Fragile! (NHB Modern Plays)
Page 8
TIASHA. What do you want to know?
MICHI. Why you are doing this? Why you didn’t go home?
TIASHA. Why don’t you go home?
MICHI. It’s different. I don’t remember any more. It is years and years gone.
TIASHA. Exactly.
MICHI. Ahaha, no. That is not a fair answer.
TIASHA. Fair? You want a fair answer? You’re a funny man, Michi. Besides, I thought in Michi’s, discretion is important.
MICHI. All right. I respect your privacy. We say we are two orphans then. You and me.
TIASHA nods. Pause. MILA gets up, walks to MARKO, embraces him.
MILA (to MARKO). You stay, become a star.
MICHI (thoughtfully). I had big dreams for this place. I wanted Michi’s to be the belly button of the wandering Eastern European soul.
MILA (to MARKO). And then come get me. Okay?
MICHI (to TIASHA). Instead, I am a whorehouse.
TIASHA. You make more money than ever, yes? Your clientele is British now, yes? What the hell you complain about. Business blossoms.
MARKO (to GAYLE). So, you’re not going to go anywhere, you’re not going to do art, you’re not going to come with me, what are you going to do with yourself?
GAYLE. Help other people come here and stay. Noble, isn’t it.
MICHI (to TIASHA). I don’t like them beaten up.
TIASHA. They are not beaten up.
GAYLE (to MARKO). Actually, it is noble. Now, that I’ve started taking it seriously. It actually matters much more than . . . It matters.
MARKO goes to leave.
Marko . . . I don’t . . . resent you. I just don’t really understand you.
MARKO. So you turn your back.
GAYLE. Somebody died because we play stupid games. We always play stupid games.
MARKO. That’s not why he died.
GAYLE. Well . . . as long as you’re convinced . . .
MARKO. Bye, Gayle.
GAYLE. Bye, Marko.
GAYLE fades out.
MICHI (to TIASHA). Elena had bruises. I don’t like it and it’s very dangerous.
TIASHA. That was a mistake. Contact is changed. No one gets beaten up.
MICHI. You know what can happen to us if that gets out?
TIASHA. You just do your thing, you run the club, not much different from what you always do. Roman does his thing, he does network. I do mine. I do fieldwork. Everybody sticks to their bit, everybody is happy. All right?
MICHI (resignedly). Yes. Everybody happy. All right.
TIASHA. Trust me. It won’t get out. It never gets out.
MILA is on her way out carrying her luggage. MARKO walks over to her. They embrace.
MILA. Come and get me and we’ll start over. We’ll be okay. Okay?
MARKO. Yes.
MILA exits. MARKO fades out.
ERIK. And, it’s been three weeks. It’s been sitting there for three weeks. It hasn’t changed a bit. It’s hot here, it’s dusty and sticky and feels like you’d eventually rot away, danger, no danger. And every day, somebody doesn’t come back. But the apple is still perfectly smooth and red. (Beat.) That’s the only thing that hasn’t happened before. Well, that and Baghdad. I’ve never been to Baghdad before.
ERIK goes over to the wall in GAYLE’s office where TIASHA’s map still hangs. He shadows Iraq. He glances back at MARTA. She waves his packet of cigarettes at him. He goes back to her and sits down.
Keep it. Really, keep it.
MARTA. Why? You want to quit?
ERIK laughs.
Bad for health?
MARTA laughs loudly. ERIK joins her.
ERIK. You know, it can kill you.
They both laugh harder.
I swear. It says so on the box. ‘Smoking kills.’
Their laughter becomes hysterical.
MARTA. In every language in world. Everyone agree.
They slowly stop laughing. They wipe their tears away. They breathe deeply. ERIK kisses MARTA on the forehead. He gets up and slowly walks out. MARTA produces an accordion and starts playing.
Lights fade to black, the music plays on.
Epilogue
The South Bank.
MARTA is sitting in the background, playing an accordion. She has a sign in front of her saying ‘Pay as you listen’. The lights are bright, like on a sunny, early-autumn day.
MARKO and MILA are sitting on a bench drinking coffee from large paper cups.
MILA. I like the Thames. It’s powerful. You know, when I’m sitting here, with that view, with all those people, with those red buses running across the bridge, and with the music, I feel like I’m in a film. Like there’s a camera following me, sipping my latte, deciding if I’m going to accept to play Cressida or . . . Cosette.
MARKO. Cosette?
MILA. Yes. I’ll tell you about it on a rainy day.
MARKO. And it’s sunny for days. What is that about fog in London? I don’t see any fog.
MILA. The fog is a myth. But just wait for October to run out. Then the fun starts. Three, four straight months of rain, accompanied by large amounts of hail and the most annoying wind ever to blow on the Earth. It feels like a long long drizzly night.
MARKO. So, it’s like Gotham City.
MILA (laughs). Yeah. Like Gotham City. You like the coffee?
MARKO. It’s very . . . large and . . . milky.
MILA. They don’t understand coffee. To them it’s about froth and flakes and you know, things going on in a cup. They’re not very . . . oral.
MARKO. What do you mean?
MILA. Well, you know they don’t have a phrase for ‘dobar tek’.
MARKO. What do they say?
MILA. ‘Bon appétit.’ But they don’t even say it that often because, you know, what’s to look forward to?
MARKO (laughs). But it’s good here?
MILA. It’s good. Well, you have to be aware of this Mood . . . It’s like this depressive mood that grabs you when things are not going too well. It makes you play native music and remember good things about home. It’s very sneaky and you can never let your guard down.
MARKO. So, the Mood.
MILA. Yes. My boyfriend thinks it’s the Slavic thing. He thinks we take things too seriously.
MARKO. I suppose he isn’t Croatian.
MILA. Oh, no. I decided I will gravitate towards the west in every possible way.
MARKO. So what is your cure for the Mood?
MILA. You always believe in the plan.
MARKO. Which is?
MILA. I work out, I practise and I audition for musicals. Well, I audition, in general. Musicals would be a treat. Work hard, have faith and triumph – that’s the plan.
MARKO. Aha. And this . . . Cassette is in the musical.
MILA. Cosette. Yeah. It was a dream. Ever since I was eight. Since I saw it in Zagreb. It was huge. And there were even children. You know – a boy and a girl. I pleaded with my mom to find out how it is you can get on a proper stage so young. My mom said – don’t be silly, they’re the director’s children, that’s how. And, you know, for years I had this fantasy that somehow I would find out that I was in fact a director’s child. But anyway, you probably think it’s silly, but I think there’s something exhilarating about it and I think that’s . . . great.
MARKO. I don’t think that’s silly.
MILA. What’s your dream?
MARKO smiles, embarrassed.
Go on.
MARKO. Well . . . I like . . . making people laugh. I think making people laugh is one the rare things that make sense. So, I guess a dream would be a stadium full of people who laugh at me. I mean, with me. You know.
MILA (smiles). Those are big dreams, ha?
MARKO. Piece of pie.
MILA (laughs). It’s ‘piece of cake’.
MARKO (smiles, embarrassed). Oh.
MARKO listens to MARTA playing the accordion.
I like that woman.
He gets up, goes over to her and puts so
me coins into her box.
MARTA. Thank you, son.
MARKO. You’re welcome.
MARTA plays on.
You play beautifully. You make really good atmosphere.
MARTA. You are new in London, yes?
MARKO. How do you know?
MARTA. I know. People new in London, they feel awaken. They feel – so much beauty, you have to share with everyone. But in time, you will stop talking to beggars.
MARKO. You are not beggar.
MARTA. Jesi ti, sine, naš? [Son, are you one of us?]
MARKO. Jesam. I vi ste! [Yes. So are you!]
MARTA. Našeg čovjeka odmah prepoznaš. [You can always recognise one of our people.]
MARKO. Neverovatno. [What do you know.]
MARTA. Lijepa ti je curica. Oću l’ vam svirat neku našu? [Pretty girl you got there. Shall I play one of our songs?]
MARKO (cheerfully). Da. Da, da. [Yes. Yes, yes.]
MARTA starts playing.
MARKO goes back to MILA.
MILA. That’s . . . That’s one of our songs.
MARKO. She’s one of our people.
MILA. Is she?
MARKO. Yes. Amazing. Cigarette and it will be perfect. Want one?
MILA. I quit.
MARKO lights a cigarette. They listen to the music and stare into the river. MARKO is visibly touched but happy. MILA is thoughtful.
(Snapping out of it.) So, ‘our people’. What do you mean by that?
MARKO. One of us.
MILA. We are going to get into a fight sooner or later, you do realise that?
MARKO. I’d love to get into a fight with you.
MILA. I’ll win.
MARKO. Of course you will. You’re a woman.
MILA. Exactly.
MARKO. I’ll let you.
MILA. Oh God, we’ll have to do some serious reprogramming. I fear my career will suffer.
They laugh.
MARKO. You’ll be okay. I’m sure.
MILA. So will you. With your big dreams. You have any more as big?
MARKO. Just a couple. I think, if one comes true, the other can stay a fantasy. Be worth more in twenty years.
MILA (smiles). Twenty years is a long time. (Pause.) Have you got a place to live?
The end.
TENA ŠTIVICIC
Tena Štivičić’s plays 3 Winters, Can’t Escape Sundays, At Deathbed, The Two of Us, Fragile!, Fireflies, Felix, Invisible, Europa, and plays for children, Perceval– the Quest for the Grail, and Psst have been performed in a number of European countries and translated and published in ten languages. They have won numerous awards including the European Author’s Award and the Innovation Award at Heidelberg Stückemarkt for Fragile!
In 2007, she wrote a one-act play for Goldoni Terminus, a collection of short plays commissioned to celebrate the three hundredth anniversary of Goldoni’s birth, which premiered at the Venice Biennale. She is a columnist for Zaposlena magazine in Croatia and has published two books of her columns. Her play Seven Days in Zagreb was the Croatian partner in the ETC Orient Express international project in summer 2009. Europa was co-written with Malgorzata Sikorska Miszczuk, Lutz Hübner and Steve Waters for the Birmingham Rep, ZKM Zagreb, Teatr Polski Bydgoszcz and Dresden Staatstheater. A feature film adapted from her play Invisible is currently in pre-production.
A Nick Hern Book
Fragile! first published in Great Britain in 2007 as a paperback original by Nick Hern Books Limited, The Glasshouse, 49a Goldhawk Road, London W12 8QP, in association with Cherub Company London
This ebook first published in 2016
Fragile! copyright © Tena Štivičić
Tena Štivičić has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this work
Cover photograph: © iStockphoto.com/cloki
Cover design: Ned Hoste, 2H
Typeset by Nick Hern Books, London
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
The extract from Chekhov’s The Seagull on page 51 is taken from Stephen Mulrine’s translation, published by Nick Hern Books.
ISBN 978 1 85459 990 2 (print edition)
ISBN 978 1 78001 776 1 (ebook edition)
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