Angels in America

by Tony Kushner

  (Joe does. Louis responds. Joe starts to unzip Louis’s pants. Louis stops him.)

  LOUIS: No, wait, fuck, I’m like lost in an ideological leather bar with you. I want my, my clarity back, what little I ever possessed, it’s been stolen by, I mean, I mean I wish you weren’t so, so . . .

  JOE: Conservative.

  LOUIS: No. So fucking gorgeous. And conservative! Though if you were gorgeous and your politics didn’t horrifically suck I’d really be in trouble here, but yes, I do sort of wish you weren’t responsible for everything bad and evil in the world.

  JOE (Not taking the bait, trying to keep the sex going forward): You give me way too much credit.

  LOUIS: Right, I mean, Reagan deserves his fair share.

  (Joe playfully pulls Louis’s hair, but Louis shakes his hand away. Louis’s withdrawal is beginning to make Joe apprehensive: something’s up.)

  JOE: You’re obsessed, you know that? If people like you didn’t have President Reagan to demonize, where would you be?

  LOUIS: If he didn’t have people like me to demonize where would he be? Upper-right-hand square on The Hollywood Squares.

  JOE (Seriously): I’m not your enemy. Louis.

  LOUIS: I never said you were my—

  JOE: Fundamentally, we both want the same thing.

  (Little pause. Louis nods his head yes, then:)

  LOUIS: I don’t think that’s true.

  JOE: It is.

  What you did . . . When you walked out on him, that was, it must’ve been hard. To do that. The world may not understand it or approve but . . . You did what you needed to do. And, and since I first met you, I . . . I consider you very brave. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as—

  LOUIS: Nobody does what I did, Joe. Nobody.

  JOE: But maybe many want to.

  This is so . . . This isn’t . . . But.

  (Beat)

  I. I’m maybe . . . falling in—

  (Louis laughs, embarrassed and alarmed.)

  LOUIS: No you’re not.

  JOE (Angry): Don’t laugh at— Don’t say that. I am. I’m—

  LOUIS: You’re not! You can’t be, it’s only been two weeks.

  (Continue below:)

  JOE: Three, actually, and what difference does that— I’ve never felt so, um, so happy to, so hungry for anyone before, it’s like all the time I—

  LOUIS (Continuous from above): It takes years to . . . feel like that, love, love, ohmygod, love, if there even is such a thing as, as— You think you do but that’s just the, the gay virgin thing, that’s—

  JOE: You and I, Louis, we’re the same. We are. We both want the same thing. We both—

  LOUIS: I want to see Prior again.

  (Joe freezes, then turns away.)

  LOUIS: I miss him, I—

  JOE: You want to go back to—

  LOUIS: I just . . . need to see him again.

  It’s like a, a bubble rising through rock, it’s taken time, these weeks, with you, but—

  Don’t you . . . You must want to see your wife.

  (Little pause.)

  JOE: I miss her, I feel bad for her, I . . . I’m afraid of her.

  LOUIS: Yes.

  JOE: And I want more to be with—

  LOUIS: I have to. See him.

  Please don’t look so sad.

  Do you understand what I—

  JOE: You don’t want to see me anymore.

  LOUIS (Uncertainly): I—

  JOE: Louis.

  Anything.

  LOUIS: What?

  JOE: Anything. Whatever you want. I can give up anything.

  My skin.

  (Joe starts to remove his clothes. When he realizes what Joe is doing, Louis tries to stop him.)

  LOUIS: What are you doing, someone will see us, it’s not a nude beach, it’s freezing!

  (Joe pushes Louis away, Louis falls, and Joe removes the rest of his clothing, tearing the temple garment off. He’s naked.)

  JOE: I’m flayed. No past now. I could give up anything. Maybe . . . in what we’ve been doing, maybe I’m even infected.

  LOUIS: No you’re—

  JOE: I’m so . . . afraid of that. Of things I never knew I’d ever be afraid of, things I didn’t even know existed until we—I’m afraid, now, maybe for the first time, really . . . um, scared.

  Because I don’t want to be sick. I want to live now. Maybe for the first time ever. And . . .

  And I can be anything, anything I need to be. And I want to be with you.

  (Louis starts to gather up Joe’s clothes and dress him.)

  JOE: You have a good heart and you think the good thing is to be guilty and kind always but it’s not always kind to be gentle and soft, there’s a genuine violence softness and weakness visit on people. You ought to think about that.

  LOUIS: I will. Think about it.

  JOE: You ought to think about—

  LOUIS: Yeah, I will.

  JOE: —about what you’re doing to me. No, I mean— (Continue below:)

  LOUIS: I’m sorry, I will, I, I tried to warn you that I—

  JOE (Continuous from above): What you need. Think about what you need. Be brave.

  (Louis starts to walk away from Joe. Joe calls after him:)

  JOE: And then you’ll come back to me.

  (Louis turns back to Joe, then turns again and leaves the beach. Joe starts to dress himself, then sinks to his knees in the sand.

  Prior returns home to his apartment. He unwraps his layers of black prophet clothes. He is sweating heavily and feels very sick.

  He goes to the sink, runs water, splashes a little on his face, shudders.

  Joe, on the beach, looks up and yells:)

  JOE: YOU’LL COME BACK TO ME!

  (Joe remains, kneeling in the sand, trying to collect himself, unable to move.

  Louis is now at a payphone at the edge of a parking lot near the beach.

  Prior, in his apartment, takes one pill each from three different bottles, puts them in his mouth, then puts his mouth to the faucet.

  Louis dials a number.

  In Prior’s apartment, the phone rings. Prior’s still swallowing. He grabs the phone.)

  PRIOR: Wait, I have a mouthful of pills and water, I—

  LOUIS: Prior? It’s Lou.

  (Prior swallows.)

  LOUIS: I want to see you.

  ACT FOUR:

  John Brown’s Body

  January 1986

  Scene 1

  Two days later. Roy and Joe in Roy’s hospital room. Roy’s in a big hospital chair, the kind that makes it possible for very sick people to sit upright briefly. The tube of an IV drip bag, hanging from a portable drip stand, runs into a vein in his arm. He’s shockingly altered, in terrible shape. He wears a flimsy hospital bathrobe; under that, a backless hospital johnny gown, and under that, adult diapers. His legs are bare, fish-belly white, and there are disposable hospital slippers on his feet.

  He forces himself to speak as normally as he can, using energy he doesn’t have, to focus and stay connected.

  Joe sits in an ordinary chair, facing Roy.

  ROY: If you want the smoke and puffery you can listen to Kissinger and Schultz and those guys, but if you want to look at the heart of modern conservatism, you look at me. Everyone else has abandoned the struggle, everything nowadays is just sipping tea with Nixon and Mao, that was disgusting, did you see that? Were you born yet?

  JOE: Of course I—

  ROY: My generation, we had clarity. Unafraid to look deep into the miasma at the heart of the world, what a pit, what a nightmare is there—I have looked, I have searched all my life for absolute bottom, and I found it, believe me: Stygian. How tragic, how brutal life is. How false people are. The immutable heart of what we are that bleeds through whatever we might become. All else is vanity.

  I don’t know the world anymore.

  (He coughs)

  After I die they’ll say it was for the money and the headlines. But it was never the money: it�
��s the moxie that counts. I never waivered. You: remember.

  JOE: I will, Roy.

  (Pause. Roy is sunk in silence. Joe is moved by what Roy’s said, but he doesn’t know how to respond. He clears his throat, then:)

  JOE: I left my wife.

  (Little pause)

  I needed to tell you.

  ROY: It happens.

  JOE: I’ve been staying with someone. Someone else.

  ROY: It happens.

  JOE: With a . . .

  I was afraid you wouldn’t want to see me. If you’d forgive me. For letting you down.

  ROY (A shrug): I forgive you. But I don’t forget. Or I forget but I don’t forgive, I can’t remember which, what does it—

  (Suddenly looking around) You seen a lady around here, dumpy lady, stupid . . . hat? She . . . Oh boy. Oh boy, no she’s off watching the hearings. Treacherous bitch.

  JOE: Who?

  ROY: Did you get a blessing from your father before he died?

  JOE: A blessing?

  ROY: Yeah.

  JOE: No.

  ROY: He should have done that. Life. That’s what they’re supposed to bless. Life.

  (Roy motions for Joe to come over, then for him to kneel. Joe hesitates, then kneels.

  Roy puts his hand on Joe’s forehead. Joe leans the weight of his head into Roy’s hand. They both close their eyes and enjoy it for a moment.)

  JOE (Quietly): Roy, I . . . I need to talk to you about—

  ROY: Ssshah. Schmendrick. Don’t fuck up the magic.

  (He removes his hand) A Brokhe. You don’t even have to trick it out of me, like what’s his name in the Bible.

  JOE: Jacob.

  ROY: That’s the one. A ruthless motherfucker, some bald runt, but he laid hold of his birthright with his claws and his teeth. Jacob’s father—what was the guy’s name?

  JOE: Isaac.

  ROY: Yeah. The sacrifice. That jerk.

  My mother read me those stories.

  See this scar on my nose? When I was three months old, there was a bony spur, she made them operate, shave it off. They said I was too young for surgery, I’d outgrow it but she insisted. I figure she wanted to toughen me up. And it worked.

  I am tough. It’s taking a lot . . . to dismantle me.

  (He winces; he’s having trouble masking the pain he’s in)

  Now you have to go.

  (Joe stands, slowly, reluctant to leave.)

  JOE: OK, I— But I.

  The person I’m staying with?

  It’s not a . . .

  (Forcing himself to say it) It’s a . . . man.

  (Pause.)

  ROY: A man?

  JOE: Yes.

  (Little pause.)

  ROY: You’re with a man?

  JOE: Yes I . . .

  (He doesn’t look at Roy. Roy however is looking hard at him.)

  JOE: Yes. I, I guess I am, yes, it’s someone I met, recently, we—for three weeks now, actually, we . . .

  (He laughs, embarrassed)

  Although I don’t know if I, if he wants to, um, continue what . . .

  And I’m going kinda crazy, a little, I can’t, I don’t know what I’ll do if he, if he . . .

  (Joe looks at Roy, who is now looking away.)

  JOE: I guess it’s a surprise to you, that I’m— I hope this is OK. There’s no one I can talk to about it, I never wanted to talk about, about this, but now I’m going pillar to post, looking for, for oh Lord I don’t know— (Another laugh, angry, then, putting the word in air quotes) “Sympathy”? I suppose? Which I never used to need, which I never wanted, never allowed or even, um felt for myself, I always found the whole idea of it just contemptible, just . . . repulsive— (Continue below:)

  ROY (Very soft, adrift, strange): Yeah . . .

  JOE (Not hearing Roy, continuous from above): —and I know how . . . preposterous this is, coming at you with this, but you . . .

  I know you care for me. I know that. And I’m so—

  (Roy starts to stand up.)

  ROY: I gotta . . .

  JOE: You . . . Oh I’m sorry, I’m— What, the . . . um, bathroom or . . .?

  (Roy walks unsteadily. The IV tube in his arm extends to its full length and then pulls. Roy looks down at it, remembering it’s there. In a calm, disinterested manner he pulls it out of his arm, which starts bleeding profusely.)

  ROY: Ow.

  JOE: Roy, what are you—

  (Joe starts for the door. Roy stands still, watching dark blood run down his arm.)

  JOE (Calling off): Um, help, please, I think he—

  (Belize enters with the portable oxygen, and then sees Roy.)

  BELIZE: Holy shit.

  (Belize puts on rubber gloves, starts toward Roy.)

  ROY (To Belize): Get the fuck away from me.

  JOE (Going toward Roy): Roy, please, get back into—

  ROY (To Joe): SHUT UP!

  Now you listen to me.

  BELIZE (To Roy): Get your—

  ROY (To Belize): SHUT UP I SAID.

  (To Joe) I want you home. With your wife. Whatever else you got going, cut it dead.

  JOE: Oh. Oh I, I can’t, Roy, I need to be with him, I need to, I’m—

  (Roy grabs Joe by the shirt, smearing it with blood.)

  ROY: YOU NEED? Listen to me. You do what I say. Or you will regret it.

  (Roy lets go of Joe’s shirt, turning from him, disoriented, looking for the bed:)

  ROY (To Joe): And don’t talk to me about it. Ever again.

  (Belize moves in, takes Roy to the bed and begins bandaging the punctured arm.)

  ROY (To Joe): I . . . never saw that coming. You kill me.

  BELIZE (To Joe): Get somewhere you can take off that shirt and throw it out, and don’t touch the blood.

  JOE: Why? I don’t unders—

  ROY: OUT! OUT! You already got my blessing— WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME?

  (He has a terrible wracking spasm.)

  BELIZE (To Joe): Get the fuck outta here!

  JOE (To Roy): Please, wait, let me just wait till—

  ROY (Exhausted): Till what? You what, you want to stay and watch this? Well fuck you, too.

  (Joe leaves.

  Belize finishes bandaging Roy’s arm, both of them silent for as long as this takes.

  When he’s finished with the arm, Belize straightens up a little. Roy looks blankly at the bandage, then:)

  ROY: Every goddamn thing I ever wanted they have taken from me. Mocked and reviled, all my life.

  BELIZE: Join the club.

  ROY: I don’t belong to any club you could get through the front door of.

  You watch yourself you take too many liberties.

  What’s your name?

  BELIZE (A beat, then): Norman Arriaga. Belize to my friends, but you can call me Norman Arriaga.

  ROY: Tell me something, Norman, you ever hire a lawyer?

  BELIZE: No Roy. Never did.

  ROY: Hire a lawyer, sue somebody, it’s good for the soul.

  Lawyers are . . . the High Priests of America. We alone know the words that made America. Out of thin air. We alone know how to use The Words. The Law: the only club I ever wanted to belong to. And before they take that from me, I’m going to die.

  (Roy has a series of awful spasms, the worst so far; they shake him violently. Roy grabs Belize by both arms. Belize tries to control Roy’s body as he convulses in horrible pain. Roy hangs onto Belize; they’re in a tight, desperate embrace, both shaken by Roy’s agonized spasming.

  During this seizure, Ethel appears.)

  ROY: Sssshhh. Fire. Out.

  (The pain subsiding a little, Roy forces the convulsions to abate. Through the remainder of the scene, with grim effort, conserving his resources, he just manages to keep his body under his control.)

  ROY: God have mercy. This is a lousy way to go.

  BELIZE: God have mercy.

  ROY (Seeing Ethel): Look who’s back.

  BELIZE (Looking around, seeing no one): Who
?

  ROY: Mrs. Reddy Kilowatt.

  Fucking horror. How’s . . . Yonkers?

  BELIZE: I almost feel sorry for you.

  ETHEL: A bad idea.

  ROY: Yeah. Pity. Repulsive.

  (To Belize) You. Me. (He snaps his fingers) No. Connection.

  (Looking at Ethel) Nobody . . . with me now. But the dead.

  Scene 2

  Same day. Louis sitting alone, cold, on a park bench.

  Prior enters and sits on the bench, as far as he can from Louis.

  PRIOR: Oh this is going to be so much worse than I’d imagined.

  LOUIS: Hello.

  PRIOR: Fuck you you little shitbag.

  LOUIS: Don’t waste energy beating up on me, OK? I’m already taking care of that.

  PRIOR: Don’t see any bruises.

  LOUIS: Inside.

  PRIOR: You are one noble guy. Inside. Don’t flatter yourself, Louis.

  So. It’s your tea party. Talk.

  LOUIS: It’s good to see you again. I missed you.

  PRIOR: Talk.

  LOUIS: I want to . . . try to make up.

  PRIOR: Make up.

  LOUIS: Yes. But—

  PRIOR: Aha. But.

  LOUIS: But you don’t have to be so hostile. Don’t I get any points for trying to arrive at a resolution? Maybe what I did isn’t forgivable but—

  PRIOR: It isn’t.

  LOUIS: But. I’m trying to be responsible. Prior. There are limits. Boundaries. And you have to be reasonable. (Unable not to ask) Why are you dressed like that?

  PRIOR (A challenging, cold smile): You were saying something about being reasonable.

  LOUIS: I’ve been giving this a lot of thought. Yes I fucked up, that’s obvious. But maybe you fucked up too. You never trusted me, you never gave me a chance to find my footing, not really, you were so quick to attack and . . . I think, maybe just too much of a victim, finally. Passive. Dependent. And what I think is that people do have a choice about how they handle—

  PRIOR (Cutting to the chase): You want to come back. Why? Atonement? Exoneration?

  LOUIS: I didn’t say I wanted to come back.

  (Pause.)

  PRIOR: Oh.

  No, you didn’t.

  LOUIS (Softly, almost pleading): I can’t. Move in again, start all over again. I don’t think it’d be any different.

  (Little pause. Prior looks hard at Louis.)

  PRIOR: You’re seeing someone else.

  LOUIS (Shocked): What? No.

  PRIOR: You are.

  LOUIS: I’M NOT. Well, occasionally a . . . He’s a . . . just a pickup, how do you—