LYZA: (Slapping the belt hard against the desk) You want some more of that? Yeah, well you're going to get it anyway. Here! (More slaps) Now get back on your knees and lick my boots, you piece of garbage. Do it!
(BOLO shakes his head good-naturedly. Blackout.)
Scene 3
They're both back in BOLO s office. The big clock now reads 3:15. LYZA has a sweatshirt on over her stockings and heels, pacing back and forth, a little pumped, but still under control. LYZA: I can't believe there's guys like that.
BOLO: You're here long enough, you'll see it all. Funny, we get more calls from guys who want the fem-dom stuff than the other way.
LYZA: Why is that funny?
BOLO: Not funny ha-ha, just…weird, you know what I mean?
LYZA: It's just sex…different strokes (She giggles.) and all that. The hardest thing is not laughing. I mean, it's so silly. Silly and sad. You think they're married, most of these guys'
BOLO: No way to tell. This ain't no survey we're running here, right? I mean, all of them, they got to have some kind of money…or credit, anyway. Otherwise, we don't take the calls. When you think about it, it's crazy. I mean, for what they spend for an hour on the phone, they could buy the real thing.
LYZA: Well, maybe they don't want the real thing. You know how they say nothing's as good as your imaginations Maybe that's it.
BOLO: Marcy, one of the girls that was here the longest, she would come in sometimes, work over where you are. She always said she didn't mind any of it…like she was working a suicide hot line or something. Only thing she didn't like was when they were mean.
LYZA: Like that guy who wanted to spank me?
BOLO: No. I can't explain what she meant. Some of them, they're just ugly…like they really want to hurt the girls. Marcy, she used to get them a lot. I don't know why.
LYZA: What does she do, Marcy? In real life, I mean.
BOLO: I don't know. She quit a few weeks ago. Some of them do. Listen, you get one of those calls, like we were talking about, you just give me the high sign and we'll cut it off. It's no problem…he calls back, I'll switch him to one of the others.
LYZA: You're sweet. (Bending down, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek) But you don't have to worry about me. I'm a pro.
BOLO: (Looking at her closely) Sure.
(The phone rings. BOLO goes through his routine, but this caller obviously doesn't want to reveal his preferences to the screener. BOLO insists on checking his credit card before he can talk to a woman, any woman, but promises him he can speak to Caroline. BOLO walks over to the chart (the phone has a long cord), points to the word SCREENER in capital letters, points to her. LYZA: nods, goes back to the perch on the desk, takes a long yellow pad and pen, nods the "go ahead" to BOLO. But BOLO is not satisfied. He walks over to where she's sitting, leaving the phone on hold.)
BOLO: Look, I've heard this guy's voice before. Can't remember exactly, but he's a freak. Don't use any of the names on the chart. First you're Caroline, that's the screener. After that, he'll tell you want he wants, just make up a name, okay'
LYZA: Okay, baby. Stop fussing.
(BOLO punches a button, pointing to her again. He kicks the digital counter into life.)
LYZA: Hi! I'm Caroline. How can I help you? (Pause) I see. Why of course, sir. I think little…ah, Melissa is just the girl for you. She's only eleven years…(Pause) Why, you're right, now that I look more closely, she's only nine. Such a pretty little girl too. How would that be? Would you like to be with her? She's a really lovely little girl, and very, very sweet. How would that be? (Pause) Well, okay, then, I'll just go in the back and get her ready for you. I won't be a minute, you just hang on.
(LYZA bounces off the desk, offers another high five to BOLO, who ignores it.)
BOLO: I know this guy. He's called before. He'll never talk to me.
LYZA: Oh, he's just shy.
BOLO: You can handle it?
LYZA: In my sleep, baby. It's a role, playing a role.
BOLO: Yeah.
(LYZA walks off into the next room, swinging her hips in an exaggerated fashion, tossing her head.)
LYZA: (Breathless, little-girl voice.) Hi. I'm Melissa. (Pause) I'm nine years old, on my last birthday. (Pause) Yes, Daddy. (Pause) Yes, I love to play games. (Pause) I have on a pretty little pinafore. It's all white and starched, with a petticoat. And white socks and little black shoes with straps. And a white ribbon in my hair. (Pause) No, silly, little girls don't wear bras (Giggles) I don't have a bra. (Pause) Why they're white too, Daddy. White cotton, with little red hearts on them. They're so pretty. (Pause) Oh, Daddy, that's naughty. I shouldn't show you my panties. (Pause) Oh yes, Daddy. I'll be good. I'm your good little girl. (LYZA is on the couch now, in a little-girl posture. She makes a shy gesture like lifting her skirt, bows her head like she's blushing.) Oh yes! Daddy. I love to sit on your lap. (Pause) Yes, Daddy. You want me to dance for you, Daddy? Dance and sing? (Pause) I'm sorry, Daddy. I'll be good. Melissa will be the best little girl in the world, you'll see. I'll do just what you tell me. (Pause. LYZA sits sidesaddle on the couch, wiggling like she's finding a place on a lap.) Oh, Daddy, don't make me do that. (Pause) No, Daddy! That's bad! Melissa doesn't like that. That's a bad game. Please, please, Daddy. (Crying now) I don't want a nice dress. I'll tell….(Pause) No, Daddy, no, please. I didn't mean it. I won't tell. It's our secret, Daddy. I do love you, Lyza loves you, I swear. (BOLO whips his head around at the change of name.) I'll be good. So good. (Pause) Daddy, I don't want to do that…it tastes…Daddy, that hurts. Not Melissa…Please, please, don't…(Loses it, slams down the phone. Rolls over on the couch, crying.)
(BOLO comes running in, looking confused and angry. LYZA: is on her knees now, face on the couch. BOLO awkwardly pats her, coaxes her to her feet. He talks her into the other room, as though taking her out of the zone of danger. She slumps against him. He has to half-carry her out.)
BOLO: (Laying LYZA: down on the couch in the front room. A long minute of comforting, with appropriate BOLO ad libs here. Finally…) You okay?
LYZA: It…happened. Flash. Flash. Flashback. My Daddy…
BOLO: It s just a…
LYZA: Daddy! (She whirls and slams her fist into the wall.) Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! (Now she's wrecking the place, sweeping things off the desk, screaming without words. She tries to say something, but gags on the words…like something too ugly to swallow is stuck in her throat. BOLO hauls her away, lifting her right off the ground, wraps his arms around her, crooning into her ear, being comforting, not knowing how to do it. Finally…)
BOLO: Well, I guess that's one freak who won't be calling back. It's fantasy they want, everything going the way they want…the way you went off on him…Jesus…it's like it was really happening.
LYZA: I…remember.
BOLO: It's okay. It's over. Just a game, right, baby? A game that got out of hand. I…(LYZA doubles over, likes she's going to throw up. Then goes rigid, near-catatonic as…the phone rings.)
BOLO: AYW Enterprises. How can I help you? Yes sir. You want (BOLO looks at LYZA, getting it for the first time, sharing it.)…Melissa?
(Freeze. Hold. Blackout.)
Bridge
Scene 1
Interior of a Solarium, an open, well–lit area furnished in "conversation–pit" style. The placement of chairs, small tables, and a single sofa suggests the ability to have private conversations. The room is clean, with cheery posters along the back wall, ranging from the standard "Today is The First Day of the Rest of Your Life" to New Age photos of soaring sea gulls with "Freedom" lettered across the bottom. The front of the stage is perceived as all glass by the actors—a gradually varying broad spot is the afternoon sun. The back wall has windows too, much smaller ones. The presence of bars suggests maybe this isn't a convalescent home.
LYZA is stage right, seated in a straight chair at a small round table, across from a matching, empty chair. She is wearing a shapeless hospital shift, gazing out at the grounds (directly at th
e audience). She wears no jewelry other than a distinctive hospital band around her left wrist. Her face is strangely expressionless. Other conversation areas are filled with various individuals, who converse in pantomime throughout this scene, including entering and leaving. Their age, race, sex, et al., are irrelevant, but the patients must all be adult. A NURSE enters stage left, BOLO slightly behind her. BOLO is wearing a suit, hair neatly combed. The NURSE is saying something—BOLO is not listening, his eyes sweeping around the room. The NURSE leads BOLO over to rods area.
NURSE: Edith, look who's here! (NURSE indicates BOLO with her right hand as she walks behind LYZA, putting her left hand on LYZA'S shoulder.)
LYZA: Bolos Is that you? (Her voice is strained, weak from lack of practice. Her affect is flattened…her speech is a question, not an expression of delight.)
BOLO: (Starts toward her, perhaps as if to give her a kiss. Seeing her lack of response, he plays with the back of the empty chair, finally sits down across from her.) Yeah, it's me. How are you doing, girl?
NURSE: She's doing just fine, aren't you, honey?
LYZA: Yes.
NURSE: Well, I'll just leave you two alone for a bit. Remember, Edith, there's no smoking in here. If you want to smoke—
LYZA: (Interrupting) My name is Lyza. And I don't smoke.
NURSE: (Patting LYZA's shoulder before walking away) Okay, honey. (She gives BOLO a meaningful look behind LYZA's back.)
BOLO: Sorry I couldn't come before this. They said no visitors until—
LYZA: (Interrupting) I know.
BOLO: I was at the trial too. A few times. I stayed back in the—
LYZA: (Interrupting) I know. I saw you there.
BOLO: Your lawyer was real good.
LYZA: (Runs both hands through her hair, shifts her body posture to one more focused and alert. This is subtle, not melodramatic.) He had to be. The way it works, if the jury found me guilty, I couldn't inherit any of his money. Then he wouldn't get paid.
BOLO: Yeah…I didn't really get that part.
LYZA: It's really not so complicated. They said I was NGI. Not Guilty by Reason of Insanity. Isn't that insane? I mean, think about it. How could insanity have a reason?
BOLO: (Uncomfortable) Yeah, right.
LYZA: It wasn't any mystery what happened. I mean, when the police came, I was still there. With him, I called them myself. If you murder somebody, you go to prison. My lawyer said if that happened, I wouldn't get any money. Because you can't profit from murder, or something like that. I was the only person in Daddy's will. All the money was supposed to be mine. But I couldn't get it unless the jury said I was crazy when I…did it.
BOLO: Everybody goes crazy once in awhile. I've seen people—
LYZA: (Interrupting) Thank God for the pictures.
BOLO: Huh?
LYZA: I told them…the police…I told them I didn't know why I did it. I didn't remember doing it. Just…kind of waking up and seeing him there. They were very nice to me. The police are always nice.
BOLO: Maybe in your neighborhood.
LYZA: They found the pictures. They didn't have to look around so much like they did, in the basement and his den and all. They found the pictures and that's what saved me.
BOLO: What pictures, baby?
LYZA: Of…me. When I was little. With my Daddy. He took pictures of it. He had…other ones too. Other little girls. The detective said he would…trade them. The pictures. When my lawyer showed the pictures to the jury, you could see them…change. They were different after that. They believed me.
BOLO: So how come you—?
LYZA: (Interrupting) He had a video too. Of me…doing things. He was like the director. I was the performer. I always wanted to be in a movie.
BOLO: Hey, look girl, you don't have to—
LYZA: (Interrupting) You believe me, don't you, Bolo?
BOLO; Yeah. Sure. I saw it myself. When you—
LYZA: (Interrupting) Not…then. That was…I don't really remember it. But…now. You believe me now, don't you?
BOLO: Believe what? You said—
LYZA: (Interrupting) That I was crazy when I…did it?
BOLO: Sure. That doctor, the one who testified, he said something about a "fugue state." I looked it up in this book. I really didn't understand it all, but he was saying you just went out of your mind. From the flashbacks and all. It could happen to anyone. I had this partner, he served with me. In Vietnam. One time he just—
LYZA: (Interrupting) I told you. Remember, a long time ago? In that place where you work? I told you then. When I auditioned.
BOLO: I don't work there anymore. After you, I—
LYZA: (With an impatient gesture, childlike) I told you.
BOLO: Okay, okay…told me what?
LYZA: That I'm a good actress. (Standing up) Come on, let's walk a little bit. It's hard for me to get exercise in here. I'm going to get grounds privileges next week. I could have gotten them quicker, but I didn't want to recover too soon.
BOLO: (Holding out his hand, which LYZA takes, wrapping one arm around her as they slowly stroll across the stage) You mean you—?
LYZA: (Interrupting) Survived? Yes, that's what I did. That's what they call themselves, the ones who went through it. Survivors. Daddy taught me a lot.
BOLO: You never were—?
LYZA: Crazy? Sure I was. After that…thing happened. On the phone. Where you work. Where you used to work, all right? I guess I was crazy then. I went to a therapist. She brought it all out. It took a while, but it all came out.
BOLO: And that helped you, right?
LYZA: I guess. But it just went on and on. The therapist, she helped me with some things. Like, now I understand why I can't stand vanilla. Anything vanilla. Ice cream, milk shakes…But she wanted me to do things, and I couldn't. I just couldn't.
BOLO: What things?
LYZA: Heal. She said, you can't heal until you forgive. She wanted Daddy to go into counseling. With me. So I could forgive him and he could heal.
BOLO: Did you—?
LYZA: I went to see him. Alone. He didn't deny it. Denial, isn't that a funny word. Therapists love their funny words. It's not "denial" when they say they didn't do it…they're just…liars. But not Daddy. He said I wanted to do it. That I liked it. He said it helped me. There was a knife in the kitchen. I don't remember much after that. Except looking down at him and thinking that he wouldn't heal.
BOLO: Jesus!
LYZA: It doesn't matter. It's over now. I'm fine. Real fine. I've been off the Suicide Watch for a couple of months now. Soon they'll even stop the medication. I perform now. In group. And when I get out, I'm going to act again. I'm a good actress. A real good actress. And I can sing too. Sing and dance. Remember?
BOLO: Yeah.
LYZA: I'm glad you came, Bolo. You're a nice man. But I don't want you to come again, okay' I have to be a different person soon, and you'd just remind me of…well, you know.
BOLO: Lyza…
LYZA: Mary. I'm going to be Mary soon. And then I won't know you.
BO(LO: Look, maybe we could—
LYZA: (Gently) No, we can't do anything. I'm going to do things by myself. You have things to do too. By yourself.
BOLO: I could, maybe fix it, Lyza. Help you fix it, anyway. If you—
LYZA: I won't. And you can't fix this, Bolo—you don't know how it works. Just forget it, all right? You should maybe get that motorcycle you were talking about. Go west, ride some waves or whatever.
BOLO: Lyza, I—
LYZA: (Interrupting) Listen, Bolo. I'm going to tell you the truth. A truth I learned. It's very, very important. Always keep your house safe. No matter what, always keep your house safe. A home has to be safe, do you understand? A home has to be safe. A safe place. There has to be one…
NURSE: (Entering) Visiting hours are over, honey. It's time to—
LYZA: (Interrupting) I know. (Turning to BOLO) Goodbye, Bolo. Remember what I said.
BOLO: I Will.
> LYZA: Promise?
BOLO: I swear it.
(LYZA stands on tiptoe and kisses BOLO goodbye. It's a childish kiss, promising nothing. A dismissal. NURSE leads LYZA offstage as BOLO stands, watching. When the next scene opens, an older, hard–faced BOLO is standing in the exact same spot, in front of a different set.)
Placebo
I know how to fix things. I know how they work. When they don't work like they're supposed to, I know how to make them right.
I don't always get it right the first time, but I keep working until I do.
I've been a lot of places. Some of them pretty bad—some of them where I didn't want to be.
I did a lot of things in my life in some of those places. In the bad places, I did some bad things.
I paid a lot for what I know, but I don't talk about it. Talking doesn't get things fixed.
People call me a lot of different things now. Janitor. Custodian. Repairman. Lots of names for the same thing.
I live in the basement. I take care of the whole building. Something gets broke, they call me. I'm always here.
I live by myself. A dog lives with me. A big Doberman. I heard a noise behind my building one night—it sounded like a kid crying. I found the Doberman. He was a puppy then. Some freak was carving him up for the fun of it. Blood all over the place. I took care of the freak, then I brought the puppy down to my basement and heed him up. I know all about knife wounds.
The freak cut his throat pretty deep. When the stitches came out, he was okay, but he can't bark. He still works, though.
I don't mix much with the people. They pay me to fix things—I fix things. I don't try and fix things for the whole world. I don't care about the whole world. Just what's mine. I just care about doing my work.
Born Bad Page 19
