by Rajiv Joseph
She realizes Suresh can’t hear her. She shouts his name again.
ILANA: Suresh!
He takes the earphones out, music out.
SURESH: What?
ILANA: Can you turn off your music for two seconds? Where’s . . . where’s that . . . um . . . there was an envelope . . . it was marked I think with . . .
SURESH: The mesh heart shit?
ILANA: No. Yeah, I mean . . . the documents from the medical team.
SURESH: File cabinet. Top drawer.
Ilana goes to it.
SURESH: So how’d it go?
ILANA: It went fine.
SURESH: They cool with you?
ILANA: It went fine.
SURESH: What did you tell them?
ILANA: Listen to your music.
SURESH: I don’t want to anymore.
ILANA: Fine.
SURESH: Fine.
ILANA: It’s going to blizzard. You should probably get home. It’s going to dump on us tonight.
Ilana goes to the fridge and takes out a carton of milk, which she drinks from for the rest of the scene.
SURESH: A tempestuous Valentine’s Day. Fro Dog taking you out?
ILANA: Huh? Yeah, sure.
SURESH: Frodesiac! Candlelight dinner and everything.
Ilana suddenly looks around for something.
ILANA: Suresh, where’s the fire extinguisher?
SURESH: Where’s the fire?
She finds the fire extinguisher and puts it on the kitchen counter and holds it for a moment, relieved.
ILANA: What is that, a dinosaur?
SURESH: Word. A tyrannosaurus. I love the tyrannosaurus.
Anybody who says they have another favorite dinosaur is lying. Trust me. You can’t love dinosaurs and not be like BFF with the T. rex. You know what I’m saying?
ILANA: Whatever. I like the brontosaurus. That’s my favorite.
SURESH: That’s cause you’re a woman. Brontosaurus is a woman’s dinosaur.
ILANA: So? tyrannosaurus is juvenile.
SURESH: Shut up.
ILANA: You shut up.
Ilana flops on the couch.
ILANA: I can’t work in a clean environment. It’s just the way I am. I need to see everything at once. I need clutter.
SURESH: Clutter’ll grow back.
Suresh gets a plastic shoe box.
SURESH: I folded something for you, it might be helpful for the mesh heart . . .
ILANA: Jesus, how much did you fold today?
SURESH: The T. rex.
But I finished some other stuff I’ve been working on, too.
I busted a phat icosahedron using that Japanese stone tile #14 with the foil-looking backside. That shit is off the hook. And then this, though . . . this is some serious action . . .
ILANA: (half-laughing, half-serious) Would you just stop!
SURESH: What?
ILANA: Just stop!
SURESH: Okay . . .
ILANA: I just need you to slow down. Do you understand? I mean, I come home and my whole place has just morphed into somebody else’s space and I’m trying to just gather my thoughts and you’re here folding away. Just folding away.
SURESH: I thought I was supposed to.
ILANA: Could you stop being a genius for two minutes please? Listen to your music.
SURESH: You should listen to my music! Don’t you have a stereo or something?
ILANA: My ex took the stereo. He took all the music.
SURESH: You want, I can burn you some CDs.
ILANA: What? Rap music?
SURESH: Hip-hop.
ILANA: No thank you.
SURESH: You haven’t even listened to it.
ILANA: I don’t need to listen to something to know I’m not going to like it.
SURESH: How can you even say that? Of course you do. Especially you.
ILANA: Why especially me?
SURESH: You been struggling with that mesh heart? Why? Because you haven’t found the zone yet.
ILANA: I’m not struggling.
SURESH: I’m just saying, music can help. When Fro Dog gave me those books, I cruised through the animals and shit real fast. It was the complex polyhedra that threw me for the loop. So I’m sitting there, trying to wrap my brain around that shit, and I got my iPod on, you know? And I’m listening to this MC laying down these dope rhymes, freestyling, and there was something about his rhymes and his voice that just sort of spoke to my paper, to my hands. So I always think that folding is just like freestyling. It’s like folding is like the evolution of a rhyme. So you gotta freestyle a little bit.
ILANA: I gotta freestyle. Thanks for the advice.
SURESH: Yeah, improvising your rhymes. Or your folds.
Like, say you want to fold a simple cube. Boring. Okay, but here’s where you start, a simple fold, a simple rhyme. So I’m gonna freestyle. On what? What should I rap about?
ILANA: What, you’re going to rap?
SURESH: Yeah, give me a topic.
ILANA: Anything?
SURESH: Yeah, give me something.
ILANA: Okay . . . um . . .
(she holds up her carton of milk) Okay, how about milk?
SURESH: Milk.
ILANA: Yeah. Rap about milk.
SURESH: That’s wack.
ILANA: Well, that’s what I want.
SURESH: Awright. Shit.
Okay. What is that? Nasty-ass skim milk?
ILANA: That’s exactly what it is.
SURESH: Skim.
Awright then.
Check it:
One percent, two percent, skim, and whole
Drink it down fast, make your body feel cold
Keep your bones strong now, even when you’re old
May not want to do it, but you’ll do what you’re told.
Okay, right?
ILANA: (sarcastic) Very impressive.
SURESH: But that’s simple. I figure, we take it to the next level. If that was a cube, let’s say this next rhyme is like, an octahedron.
(he thinks) See, I’m all about prevention of osteoporosis
But some motherfuckers gonna always oppose this
With bones so bad you got halitosis
And they splinter and crack and I know that you know this.
ILANA: Yeah, it’s cute, Suresh. I’m glad you can rhyme about milk. Somehow I don’t see this helping me fold the mesh heart.
SURESH: But check it: it’s still too simplistic. It’s a basic rhyme scheme. The rhyme always comes on the last word.
It’s like if you had all your folds in the same place? You’d never fold anything cool.
So the adept MCs they’ll fold their rhymes in different places. And so the shape of their language is unpredictable. Unpredictability! It’s a good thing . . . in music, in origami.
ILANA: Do you even read music?
SURESH: What, like notes and shit on a page?
ILANA: Yeah, notes on a page.
SURESH: Hell no.
ILANA: I figured you didn’t. Rap has no musical notation. There’s no way of writing it down.
SURESH: Why’s music gotta be written down? You gotta just play it, sing it, freestyle it. Like this: check it—
ILANA: Great. More milk rhymes.
SURESH: I’m trying to demonstrate something to you, okay? Why you gotta be so mean about it?
ILANA: Okay okay okay . . .
SURESH: I’m about to up the ante. We about to fold a stellated truncated icosahedron.
I’m gonna bust some serious shit now, Ilana. You ready for some serious shit?
ILANA: I am ready for some serious shit.
SURESH: (he bobs his head, thinking; this is done slowly, with a tinge of uncertainty, since he is making it up as he goes along)
My girl Ilana she don’t know but she a lady madonna
She drinkin skim milk and dairy cause the calcium gonna
Give her bones and her tones and whatever she wanna
Cause she my prima Ilana
Homogenized her momma,
Supersized mañana
Hypothesized McDonald’s fries
Would sweat her like a sauna.
Now the silk trade’s gone
And the milkmaid’s song
Can’t be Kelis cause her milk shake kicked it back to Hong Kong.
My White Russian she’s a lush and barely wearin a thong
She barely carryin along
A fairy tale that’s gone wrong
She pullin tubes with ice cubes
Milky hits from the bong.
ILANA: (laughs) So you just made that up? Just now?
SURESH: Yeah, that was just off the top of my dome.
ILANA: You just invented those rhymes as you were speaking them?
SURESH: Word. And there’s themes in there, you know, milkish themes. And if that were a crease pattern, it’d be all the fuck over the place.
ILANA: But it’s not a crease pattern, it’s a rhyme scheme.
SURESH: Same thing!
ILANA: No, not the same thing! And you can’t freestyle something that’s going to wrap around somebody’s heart.
SURESH: Why not?
ILANA: Because it’s too important.
It’s somebody’s sick heart. I’m not going to just wing it.
(beat) Just because you can fold anything you want doesn’t mean you understand everything. You told me to think about tessellations. So I did. And it sounds good, but it really doesn’t help at all. You might as well tell me to think about “shapes.”
For me it’s not about improvisation, it’s about rigor, okay? If origami is music, it’s a fugue. It’s a repeating theme, painstakingly arranged on paper before you can do anything with it.
SURESH: (dismissive; like a child) You’re a fugue.
ILANA: I am not a fugue.
SURESH: Yeah you are. You’re just a repeating theme, sitting on your couch, eating the same damn Szechuan beef every night, complaining about everything and never folding nothing.
ILANA: Fuck you.
SURESH: And dropping F-bombs like mad.
ILANA: At least I can read music.
SURESH: So?
ILANA: You only understand things one way. You don’t understand how I fold like I do.
SURESH: How do you fold then?
ILANA: So, look I have this one crease pattern . . . oh, you’d love this . . .
Ilana goes to look for it.
ILANA: I had this terrific paper I bought in bulk from Japan, really strong, fibrous stuff, and I took it to this research and development company. I got permission to use their industrial laser cutter so I could make these complicated folds.
SURESH: You used a laser?
ILANA: It was cool.
SURESH: You used a laser to fold?
ILANA: If you put it on a really low setting, you can just score the paper. It’s perfect for folding. You’re gonna love this.
She can’t find the stuff. Her files are all organized and put away.
SURESH: It’s kind of like cheating, though, right?
ILANA: It’s not cheating.
SURESH: Cheating. Cheater. Laser-cheater.
ILANA: If I could even find my stuff maybe I could fucking show you.
SURESH: F-bomb. Cheater.
Ilana takes a large crate that Suresh had organized and dumps it on the floor. Paper everywhere.
ILANA: Now I’ll find it!
Suresh flips out, but Ilana doesn’t realize how serious he is right away.
SURESH: What are you doing!?
ILANA: I’m finding my stuff!
SURESH: I just did that! That took me all day!
ILANA: That’s why I don’t clean! It’s a futile endeavor.
SURESH: What’s your problem!?
ILANA: What?!
Suresh goes and tries to reorganize the paper.
SURESH: It took me all day! I had everything in there totally organized, a whole system and . . . and why’d you go do this!
ILANA: Suresh! Calm down!
SURESH: (realizing his organization is lost) Aw shit, man! This is fucked! You fucked it all up!
ILANA: It’s okay! It’s just paper!
Suresh hits the ground and then gets up, facing her.
SURESH: All that work and you just ruined it!
ILANA: (slightly losing temper) I didn’t ask you to clean, Suresh, and it’s just paper anyhow!
SURESH: This place was disgusting. Trash everywhere, junk everywhere.
That’s probably why your husband left you. That’s probably why your stupid dog ran off. Cause you’re such a mess all the time.
Ilana steps back, hurt, far more than Suresh intended. She doesn’t say or do anything, but it’s clear to Suresh he hurt her.
A long silence. Suresh wants to say something, to apologize but he doesn’t know how. Somehow in this silence they agree to let it pass.
ILANA: (quietly) You need to go home now. It’s late, and it’s going to blizzard.
Suresh gets his coat and bag.
He goes to the plastic shoe box he had earlier. He opens it and takes out an origami three-dimensional life-sized human heart.
SURESH: I made you a heart.
He gives it to her.
Ilana takes it.
SURESH: To help you with the mesh heart sleeve.
ILANA: When did you do this?
SURESH: I dunno. All week.
Everything’s there. Every chamber and valve.
Exact proportions of an adult-sized human heart. Or mine, anyway. I made it the size of my fist.
Happy Valentine’s Day or whatever.
Ilana holds the heart, amazed at its quality.
ILANA: How did you do this?
Suresh looks at her, shakes his head.
SURESH: (points to a diagram of the heart) I looked at that. And I folded it.
ACT 2
Scene 1.
A romantic restaurant, later that night. Ilana and Andy sit at a table sipping wine. Valentine heart décor surrounds them.
ANDY: Valentine’s Day! What a messed-up holiday.
I haven’t had a date on Valentine’s Day since . . . well . . . let’s just say, it’s been a long while.
ILANA: Since Maxine?
ANDY: (chokes on his wine) How do you know about Maxine?
ILANA: Your book, Andy.
ANDY: Oh for crying out loud.
ILANA: I’m sorry.
ANDY: Yes. Since Maxine.
ILANA: I should just . . . not mention it.
ANDY: Maxine and I . . . well, it wasn’t the best relationship ever.
ILANA: I know.
ANDY: It was probably my worst relationship ever.
ILANA: Well . . . I mean, it was your only one, right?
ANDY: Jeez!
ILANA: I’m sorry. It’s wrong of me to . . . I should just erase all that from my mind.
ANDY: Maxine.
Maximum Maxine.
Deep inside, a good person.
ILANA : I mean, she killed all your plants. On purpose.
ANDY: It’s weird to not be able to lie a little to someone. I mean, you know? You know every detail about me now. Why should I even lie?
ILANA: Don’t lie, then.
ANDY: I guess I’m going to try not to.
My heart. On a sleeve. For you.
(goes into his breast pocket) Which reminds me. Here.
From his breast pocket, Andy takes out a one-dimensional origami pink symmetrical heart valentine.
ANDY: I made you a valentine.
ILANA: You did?
ANDY: I folded it.
ILANA: It’s lovely!
ANDY: It’s stupid.
ILANA: It’s a lovely heart.
ANDY: It’s a valentine.
ILANA: Andy . . . It’s so sweet.
ANDY: Happy Valentine’s Day.
ILANA: I didn’t get you anything.
ANDY: Oh, don’t worry about that.
ILANA: I just . . . I don’t
know, I’ve never been a huge fan of Valentine’s Day.
ANDY: No, I know. I mean, it’s a total corporate . . . commercial . . . consumer . . . event.
ILANA: Yeah. No. I mean, that’s not why . . . I mean . . . about ten years ago . . . My husband and I, we were engaged at the time . . . I’m sorry. You probably don’t want to hear this . . .
ANDY: No, I do!
ILANA: This is a . . . this is a pretty miserable story, but we were living in this tiny old house. This wasn’t on Valentine’s Day, it was like a week before, I think. And we both got really drunk and got into a huge argument. And Demba . . . Demba was our dog . . .
ANDY: The dog who ran off?
ILANA: Yeah, but this was when he was only about two years old . . . Demba would get really excitable, especially when Mike and I would fight. So we stuck Demba in the garage that night, because he kept barking and jumping around. You know, he was a shepherd mix . . . a big dog . . . anyhow, we were drunk and we passed out in separate rooms, and Mike passed out with a stupid cigarette in his hand. And the house caught fire, and neither of us woke up.
ANDY: Oh my God . . .
ILANA: See, the house was a mess anyway . . . but I had so much paper. Reams and reams of different paper, all over the place, hanging off the kitchen table, the sofa, all over the place. It went up quick. But Demba smelled the smoke, and he chewed his way through the door into the house. The door was solid . . . a really strong, hard wood. And he broke off most of his teeth, he got splinters in his gums . . . and he tore his way into our burning house and woke me up and then woke Mike up. And we got out. And the house burned down.
ANDY: That’s incredible.
ILANA: So, Valentine’s Day kind of always reminds me of being in the vet’s office, while Demba had splinters removed from his gums.
ANDY: God!
They sip their wine. Ilana looks at Andy’s valentine.
ANDY: He was a good dog.
ILANA: Yeah he was.
He sure was.
Anyhow. Enough of that. Sorry. Not a great . . . I’m not the greatest date in the world tonight.
ANDY: You’re perfect.
They smile at each other.
ILANA: Yeah. Perfecto.
(beat) Anyhow, in the mail today, I received an invitation. To a very exclusive origami convention.
