Fragile! (NHB Modern Plays)

by Tena Štivičić

  MILA. But he left you. He left you twice. He left me. He left me wondering a million times before.

  TIASHA. It’s not easy for him. He doesn’t do that because he likes it.

  MILA. No, that’s wrong. He hurts us and we feel sorry for his pain. You know when you can’t understand what goes on in someone’s head that doesn’t necessarily mean that’s mysterious and complex and meta-fucking-physical. Maybe it’s just bollocks. Obscure bollocks.

  TIASHA. I think it must be very difficult for you. When you so need simple explanation, it will be difficult for you to be in peace. (Pause.) If I try to find simple explanation why people do things they did to me, I go crazy. Sometimes there are too much things that . . . (She uses her hands to explain.) around your instinct and you can’t breathe. I think it’s not good to wait for other people words. You find your own. Here. (She puts her palm on her stomach.)

  *

  MICHI is sitting at the bar. The bar is empty, the lights are dim. He is on the phone, silent. Then he puts the receiver down and lights a cigarette.

  MICHI (exhaling the smoke heavily). Bloody fucking lump. Michi, you should know by now. It’s not going anywhere, it is here forever. Bloody thing is scratching your throat. You can’t swallow, you can’t spit out. You think it will go away one day when you do this or when you do that, when you make big, earn money, go away, come back. But no. On the end you see it’s not going away. Lump is life. Best chance, keep it not to grow. Your devil. Doesn’t get much better than just keep him happy and calm. Sooner you learn, better. Fifty-six years old, Michi, and you still forget.

  *

  TIASHA and MILA are standing in the street. Yellow lights. Wind.

  TIASHA. I like the river. It looks like it has power but doesn’t have to use it.

  MILA. I’ll walk with you for a bit, if that’s all right.

  TIASHA. Yes.

  MILA. I used to always walk in Zagreb. Now I just run all the time.

  TIASHA. I wasn’t allowed to walk for years.

  Pause.

  MILA. I’m so exhausted, you know, of trying to . . . It’s like trying to win him over. Then I wonder, why am I trying to do that? He always crossed the street without looking to see where I was. Like . . . he was never with me.

  TIASHA. I think he must care about you, in some way. He wouldn’t be gone if that isn’t so.

  MILA considers. She smiles. She could cry.

  MILA. I don’t think that’s my kind of caring.

  TIASHA. I understand.

  Pause.

  MILA. I have to go to work. (Pause.) You will wait for him?

  TIASHA. Yes.

  They smile at each other. MILA slowly walks away.

  A great fire came and burnt the trees. And with them, the castle of Bird King. So the Bird King and his birds had to fly away. They took with them all the hearts they were keeping. But the fire burnt their eyes and they were blind. And they could never find their way back. Most of the people were left without their hearts.

  Pause.

  I only had strength for everything because I gave him my heart to keep and I lived with my body. But now I need it back.

  Pause.

  It’s simple like that. He has my heart. Nothing I can do about that.

  MILA. I hope he knows.

  TIASHA. He does.

  Scene Twelve

  Snapshots.

  MICHI’s bar.

  MICHI is sitting, smoking his Davidoffs. He exhales the smoke with great heaviness. He looks very serious.

  MARKO comes in.

  MARKO. What’s up?

  MICHI. Where’s Mila?

  MARKO. I don’t know. We don’t live together any more, remember.

  MICHI. She can’t let go because she is stubborn, not because she is hurt.

  MARKO. Yeah. Well . . . I think she’s at work. Actually, she should have been here already. What is this, are we closed?

  MICHI. Yes.

  MARKO. How come, on a Thursday?

  MICHI. I will have to rethink our policy.

  MARKO. Again?

  MICHI. And in between time, I will have to let you go. You and Mila.

  MARKO. What?!

  MICHI. Yes. The big wave . . . I jumped but I suppose I slide off.

  MARKO. I don’t understand.

  *

  MILA stumbles in the street, pressing her hands on a bleeding spot around her left kidney. She drops to the floor. She is in shock.

  MILA. Wait. Wait, wait. It’s going to be all right. It’s nothing.

  She looks at her hands, covered in blood.

  *

  MICHI. It was a bad investment. To double the money.

  MARKO. What kind of investment?

  MICHI. You are not partner, remember? You are staff. You don’t get to know what kind of investment.

  MARKO. Michi –

  MICHI. No Michi. That is how it is.

  MARKO. So, you are closing.

  MICHI. Only temporary. Until I / rethink my policy.

  MARKO (interrupting). Rethink your policy. And you’ll just fire us?

  MICHI. I am not your fairy good mother.

  Pause. MARKO is trying to absorb the weight of this information.

  There is one club in East London. Clarence, manager, very good friend of mine. Maybe take you.

  MARKO. Right.

  *

  MILA. It’s nothing. It’s just a cut. It’ll be all right. (Pause.) Mama! That’s right. Nazvat ću mamu. Sve će bit okej. [I’ll call Mama. It’ll be okay.] Mama.

  With her hands shaking, she takes her mobile out of a pocket in her uniform and dials. She misdials.

  Shit. Concentrate.

  She dials again. A voice is heard from the phone: ‘You have insufficient credit . . .’

  Fuck you!

  She drops the phone and cries.

  (Quietly.) Help.

  *

  MARKO. I never thought something like that could happen to you.

  MICHI. Good thing about life – just when you think it is becoming dull, there is always twist.

  MARKO. And what about Mila?

  Scene Thirteen

  The hostel, GAYLE’s office.

  MICHI’s bar.

  An airport lounge.

  To the left is GAYLE’s desk and two chairs. A couple of plastic airport lounge chairs and a television set are in the centre. The counter of MICHI’s bar is to the right.

  GAYLE is sorting out some papers. MARKO walks in. TIASHA’s map is hanging from the wall next to GAYLE’s desk.

  MARKO. I didn’t call. I thought . . .

  GAYLE. I thought you might get in touch.

  MARKO. I went to Brixton. To your house . . .

  GAYLE. I moved. Closer to work.

  MARKO. This work?

  GAYLE. Yes, this is my work. (Pause.) Come in. Have a seat.

  He does so.

  Coffee?

  MILA enters the airport lounge carrying some hand baggage. She sits down on one of the chairs.

  MARKO. Yes, please.

  MICHI (enters the bar. On the phone, as usual). Yes. No. Twice already I have to fire people you send me. One time, doorman, I would go better off with goldfish at my door. Second time, barman, steal off me every time I look the other side. No. I don’t care what you think. To think is to know shit.

  GAYLE (to MARKO). Of course. You never turn down drinks . . . or food.

  MARKO. Countries less privileged. We always stock up, like camels. Never know when you’re gonna run out.

  GAYLE. Good to see you’re still funny.

  Beat.

  Yes. How is Mila taking it?

  MARKO. You know that home she worked at. She was on a night shift. A couple of guys came in through the window, burgled a few of those grannies. She walked in on them, one of them stabbed her.

  GAYLE. Oh, my God!

  MILA is sitting in the airport lounge with her hand luggage next to her. MARKO comes over carrying two cups of coffee. MILA takes a bottle of pills fr
om her handbag and swallows one with coffee.

  MARKO. You should have talked to someone. Professional, I mean.

  MILA. I’m a child of communism, I don’t believe in paying for advice. That, and I’m broke.

  MARKO. There’s victim support. It’s for free.

  MILA. Yeah, and imagine how good they are.

  MARKO laughs.

  Pause.

  MARKO. What if you just go home for a while? Ha? Get well and come back.

  MILA. Marko, I’m thirty. I’ve got a ruptured spleen. I can’t dance. I’ve lost one job and the other . . . Well, I can’t face going to that place, no therapy will help there. Man, they weren’t old enough to carry a condom, let alone a knife.

  MARKO. But hey, dancing with a ruptured spleen – I see performance art festivals killing for you.

  MILA (smiles). In Croatia at least I can pretend I’ve come back with a vast worldly experience and teach or something. I’ll be a tragic heroine. I’ll get a piece in Cosmo about me. (Pause.) I’ll recycle some of the old boyfriends.

  MARKO. Hey, it’s just this moment. It’s a phase. Because of everything –

  MILA. Actually – I miss home. I really do. I miss the feel of it. This doesn’t feel like home. Because it’s not. It’s nobody’s home. So nobody cares for it.

  MARKO turns back to GAYLE.

  GAYLE (to MARKO). She’s right.

  MARKO. She feels guilty.

  GAYLE. She shouldn’t. If anyone should feel guilty, it’s me.

  MARKO. That’s not true.

  GAYLE. Oh, yes, it is. I should have been focused. I should have known how horribly wrong it would go.

  MARKO. She would have found him.

  GAYLE. But I wouldn’t feel responsible then. (Pause.) And you know something else – I thought it was incredibly intriguing, their case. That bloody map, I had a whole exhibition in mind, inspired by her. It was going to be called – ‘The Silk Route’.

  MARKO is silent.

  MILA (to MARKO). And you were right. I have grown out of the anonymity phase. Being a smudge in the crowd can wear out.

  GAYLE (to MARKO). You’re appalled, aren’t you?

  MARKO. No, I . . .

  GAYLE. Don’t worry, so am I.

  MARKO. I’m not. If you can make a piece of art out of somebody’s pain, it’s –

  GAYLE. I’ve taken a full-time job here.

  Beat. MARKO is astonished.

  Which is really quite funny –

  MARKO. Gayle –

  GAYLE. I mean, considering my sunny disposition. But it’s real.

  MILA. We struggle for this great life that will begin one day and meanwhile the actual life is still on pause. I’m sick of that.

  MICHI (on the phone). No, I will not wait more. I don’t need a singer, I have a singer. No, not like Mila, what you think singer like Mila grows on trees, she has diploma for singing. (Pause.) No, she is gone.

  ERIK and TIASHA appear on opposite sides of the stage. TIASHA seems somehow hardened. They look at each other. They stand there, looking at each other. TIASHA sits next to MILA, but she is somewhere else. Maybe in a different airport. Sitting, waiting.

  MARKO. What if I go with you?

  MILA. Are you crazy? I go off to the west and the best I can come back with is a Serb?

  MARKO. It was a system of elimination, though.

  A tender smile.

  GAYLE. Everyone should be issued a Visa to come here. Not these poor things that ran to save their lives, but everyone who’s come here with big dreams. I don’t know, say three years. That’s a fair length.

  MICHI (on the phone). It’s not charity I do here. I don’t want another bloody lazy compatriot. Get me a Filipino or something, someone with some bloody work habits.

  GAYLE. Whoever’s not made it in that slot should bugger the hell out of here. Make room, let some air in. I swear this city will eventually sink with all these worn-out dreams holding by their teeth.

  MARKO. Gayle –

  GAYLE (she raises her voice). If it hasn’t happened in ten years, it’s never gonna happen. Snap out of it, people! I swear, if I ever have to talk to another fifty-year-old, grey-haired actor still auditioning daily . . . Or, if I ever have to talk about feminism with a crazy ageing . . . hippy . . . performance artist . . . dressed in rags . . . (She stops herself.) Of course you don’t feel the same because it’s worked out for you. I saw your name in the comedy listings. In Time Out.

  MARKO. I’m sorry.

  MILA. It’s not your fault. I know.

  MARKO (to GAYLE). It’s only a little gig.

  GAYLE (shrugs). Yeah, well . . .

  MARKO. Look, Gayle, I didn’t mean to . . . It just turned out that way . . .

  GAYLE. It always turns out that way. For me.

  MILA’s mobile rings.

  MILA. Last call on the British phone. Must be the Queen. She’d like me to reconsider. (Into the phone.) Halo? Yes? Speaking. (Pause.) Yes.

  MILA puts the phone down and stares into the emptiness.

  It’s Erik.

  MARKO. Really? Where is he?

  MILA. He’s dead.

  TIASHA gets up and goes to MICHI. She sits beside him at the bar.

  MARTA enters, sweeping the floor across the stage. Everyone observes her. It seems that for the first time they actually acknowledge her presence.

  TIASHA. You should pay her more.

  MICHI. I pay her enough.

  TIASHA. She’s an old woman.

  MARTA walks over to where MILA is sitting. She turns on the television. CNN. In a characteristic CNN style, there is a report about ERIK’s death. Shots of street fights in Baghdad followed by ERIK’s head shot. It runs on mute. Everyone turns to watch the report. Except for TIASHA.

  (To MICHI.) I need two thousand Euro.

  MARTA goes over to where ERIK is sitting.

  MARTA (to ERIK). Do you have a cigarette?

  ERIK offers her a packet. MARTA lights a cigarette. She points to the place beside him. He nods. She sits next to him. Exhales.

  MICHI (to TIASHA). Why?

  TIASHA. For expenses.

  MARKO (to GAYLE). She left her map?

  GAYLE. Yes.

  MARKO. That’s odd. What are you going to do with it?

  GAYLE. Keep it as a reminder. Of how I screwed up. And . . . of how I was engaged. Which made me feel good.

  MICHI (to TIASHA). For when?

  TIASHA. Tomorrow.

  MICHI. Tomorrow?

  TIASHA. Yes. I go tomorrow.

  MICHI. I thought you wouldn’t go until next month.

  TIASHA. Change of plan.

  MICHI. What change?

  TIASHA. I just talked to Roman. He thinks as soon as possible I should go. Clarence needs more girls.

  MICHI. What is the rush?

  TIASHA. Clarence has a new club opening. Strictly members only. But for them – unlimited offer.

  MICHI. But there is mess again in Kosovo. We should stay out of it.

  TIASHA. Mess is when you do things.

  MARKO runs his fingers across the map.

  MARKO (to GAYLE). Erik told me all these stories about Bosna. He could tell a story, you know. I used some of them, some of the worst ones, for an act. That’s the one that got me the gig.

  GAYLE. Congratulations.

  ERIK (to MARTA). The apple comes from California. Somebody picked it, God knows how long ago, and loaded it into a box and onto a truck. Then drove it to the airport, put it on a plane and shipped it over to Baghdad. Quite a long journey, I’d say. Then they unloaded them, unpacked them and served them to us. Perfection, I thought. Like the apple in Snow White. Perfectly red and shiny. I put it on my night table, the only beautiful thing around. The only thing that makes sense.

  MARKO (to GAYLE). I’m going to Norway. For the funeral.

  MICHI (to TIASHA). You will get yourself killed.

  GAYLE (to MARKO). To pay your respects? Funny how people wait until the funeral to do that.

  T
IASHA (to MICHI). Michi, don’t worry about me.

  MARKO (to GAYLE). It’s a phase. You know that. It’s how we live here, in phases –

  GAYLE. I’m sure that cheers Mila up – that’s just a phase when you get stabbed. Or Erik – a phase when you get killed. Again.

  MARKO. Come with me to Norway.

  GAYLE. I’m sorry?

  MARKO. I know you resent me, but . . . come with me.

  MICHI (to TIASHA). I worry. I worry about both of us. (Pause.) It is not courage, what you do. It is reckless.

  TIASHA. It is neither.

  MICHI. This is no job for pretty young woman.

  TIASHA. Washing toilets or old people bums is no job for pretty young women but they do it.

  MICHI. Okay. You can’t take a compliment.

  TIASHA. Michi, we have a deal, do we not? I told you many times, don’t try to get in my head.

  MICHI. All right. Here. (Handing her the money.) When will you come back?

  TIASHA. I don’t know. Three weeks probably. I will call you to let you know. There should be two girls.

  GAYLE (to MARKO). You think it will absolve you of guilt?

  MARKO. You could look at it as homage, rather than exploitation.

  GAYLE. Yes, you could.

  MARKO. I mean, so could you.

  GAYLE nods, but she obviously doesn’t agree.

  GAYLE. I’d rather not fly if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.

  MARKO. Oh, come on!

  GAYLE. No! No ‘come on’! You can’t just swat it away like you do with everything. Or you can, but I can’t. I wish I could. It’s charming. But it’s reckless. It’s not me.

  MARKO (Pauses). Wait . . . that’s not . . . that’s not why you moved? Closer to work? To avoid the tube?

  GAYLE is silent.

  MICHI (to TIASHA). I just want to understand you. I know about you, Tiasha.

  TIASHA looks at him, irritated.

  This city is big, yes, in geography. But really, people bring it down to size that fits them. And then it’s no bigger than a village.