24 Dec 77 – midnight – Plush Palace

                              The Big Day. Go home, sleep, wake up, do laundry, take dogs for shots, buy snow tires.  In a haze of infatuation – Jervaze was in for 5 hours tonight watching me dance with a sense of unmistakable pride.  

    He asked for my phone number so he could call me on Christmas Day – I gave him all of them.

        New York City Dec 25 77 – Fri night.

                                Life is so interesting, Wouldn’t miss it for the world.  

    Lovely intimate family talks – just what family should be doing for perspective on past and future. In two days Avril and I drive out to Michigan to see Merrill – 11 hour drive – tonight’s a dinner in the Village then an early night. 

    Heard of a studio apt on the island – winterized – going for $200/month. 

                          Of course I will have enough royalties for that…or won’t I?  Harcourt royalty dept uncooperative, editor Lauren very cagey.  But won’t the island kill my already comatose sex life?  Whenever I’m away from dancing I miss it. 

     It’s a great substitute for sex but not a complete one alas.   Physical activity vital to my peace of mind.

                              96th St off the Park- New York City –   26  Dec 77

                              Genevieve’s apartment is triggering horrible flashbacks to how sick I was over Ryder at the beginning of last summer. Scary that a man could do this to me. Don’t ever want to get that sick again.  

    Makes me sorry this diary exists – my trusty friend – because it gives misery an actual corporeal reality.

     Burn these sickening wails before I die.  The Victorians always did.

                              Well I’m raring to get back. Not only do I miss the dancing, I miss the bar.  Ah, the nightlife. Always a party atmosphere but I could feel superior for not drinking (or getting high).   I like our status and protections – I like getting paid for exercising, being admired and having fun. This pleasure just cannot be shared – Mom’s face crimps closed – and I am lost in the unredeemable beastliness and ugliness she feels certain it must be. 

                           The fact that I am a feminist and consider myself spiritually in tune with the universe also is incomprehensible to her. (Wives can get into big spiritual trouble too, but I am too tactful to bring that up.) Unfortunately there is no way to defend myself except by attacking back – her  “safe”, closed, restricted world of handmaiden to Dad, feeding and burnishing him like a racehorse, talking him “up” as if she were his sports coach, does not seem to me more inherently saintly. 

                              But to Mom self-loss is what “sainthood” is – you totally do not regard yourself in your care for someone else. The fact that you are puffing them up like a grampus, encouraging them to be completely selfish, is I guess too shockingly cruel to mention. So: I’m stuck in Patient Griselda mode with undeserved imprecations heaped on my innocent head. 

     I wonder if it would be too nasty to talk about how I am sacrificing myself for those poor lonely men who need to look upon a perfect feminine ideal while they swill beer?  Guess I better not. 

                              Mom is fond of saying that love doesn’t work unless 

    you open your heart to the other but you can’t do it without marriage!  

    I say Jervaze and I are “courting” which is a very different thing.  I don’t think I will ever open my heart again. I think perhaps it opens by itself –

     naturally. One might as well tear a flower open and complain about the quality of the bloom.

                              Interesting being here with Brett and Genevieve and 

    watching someone else’s marriage from the outside.  Does not look too enviable. Reading “Eclipse of the Hero in Victorian Fiction.”  He’s in eclipse everywhere else, too, I may add.

        Mon 27th Dec 77 11:00 AM

                              See Dracula on Broadway – pure pleasure with some 

    honest scares.  Frank Langella very sexy.  At Italian dinner Mom and Dad push the idea of the island hard, but I know the old people would never leave me alone.  They’d be worse than Ryder. Still, there’s something magical about being protected from the real world by the ferry – places you can’t get to easily are wonderful just for that reason. 

                              Mom and Dad say further I can’t be serious about my writing or I’d have a job in publishing or magazines!  I’m so rocked back on my heels its hard to even argue. It sounds so sane. But why won’t it result, really, in another “hostage taking” of my soul, which, so, so regrettably, appears to be so damn fragile? Becoming one’s self  is life’s greatest challenge – and so far it does seem necessary to abjure group (gang? Team?) endeavors. Writing doesn’t satisfy unless it comes out of the wild side of me – my secret side. There’s always the temptation to rip open the spider and get the silk out faster. Dad rolls his eyes – it’s the old “I’m an artist so I can do what I want” argument again. How to tell him yes, he’s right. Yes –

    I’m taking advantage of my education, my family, my “privileges”; it’s who they made me.  No going back to some invented Dust Bowl life of drudgery just so THEY can “feel superior & good”. They insist they don’t WANT to “feel good!” It’s about what’s “right!”  My turn to roll my eyes.

        Detroit, 11:05 PM, Thursday 29 Dec 77

                              At the adorably, impossibly 20’s Tudoresque manse my sister 

    Merrill is restoring – it’s lovely here. Merrill and her husband say dancing is “sex work” and “sex work” is “OK” if its “regulated so “sex workers aren’t exploited.”  I get annoyed that nobody can tell the difference between dancing and prostitution!  Lots of things cause “erotic titillation” – breathing for example. Still, I find I’m inclining toward taking a two-month break in March 

    and going to the island to write. Is this family management?  But one of the reasons I like dancing is because you can “pick it up and put it down.” 

    Well, we’ll see.

        Thurs night 29 Dec 77 9:30 PM

                              I find as I distance from Ryder I remember some good things and that makes me happy. He was so unique.  It was fun knowing him, watching him perform impromptu magic for street children and restaurant patrons. More extraordinary really than poor old Jervaze who in spite of his glamorous looks drinks way too much and hates his job. Also Ryder knew me as a “not dancer” which J doesn’t – maybe that persona obscures who I really am. I remember the excitement of watching Ryder make his television show – unexpectedly sweaty physical labor in choosing camera angles and shots –

    timing, music, close-ups – building the tape as the excitement was happening 

     – more in common with sports than some couch potato activity like editing.

                                        Greek Town for dinner after the Renaissance Center, so the night ended in a wild bouzouki.  Day occupied with antiquing – especially fun since I am reading Rumer Godden’s  China Court, which is basically a love song to things. It made me worry that there are not enough details in Demon – what should I add? Perhaps buy a Vogue to see.  

                                        Dreamed about Devon last night.  Wonder  what 

    he’s up to.  Maybe I’m being psychic again. Getting some peace of mind about him as well. Merrill’s daughter comes to read over my shoulder, then when I move to hide the diary says, “Don’t worry, I can’t read cursive. “

  • The Demon Lover – a play for two voices by Alysse Aallyn

    6. ENTREGARME – SURRENDER


    EVAN
    I am utterly becalmed.
    What I dread most is silence,
    The latest form of impotence.
    I need stringing up and tautening.
    This is the
    Revenge of love. Its revenge on me.

    EVA
    I am suffused with love because I am free.
    My work becomes our child,
    Our extension. Immortal. Still,
    Something vanishes when you’re not there.

    EVAN
    Elayna broke her hip.
    How irreplaceable she is to me.
    Our brand of married happiness is entirely unsung.
    I shrink to leave her even for a day.

    EVA
    I’m sorry it wasn’t fatal.
    Am I so dispensable to you?
    You love no one. If you turn against me
    I’ll die in a week because
    I have no one looking after me.

    EVAN
    Turn against you! Agonizing!
    In spite of the hangover of humiliation
    I broke down all reserves so we could be together.
    A very happy day and I was sorry to leave you.

    EVA
    Wed & sad.
    Past distress muffled by age & habit.
    Today we meet formally as if at a garden party.
    A promise unfulfilled.
    Miracles happen but
    The gift of love is guilt & pain.

    EVAN
    You looked so ill
    I was nagged by fear I bored you.
    I long for the happiness of old age,
    Guilt free, pain free, fear free.

    EVA
    I invited Elayna to lunch.

    EVAN
    I am not best pleased.
    Your ghost will haunt me till I die.
    The day you come to like each other
    It will be poison to our love.

    Elayna rarely admits depression.
    I have had not just love but loyalty.
    You force ruthlessness.
    It is a good thing your throat is sore
    Or you would never stop talking.

    EVA
    Are you sending me your signet ring?
    I want something solid to remember you by.
    A last communion.
    Dodging death, I fight off this
    Paralyzing loneliness.

    (EVA fades away. EVAN is alone.)

    EVAN
    Is the flaw in love a flaw in me?
    I never should have married.
    My heart jumps with pain like a hooked fish.
    I am rudderless. Upon your death
    My ring comes back,
    All your contrivances revealed.

    Now that you are gone, I find you everywhere.
    It’s hard to take in the fact that
    We will never see each other again;
    Never, never, never.
    You are gone from me forever.

    I walk the streets and weep.
    Is this delayed shock? Boredom or despair?
    I will never cease to feel this pain till
    I cease feeling anything.
    For the last three nights, I dreamed of you.

    Did I anger you, neglect you?
    It’s too late to pray –
    I await your final book with horror.
    I need to know I was your life.
    Please come back one last time
    For just an hour.
    If you ever thought you loved more than I
    You are now
    Revenged.

  • The Demon Lover – a play for two voices by Alysse Aallyn

    VOLCADA – CAPSIZED

    EVA
    Allen’s buried.
    Without husband, I re-experience my youth.
    Oh, the bafflement of the young!
    I broke off my first
    Engagement because I loved too much
    And cast about for a spouse I could
    Control. I believe you did that, too.

    EVAN
    I experienced our parting as unbearable.
    I had to run away –
    Your rush of talk was like someone bursting into tears.
    I felt like an executioner robbing you of sleep.
    Without you
    My nose began to bleed and
    It’s been bleeding ever since.
    We must love each other less to become more tranquil.

    EVA
    I am a witch and you should fear me.
    I glow with contempt and boredom and fury.
    I don’t understand why
    I can’t experience life by your side.
    We share the same senses,
    The same vein of joy.
    Our life together is timeless, continuous.

    EVAN
    Your letter fraught with dynamite.
    I can never be alone, it is me and the gin bottle.
    I am home nowhere now – except with you.

    EVA
    Please don’t get yourself into a state –
    But Edgar has proposed, forcing me to face the fact
    That I literally cannot live without you.

    EVAN
    I dread you will succumb to Edgar.
    You called him “sweet” and “cozy” and “brilliantly entertaining”
    And I am none of those things. Did you bewitch him?
    I ask in my persecuted voice.
    It would be your ultimate justice, sending me to hell.
    We lose each other by inches.
    Aren’t we doing that already?

    EVA
    I can’t show Edgar the brutal candor
    Behind my loving kindness.
    He mistakes the hostess for a person.
    I arrange my flowers in symbols of you
    And everyone’s too stupid to notice.
    To bed alone again tonight.
    I wish Elayna would die.
    Then we should be equals.

    EVAN
    I must refuse your guilt.
    I feel a shift in the angle of vision
    Further from you than ever.
    A foreboding so final it seemed the end.
    Your pleading for our life dissolves my will.

    EVA
    I am gnawed by an aching hopeless wish.
    Loneliness leads to breakdown,
    Becomes dementia. I batter
    Around the rooms of this castle,
    Brightly-plumaged,
    Knocking into furniture,
    A tragic bird who’s trapped indoors.
    Even dizzy with drink I maintain the frigidity
    Of an Edwardian hostess
    Intolerant of scenes at meals.
    Without you life’s a half-lit room.

    EVAN
    I’ve become a character in your melodrama
    An absurd scalawag of romantic vice.
    Let’s reject this
    Hopeless dilemma.

    EVA
    What could be more beautiful than our ten days in New York,
    Among perverted architecture.
    No loss of illusion there, rather an increase.
    I’m in the midst of a dreary financial crisis,
    Having breakdown on my feet.
    I hope I don’t sound too shocked and sad.
    You are life to me as nothing is.
    My fingers still tremble,
    Touching you after 17 years.

    EVAN
    This is the Eva I first met, first knew, first loved.
    We waited it out and didn’t lose each other.
    I was sane or mad to doubt you & myself.
    We are like two people sweating blood
    I dread losing you
    But Elayna’s power still holds me.
    One of you may do me harm.

    EVA
    Thanks for the cash,
    I hope it doesn’t embarrass you too much.
    You are a reviver and a balm.
    We shall be in Paris together before we die.

    EVAN
    If you want me to be unselfish, let me be unselfish.
    You are my greatest friend. I’m
    Trying to keep off the drink while you’re here,
    Otherwise I know I’ll wreck everything.
    Three manhattans makes me crazy.
    Your feverish cheer does not seem solid.
    Is this the wreckage of our love?
    Once frightened of your clinical eye
    Now I’m more frightened of my own.
    I’ve matriculated in
    Your fearful university.

    EVA
    We sheer away in horror
    Scenting fumes of evil
    As we lose control.
    Defeat and exhaustion, alarm and despondency.
    Demoralized and sad.
    Slam down the lid on pain and resentment:
    I have taken against your family.
    Let’s dance. To sit
    In silence denigrates our love.

    EVAN
    My heart aches for you.
    We talked for the first time in weeks
    About hurt and resentment.
    I could manage my life if it weren’t for you
    And you could manage yours if it weren’t for me.
    You infect me with your despair and I flee to my wife
    To release the pressure.
    Her quickening influence works my imagination.

    EVA
    I hate that you travel the world without me.
    You pervade that place as God pervades our hearts.
    I obsess that you’re in places where I’m not.
    I could not live without seeing you. Yet
    Our visit may turn sour.

    EVAN
    Everything except your beautiful self rusts
    Or dies or goes away.
    My love only seems dead;
    it’s alive underneath. If you die
    I shall never forgive you.

    We need ideas that are less about ourselves.

    EVA
    My rage is based on my assumption
    Of togetherness and my
    Secret fear you’re being got at when
    We could be so snug together.

    EVAN
    I hurt Elayna tonight
    But there’s no help for it.
    She cares for me and I only care for a life apart.
    A clean break, an amputation
    Makes me frantic and guilty.
    She says we have a happy marriage only because
    She willed it. This smell of death and decay
    Makes me long for sex.
    Could you help me find a girl – any girl you choose –
    Or will you call me a sex mad degenerate?
    Panic makes my hands shake.
    I thought of Elayna and I wept.

    EVA
    I received your sad, wild letter.
    I accept that you can’t free yourself.
    Do you accept it?
    I feel so very near you.
    I accept that you make sex
    Desperately with strangers –
    Do you accept it?
    Can anyone love such a cold-blooded person?

    EVAN
    How silly I am, I thought
    I reconciled to our ending,
    Expecting a collapse of tension & illusion.
    But it’s a prospect I just can’t face.

  • The Demon Lover – a play for two voices by Alysse Aallyn

    4. CALESITA –THE MERRY GO ROUND

    EVA
    Did I leave my diary behind?
    Don’t read it, not that you would.
    It’s anaphrodisiac. I am filled with envious admiration
    For the way you spend your time.
    It’s an incentive to work, being alone.
    Diplomats are never lonely.

    EVAN
    My bed gets so icy in the small hours of the morning –
    I am losing interest in sex.
    Perhaps I am already part of the spirit world.
    I am in limbo and will never escape this place.

    The teenager remains alive in me, I have a
    Panic fear of conformity
    So I cast myself as the elderly rake.
    I fear I’m the bore –
    Marriage gets me down.

    EVA
    When you go on and on about yourself
    You’re a man I don’t recognize.
    I prefer your adolescent self.
    The man of the house should be a free agent.
    A respected prowler
    Never lonely, housebound,
    Eating baked beans and drinking stewed tea.

    EVAN
    In other countries women
    Are less bossy and more decorative.
    You are jealous of my life –
    I am jealous of yours.

    EVA
    Ah the pain of your reproach!
    Not seeing you would kill me.
    I live for the memory of our every moment.
    I wouldn’t give a damn if I died tomorrow.

    EVAN
    This is the letter I would write you if I dared,
    if I weren’t frightened by the cancer
    Of your wife-hatred.
    I am overworked, wrung out.
    Possessed by you.

    You make me live at the pitch of anguish.
    Our love has roots in good and evil,
    It lives in the darkest places of our natures
    Shall we end by destroying each other?
    You have the deadlier weapons.

    EVA
    I do have a bad effect on people.
    Guilt, conspiracy, love,
    I cannot breathe without them.

    EVAN
    Boredom, dissipation, remorse,
    And apprehension– I can’t escape this obsessive cycle.
    Beneath the controlled surface of my mind
    Opportunities to be frenzied are endless.
    I’m afraid of saying something ruthless which many stick.

    EVA
    This place is full of you.
    I can no longer look at hyacinths
    Gratitude for our happiness chokes me.
    The restlessness of pleasure going to waste.
    Missing you is like an illness.

    EVAN
    If there’s a worm in this bud
    Who is the corruptor?
    Your insights are so powerful they alter mine.

    EVA
    I believe we should exchange rings.
    Is this a faux pas? Would your wife object?
    I need something in case you die of your itch or
    I fall out of an airplane.

    I wonder why Elayna’s throat won’t heal?
    I believe she is ice-bound.
    Sealing you away from life.

    EVAN
    You witch, you have
    Frozen poor Elayna’s throat.
    I begged you not to. You make all
    Suffering physical.

    EVA
    Elayna’s frozen her own throat –
    I wish you’d see it.
    Depression is hallucinatory.
    Guilt and sorrow undermine my confidence,
    I refuse to give them credence.

    EVAN
    I’m grateful when we talk calmly,
    Our fearful scenes seem so long ago.
    I’m sure the panic of youth has played its part.
    I used to hope you would love me less over time
    But now I think we love each other equally.

    EVA
You are so near me I feel we are one person.
    I feel you now beside me.
    I will make you real.

    EVAN
    I feel your longing
    As I fear your signaling.
    I owe you happiness
    But I can’t express it.
    We must believe life is as beautiful as music
    Says it is.

    EVA
    The illusions we cultivate are
    A form of courage.
    Forget my deficiencies
    Find amusement in the worldly game.

  • The Demon Lover – a play for two voices by Alysse Aallyn

    3. LATIGAZO – WHIPPING

    EVAN
    Do you really love me?
    Why should you?
    I don’t any longer
    Believe In friendship.

    EVA
    It is a horror, an outrage
    That we should not be together. I struggle against
    The wound of not knowing where you are each minute.
    Everything you do is more important to me than my own life.
    The whole of me is with you.
    I see and feel you so distinctly,
    Your beloved cold hand in mine
    Your touch on the nape of my neck.

    Joy and agony
    – my insides torn by pincers.
    A double goodbye would have been awful
    – two bites on the bullet of pain.

    This love is like something we have given birth to.
    We must never blunt our imagination or tenderness.
    Don’t get a cold in your soul.

    EVAN
    Are these abortive suicide attempts?
    I disappoint everyone.
    Cut the cable. Set me free.

    I deliberately left one of your letters for Elayna to find.

    With me love is linked with
    A need to betray. I invite possessiveness.
    She made me promise our love would never be physical.
    I lied fluidly.

    EVA
    Even the thought of
    Such a loss of pleasure tears at my heart
    Like some medieval torture.

    You harrow me unbearably.
    My defenses are down.
    I’m filled me with a sense of ghastly injury.
    How I wish I were more beautiful –
    It’s my mouth that ages me.
    It reveals my greedy secrets.

    I want you seeing all of me –
    Even if it hurts. My work
    Is my legacy –
    You are your own child.
    You preserve your youth with the harm
    That you cause.

    I feel I am dead and already
    Interred – in you.
    You are my eternity.

    EVAN
    Repressed boredom causes blocks
    You can’t have everything.
    I am kept aloft by the conflict of
    Unbearables.
    It makes me happy.

    EVA
    If our dancing life is over –
    Should I enter a convent?
    There’s no point in being alive
    if we’re not together.
    I show my deepest self to you alone.

    EVAN
    Please – no more shaming conversations
    Over Irish whisky. Let’s cut our losses
    And get some fun from life.
    Your miraculous capacities awaken
    My belief in myself.

    EVA


    The gash in our love might close
    But I’ll never forget it’s there.
    Life with you is a remote happiness to which I cling

    EVAN
    And all this time you write such
    Fantastic books. If you were as unhappy as you say,
    You couldn’t write so well.
    I’m proud to be
    The whetstone on which you sharpen –
    I should be thanked for all your works.

    Writing to you
    Makes me itch with a beastly itch –
    Exhilarated, punch drunk
    Feeling your enthrallment
    Despite the day’s malaise.

    I can’t put my heart back in the hollow
    Where it used to be.
    You force me to see
    Myself.

    At the peak of my ambition,
    Beauty and power curdle within me.
    People are so easily fooled, so
    Satisfied with little
    identify my performance with my Soul.

    You’ve spoiled me for everything.
    Stop warning me you’ll take a lover –
    I don’t own your life and never aspired to.
    There is heartbreak here, but is the ghost in the house
    Or in me? We argue about who has the worst friends,
    But our friends are all the same. Please
    Send another psychic telegram, “You’re the One.”

    EVA
    Your last screed was a masterpiece.
    I believe writing it
    Creates that eczema from which
    You say you suffer.
    My friends at Tosca said it’s bad manners
    To make a depressing fuss
    And get other people down.

    EVAN
    Is the strength I draw from you a fairy tale?
    I am appalled by the joint misery we feel.
    Why should we not rebel?

    EVA
    You shed your light around me.
    If only we could stand each other.
    You’ll keep the blood
    Running in my veins
    Threatening to spill.

    EVAN
    Someone said I look ten years younger
    From drinking your life, I’m sure.
    I need my own room because I sleep badly and
    I like to roam at night.

    Tosca is too emotional to be good taste
    But I’m happy you enjoyed it.
    I feel far from you right now but
    Underneath
    I’m outrageously glad.

    EVA
    Your diplomacy fascinates me.
    Your mettle is the stuff of history.
    When young I resisted education
    Like a fool – But
    It makes everything comprehensible.
    What kills me is having to deal with people.

    I tie myself up writing
    Imaginary conversations with you –
    It’s possible you’re a creature of
    My invention. Our pattern seems set –
    Or is it?
    If treachery can’t break it,
    There is no death.

  • The Demon Lover – a play for two voices by Alysse Aallyn

    2 – Cadena – Enchainment

      EVAN
      A happy guilty day full of betrayals
      Kept me in an extraordinary state
      Of fascination. I’ve lied to everyone for
      So long, I feel certain that truth
      Is beyond me.

      EVA
      I’d rather see you dead at my feet
      Than dead ON your feet.
      That would be a mercy killing –
      The last unbearable agony –
      Wondering if you existed at all.

      I have small talent for this.
      I have disgraced my idealism,
      Pretending boredom can be fruitful.
      Waiting, waiting for you everywhere. I
      Wake one day to find I’ve lost my looks, my hair,
      fascination, brain – everything.

      EVAN
      You’re only waking up
      In an empty hotel.
      The light is always different
      The morning after.
      This is what middle-aged people do.
      I love the brutality of your world.
      You never fade. You are my word made flesh.

      EVA
      You are my religion.
      Until In fell in love with you I was 25 inside.
      I lived in a world of dreams and theories.
      Your experiences seem realer to me than mine.

      EVAN
      Social instinct is my religion.
      You have the bravery and intelligence
      Men are supposed to have
      But never do.
      To have touched the same places
      Is a bond between us.
      I never think of my deficiencies –
      Or how could I forgive myself?

      EVA
      Middle-aged people go to weddings
      Out of perverse fascination for the bride.
      I was that bride –
      My day was all champagne.
      Anaesthetized
      It doesn’t hurt so much.
      Such a sense of enormity came over me
      I almost fainted. I gave Allen the dirtiest look: “You caused this.”


      Without a wedding dress
      I was a restless, dowdy snob.
      People were falling in love left and right –
      Even in decaying marriages.
      I wanted that –
      He read my subtext.
      And I was caught.

      EVAN
      These dreary parties have a decaying effect.
      My loneliness for you is like a whiplash.
      Your absence is a bitter injury
      But nothing can injure our love –
      We’re too strong for them.
      I’m silenced till I hear from you.


      If I let myself go I would feel desperate.
      I can’t bear you’re going to France without me –
      But –
      isn’t love our country?

      EVA
      I won’t say “I’ll die if you don’t come”
      Because I know you would come if you possibly could.
      What a skeleton in the cupboard a wife is.

      EVAN
      Don’t be jealous of Elayna. You are the only goal
      Toward which my life is tending.
      You are the meaning of my life.
      I could never live for work alone.

      EVA
      You enlarge my soul.
      In your mind is my existence.
      You’re more real to me than me.
      I’m in a peculiar psychic state.
      It’s an atmosphere of illusion.
      I envy Elayna all the time.
      It drips like an irritant over my nerves.

      EVAN
      What of Allen? You
      Have your worse half too.
      I don’t waste my time
      Being jealous of him.

      EVA
      Oh, Allen spends time lost in woods,
      Falling in love with trees. He’s
      No threat to anyone.

      EVAN
      To understand one’s destiny
      One needs a framework for this mass of experience.
      How can I live separated from you?
      If I stopped caring for you
      I couldn’t care for anything.

      I need my wife, her whip-cracking organization.
      I loathe living in the squalor I get to on my own.
      Having breakfast OUT of bed is the last horror.
      Miasmic feelings of impossibility and terror. Help me.

      EVA
      We help each other
      By existing. Except for God I have no help but you.
      Our love is growing more formidable as our unshakeable belief
      Grows stronger. Like grace, it renews itself.
      All yesterday I glowed. My inability to accept your wife
      Is my deformity – help me with it.
      The light of our love is the only light for me.

    1. Rough Sleep – the Last Scene – play by Alysse Aallyn

      CORSO’s voice

      I stand at the ready to assist my adorable Jazz.

      SCENE XVI – JAZZ’S DORM ROOM

      (Ordinary dorm room with desk lights, two twin beds, built ins. JAZZ feels her body as if to reassure herself that it’s still there. CORSO – bare-chested – is sitting on one of the beds, studying a laptop)

      CORSO

      Lose something?

      JAZZ

      I lost everything. What are you doing here?

      CORSO

      Installing fun software. You seem distraught – your mood begs improvement. Come over here into the light and let me look at you. 

      JAZZ

      I’m not distraught, I’m disgusted. Hey, that’s my laptop.

      CORSO

      Nothing human disgusts. Take it from me, you’re going to love your new social media interface.

      JAZZ

      The thing that disgusted me wasn’t human.  Is your software a game?

      CORSO

      Everything worth doing devolves into game. As your administrator, I’m in charge of upgrades. We’ll do Mr. Quinn next. Any idea where he’s been hiding?

      JAZZ

      Stevie Farrell, din’t you mean? How did you get in here?

      CORSO

      I’m loco parentis, poor, suspicious little Jazz, just checking up. You’ve been keeping such bad company. And Stevie’s not the worst of it – there’s a prowler around campus who seems to have it in for you. Let’s hope it’s not too late to put your feet on a better course.

      JAZZ

      I’m leaving if you’re not.

                                 CORSO

      Poor Jazz, what can we do to mitigate these fears?

                                 JAZZ

                        (Throws herself impulsively on the other bed)

      I’m not afraid of you. 

      CORSO

      I see we have much work ahead.

      JAZZ

      (She finds his shirt – reacts like it’s infectious and throws it at him)

      Why can’t you keep your clothes on?

      CORSO

      (Catching the shirt effortlessly)

      Stevie and I were very informal; I was hoping we could be informal too.  I gather he confessed his proclivities to you?

      JAZZ

      I heard a lot about how you can’t be trusted.

      CORSO

      Credulous Jazz! We must teach you discernment. Education is challenge, not safety or comfort – I strengthen minds and bodies to appreciate, manipulate and surmount reality. Recreate your own world. If you don’t want those things, then you’re fodder like the rest of them.

       (fans himself with the shirt)

      These rooms are very hot.  Do you know the trick to opening these windows? Aren’t you feeling overdressed? 

      JAZZ

      I saw your game.

      CORSO

      I borrowed bodies that weren’t being used! And aren’t you the better for it?  Restful sleep, interesting dreams, AND a paycheck, now there’s a deal. I’ll throw in little Stevie to be your guide.

      JAZZ

      How can we converse when you pervert language?  You pervert language and ideas. You pervert bodies.

      CORSO

      Debate’s not your forte, Jazz. I can assist with that. You entered this room requesting an upgrade in your selective amnesia. It’s something we all must have, otherwise none of us could function. I can help you control it.

      JAZZ

      If it comes from you, I don’t want it.

      CORSO

      Poor little Jazz! Who could you be channeling – me or him? Or perhaps it’s that desperado asking everyone for scuttlebutt? 

      JAZZ

      I went with the flow till the flow tried to drown me. I’m becoming my own person.

      CORSO

      All freshmen think that. Is the real Jazz so robotic? You used to be so much more fun. You were quite the adventurer.

      (laughs)

      Let’s laugh together. Why so serious? 

       (mimes a ridiculously pulled down clown face)

      Life unlocks all its secret pleasures once you master the key.

      CHASE

      (Bursts into the room)

      Is the key murder?  Soul murder, followed by physical murder to make sure the souls stay dead?

      (JAZZ vaults to her feet, they hug, obviously drawing strength from one another)

                                 CHASE

      Stand up, you bastard.

      CORSO

      Oh, can the paranoia, little Steve. Victimology is so limiting. Jazz and I aren’t involved, if that’s what’s bothering you. We share a strictly business relationship. There’s room for you, too if you down your tools of self-destruction.

                        (Rises imposingly. He’s bigger than CHASE)

      CHASE

      We have all the proof we need.  You can’t get away with it.

      JAZZ

      The bodies are piling up.

                                 CORSO

      But they long to pile, and not feel guilty! Everyone wants to be a porn star!

      CHASE

      We know what you did.

      CORSO

      What a shame, then, that you felt the need to mime unconsciousness. When will feel your feelings and live your truth? Isn’t that what youth is all about?

      JAZZ

      Being drugged isn’t truth!

      CORSO

      Yet you – both of you – acceded to all of it. Names along the bottom line. The law says you’re adults.

      JAZZ

      I know what you did is illegal!

      CORSO

      Fashion to law, little Jazz, and with such startling speed!  Too bad the law is amorphous, the law’s in transition, it’s a creature of fashion just as you were. Things that were illegal last year are perfectly legal today. People go to court and bankrupt themselves to “win” – ask your sad friend – but the law doesn’t help them feel they have won. They spend the rest of their lives trying to recapture the glow of surrender.

      CHASE

      You are vile and despicable – everything about you is saturated with evil.

      CORSO

      I see that you two have made loserdom your bond.  It’s so unhealthy, all this focus on the past. You could enjoy both youth and wealth, but you consciously choose misery. Let’s try ratiocination for a change. Who gives benefits and who gives problems? Haven’t I made all your tiny dreams come true?  You can have Mr. Quinn if you want him, Jazz, anyone can. Now let’s concentrate on upgrading these immature fantasies.

      CHASE

      What if we tell the Dean?

      CORSO

      Who, Bernie? I’m sure you’ll find Bernie doesn’t expect me to police my students’ very randy sex and dream lives.  Bernie and I understand each other perfectly. People love porn, everyone wants an avatar and to feel like a creator.  Let’s consecrate all this blood and shit to transcendental purposes.

      JAZZ

      You use words you can’t understand. We’re soulmates. We’ve seen worlds of possibility, of universe and time.

      CORSO

      You’re welcome!

      JAZZ

      You’ll never know what we can do.

      CORSO

      Pretty sure I can guess. Everything except freedom?

      CHASE

      Your freedom is all fake. You’re nothing but an appetite.  All you create are slaves.

      CORSO

      Oh. Slaves! In a limitless universe, slaves are no fun at all. It’s such a bore always having to direct.

      (fanning himself)

      Jazz, how can you tolerate this hideous heat? I know there’s a trick to these windows.  

      (Successfully opens window)

      Stevie, get us a drink. Let’s sit down and talk this over like grownups.  

      CHASE

      Not a chance.

      (BEX appears spot-lit on the TOWER LIFT, scanning with his binoculars, holding his shotgun at the ready. He sights his quarry & racks his slide)

      JAZZ

      Look out the window, Dr. Corso.

      (She pulls CHASE away)

      Tell me what you see.

      CORSO

      (Peering)

      Who’s out there, Jazz? Bile stained, piss stained revenants skulking home for parietals? 

      (BEX climbs awkwardly out on the tower lift, hooking his leg, trying to get a good shot)

      CORSO

      (Waves out at the world)

      Run home, little oneironauts! Your memory cards expired!

      (JAZZ grabs CHASE and pulls him to the floor. Shots ring out. CORSO, looks down at his chest as red stains bloom across his back. Plummets slowly out through the window. Recoil causes BEXto lose his footing – drop his gun – throw his arms up – cry out – fall)

                        JAZZ

      Set a demon to catch a demon!

      CHASE

      May the aspirations of murderers always overreach.

      JAZZ

      And those of lovers override.

      CHASE

      Time to free the others? Whether they like it or not?

      JAZZ

      Kiss me.

      (They kiss. Sacred music, pink glitter. DARKNESS.  FINAL CURTAIN)

      END

    2. Rough Sleep – a play by Alysse Aallyn

      – KITCHEN set, bar with overhead wineglass and pot rack, burners steaming ( ZOYAorchestrates the food)

      ZOYA

      Stevie, could you open the wine and let it breathe?

      (Clutches her own throat)

      No one wants a strangled wine.

      CHASE

      Jazz drinks any kind of wine.

      ZOYA

      Jazz? What kind of name is that?

      JAZZ

      It’s a nickname. My name is Jasmyn Suzino.

      ZOYA

      (Thawing. She is cautious and protective, not mean)

      If you’re important to my son I’m so glad you’re here.

      CHASE

      She’s very important to me. 

      ZOYA

      I hope you like Welsh rarebit and Coquille Saint Jacques.

      JAZZ

      Sounds delicious. I hear you do your own cooking?

      (CHASE takes bottle and opener from his mother.)

      ZOYA

      Love is the main ingredient, I always say. Red or white?

      (She pulls down wineglasses from the overhead rack. There are several bottles of wine.CHASE opens them one after the other. JAZZ looks a little scared as if she might have to drink all this)

      JAZZ

      Oh, whatever.  May I have ice, please?

      CHASE

      (Being a Farrell)

      No.

      ZOYA

      Oh, for heavens sake let her have whatever she wants!  Lemon, sugar! Anything! This is a party!

      (Slaps out an ice bucket)

      CHASE

      Taste it without ice first.  It’s Christmas wine from Lebanon.

      JAZZ

      Wow.  Delicious.  You’re right….forget the ice.

      (JAZZ sits at the bar – ZOYA blots the corner of JAZZ’s mouth with a napkin, lays napkins down.  What with spoons and potlids, she gives an impression of sacred priestess juggling sacred tools)

      CHASE

      Mom made all this lace herself.

      JAZZ

      Awesome. Exquisite.  I didn’t know humans made lace.

      CHASE

      Mom was beaten into submission by nuns. You propitiate the gods by giving them lace. 

      ZOYA

      (Raps him sharply with a spoon)

      Stevie, you heretic! What will our guest think?

      CHASE

      “Make our damn lace or be consumed by the Holocaust!”

      ZOYA

      Stevie! Oh, what’s the use? You’ll never change. I forgive you.

      JAZZ

      Uh, the flowers on that cake look almost real.

      ZOYA

      I love making sugar flowers.  Those are lilies and camellias.  I wore them at my wedding.

      CHASE

      Mom studied pastry making at the Cordon Bleu in Paris. 

      ZOYA

      It was just a summer course. Canapés or crudités?

      CHASE

      Crudity always.

      JAZZ

      (To CHASE)

      Paris!  Were you there?

      CHASE

      Naw.  I was just a bullet in my father’s bandolier in those days.

      ZOYA

      Oh, Stevie!  You’re such a silly! How I love you! No, he’s never been to Paris.  We’ve not been back. That was our honeymoon, so long, long ago.

       (Seems like she might cry) 

      It’s so hard to keep the rarebit from separating. 

      (sniffs – offers a plate)

      Duck pâté?

      JAZZ

      Er, sure.

      (ZOYA and CHASE toss off their wine, he refills their glasses.  JAZZ holds hers against her chest. ZOYA reaches down a platter)

      ZOYA

      I love to cook! Following a recipe to make things right. I wish people ate more, but they’re always on such weird diets. Cyanne’s a vegan who won’t eat gluten.  Everything’s changed. I used to pick my own watercress but now I’m afraid of the fisher cats. 

      CHASE

      Fishers eat squirrels, mom, not people.

      ZOYA

      Somebody needs to eat those squirrels. They’re too assertive. But it’s the fisher cats who scream – like someone being murdered.

      CHASE

      They’re nocturnal, Mom.  And watercress is out of season.

      ZOYA

      (Fighting back tears)

      So how does your family celebrate grand occasions, Jasmyn? I’m sure it’s something more splendid than a homely family party.

      JAZZ 

      (nervous)

      We make a lot of toasts.

      (She lifts her glass. ZOYA and CHASE both drain their glasses and immediately refill as if that’s what etiquette requires)

      ZOYA

      Stevie, you say the blessing.

      CHASE

      You’re going to have to stop calling me that, Mom.  My name is Chase.

      ZOYA

      But that’s a stupid name.  It doesn’t mean anything.  Steven was your grandfather’s name.

      CHASE

      But he’s gone. You want me to be gone?

      ZOYA

      I’m praying you never leave again.

      (Lifts her glass)

      Zemlya pukhom!

      CHASE

      It’s your birthday, Mom.  We toast to you.

      (He raises his glass)

      ZOYA

      (Abashed, almost frightened.)

      No more bad luck.  I’m not fit to catch God’s eye. Dolgaya zhizn!

      JAZZ

      What’s that mean?

      CHASE

      Long life.

      JAZZ 

      Long life!

      (They drink. A moment of happiness. Enter CUTTER FARRELL dressed as if for wild weather.  CUTTER slowly removes outer gear but continues to play with belt – appraising the group as if wondering who to use it on. He is a cold, cold-eyed man, a paler, blockier version of CHASE. Accepts drink from placatory ZOYA)

      CUTTER

      Filthy night. What have we here?

      ZOYA

      Stevie brought a friend to my birthday party! Isn’t that exciting?

      CUTTER

      (Takes drink, cranes his neck insultingly)

      Little Stevie brought a date?  Where is he? I don’t see him.

      (JAZZ steps up bravely and offers her hand)

      JAZZ

      Hi, I’m Jasmyn Suzino.

      (CUTTER takes her hand and presses it to his chest, looking her up and down at his leisure)

      CUTTER

      Where did this dark-eyed beauty spring from? Be still my loins.  I’m Cutter Farrell, young lady. Pleased to make your acquaintance.

      JAZZ

      (Awkwardly)

      I go to school with Chase. Er – Steven.

      CUTTER

      Bet you met him yesterday.

      (JAZZ reacts as though this might be true. CHASE steps forward, detaches JAZZ’s arm)

      CHASE

      Pick on someone in your own weight class, Dad.

      CUTTER

      And that would be you? I’ve heard braggadocio but I’m getting tired waiting.

      ZOYA

      (Panicky)

      Please don’t fight. It’s my birthday.

      CUTTER

      I don’t like surprises.  That’s all.

      (Pops some savory in his mouth and drains half his drink)

      So. Suzino.  What kind of a name is that?

      JAZZ

      It’s Portuguese.

      CUTTER

      Is there a Dad in your picture?

      JAZZ

      (After a beat)

      Not really.

      CUTTER

      That’s the Portuguese in him. We Irish, now, keep families together. We hang on till every lost dog is drawn and quartered.

      (ZOYA snaps tensely at CHASE who is eating)

      ZOYA

      (Spanks his arm with her lace napkin)

      Don’t double dip, darling!  It’s disgusting!

      (Blots her forehead)

      I’m sorry.

      CUTTER

      (Poking freely among the crudités tray)

      When’s dinner?

      (ZOYA clatters pot lids hopelessly)

      ZOYA

      Half an hour.  Forty-five minutes.

      CUTTER

      Just enough time for a private pow-wow.  Bring your drinks, kids. You’ll need them.

      CHASE

      No thank you.

      CUTTER

      I’ve got a business proposition for you. Come along now:  fair’s fair.  You’ve got to give me a chance to get my money back. All the cash I spent on you…

      CHASE

      I’m not putting my money into any of your schemes.

      (CUTTER takes JAZZ’s arm)

      CUTTER

      Fine.  Then your little girlfriend and I will have a sit down. You stay out here with Mummy the way you always preferred, Jasmyn and I will have a heart to heart and find out what’s what.

      ZOYA

      (Desperate)

      Cutter, please! 

      CUTTER

      You cook, dumpling, I’ll entertain our guests.

      ZOYA

      By arguing?

      CUTTER

      I only stand up for what’s mine.

      (To CHASE who’s sliding unwillingly off his barstool)

      You’re going to want to see this.  Believe me. It’s the next biggest thing, and I’m offering you a buy-in on the ground floor.

      CUTTER’S DEN- SCENE XIV.  Macho and dark; leather furniture, deer head, creels and powder horns, gun rack

      CUTTER

      So, what are you studying in this college of yours?

      JAZZ

      We’re participating in a research experiment.

      CUTTER

      I’ll bet you are. Anything to do with the Internet?

      JAZZ

      The Internet?

      CUTTER

      (Shaking his head as he looks at CHASE)

      Where do you get these girls?  You haven’t heard of the Internet, young missy? The World Wide Web?

      JAZZ

      (Blushing but controlling herself at a warning look from CHASE)

      It has nothing to do with that.

      CUTTER

      (Studying her speculatively)

      Well, I can’t answer for how they behave in Portugal, but it’s possible you were pimped out without your knowledge. 

      (Picks up a video controller. CHASE and JAZZ stares stupefied at a screen that flickers dancing shapes over their faces)

      CUTTER

      Look what your boyfriend got you into! It’s a game, see? You can make them do any combination, anything you want.

      (Struggles with his controller)

      How do you make this thing go frame by frame?

      JAZZ

      Oh, my God. It’s US!

      CHASE

      Turn that thing off!

      (CHASE lunges for his Dad, they tussle, CUTTER playing “keep away” with remote)

      CUTTER

      Wait, wait –the good part is coming up! 

      (CHASE succeeds in dashing controller to floor, screen light goes off)

      Here’s a fine thing for a father to have to see! You could at least ensure they disguise the faces – but you all make yourselves so recognizable with those tattoos. Nice birthday gift for mommy, wouldn’t you say?

      (CHASE lunging – they are full-on wrestling)

      CUTTER

      This idea’s worth millions – unless you sign away your rights – AGAIN. But that’s what you do, isn’t it? Anything rather than take dad’s advice! Why don’t you hit me, since you’ve been longing to. Go ahead – hit your father!

      (CHASE manages to turn off screen, throw remote, pushes CUTTER away)

      CHASE

      Come on, Jazz, let’s get out of here.

      CUTTER

      I suppose you’ll claim that was art. 

      (Heavy fake Irish accent)

      Will you be taking it around to the festivals now?  Put it up for the booby prize?

      CHASE

      You’re dead to me.

      (Dragging JAZZ away)

      CUTTER

      I’m dead to you, you spineless party pooper? I’m dead to you?

      (ZOYA appears holding a wine opener pushed to her neck)

                                 ZOYA

      I’m dead to everyone and nobody noticed! Nobody even noticed!

      (JAZZ tries to go to her, CHASE pulls her away downstage – lights off on FARRELL RESIDENCE)

    3. Rough Sleep – a play by Alysse Aallyn

       SCENE XII – BATHTUB/DRESSING ROOM with towel & clothes rack. HUGE bathtub

      CHASE

      Here we are.

      JAZZ

      God, this is luxe.  Now I’m scared of drowning.

      CHASE

      (Touches her)

      I have a lifesaving badge. 

      JAZZ

      Coming in with me?

      CHASE

      Soulmates should never be apart too long. In relationships timing is everything and we don’t want to miss a beat.

      JAZZ

      Right. We might end up in different universes.  Who’s to say we’d ever get back?

      (She turns on taps, sounds of water flowing – bubbles)

      CHASE

      You’re getting bubbles all over the floor.

      JAZZ

      Who cares? Your mother already hates me.

      CHASE

      (Reaches in to turn off the jets)

      She absolutely does not.  My mother’s not a hater.  Look at this.  There seems to be a drain in the floor.

      JAZZ

      Seems to be? Didn’t you live here?

      CHASE

      Nope. This house is new to me.

      JAZZ

      What a thoughtful vortex we’ve fallen into.

      (They undress.  CHASE has chain tats twisting up his arms)

      JAZZ

      I see you made your status permanent. What with the chains.

      (Touches them)

      CHASE

      I’ve got commitment. How about you? Any tattoos?

      JAZZ

      A tiny one you’ll never find.

      (Slides into bath)

      CHASE

      Sure you want me in there? What if I’m contagious?

      JAZZ

      Here’s hoping we both are.

      (He climbs in)

      CHASE

      You like it hot. Just like my mom.  She thinks you’re not clean unless you remove the top layer of skin.

      (JAZZ dumps bubbles on his head – they play – she squeals – he upends her looking for the tattoo))

      CHASE

      Here it is! I found it!  What’s that – a hummingbird?  A butterfly?

      JAZZ

      (Spitting bubbles)

      It’s a dragonfly.

      (They play.  Ah, love)

      Weren’t we doing something important before we got worm-holed away?

                        (Seductively)

      CHASE

      Nothing as important as this. 

      (Kissing)

      JAZZ

      Now I recognize you without your skin.

      CHASE

      You’ve heard the theory angels are hermaphrodites? 

      JAZZ

      I missed that one.

      CHASE

      You can be my other wing.

      (ZOYA strikes a gong in the front hallway)

      CHASE

      Uh oh. There goes the dinner bell.

      JAZZ

      There’s a dinner bell?

      CHASE

      Mom needs an audience for her extravaganzas.

      JAZZ

      She cooks her own birthday dinner?

      CHASE

      From scratch. She’s a one-woman homemaking army. What does your Mom do for her birthday?

      JAZZ

      We go to one of those sneeze guard buffets where children throw meatballs. Intro to Plague Theory.

      (They wrestle, squealing)

      CHASE

      This is the best bath I ever had. I’m looking forward to getting dirty just so we can get clean again. 

      JAZZ

      I know! It’s so much more fun with two of us!

      CHASE

      No baths with the Bexter?

      JAZZ

      Are you kidding? I had to use reverse psychology just to get him to shave. Please – no more Old Boyfriend talk. Let’s agree when we get out of this bath we will be completely new.

       (Embrace)

      CHASE

      Agreed.

      (Magical moments. ZOYA strikes gong again)

      CHASE

      Uh oh.  Thirty second warning.

      (He climbs out, helps her into towel)

       Time for Lady’s Choice.

      (Rack of clothes in spot)

      JAZZ

      I can be anyone I want? There’s plenty to choose from.

      (Handles clothes)

      Your mother wasn’t kidding. Most of these still have tags. Is your sister even real?

      CHASE

      Sure she is.  She got all the niceness, I got all the meanness .

      JAZZ

      How can she nice and miss Mom’s birthday?

      CHASE

      You’ll see why. How about this one?

      (Prom dress)

      JAZZ

      No I like this one better.

       (Girl Scout uniform)

      CHASE

      Or Pocahontas.

      (Fringed Indian outfit)

      JAZZ

      Or a cheerleader! Maybe there’s a football uniform for you. I have my fantasies, too.

      CHASE

      Better keep it simple. We might have to make a break for it.

      (They don cleaner versions of their old clothes)

    4. Rough Sleep – a play by Alysse Aallyn

       SCENE XI – FARRELL RESIDENCE.  (ZOYA, festively dressed excitable little woman with dyed hair teeters forward on high heels)

      ZOYA

      Stevie!

      (She clutches CHASE, kissing him everywhere)

      Oh Stevie, Stevie, I was so afraid you wouldn’t come.

      CHASE

      Miss your birthday?  How could I possibly?  And I brought a friend.

      (JAZZ waves nervously)

      JAZZ

      (Awkwardly extending plant)

      Happy Birthday.

      (Painfully obvious this is way too big a plant for this tiny person)

      ZOYA

      (Making no move to take it)

      Oh, my. That looks so…interesting. Well come in, come in.

      ( JAZZ unloads plant on hall table, looking around, awed. ZOYA regards plant apprehensively.)

      ZOYA

      I suppose I’m ancient, dry and prickly just like this plant. Does it come with directions?

      JAZZ

      It’s a Christmas cactus. It’s going to have three blooms.  See?

      ZOYA

      (Without enthusiasm)

      Lovely.

      (Clings to CHASE)

      It’s so wonderful to see you!

      (She squeezes him)

      Look how tall you’ve gotten.

      CHASE

      (hugs her)

      Good to see you, Mom. You’re looking well.

      JAZZ

      Sorry I’m not dressed for a party.

      CHASE

      Jazz had kind of a disaster. Somebody jumped out of her dorm room window.

      (JAZZ and CHASE exchange looks)

      ZOYA

      How terrible! Were they badly hurt?

      CHASE

      (With relish)

      Killed, Mom. Dead.

      (His mother backs away, looking at the pair of them)

      ZOYA

      Do they give you an automatic A and send you home?

      CHASE

      Urban legend, Mom. You’ve got to stop believing myths.

      (His mother strikes him lightly on the arm)

      ZOYA

      I never know when you’re teasing.

      CHASE

      If Jazz could borrow something of Cyanne’s…?

      ZOYA

      (Recollecting she’s the hostess)

      Of course, of course.  Cyanne has way too many clothes. She’s always shopping. You look about the same size.  She’d say yes but she’s away at college.  She’s pledging my sorority. Quick drink before you freshen up?

      (An expression almost of panic)

      Because I’ve got to get back – back to the kitchen.

      (Backs away as if dragged – exit)

      CHASE

      My Mom always bakes her own birthday cake.

      JAZZ

      Why didn’t you tell me your mother hates plants?

      (Gestures)

      All these plants are fake.

      CHASE

      Mom says growth’s a lot of work. 

      JAZZ

      (Mimes looking at family photos on the walls)

      That you as a baby?

      CHASE

      The very same. Aren’t I adorable? You can’t tell which is me and which is Cyanne.

      JAZZ

      You all look so happy.

      CHASE

      Appearances can be deceiving.

      JAZZ

      So your real name’s Stevie.

      CHASE

      Steven.  Now that you know it, forget it. Just another thing that’s gone.

      JAZZ

      You could have told me. 

      CHASE

      Who knew we’d end up here? I’ve never been good at telling people things. The vortex assumed control.