Alysse Aallyn

Category: Relationships

  • Devoured Heart – romantic suspense by Alysse Aallyn

    Chapter 7. The Baby

    Ian had a sweet tooth and so Scarlet suddenly found herself baking sand tarts, apple pies and lemon cake pudding in readiness for Nicholas’ birth. And that turned out to be a lucky thing, because the moment the last pie was set cooling on the wide kitchen windowsill her water broke. Ian rushed to fetch the midwife and at a quarter to midnight on Nov. 10, Nicholas was born.

    He was a long, thin, bright red, squally baby. Scarlet was feeling a bit squally herself because the gas had given out at the end, right when things were at their worst and Scarlet’s confidence in the little midwife – who acted surprised at this apparently impossible eventuality – was seriously shaken. It didn’t help that Ian left immediately – saying he would bury the placenta for luck – and then the midwife forbade bathing but gave Scarlet a very unsatisfactory sponge bath.


    Scarlet came down with fever and couldn’t nurse Baby Nick for two days. She couldn’t help feeling he acted a bit repulsed by the smallness and shortness of her nipples – not a problem Scarlet had even heard of before – but he did finally seem to “latch” and agree to accept nourishment and stay alive. It wasn’t until the evening of the twelfth, when Nicholas was finally quiet and Scarlet had a proper bath, a piece of pie, a glass of wine, that she was feeling more herself again.


    Ian, on the other hand, wore a strangely unfamiliar expression Scarlet couldn’t parse. She chalked it up to a suddenly overwhelming realization of his increased responsibilities, plus that unwelcome existential conundrum: “This baby will bury me.”


    When his wife gurgled “Isn’t he sweet?” over the sleeping baby, Ian refused to play along.
    “I think he’s more like a noisy drunk we can’t get rid of,” said her husband, “Constantly throwing up and needing everything done for him.”


    “It’ll get better and better from here on out,” insisted Scarlet, feeling a bit angry that she had to produce all the cheer and positivity for the entire family after what she’d been through. “In a month or two you’ll be glad to have him.”


    “Will I?” asked Ian. “When do they talk? Four to five years more likely.”


    The doctor came by in the morning to forbid them from sex. No sex for six weeks. Scarlet thought she could live without it – she needed to heal and was grateful not to have stitches – but she didn’t care for Ian’s reaction. It wasn’t long after that he announced a trip to London.


    “Should I bring it up?” she wondered. If you outright ASK someone to be faithful, are they more likely to be? Or LESS likely?


    “I don’t think I want you gadding around London on your own,” she temporized.


    “Oh? You’ve got two babies now? I was running my own life perfectly well a couple days ago.”
    She reached for his hand.


    “I’m worried – I don’t want – it’s just that I’m so desperately hors de combat.”


    “Whore what?” he teased. “I can see the way your mind is working.”


    She flushed a deep red she was certain was hideously unbecoming. “I can’t love you the way I want to and I don’t want anyone else to try.” And she burst into tears. He kissed her forehead very tenderly.


    “Don’t worry,” he told her. “You’ve given me impossibly high standards. I’ll interview nannies, shall I? Then we’ll soon be back to normal. ”


    But she did worry. The night before he left for London she did her very best to satisfy him and it seemed like a difficult and endless chore. Things were hardly improved by the stack of pound notes he left on the dresser in the morning – not even ironically!

    “Just in case,” he said.


    In case of what? In case you never come back? She wondered dispiritedly.


    That very evening – the twenty-ninth – she found a witch doll on the hearth. Sooty, as if it had fallen from the chimney.


    She asked the midwife about it on her next visit.


    “It’s a corn dolly!” said the woman. “Supposed to be lucky! Someone put it up the chimney for good fortune when you moved in. Why didn’t it burn up, I wonder.”


    “We haven’t used that fireplace,” Scarlet admitted. But they had used all the others. Who would do such a thing? It didn’t seem like Pom’s kind of idea at all and why would the movers bother? She found herself thinking about it so much she phoned him.


    “Sounds like Hedrigger to me,” said Pom. “The estate agent. I know he was desperate for the property to sell. When he took over the job from his late father – the first estate agent that we used – he told me he was willing to try anything.”


    “Well, it worked,” said Scarlet and they both had a good laugh over it. When Pom heard she was alone he offered to bring dinner and Scarlet bravely took him up on it.


    “Give me a chance to take a gander at the new heir,” suggested Pom.


    Why did talking to Pom always make Scarlet feel so relaxed and hopeful? There was something about the way that he treated her that made her feel special and desirable without any concern she’d be forced to repel inappropriate advances. An old-fashioned relationship? Here was a true gallant, a cavalier servant, her father would have said. A gentleman, her mother would correct, because that marital pair always argued and one-upped each other. Sometimes she feared their behavior would curse her into unhappy marriage, despite all her hope and prayer and effort. Could you ever have a happy marriage if you’d never actually seen one?


    Frankly she was glad neither parent had been around for Ian to meet. If girls became like their mothers…oh well. Her mother was gone forever, and besides, thought Scarlet, I was a Daddy’s girl anyway.


    She mentioned the corn dolly to the cleaner, Ida, when she came in for her half-day.
    “Oh, I did that,” said Ida casually. “A corn dolly in every chimney for luck. So we’d get nice people. And it worked.” She chucked Nicholas under his chin and he turned blindly towards her hand. Nicholas had no standards. At this stage, he would accept anyone.


    “My granddaughter Fern would love caring for a new baby,” Ida offered. “She’s just out of school – they gave her afternoon hours at the library but she wants more. She needs a ride, is all. Frankie from the garage could bring her when he’s free.”


    A teenage girl living “out” would be so much cheaper than a nanny! And much less bossy. Scarlet’s American spirit rebelled at the thought of being dominated by some know-it-all woman and her catechism of antique superstitions. She resolved to make an afternoon trip to the library her first foray as a new mum into the outside world.

  • Devoured Heart – romantic suspense by Alysse Aallyn

    Chapter 6 – Ian VS Poetry

    It wasn’t till the day the spiral stair was installed that Scarlet finally began to feel better. Maybe this was all she’d required: a positive personal accomplishment. Now the Tower was finally accessible! And then there was more. Ian came home whistling, saying, “Wait till you see what I’ve got for you.”


    What a wonderful gift, a glorious nineteenth century lady’s desk – a mass of pigeonholes and drawers like a huge jewelry box. “There’s probably a secret drawer but nobody knows where,” said Ian.


    The wood was in poor shape – covered with ink stains – but Scarlet was dazzled. “Oh, Ian!” she gasped. “It’s the best present ever!” When she commented on other people’s desks it was always the storage that she envied – give every idea its own resting place. It was a deeply flattering gift. He really had paid attention to her all these years! She hugged him breathlessly.


    “Is it possible -?” she wondered, gazing upwards, but Rocco the Enabler was way ahead of her.


    “We could winch it up,” he promised and a pulley was installed at the top of the house. The fine new desk, two Windsor chairs, a bookcase and a table were winched up to the tower room. Scarlet made one awkward trip upwards to supervise their installation. The small Tower room had windows on all four sides looking out over every bit of their property.


    “Oh, this is beautiful,” agreed Ian and even Rocco seemed impressed. “You could fit a slipper chair right here,” he offered, “A real lady’s chair – they’re selling one down at the church. Do you like purple?”


    Scarlet did – especially the chintz pansy print in which that chair was covered. There were other items at the church sale that she coveted – gorgeous copper pieces to cheer the many fireplaces. When the tower room was finished with the addition of a purple rug carried up by Ian himself it seemed a magnificent eyrie and retreat. Not just deep poetry but magnificent plays – possibly even novels – could be written here.


    “It’ll be cold,” warned Ian, and that was probably true. But “heat rises” said Scarlet and surely it must. And then she wrote a poem about it – one she could actually share.

    Heat rises
    From our marriage bed
    Powers up this house
    Summons up a cradle, fills the
    Varicolored jars of
    Seasoned fruit
    Museums of ripeness
    Captured – just
    As we –
    Fresh from the city were
    Caught and
    Prisoned.
    Belonging –
    Attempting to foreclose
    A Future.

    Of course there marriage bed was a decidedly less sexy place so long as Scarlet was a pregnant whale. And, It didn’t end right. She knew that, before Ian pointed it out. “You can’t say “prisoned”; he quibbled. “Surely “reveling’s” the word? Isn’t “future” just “the unforeseen”? Scarlet was annoyed – he usually right more than he was wrong, but he was still wrong about many central things. He always accused her of easy sentimentality and so she’d tried for a more evocative, ambiguous even threatening ending –the way Ian ended his own work, yet he still he wasn’t satisfied.


    She looked up “sentimental” in the dictionary and saw it described as “an appeal to tender feelings.” It couldn’t be that all “tender feelings” were inherently degrading, could it? But in England, they seemed to be! Scarlet and Ian had a child to raise.


    Scarlet wondered if it was even possible to satisfy these fussy men, determinedly hardening in their defenses. Ian was always talking about “toughening up” males – usually while wearing the latest fashion in gents’ bespoke suits – so that said males could “slay the dragon” as if modern educated people were still cave-dwellers. She took another look at her poem and decided “attempting to foreclose a future” was her favorite line.

    “Submit it to The Renegade,” suggested Ian, “I’ll write Nigel if you like.”


    She prayed she wouldn’t need his help. She wrote to Nigel herself.

  • Devoured Heart – romantic suspense by Alysse Aallyn

    Chapter 2 – The Undercroft – 1959

    She felt a gush of relief at the first sight of what was to be her new home. Perhaps she could participate in Ian’s fantasy after all. This gate, massive and rusty, had fallen back against its stone surround and was an open invitation to a fairy tale. She saw something she knew Ian could never have resisted: this twisted iron was surmounted by a pair of stone wyverns. Ian had always claimed the wyvern as his “power creature”. Anything for sale in the town of Wyvern-on-Wye would be of interest to Ian. Was the town named after the house or the other way around?

    Whichever was true, she knew he’d claim the whole town as his by right. When she gasped out loud at the sight of their new castle Ian rippled with the same lordly pleasure he demonstrated on skillfully dispensing an orgasm. There it was, at the end of a curving drive, Wyvern House, miniature alcazar toppling on its hill, as if the earth itself would sink beneath its weight.


    “My goodness,” she muttered, thinking, as she knew he did, how impressed future guests would be, especially if they could clear away the brambles, re-paint the gates and set the slipping wyverns more solidly, less threateningly aloft.


    Up close, the “castle” proved considerably less commanding, revealing unpointed brick, mucky stucco, bleeding windows and muddy drive. Over the double front doors was carved a date which threw it completely out of the running for any claim to aristocracy: “1892: Magnus Bronfen”.


    “Soap manufacturer,” said Ian. “All soap manufacturers dream of castles, apparently. How else could you get a castle and six acres for nine thousand pounds?”


    She shuddered at the sum. Neither his family nor hers had ever seen so much money. In their five years together they had barely cleared a thousand pounds, and owed more than that. If she succumbed to this place what time would be left for working out her complex themes of literature? She had seen nothing encouraging, so far, about the financial viability of her productions in general.


    Ian himself was not doing much better with his proposal for a “modern mythology” TV series. They would be thrown back on Ian’s first idea: using his supernatural “imp” to win a football pool. Or her secret, most private fancy; writing an explosive novel that told the truth about women’s experience. The one time she had mentioned it Ian had been very clear that he considered “women’s fiction” a literary disgrace.


    “Plus, the novel’s dead. Plays are the thing, Angry Young Men and all that. Look! There is a garden. You could start a market garden. I’ve heard these roses were famed far and wide.”


    What had she ever done to make him think she longed to garden? But “rosarian” certainly was a better title than “hausfrau.” Much better. At this time of year, the overgrown garden offered nothing to see, but it was walled; the walls covered with the same brambly vines that were eating up the gate. They should be replaced with, say, espaliered fruit trees. By somebody. Someday.


    To her relief, inside she saw an ordinary house without the unlivable discomforts of an actual castle. The front hall was rather splendid with a huge creaky oak staircase that shed sawdust (deathwatch beetle!) when walked upon but the large rooms were blessed with electric light and there were four generous bathrooms: three second floor and one down.


    “I don’t think they spent a penny on the place after building it,” said Scarlet.


    “I’m sure they didn’t,” Ian agreed. “This Magnus guy died almost immediately. The current heir lives in town – I don’t think he has a sou but what I gave him. He says the place has been for sale – slowly dropping in price — his entire life.”


    It always impressed Ian to consult a “magic moment”. He was beginning to think he was a magic moment, himself. A fatalistic man, with a strong sense of “destiny”, he’d carefully consulted his horoscope before marrying Scarlet. The stars, and a general English misapprehension that all Americans were rich, had pushed him over the edge.


    “He only has what the bank gave him,” Scarlet longed to correct, but didn’t. Their marriage was the envy of their friends because neither of them – ever gave in to cracks like that. Ian had repeatedly stated his opinion that “money” was an imaginary concept anyway, created in the modern world by mere promises to buy and sell. Failing to leap aboard the mad carousel, you made certain of being left behind.


    Sixty-six years without improvements or upkeep should certainly give any buyer pause, thought Scarlet. What Horrible Secret – probably more than one – was this house hiding? Drains? Vermin? As if reading her thoughts – which he probably was, because marriage made a person good at that — Ian continued,


    “Apparently the problem is the railways – having to change trains from London only to arrive in the middle of nowhere with eight miles to go. But now that everyone has a car that will change. By road, the distance from London is two hours, tops.”


    No one in their London group really “owned” a car, but everyone aspired to, so why point out that the drive had taken them three hours? Ian would only say it as because his pregnant wife needed to pee every five minutes and maybe it had been. Ian had acquired the station wagon (third-hand) because he’d acquired the house, launching them to the summit of their particular clique. As they walked from room to room Scarlet felt herself warming to this unlikely residence – it certainly had potential – and feeling a lot more forgiving towards her improvident spouse.


    The rooms were big, well laid out, and the mullioned windows vast and wonderful. There was even a room of empty bookcases clearly meant to be a library – what more could writers ever require?
    The dining room was a bit dark but the scullery was enormous. “If we updated the appliances we could eat in here,” said Scarlet. “It would be cozy.”


    Ian made a moue of disagreement. “Why neglect such a magnificent dining room? I mean, we’ve got one, why waste it?”


    “Keep it for special occasions,” Scarlet murmured. Most of the time it would be just the two of them and a baby, because they’d never be able to afford live-in help. Anyway, what couple ever benefited from intrusion on their togetherness? “Pas devant les domestiques” was the English byword.


    Three large rooms beside a dining room, scullery and butler’s pantry Scarlet counted, then upstairs were six bedrooms laid out rather unimaginatively around a poorly lit central hall with bathrooms connecting between them. Scarlet suggested they each take for a study the smaller bedrooms. But Ian claimed the library.


    “Those are kids’ rooms, don’t you think?” he disparaged.


    Scarlet felt a thrill that he even contemplated extra children. He hadn’t seemed the least excited about her pregnancy until his flicker of interest when the doula suggested it might be a boy.
    She was too well-trained to argue. “If you prefer,” she agreed. “Why don’t you take the library for your office and I’ll take the odd bedroom. For now.” She was determined to have the baby with them in their bedroom for starters, requiring her do up just one guest room. Seemed a good way to keep out an overage of guests.


    There was no attic whatsoever and the stairs to the tower were barred with a handwritten “Danger” sign.


    “I haven’t been up there,” Ian told her. “Pomeroy the Heir pronounced the stairs unsafe. I think we must assume the whole Tower is a disaster area. He suggested just cutting them out altogether, getting rid of that weak flooring and making it sort of a skylight where you can look up.”
    Trust a man to come up with such an idiotic idea.


    “I’ll investigate spiral metal stairs,” said Scarlet. “They come in modular one piece units and I know where we can get one cheap.”


    Ian snorted, “The more fools they, then, lowering the price just because their Tower was a fake.”


    Since they couldn’t go up, they went down, down to the “undercroft”, as Ian called it, not a “basement” but a magnificently warm, low-ceilinged room with winking-eye lights to the outdoors, shelves of bottled fruit, an empty wine rack and a huge furnace. Purring away. The furnace clearly was newer than 1892 – and if that was the case, the situation might not be as desperate as Ian had painted it.


    “I wonder if any of that fruit is still good,” said Ian.


    Scarlet’s spirits lightened. She felt a poem coming on.

  • Devoured Heart: romantic suspense by Alysse Aallyn

    Scarlet – 1959

    Ian told Scarlet he bought the house as a gift. It was an apology for their cramped city quarters, compensation for Scarlet falling so heavily pregnant with their son. He, universally considered the ultimate bachelor, gave majestic permission for his wife to begin the nest-building and home-making he knew she had thirsted for ever since their hasty marriage.
    But as she sat beside him while he drove through the desolate winter countryside, she felt nothing but dread: how could he buy a house – reputedly for “her” – without her actual assistance? “Auction” was the answer.


    “Truth” presented by Ian seemed always subtly different from Scarlet’s apprehension of actuality, but in Scarlet’s youthfully cynical experience men never told the truth to women. It would be just like Ian to have purchased a ruin for the name alone. He was impulsive – act first, rationalize after – but he never thanked Scarlet for pointing it out. Women were supposed to be the impulsive, hysterical, emotional creatures, men were calm, rational, learned. Period. Scarlet had discovered there was even less room in England than in America for the sexes to locate the androgyny Virginia Woolf had so recently recommended.


    What was her fear, exactly? She felt for it nervously as if exploring a bad tooth. Would they be in hock to the moneylenders till kingdom come? The “big money” Ian assured her was right around the corner had yet to arrive, but he confidently continued to expect it. She wished Ian could see that auctions engineered participants into foolish decisions, but Ian considered himself above foolish decisions. In the early months of marriage, Scarlet had earned to pick her battles. Husbands didn’t welcome any overt attempts to “change” them.


    Unsaid between them, probably unremembered by him, was an episode early in their marriage where she’d suggested, “That will never work” to one of his passing fancies and he’d grabbed her by the throat. Made her shudder to think about it now. Clearly she should not think about it. Fetuses might be negatively affected by thoughts like those.


    After he’d cooled down – and apologized – she’d tried to get him to acknowledge that such behavior should never happen; his response was, “You shouldn’t taunt me.” So the blame was subtly – or unsubtly – placed on her. She was left with the unpleasant sensation that he’d somehow reserved the “right” to lose control – a right denied to her – but at least it had never happened again.


    Hadn’t he married her a brief three months after their first meeting, just to stop her returning to America? She’d been dazzled by his beauty, his gorgeous male power, glittering intelligence, tall wide-shouldered body, and those long-lashed blue eyes fixed so deliciously upon her. All Oxford considered him the matrimonial catch of the year – you could certainly claim she personally had benefited enormously from his hasty decision making. Everyone she met envied her; there was no one to whom could she confide marital difficulties.


    Not even to the very close sister, her “best friend”, who considered marriage “surrender” and who had refused to attend the wedding. All acquaintances so far collected in England were Ian’s eager slaves. There were certainly trade-offs, in the business parlance of the day. Men might be demanding, self-involved, autocratic, but didn’t that make them better in bed? Wasn’t that the real reason Scarlet had married him, the secret she dared not confess but everyone suspected, that he had overwhelmed her with a display of sexual seduction just the memory of which raised every hair on her body to antennae? Now that she was nine and a half months pregnant it regrettably seemed as if she would never be svelte, or young, or even whole – again.


    That was not all that had changed. She didn’t like it when she overheard him describing her as a “born hausfrau” – was there an uglier word in ANY language? She felt misrepresented, as if he deliberately missed the evidence of her true nature and the meaning of her entire existence. Wasn’t such blindness a crime against love? Yet what had he “done”, besides purchase a castle for her? At the apex of pregnancy – you could also call it the nadir – she was willing to admit that possibly she misrepresented HIM.


    They needed a fresh start. But with a baby expected, wasn’t that the pattern of couples everywhere?
    She couldn’t silence her inner critic. She felt emotionally repelled by all the bluster he deemed necessary to “get ahead”. Maybe she didn’t like the concept of “getting ahead,” especially considering he was so disparaging of America’s “crass commercialism.”

    And what was that about, his peculiar reliance on the occult? It was almost a religion with him. He made a game of consulting his “imp” through Tarot cards – a funny party trick morphing into a disturbingly dissociative responsibility dodge. When she suggested as tactfully as she could that perhaps they should not expose a growing child to superstition he “doubled down” with outlandish “universal mythologies” of magic, nemesis, false birth and disguise. Jung, even Freud, was on his side. She had no one.


    He had convinced himself his parents were no relation; he translated his envy of the aristocracy into an unshakeable conviction that he belonged rightfully among them. The democratic American in Scarlet tried to show him the pride in becoming truly “free” and his own person, but the lure of imposture seemed too strong.


    Thank goodness for her diary – there was nowhere else to confide her unsettling thoughts. She disguised her journal as a “baby book” – a document she could feel certain he would never read. Her totally inadequate London doctor – whom she would be happy never to see again – had assured her that pregnant women were all prey to “nonsense fears” and she would feel completely different following delivery. Scarlet was hopeful that deep in the country – perhaps with a midwife – she could secure more enlightened care.


    So she sat beside him on the way to view this new acquisition. And smiled.

  • Embattled Love: the diaries of Alysse Aallyn

    Mon 19 Nov 79


    Mike & Lorraine Inzar killed in small plane accident Mom & Dad call to say. This makes Dad majority stockholder (Mike’s stock divided among 5 kids.) Painful thoughts. Lorraine so young! One of her daughters with them too! (Mike was the pilot.) Mom says salutary reminder how easily we can all be “snuffed out.” If I died now how awful!!! Dad wants to go look at Bennington airfield trying to find ANYTHING but pilot error – what could have happened?


    Try to make each day an entity in itself. Yesterday a good day reading V Woolf letters. Can read these again & again. Neither she nor Vita could truly appreciate themselves. But I appreciate them.
    Boiled diary into 5 pages for Yuna. I think we can call this a completely unsuccessful breast-beating exercise. Took dogs walking in park with T, bratwurst for dinner, fantastic lovemaking, sleep. Typical day.

    2 Dec 79
    Maddening depression. My precarious identity under permanent assault, only the cycle of achievement to carry me through. Bride rejected no note of any kind. Devastating. Thought I’d get some direction at least.


    Wrote 2 poems on Rossetti family – sent 40 poems out, wrote 15 family letters.Maybe I should hide my feelings from T. His suggestion I write magazine articles throws me into blacker depression because I would have to:

    1) Learn how to write magazine article
    2) experiment with same
    3) forge relationships!!!

    CRAZY time consuming plus new ways to fail!! Novels are BOILING inside me – can’t get over that THIS IS MY DREAM LIFE – writing full time at home while husband busy with important job. But part-time newspapering pays horribly and he looks forward to law job after graduation. So our timing is off. Let’s hope not FATALLY.

    Thurs. 6 Dec 79
    T compliments me on being “so female” (“in the Jungian sense”). He’s
    beautiful & supportive – he liked my Rossetti poems a lot. Feeling better carefully following my program; hoping I can be the person I want, follow the life I want.

    11:15 PM Thurs 6 Dec 79
    Everything looking up except this diary. Lavallee LIKES Bride and thinks we can sell it. Studying the lives of Saints makes me feel better, so I’m enjoying assembling a calendar of poems called The Spire. Does nothing for my career but provides relief. What if I learned how to pray? Assembling a Christmas wardrobe.


    T. annoyed when I trimmed my public hair! Since he goes down like Jacques Cousteau I should listen. Buying Sutton’s wife Val a sweater for Christmas from Brooks Brothers gives me & T a chance to rationally discuss our differing styles. He accedes to the more imaginative choice.

    11 Dec 79
    Finished Life of Raymond Chandler. Reading about Ottoline Morrell and Katherine Mansfield. Disgusted with poetry and taking a vacation. Bought T. the prettiest Pierre Cardin diamond cufflinks.

    5:30 PM 13 Dec 79 –Thurs
    A good day in spite of a weird pain between my breasts. Tension? Seems better when I move round so not incipient heart attack. Diet?

    Reading Lady Sackville & drinking tea. Phone call from beloved after his Commercial Paper exam. Getting a haircut then home in ½ hr. Mom called to apologize very nicely for sounding “disrespectful” about my work by dismissing it as “ghoulish” and “morbid.”


    We had a nice talk.


    Finished Xmas cards today – 172 cards! T & I had beautiful long talk last night of course followed by spectacular lovemaking. Confiding fears for our relationship. T doesn’t see how this relationship can last when everyone else’s falls off the cliff. I said I worry about hardening myself against him because it’s so difficult to be so open.
    Out shopping today got a flat tire changed by the grocery store employees! Free! Would that happen in the Northeast? Certainly not in DC. Very little sleep last night because of T’s studying – but I didn’t want him to leave the bed. It’s getting dark now – beautiful light over St John’s church. Submitting altered version of The Spire (leaving out sex poems.)

    11:45 AM – Sun 16 Dec 79
    In 15 mins my angel will have been at work for six hours. That’s more than a half day! When he gets here he still has his packing to do. He asked me what about spending summer in Princeton then back here for a year? He knows he can get a job here – his friends have been working on him. I said I’d hate it. Want to get established somewhere before I get pregnant. I have a far better chance of getting a job there than here. He walked in – greeting noises from dogs!

    StormFall Farm – Wed Dec 19 – 79
    Unalloyed pleasure! Sitting at my desk in winter living room (table pushed up to window.) It’s been snowing since we woke up at 10. I saw my new house – where his mother grew up in Grovers’ Mill NJ – very low ceilinged antique farmhouse full of original furniture. Too outdated to rent but fine with me – a whole house of our own! We could have two kids there without being overcrowded! It has some unpleasant dark curtains we could just get rid of. T’s grandmother just went into nursing home for the second time. Looks like this is the last time.


    The only problem is it has no laundry room – perhaps adapt upstairs closet? (Very tiny closets too.)
    Trish & Noah (cousins) & Toss have gone to town – I will walk dogs and then be ALONE.

    Gloriously ALONE. Very close to becoming complete recluse. Just finished N Mitford’s Voltaire in Love. T enormously enjoying Perry Mason whom I read aloud on our long drives.

    Train from NYC 1:40 PM 27 Dec 79 –
    Alarms & Diversions – T & I have just had 2 very intense fights. Guess I didn’t realize the anger than was building up in me. His mother is just so RUDE – I cried in front of her last night for a solid hour feeling sheer helplessness! She is so awful! After she left we managed to come together much chastened. Yesterday we went into New York City to see costumes at the Met – got in an epic traffic jam outside Tiffany’s and could see we weren’t going to make it – got out of the cab and T bought me a ring! Eternity band of diamonds – very sweet. They say if a diamond ever falls out they replace it!


    Celebrated at Sherry Netherland with manhattans and duck pate in lingonberry sauce. Wrote four poems but too exhausted to know if they’re good.

    12:30 AM – Wed 9 Jan 80
    Battling with Byatt’s Virgin In the Garden. This woman asserts a Proustian compass but overwrites dreadfully. T due in ½ hr – at library studying as usual. We had a lovely dinner before he left – spinach soufflé, salad and wine. Took dogs for very pleasant walk.


    T says he loves me so much more every day he can scarcely comprehend it. He was so upset when I said I might not take his name – it was only because he’d been flippant about a previous girlfriend. We are both so sore. Trying to stay open and honest as the emotions blast through.

  • The Controversy: a poem by Alysse Aallyn

    The Controversy

    In the bar we argue
    You drink gin and I drink bourbon
    You admit there’s something out there but
    God and Christ have been discredited
    You prefer the snake-faced aliens.

    Can pedagogues discredit learning
    I demand -Do rapists disgrace sex?
    Outside the blank-faced soldiers
    Breathing on the glass of history
    Await their time.

    They are glad to lend their bones
    As lumber. They’re afraid to live.
    Rebel children seize the city
    Experimenting on the damned.
    We’re trapped inside the hourglass

    Moving not in circles but in spirals –
    Moving somewhere.
    You order a stronger round
    I look inside my wallet
    To see what’s left.

  • The Witness: a poem by Alysse Aallyn

    Seafronts. Coastal Rd, Morecambe, Lancashire. Venus and Cupid sculpture by Shane Johnstone (2005). Seated mother swinging child with Morecambe Bay and Cumbrian hills beyond.

    THE WITNESS

    You say you love me for myself but
    I killed that bitch out of jealousy
    Now as sole survivor
    I’m the only clue.
    She was the confidential client
    I left to clean up after.

    In the furnace of morning I lie
    Between darkness and wolfcall
    Charges taunting me like
    unborn children:
    Ask him to marry you, mommy!
    Ask him! Ask him!

  • Cuck’d: a play

    Football Field bleachers. (Victor doing what looks like an Indian rain dance – he is beside himself with glee. Enter Emily)

    Emily
    What are you so happy about?

    Victor
    I’m the man!
    I’m the king!

    (Emily stares at him sardonically, arms akimbo)

    Emily
    So, spill –
    Found somebody’s
    Credit card under the bleachers?

    Victor
    NO.
    I’m an Unstoppable
    Force –
    I’m a MOVER.
    I’m the One!
    Others are just talk –
    I make things happen!
    I stir the pot, the pot
    Bubbles.
    Stick with me sweetlips
    And you’ll see the world.

    Emily

    (Accusingly)

    What did you do now?

    Victor
    I showed Oscar
    His honey’s a whore!

    (Wild victory dance)

    Emily
    Darla?
    You mean her pictures?
    Her pictures were
    Wonderful! That girl’s a
    Goddess.
    I don’t get you guys!
    Always demanding
    We get sexual then
    Using that to disgrace us!

    Victor
    Don’t act innocent around me,
    Honey. I know what you did. And Oscar
    BOUGHT IT!! Guy went
    Crazy!

    (Wild boogie break dancing)

    Emily
    Why you gotta
    Hate, Victor?
    Why ruin everyone
    And everything?
    That poor fool!
    If he didn’t want nudies
    He’s the first guy I’ve heard of.
    How come he
    Believed you over Darla?
    Darla LOVES him.
    No one’s that stupid.

    Victor

    (Playing with her hair)

    Don’t you pay attention
    In history class?
    The bigger the lie
    The more people believe it. ‘Cause
    It’s about NIGHTMARES,
    Baby, we’re controlled by our
    Nightmares!
    Everyone’s got ‘em.
    Play into the NIGHTMARES
    And people believe.

    (he makes his abracadabra gestures in front of her face – she pushes his hands away)

    Emily
    But I thought he loved her!
    Doesn’t that idiot know
    How lucky he is?

    Victor
    Love!
    What’s that even mean?

    Emily
    But why’d he
    Believe YOU.
    You’re not his friend.

    (Victor shakes the phone at her)

    Victor
    Good one, Emily! You’ve been
    SUCH a good girl.A guy’s girl – FOR ONCE.

    Emily
    I sent it only to
    You and to Oscar!

    Victor
    Don’t you know brothers share?
    It’s a sharing economy:
    Bros hang together.

    Emily
    It’s a BEGGAR economy
    A world of extortion and
    Protection where
    Everyone owes you.

    Victor

    (money hand gesture)

    Gotta give some to get some.

    Emily
    You men are
    HOPELESS.
    None of you deserves
    To get fucked EVER
    Again!

    Victor
    Oh, somebody’s
    Getting’ fucked here and
    It ain’t gonna be me!

    Emily
    It certainly won’t!
    And what is
    THAT all about? Why is the worst
    Thing you can insult somebody with is
    “SEXUAL INTERCOURSE!”?
    Why make it so bad?
    You’re always telling us to
    GROW UP
    Face desire
    Then we do and it turns out
    Our partners are BABIES!
    Baby extortionists!

    Victor
    Oh get over yourself.

    (Sniggering)

    Let passion rule
    Idiots – while the Movers &
    Shakers sit pretty!
    We’re having
    Too much fun.

    Emily
    I can’t figure out
    Why we play with
    You toddlers.

    Victor
    Hormones,
    I’m guessin’.
    We’re the only game in town.

    (Emily pulls out her own phone, clicks, smiles ruefully, shakes her head)

    Emily
    Look at her there –
    She’s so sweet
    Such an angel.
    She’s Manet’s Olympia
    Goya’s Naked Maja –
    Look at her –
    She’s so happy.
    She’s so trustful in love
    Thinking Life’s
    About to begin.
    Don’t you know
    Beauty when you see it?
    Lift your head
    Out of the gutter!
    But you snoozed during art class
    You don’t want to wake up.

    Victor
    Art class is for
    PUSSIES!

    (spits)

    Here’s REAL art for you!

    (Showing her his film)

    Emily
    Oh Victor
    YOU DIDN’T.

    Victor
    Oscar made Darla bleed.
    Oscar made her come!
    She’s no goddess after all.
    Did she tell you
    What his cock’s like?
    Spics are hung like donkeys –
    They gotta be –
    Squirtin’ over the fence
    Spreadin’ their seed!

    Emily
    You’re disgusting!

    Victor

    (Very calm and in charge)

    I’m SUCCESSFUL.
    I’m EFFECTIVE.
    Oscar fights with Darla
    Coach sees our movie
    Coach says BYE BYE
    We own the school.

    Emily
    You said you wouldn’t
    Hurt people!

    Victor
    Haven’t YOU
    Done things you said
    You’d never do?

    Emily
    Why’s Oscar blame Darla?

    Victor
    “Cause he sees she’s a whore.
    Like every other slutty
    Fallen girl.


    Emily
    Like ME you mean?
    Is that what you mean?

    Victor
    Men rule
    Girls drool
    Who’s the fool?

    Emily

    (She turns away from him)

    You’ve got a point there.
    You showed Oscar your movie?

    Victor

    (Gleeful excitement)

    Oscar went ripshit! He
    Threatened to
    KILL her!

    Emily
    Over some PICTURES?

    Victor

    (Acts all innocent, toeing the dust)

    I did mention he might be wrong
    About her virginity.

    Emily
    Victor! You are a
    Rabblerouser! Darla
    Was incontestably
    One hundred percent virgin!
    You know it and I know it!

    Victor

    (slyly)

    Well, she ain’t no more. So
    Nobody proves nothin’.
    Girls go under the knife
    Get changed all the time.

    (She pushes him away from her in disgust)

    Emily
    And it doesn’t even matter!
    It’s all stupid anyway!

    Victor
    It DOES matter!
    No man wants to
    Honor a SLUT.

    Emily
    You guys are the sluts!
    Why demand trust when
    We can’t ever trust you?
    Don’t you get it?
    GAME OVER,
    I’m telling you.
    Game over!

    Victor

    (Very superior)

    Men CAN’T be sluts
    Sweetheart.
    It’s not in the rulebook.
    Everyone knows. You just
    Ask around.

    Emily
    You are
    PITIFUL.
    I am so done with this place.
    You think Oscar might
    Hurt Darla?

    Victor

    (Excited)

    Oh, Oscar went off.
    He was
    Waving a KNIFE.

    (Making crazy face then seeing her expression, excuses)

    Hey, it’s not MY fault.

    Emily
    It totally is!

    Victor
    It’s not my fault
    In any court of law!
    Now WHO’S the one snoozing
    Through civics and Dare.
    I didn’t say
    Kill the bitch!
    That’s all HIS idea.
    My conscience is CLEAR.
    And by the way, sister
    You’re in this
    To your eyebrows.

    Emily
    Victor, you’re a
    BASTARD!

    Victor
    HEY!

    (Emily rushes offstage. Lights out.)

  • Cuck’d: a play

    Victor works Emily, his off-again, on-again girlfriend

    (Oscar stalks offstage. Victor minces behind him, Rocky vaults over bleachers)

    Rocky
    You’re off course, Victor!
    Throwin’ shade on Darla!

    Victor
    Hey, bro we discussed this!
    You want to fend off intruders
    Or hug them hello?
    Martial arts says
    Use their own weight AGAINST THEM
    Let them knock
    THEMSELVES down.
    Achilles had a heel, my Rocky
    You should know from school history
    And Oscar’s heel looks like DARLA!!!
    So let’s bring him to heel.
    You gotta use bluster!
    My gift of gab fathers brainworms
    No soldier can shake! It’s
    Strategy, man!
    “Cringe theory!”
    Makin’ war with their heads!
    Cringe theory’s my superpower.

    Rocky
    Not if people get hurt!

    Victor
    Quit your puss-ups,
    My brutha! And don’t be pathetic.
    It’s toughen or die
    In this world, little Rocky
    Gotta go for the prizes
    The treasures of paradise
    Don’t fall in your lap.
    We gotta fight for them –
    Smarter and better – sink foes in
    Stupidity – till their filth
    Swallows them whole and
    Leaves the field empty.
    Empty for US.

    Rocky
    Coach says you’re just
    Cynical: using your brain
    To avoid all the
    Sweat and sore muscles.

    Victor
    And what’s wrong with that?
    Don’t see them bankers out
    Laboring
    Stop being a cunt, Rocky.
    If I prove what I say, are
    You with me, or not?

    Rocky
    You can’t prove Darla’s
    A nympho! I know that much
    For certain.

    Victor
    Won’t YOU be surprised.
    Can’t trust ME, trust
    Your own eyes.
    I can prove anything
    On anyone – prove
    Darla’s a nympho and
    Oscar’s an idiot.He’ll be publicly scorned and
    Thrown off the team.
    Do you dare me?

    Rocky
    I dare you. But
    Don’t let it sink you.

    Victor
    Nothing sinks me – I’m
    Unsinkable – The only guy here
    Who’s in charge of himself.
    Coach did me a favor
    Kicking me off the team.
    Now I see the world
    Truthfully.
    Let my game play out.

    Rocky
    I’m more confused
    By your solutions
    Than even my problems!

    (His phone chimes)

    Catch your act later
    Victor – I’m late
    For detention.

    Victor

    (To audience)

    All these poor boneheads
    Still “going to school”.
    This place is a backwater
    For ignorant jerkwads.

    (plays with his phone)

    Victor
    Well I know one person
    Still comes when I call.

    (Emily appears, highly disgruntled, shaking her phone)

    Emily
    What fresh hell is this?
    Are you crazy?

    Victor

    (affectionate and conciliatory)

    Great to see you too
    Baby, give Papa a kiss.

    (She pushes him away)

    Emily
    I am NOT getting you
    Sex pics of Darla!

    Victor
    Level the playing field
    Sugar, you’ve got to just
    Face it! Darla
    Thinking she’s special
    Is harshing your style.
    She’s slut-shaming you.

    Emily

    (Despite her best intentions this is getting to her)

    She is NOT. We’re
    Best friends 4-EVA.

    Victor

    (Deep significance – flashes his phone)

    What would she say
    If she saw THESE?
    Think she’d be disgusted?
    Think she’d talk you down?

    Emily
    Stop it! That’s not fair!
    I was playing a part!

    (tearful)

    I was only a kid!

    Victor
    Prudes
    And their body issues –
    So…what’s wrong with HER body?

    Emily
    Nothing wrong with Darla’s body!
    You know she’s just shy.

    Victor
    She’s a prude!

    Emily
    She’s got standards.

    Victor
    Hey, I ain’t asking
    For porno!
    Nude ladies be art!

    (Considers)

    Not that pornos are bad.
    I mean if Darla wanted –
    You never know what’s lurking
    Behind Darla’s green door.

    Emily
    Darla has no
    Green door!

    Victor
    Just one nudie pic – please?
    And
    I’ll destroy all of these.

    (She snatches for his phone – he holds it just out of reach)

    Emily
    You already
    SAID you destroyed them!

    Victor
    But honey – they’re
    So beautiful! So precious
    To my heart.

    Emily
    Not that one with
    The blindfold.

    Victor
    Oh, quit your drama!
    Be glad they ain’t posted.

    Emily
    You sent them to ME!
    They’ll be somewhere
    FOREVER.

    Victor
    Grow up “Miss Emily”. Allow
    Poor space aliens to
    Get off on your booty!

    Emily
    I NEVER SAID YES.
    I was asleep for
    The first ones!

    Victor
    Didn’t you give me your body?
    You know you did
    Sugar. Who
    “Consent” breaks the mood.
    I’m “equal opportunity –“ sugah –
    Don’t I send you dic pics?

    Emily
    It’s not even YOUR dick!

    Victor
    Some of them are!

    Emily
    Face it, Victor.
    Some girls just don’t
    Want to be filmed.

    Victor
    Don’t you believe it, sister
    Every chick’s got a
    Mayadere hiding in her
    Someplace.
    Don’t you owe it to history
    To immortalize
    This gorgeousness?

    (he plays with her hair)

    Emily
    First time I’ve
    Heard THAT argument.
    You said I was so
    “Inadequate” I ought
    To get implants.

    Victor
    Only if you
    Want them. I know you
    Emily. You’re all
    About Art.
    “Cinema verité.”

    (air quotes)

    Making it real and
    KEEPING it real.

    Emily
    Can’t believe
    You were listening.

    Victor
    I’ve heard everything
    You’ve ever said.
    You talk in your sleep.

    Emily
    Uh oh. Just giving you
    More ammo.

    Victor
    Let’s say your
    Outward persona
    Don’t recognize your
    Inner child. But
    You’re safe with me.

    Emily
    If only.

    Victor
    Don’t act so
    Unwilling. Isn’t
    “Cinema verité“ about
    Tagging the unwary?
    Just shop your moniker!

    Emily
    Fun as this is to
    Talk about art
    I’m not creating sex pics
    Of Darla for your hounds’
    Delectation.

    Victor
    Oh, give the dogs
    SOMETHING.
    How about pillow fights? Two
    Naked girls and a whole
    World of feathers. Now
    That’s artistic! Or you play
    With her boobies – I’m sayin –
    It could
    Put you through college.

    (Emily facepalms in rage and despair, Victor puts arms around her)

    Victor

    oh honey, if only you saw
    How beautiful you are.
    Lucky me!
    You will never be as gorgeous as
    You are right this minute.

    (Kissing and nuzzling. Emily starts to give in. He nibbles her ear.)

    Victor
    You know we’ve got
    To get rid of him.

    Emily

    (Pulling away)

    Who? Oscar?

    Victor
    Yes, Oscar.
    Everything bad ever
    Started with Oscar.

    Emily
    Leave Oscar alone!
    Stop trying
    To get even. And stop
    Hanging out with mofos like Rocky!
    He’s got shit for brains!

    Victor
    Rocky’s good people.

    Emily
    I know Rocky’s behind this
    He just wants revenge porn
    Because Darla dumped him.

    Victor
    So what? I got Rocky’s back.
    Maybe Rocky’s just human.

    Emily
    Listen –
    My gramma says
    The best revenge
    Is getting into the college
    Of your choice.

    Victor

    (sighs dramatically)

    Sugar, Rocky NEEDS this. And
    He’s too proud to ask.

    Emily
    But Darla’s my FRIEND!

    Victor
    Why you so protective?
    Think she’s better than you?

    Emily
    Girls got to stay loyal.

    Victor
    You’ve got HER back but
    What’s SHE done for you?
    She’s making you look bad.

    Emily
    You guys so stuck on “status”
    Passing chicks like
    Sports cards – you
    Don’t KNOW from friendship. You
    Don’t understand.

    Victor
    You’re not fooling me Sugar.
    Remember I’m your Daddy and
    You talk in your sleep.
    I know you better than
    You know yourself. You’re
    A secret resenter
    ‘Cause Darla’s got
    EVERYTHING while
    You got a broke-ass kid’s bed
    In the basement of
    Your grandparents’ house?

    Emily
    Don’t you go draggin’ my
    Grandfolks! They’ve been
    So good to me.

    Victor

    (Smooth change of tack)

    Some friend YOU are
    Standing by while your bestie
    While she gets herself inseminated
    With terrorist anchor babies!

    Emily

    (Disturbed but trying to stay cool)

    Who’s drama now?

    Victor
    Them kind don’t
    Use rubbers. Trust me, my
    Poptart ‘cause I know the world.
    They’re all bareback and
    Rough riding – that’s what they like.
    Look at the size of him – poor
    Darla’s got no chance –
    He wants something
    He TAKES it! They think
    Rape is foreplay.

    Emily
    You’re disgusting!

    Victor
    I’m makin’ it real and
    Keepin’ it real which you
    PRETEND that you value.
    Who tells truth
    If you don’t get it from me?
    If Darla got pregnant – you know
    What she’d do.

    Emily

    (Sighs)

    She’d have that damn baby
    Darla’s a sticker. DAMN –
    That girl is old school.

    Victor
    So – now you’ve got the chance to
    Nip this in the bud!
    That’s what REAL friends would do.
    Show her Oscar’s true colors!

    Emily

    (wavering)

    How can nudies fix anything?

    Victor
    ‘Cause Oscar will dump her!
    And Coach will dump HIM!

    Emily
    You’re not helping your
    “Nudes are art” theory
    With this “pics are
    Hand grenades” plot.
    Make up your mind!

    Victor
    It’s Oscar’s mind I’m
    Playing with. That guy’s
    A caveman! You know
    How they are. Here’s
    Your chance to expose him!

    Emily
    You’re talking crazy.

    Victor
    Hey, I’ll contain all the
    Damage. Where are YOUR
    Nudie pix? Safe and sound!

    (pats his phone)

    See? You know you can trust me!
    You know Daddy’s good for it!

    Emily
    But you’re so
    Conniving – playing
    Both sides to middle.

    Victor
    Oh, be a guy’s girl for once
    Like you. claimed
    To be when
    You promised yourself to me.
    Don’t go all
    Girlie-girl.

    (makes what he thinks is a mincing gesture)

    Emily
    This is the whole problem
    With high school monogamy!
    We’re such different people
    In four short years!

    Victor

    (Offended)

    Well, I ain’t no Ken doll.

    Emily
    And I’m no Barbie!

    Victor
    Truthfully –
    Ain’t it been wonderful
    How we stick together?
    You got all your friends’ envy.

    Emily
    ‘Cause they don’t know the truth.
    They don’t see my
    Compromise.

    (Victor pours on the sugar)

    Victor
    It’s a cold world out there, baby.
    A girl needs protection.

    Emily

    (Exhausted)

    Oh leave me alone.
    I can’t cope. You’re like
    A bulldozing
    Bloviator.

    (She exits; Victor does silent victory dance)

  • Cuck’d: a play

    Rocky watches Victor work Oscar

    (Enter Oscar, big handsome Hispanic guy in football uniform)

    Victor

    (grabs Oscar’s hand, chest bumps)

    Guess the best man won!
    Congratulations are in order!

    Oscar
    Hey, wow!
    You’re a big fellow.
    I mean no disrespect –

    (flustered because Victor’s NOT a “big fellow”)

    No one likes gettin’ cut. You sure there’s
    No hard feelings?

    Victor
    Won’t be
    Hard feelings
    When you win us
    State Champion!

    Oscar
    Champions, man!

    (They high five)

    People here are so nice.
    My abuela was worried
    But now I’m
    In classes, got a
    Tutor, live in a
    Nice house with Coach.
    Even got me a girlfriend.

    Victor

    (loud phony whistle)

    Got a girlfriend
    ALREADY?

    Oscar
    Coach’s own daughter!
    He gave us his blessing.
    She’s wearing my ring.

    Victor

    (glances at Rocky peering thru bleachers)

    Fancy footwork my friend!

    Oscar

    (faking Victor out, dodging around him)

    It’s the speed and the moves
    That’s what I’m best at.

    Victor
    Darla’s always been
    Prettiest. But…

    (fakes sotto voce)

    Word out she’s an Ice Maiden. Them
    Nymphos got reps.

    Oscar
    I don’t know what you’re saying –
    She warmed up to me.
    What’s that name you called her?

    Victor
    Darla? If it’s
    DARLA we’re talking about –

    (trying not to laugh)

    Darla needs new blood ‘cause
    She’s been through the school.
    Don’t know if I can congratulate
    You on landing THAT one.

    Oscar

    (Angry and suspicious)

    We’re going to prom!

    Victor
    You don’t need to believe ME,
    Buddy but
    Your Darla’s got skidmarks.

    (Leans forward)

    She needs management, my brutha.
    No dissing intended but
    Don’t let her get away
    Pretending she’s better.

    Oscar
    Darla’s no nympho
    Darla’s a virgin!

    Victor
    Sure, sure – they’re all
    “Immaculate” – spring back
    Like a rubber band
    The moment you touch her.
    They say the Virgin Mary had
    Babies – maybe that cross necklace
    Really DOES work.

    Oscar

    (Pulls a knife)

    You’re just jealous.
    You’re all of you liars. I’m not
    Buying your blasphemous bullcrap.
    Haters get shaded and
    Players get played.

    (fighting stance)

    Victor

    (Backing away)

    Whoa, boy! Chill OUT! Don’t
    Kill the messenger!
    I’m here to HELP you!

    Oscar
    I’m saying what’s true.
    Not suffering your crap.
    I can protect myself.

    Victor
    I’m friending you, dude.
    You’re the new guy in town so
    They’re setting you up!
    “Coach’s daughter!” All
    Part of the strategy to
    Get you embroiled so you can’t
    Run away.

    Oscar

    (Sheathes the knife)

    I wasn’t born
    Yesterday – I see what you’re after.
    You’re hot and bothered getting
    Kicked off the team.

    Victor
    Do I look bothered to you?
    I’m a truth-teller, buddy
    That’s why I got sidelined
    They don’t want me to
    Warn you! I’m wise to their plays and
    I can’t go along!
    Bro solidarity – it’s
    Life blood to me.

    (Beats chest)

    Bros before hos.
    Not just in the barrio.

    Oscar
    Call Darla names
    And you’re going
    DOWN.
    No matter what.
    Darla’s a nice girl.

    Victor
    Who’d ask for belief
    Without offer of proof?

    Oscar
    What “proof” could you have?

    Victor
    Photography don’t lie.
    Today’s taste test
    My brutha.

    Oscar
    Don’t “brutha” me
    You got nothing.
    I ain’t listening.

    Victor
    But you’ll look at the evidence?

    Oscar
    If there IS any evidence.
    I was so stupid! Thought I
    Left guys like you
    Behind in the barrio –
    Now I can see
    Flea rats are everywhere.

    (His phone chimes)

    Gotta go, man.
    Can’t miss my first study hall.

    (Oscar stalks offstage. Victor minces behind him, Rocky vaults over bleachers)

    Rocky
    You’re off course, Victor!
    Throwin’ shade on Darla!