by Xingjian Gao
(Man lowers his head.)
Woman :
(Somewhat tired, she takes off her shawl and casually throws it on the floor.) She says she doesn’t know why she has said all this. What was said has been said already. She feels relieved once it’s said, once it’s said it’s over and done with, isn’t it? (Turns her head to take a look at him, and then turns back.) You can speak too, that is, if you’ve got anything to say. She only fears that you’ve got nothing to say, then all you could do is to play dumb and act the part of some well-behaved fool. Why don’t you try saying something? It wouldn’t hurt, you know. Good or bad she has been living with you for some time, don’t you have anything else to say besides “let’s go to bed”?
(Man moves slightly, then slowly disappears.)
Woman :
You know, you can explain if you think there’s been a misunderstanding, but she can’t stand people not responding like that! You know why she’s broken out for no reason? It’s because she can’t stand the loneliness any longer. If you can’t even understand that, then you might as well go your separate ways and you’ll both have some peace and quiet. (Turns around to look for him.)
(Silhouette of Man’s back appears dimly on the other side of the stage.)
Woman :
(Facing silhouette of Man’s back.) She says she’s only saying it, actually she doesn’t want to leave him. And she’s not really kicking him out either, she just hopes that he’ll offer her some explanation and tell her that his feeling for her hasn’t changed, then she’d be relieved and comforted, and she’d be able to prove that all her doubts and worries are groundless. How come he can’t even understand that? He doesn’t understand women, he doesn’t understand a woman’s feelings, does she really need to spell it all out for him? If he has to go, then just let him go, she can’t force him, she’s only saying please, please ask him to explain himself clearly. It’s not that she can’t go on with her life without loving him. What more does he want her to say? She’s already said all that she can—(Approaches him.) She begs him not to go like this, she begs him to turn around, to take one more look at her, just like when they first fell in love. She just wants to see his eyes again, those engaging, penetrating eyes he had when he was courting her, or the gentle look in his eyes when he stared at her later, even if they were uncertain, pensive, or engaged in thought, they all managed to send shivers to her heart. If only she could bring back the same look in his eyes, if only he could turn around and look at her once more, all their problems would be over, they’d be as loving as before, and she’d snuggle up to him in his arms to enjoy his fond caress once more.
(Leaning against him.) Then she’d never nag him, she’d never say anything to hurt him ever again. She says she knows all about men, their pride, their temper and their idiosyncrasies. When they don’t get along with their boss in the office, they’ll take it out on their family when they come home. She says that sometimes she’s a nervous wreck herself and that she does break out every once in a while. She also knows that this isn’t good, but she never thought that men also had their problems. She might not solve his problems for him, but at least she can offer him some understanding and comfort.
In fact all the tantrums she’s thrown at him have been his fault, because she loves him and cares for him so much, that’s why she’s so demanding towards him. She also says that there are actually no problems between them, only that she’s suspicious, only this funny feeling of hers. If she were wrong, then he should help her to get rid of her worries, he shouldn’t just turn and walk away like that.
She also says that she doesn’t mean to stop him from going out with other women, she’s only afraid that such things might happen. She says too that she’s actually not that stuck up. Even if he had something going with another woman, it’d just be one of those one-time flings and he’d be in it only for the pleasure, and besides, he’d probably forget about the whole thing in no time. When it’s over, it’s over, isn’t it? Not that she doesn’t understand, she just thinks that he should at least lay it all out for her and give her an explanation.
She says she doesn’t want to possess him, she only wants him to truly love her, that’d be good enough for her. She has said so much already, shouldn’t he at least have the courtesy to say one word in response?
(Grabs his shoulders and turns him around.) God! (She suddenly withdraws her hands as Man turns into a piece of clothing on the rack.)
(A bald-headed clown appears at the side of front stage. On his nose hangs a pair of glasses made for extreme shortsightedness. He has on a collarless black shirt, his legs crossed. He looks up and stares at a non-existent raindrop in the air, which after a long while lands in front of him. Then the rain falls down with a pitter-patter. The clown gradually disappears in the dark.)
Woman :
(She kneels on the ground before a pile of folded clothing. In front of the clothing lies a pair of men’s shoes; on top of the shoes is a man’s hat. Next to her is a leather jewellery box.) She says she’s never, ever in her life thought that it would end like this, that she would actually kill her man, her darling, her treasure, her little zebra, her sika deer, her sweetheart, her life and destiny.
(While speaking, she takes down her ring, bracelet, and earrings and puts them into the jewellery box one by one.) What a real nightmare! She’s just woken up from it, she feels a bit cold.
(Wraps the shawl tightly around herself.) The cold rain and autumn wind raging outside the window, when will they ever end?
(Listens.) There’ll be no more telephone rings in the middle of the night, its endless ringing scares her and makes her heart jump, she wants to answer it but she wouldn’t dare, but then if she didn’t she’d feel guilty.
(Sighs.) There’ll be no more sweet-nothing whispers, the whispers with so many pauses in between. Neither of them was willing to hang up the phone, even when they were too drowsy to talk any more.
Right now she’s cut off all her ties with the outside world, she’s cut off her ties with her lovers, friends, and enemies, and with those she once loved but no longer loves, those who admired her but whom she didn’t admire. She doesn’t even have the courage to step out of this room to go to a pub, any pub, to pick up a man, any man. She knows exactly what’s going to happen if she does: when the hangover goes away in the morning, she’ll find herself sleeping beside a naked man with hair all over his chest and whose name she’s already forgotten, and all that’s left is the feeling of emptiness and disgust. At this time, she doesn’t even have the courage to pick up her clothes from the floor and run away in a hurry. She’s totally down on herself, she doesn’t have a desire for sex any more, she even finds her own body repulsive.
She doesn’t need to put on make-up and beautify herself any longer, even that necklace, the one her mother gave her before she died, has now become a burden.
(Takes off the necklace and throws it into the jewellery box.) All this jewellery is superfluous, is there any reason left for making herself beautiful? And for whom? She detests herself, detests being a woman, her tantrums, her possessiveness, her irrational jealousy and her groundless anxieties, and then there’s her never-ending nagging that nobody ever wants to listen to, she can’t even find the energy, she only feels totally exhausted. She knows her face looks tired and her skin is coarse, she doesn’t have to look in the mirror. She knows her breasts have become saggy and insensitive, they can no longer arouse a man’s passion. She, a woman, her prime has ended, become depleted and consumed, what else has she got to hope for? Even this body of hers, nobody wants it. (She wraps the shawl tightly around her. Her eyes droop and she looks down.)
(Half a wooden leg, whose paint has peeled off, slowly stretches out from under her skirt.)
Woman :
(Startled, she puts a hand on the floor to support herself and draws back.) This is impossible! This is not real!
(Stooping down to inspect.) How could this possibly be her? Is this her leg? She must find out if th
is is real or if it’s just a nightmare.
(The leg stretches out further until it finally comes off her skirt.)
Woman :
(She retreats further, holding her breath. She wraps the shawl tightly around herself.) She wonders if at this moment she is still alive, if she is still breathing. She must have some proof, proof that her heart is still beating, that it is still feeling. Is all of this just her imagination? Is it just an illusion? Or is her existence, this living body of hers, also a mirage? She must find some definite proof. (She pinches herself on the arm.)
(An arm appears from inside the shawl. Its palm is pale and white, and the fingernails are covered with a coat of shell-like paint.)
Woman :
(Panting.) No…(Beginning to feel terrified.) She wants to know if her fear is real. Maybe she only thinks she’s afraid but actually she’s not? She must experience death once to find out what death is and to feel its pain, in other words, a living experience of death, then, and only then can she prove that she is still alive, and then she’ll know if life is worth living, if it’s really necessary. She’s too hurt to free herself from suffering now, but she still keeps on analysing herself in desperate pursuit of her true self, to find out for sure if she’s real or just a body without a soul.
(The arm falls off from the shawl. From the palm up, the paint has peeled off as with the detached wooden leg.)
Woman :
No!
(Runs away.) This is too horrible, she can’t continue to be cut up like this, she can’t keep on butchering herself to death! She must run now, run away from this room!
(Simulates action of opening a door.) Strange, she can’t open the door, how could she be so stupid? How could she possibly lock herself in?
(Crawls all over the room in a circle around the pile of man’s clothing, the jewellery box and the detached arm and leg.) She can’t find the key! How can this be possible? She remembers clearly that when she opened the door she was holding the key in her hand, but now she’s forgotten where she put it. Where could it be?
(Stops, staring blankly at the detached arm and leg.) She just can’t understand, can’t understand what’s happening here. Her home, this warm and comfortable little nest of hers, has turned into a horrifying abyss overnight, how could this be?…She’s got to get out.
(Shouting.) She wants to get—out—, but nobody hears her, nobody cares, she’s in her own room, she’s locked herself in, she’s got in and now she can’t get out….
(She kneels on the floor and looks around, at a loss what to do.)
(Clown comes out from one side and backs up the stage until he reaches the centre, his head hanging down and looking at the floor. A rat appears from where he came from. The rat, under his guidance and enticement, crawls gingerly and timorously to his feet. The audience then discovers that he is actually pulling a very fine thread in his hands. He puts the rat into his pocket and exits.)
(The tick-tock of an electric clock is heard, gradually increasing in volume.)
Woman :
(Murmuring.) She doesn’t know what time it is, she doesn’t dare look at the clock, she doesn’t want to know whether it’s midnight or dawn, she can’t pull up the blinds, she has no strength, she has no courage to…
(At the back of the stage, the shadow of a woman appears, her back facing the audience. She is carrying an umbrella and marking time.)
Woman :
(Staring at the woman’s shadow.) She says it appears that she sees a woman waiting in the rain, she’s all alone, she doesn’t know how long she’s been waiting, she doesn’t know when she’s going to stop waiting, but she’s still waiting, waiting for that someone she hasn’t got a date with, she knows he won’t come, yet she still insists on waiting in vain. She wants to warn her, she wants to tell her that to live is to be destined, destined to be alone all your life, so why keep on dreaming an impossible dream? But she refuses to come to her senses.
(The woman slowly turns around. She is still marking time, her face hidden by the umbrella as before.)
Woman :
(Quietly approaches.) Who is this woman? She can’t help wanting to know, but she keeps on turning this way…then that way…she can’t see anything, she can’t see her face clearly. (Disappointed, she covers her face with her hands.)
(The woman suddenly disappears.)
Woman :
(Lifts her head, dejected.) She’s just realized that she’s the one who’s lonely in the whole wide world, not the other people, whose loneliness she has been observing. Other people may be waiting, downcast, forlorn, and all by themselves, but after all they’re still waiting, and they know in their hearts where they want to go, but she doesn’t, she doesn’t know if there’s anything left for her to do, or if there’s anywhere else she can go.
(Very troubled.) So she tries to search her memory. Where did she come from? Why is it that she hasn’t been able to control herself, why does she have to be down and out like this? Has it been a dream all along? And merely a dream?
(Closes her eyes.) Ah, what a strange dream!
(Opens her eyes.) Just now, at that fleeting moment…she saw it, she saw a wall, its plaster was crumbling away piece by piece,…exposing the cold and damp concrete, a coffin was lodged there,…it was placed there neatly, sideways, buried in poured concrete…
(A large wall appears back stage. The wall is dark grey and is illuminated from the side. There is no coffin in the wall.)
Woman :
(She wobbles and feels her way along the wall, her head leaning against it.) She doesn’t know what this dream means…No, she knows, she knows that right now her mind is not clear, she needs to sort things out, how did it all begin? There’s got to be an end to all of this somewhere, nothing’ll go wrong as long as she finds a clue.
(Turns, leaning against the wall.) But she can’t even remember a single incident from her childhood! Does this mean that she has never been alive, or is she just a shadow, the shadow of some nonexistent person? Is her existence just an illusion? No! She definitely had a childhood, she remembers! (Determinedly gets away from the wall.)
(The wall gradually disappears.)
Woman :
She says she’s got to pour it all out. It was a long time ago, at that time, her family still owned this small house…It was an old building, and everywhere there were rats scurrying around…The family had an old cat, so old that it was too lazy to run after the rats, and it was always dozing off on top of the stove in the dingy kitchen…She wants to say that it was an old building, when a gust of wind blew you could hear it creaking and squeaking, and the lumber would give out a musty smell. The old cat’s always crouching on top of the stove, and when the fire went out completely, one could see nothing but a pair of green eyes glowing in the dark and spying on her every move. She seems to remember the first time she discovered her own nakedness in the mirror, and the old cat was right there behind her…
(A small house made of toy blocks appears centre stage.)
Woman :
That’s right, her room was behind that window on the second floor.
(Smiles and starts to narrate, facing the house.) Downstairs just past the front porch was the living room. There was a rocking chair, her grandpa always sat on it. He had a head of white hair, when he died nobody knew how old he was. The house had no doors, only windows, and more strangely, her family always locked themselves inside, it was so dark and so damp. The first one to escape from the house was her father, then it was her mother, and they’d never come back since.
(Becoming more interested.) He, she’s talking about her father, escaped during the night. Later they only found a string of footsteps in the rain-soaked muddy ground under the window. The next one to go was her mother, they said that there was a man, whenever he passed by the window, he’d always be humming a popular tune, it’d been like this for some time, and her mother must have heard him, then she disappeared. And then it was her brother, he always screamed and yelled and
generally made a big racket. Once he knocked down a really old vase in the house, her grandpa said it was an antique and a family heirloom. The last one to escape was herself. She thinks the building is still there, in her memory it’s wobbling, as if it’s going to collapse any second.
(Somewhat delighted.) She says this is a children’s story, maybe it’s a fable, she’s always wanted to talk to people about something, to talk about something that happened in the past, or to talk about her memory, or better yet, to tell a story, a fable.
(Totally immersing herself.) She says when she was small she was always curious, she yearned to get out of the house to take a look at the outside world. She grew up in a town, and the house was located at the edge of the town, a building all by itself, on top of a small hill. She also says that she’d never seen the places beyond the wall in the yard.
Of course she knew every thing within the wall inside out, she knew where there was a peach tree, where there was a doghouse, even where there was a vegetable plot with tomatoes growing in it, but when the tomatoes had grown ripe and fell to the ground to rot, she refused to go there any more. She says she can’t remember how her grandpa died, they all said he’d swallowed opium, his whole body was in unbearable pain, there was something wrong with all his joints, according to the present day doctors, it was probably cancer spread to the bone marrow, he’d scream out loud at night, it was very scary, he screamed that he’d burn the whole house down. She knew that actually her grandpa couldn’t get out of bed, he needed someone to hold him even when he tried to turn his body a little…
