Invisible Boy
by
Callen Harty
©2010, Callen
Harty
NOTES: Throughout the play the narrator is Jason. Jason 2 is Jason at various ages as a boy. Unless noted, Jason is on an up stage left platform; except as noted, all other action occurs on the stage below him. As the play is about to start three men in masks enter the theater and take seats in different parts of the audience.
[On screen an image of a pair of ballet dancers frozen in a romantic moment comes up; the man is obviously sweeping the woman off her feet; lights up on Jason; Jason looks at the image for a moment; the image fades; Jason turns to the audience]
JASON: The first time I went to the ballet it didn’t do much for me. I know, not very queer, right? I’m not really a huge fan of musicals, either. Oh! Blasphemy. If he says he doesn’t like the Wizard of Oz we shall have to banish him. No worries there. I’m definitely a friend of Dorothy. Just maybe not the most typical. Anyway, ballet didn’t do it for me. It was too pretty, too perfect. Gorgeous, yes, and everyone was beautiful, every thing was beautiful, but it didn’t resonate with me. I guess because I knew—no, life isn’t like that. At 16 I knew that life wasn’t that good. Hell, at ten I knew it. And so I left. [Jason 2 enters up right; Jason 2 and Jeffrey are both about 16; a picture of trees is projected] Midway through the performance I snuck out. [Jason 2 stops and turns back to the theater; he looks at the trees blowing in the wind] I went out into the street and I listened to the music of the wind through the trees. [Jason 2 listens for a moment, then makes some awkward attempts at dancing; he sees Jeffrey seated in the audience, and stops; the tree image disappears. Jason 2 looks at Jeffrey deeply]. And then I saw you and at that moment somewhere deep inside me I thought maybe life is that good.
[An image of a park appears]
JASON 2: [Realizes he is staring and is suddenly embarrassed] Oh, sorry. [Jason 2 turns away, then turns back a bit] I’m sorry, I . . .
JEFFREY [standing]: Don’t worry about it. Hi. I’m Jeffrey.
JASON 2: Hi.
[Pause]
JEFFREY: And you are . . . ?
JASON 2: Sorry—Jason.
JEFFREY: You’re sorry for a lot.
JASON 2: Sorry.
JEFFREY: Stop. [Beat] Good. So, you cut out of the ballet thing, too, huh?
JASON 2: Yeah.
JEFFREY: It sucked.
JASON 2: It didn’t suck . . . I just . . . I can’t explain it.
JEFFREY: I thought it sucked. So, what were you just doing?
JASON 2: I was . . . just . . . [He can’t speak]
JEFFREY: Before you noticed me.
JASON 2: Oh, sorry, I . . . I don’t know, I was trying to dance.
JEFFREY: Dance. Really? Like a fairy in a ballet?
JASON 2: Yeah. No. I was trying to express myself, but I guess I’m not . . . I’m not very good at expressing . . . I’m not a dancer is all.
JEFFREY [stepping onto the stage]: You were pretty bad.
JASON & JASON 2: Yes, I was.
JASON 2: I, uh . . . [There is a long pause while Jason 2 looks at Jeffrey awkwardly] I gotta go. Bye. [He turns away, then turns back again] Nice meeting you.
[Jason 2 exits; park image disappears]
JEFFREY [to Jason]: You were so shy and awkward.
JASON: Still am. I just hide it better.
JEFFREY: So that was it for dance, for the ballet?
JASON: No, I’ve been since, and I’ve learned to appreciate it.
JEFFREY: I haven’t. I still think it sucks.
JASON: What I really like is modern dance. Dance that expresses in abstract ways. Body movements that express externally what you feel internally.
[Beat]
JEFFREY: So what are you feeling?
JASON [uncertain]: I don’t know.
JEFFREY: Huh. So, you dance now? You express yourself in abstract movements? There’s so much about you I don’t know.
JASON: No, I have an abstract life. I don’t dance. I watch. I listen. I feel. I write bad poetry. [To the audience] That’s queer, right? [To Jeffrey; during the following Jeffrey moves closer to him] Sometimes I write single words that summarize, sometimes twelve-page poems, bits of prose, lines here and there . . . but dance? Now I only dance in my head. I indulge dreams and memories. They swirl around me like wind-blown leaves.
JEFFREY: Shh.
[Jeffrey takes his hand and they begin to slow dance for just a moment though there is no music, Jeffrey pulls Jason closer to him, then Jason gently pushes Jeffrey away; Jeffrey tries to hold onto Jason’s hand as he is pushed away, until it drops; Jeffrey exits; Jason is left alone, looking after Jeffrey; Jason speaks] Nothing could have felt better or more frightening to me than your hand in mine. The thought of it would have been unbearable. [Pause] It reminds me of holding hands with Greg when I was seven. He was a year younger than me and my buddy. We would walk around the schoolyard at recess, holding hands, just enjoying each other. Back then it was so natural to hold hands with another boy, especially one I liked the way I liked him. [Chuckles] I thought he was cute. [An image is projected onto the back wall showing two young boys holding hands]
[Hands, spoken by Jason]
Our hands, coupled
tiny fingers
feeling
what words cannot express
love
or some form thereof
your hand, soft
white winter snow
warms me.
I was seven
you were six
when our hands first joined
together
we faced the world
you and me
with hands joined
until someone said no
no,
you are too old
to hold
hands
boys don’t hold hands
hands
boys don’t
don’t
boys
boys
don’t
and I let you go
[Image changes to one boy standing alone]
never to hold your hand again
[Image disappears]
This is important. It’s important for me, at least, to know that I loved boys that early, that it was something in me, a part of me that early, before . . . anything. [The perpetrator, a masked figure, appears; Jason freezes in place; the figure crosses to him, all the while looking at Jason, who senses something but cannot see the perpetrator] Sometimes I feel cold even when there is no reason. [The perpetrator steps behind him, too close] Sometimes I fear even though I don’t know why. [The perpetrator puts his arms around Jason; there is an uncomfortable moment; a passerby enters and crosses behind them, stopping up center; as that happens, the perpetrator leaves] Sometimes fear paralyzes me and I cannot move and I cannot speak. Sometimes if strangers are behind me where I can’t see them I start to sweat. [Jason looks over his shoulder at the passerby, who continues on their way; Jason steps away and sits on the edge of the platform] I didn’t understand these things for years. Maybe I still don’t. [Jason 2 enters, driving a toy car; he is about 7 or 8; an image of a child playing appears] My childhood was no different than anyone else’s, really. I keep telling myself that. Everyone has pain in their childhoods. Everyone has hurt in them. I’m no different than anyone else. My hurt was just different. Some had hurt much worse than mine. Some had more, some had less. But in my mind we all came from the same place; we all led the same lives. Didn’t we? I don’t know. Maybe, I don’t know. [Slight pause] Maybe I don’t know. [Image of playing child disappears; image of two churches appears] You see, I came from a small town, my family was Irish-Catholic. My mother was a saint—[in an Irish brogue] as any good Irish Catholic mother should be. My father . . . [Getting serious again; drops the brogue] well, my father left us when I was a baby. I never knew him.
[Church image disappears; image of a clock at 8:30 appears]
MOM [entering]: Kids, it’s time for bed.
JASON 2: Oh, do we hafta?
MOM: Yes, it’s past your bedtime. Say your prayers and go to bed.
JASON 2: I wanna sit on your lap.
MOM: It’s time for bed. Besides, you’re getting a little too old for that. [Jason 2 looks disappointed]. Come and sit next to me for a bit.
[Jason 2 sits next to his mother, snuggling into her arms]
JASON 2: Where’s Dad?
MOM: I’ve told you. He’s with God in Heaven.
JASON 2: Our Father, who art in Heaven . . .
[Mom shushes him]
JASON: I thought that prayer was about my dad.
MOM: Save your prayers for bed. You want to make sure to kneel down and pray before going to bed.
[Pause]
JASON 2: God has a lot of friends in Heaven. Why did he need my dad?
MOM: It was your father’s time. God is mysterious. It’s not up to us to question His ways. Go to bed now.
JASON 2: Okay. [Beat] I love you.
[He goes to her and hugs her]
MOM: I love you, too. Get to bed now. [Jason 2 exits; Mom exits opposite, calling to the other children as she goes] Kids, time for bed.
[Image of clock disappears; image of a hug appears, then fades during the next couple lines]
JASON [getting up]: That was the last time I remember hugging my mother as a child. I loved her. She loved me. We just never hugged in our family. Don’t get me wrong. We had joy in the family. Irish families tend to be full of incredible joy and intense sorrow in equal amounts. You never knew what might happen to you when you were going along just fine, so you’d revel in the joy when you had it. Go out, get drunk. Never mind that the drink might be responsible for a good deal of the sorrow. As a people we’re manic depressive because we understand the fleeting nature of life, the fleeting nature of happiness, and even the fleeting nature of pain and sorrow. [He chuckles] Let me give you an example. Our town was a mining town, tunnels underneath everything, full of sinkholes, and there was always the possibility that you could be walking along and suddenly be swallowed by the earth. This is true. One time the end zone of the football field caved in right during the middle of a game. Now I’m not exaggerating for effect. It’s the way it was. And you just understood that life is like that, that at any moment the earth might disappear beneath your feet, your dad might die, life or happiness could be taken away in a moment. These were not good or bad things. They were just possible. You simply accepted it as part of that wonder called life. I still do. I carry sorrow in one hand and joy in the other and I never know from moment to moment which hand will feed me. Most of the time I am good, or at least pretend it well, but there are times when long-forgotten pain resurfaces or an unwelcome memory sneaks out through the locked door of my mind. Those memories are always there, childhood acquaintances that hurt me but that I can’t let go because they are so much a part of who I am.
[Image of a playground appears; children enter, including Jason 2; he is about 9 now. They are playing a game of cops and robbers, laughing, enjoying themselves; the perpetrator enters and pretends to shoot Jason 2, who falls down as if he’s injured; all the other children have disappeared as the perpetrator crosses to Jason 2’s prone body and touches his crotch very briefly, so slightly it could have been an accident, though Jason 2 knows it wasn’t; Jason 2 rolls over and runs away, with the perpetrator slowly walking behind him, then exiting; Note—the touching will be abstracted in such a way as to look like he was touched. Playground image disappears; image of a house interior appears; Mom enters and sits; Jason 2 enters and sits next to her.]
MOM: You’re done playing already?
JASON 2: Yeah, I din’t like the game.
MOM: I was going to take a nap. If you’re going to stay in the house you have to be quiet. And don’t be running in and out. You’d think you kids were born in a barn sometimes.
JASON 2: I have to tell you something.
MOM: What is it? [Jason 2 can’t speak] Well? [He finally leans over and whispers something in her ear] Oh, you shouldn’t let him do that. [Her mind goes somewhere for a bit; house interior image fades into an image of a masked man; she is deep in thought for a bit, the mask image fades back into house interior, and then she returns.] I’m going to go for my nap now. [Mom stands up to exit, then turns back to Jason 2] That’s a bad thing. You shouldn’t let him do that to you.
[She exits; Jason 2 sits alone for a moment; house image and lights slow fade on Jason 2 and then back up on Jason]
JASON: I can’t help but think how things might have been different. I don’t blame her. I think she handled us kids the best that she could. But I still can’t help but wonder . . . what if? There is the possibility that everything that followed may not have followed, that my entire life would have been different. I often think of those crossroads—how life would be different if certain things had happened certain ways. Would I have been the same person if my father had lived? What if I had grown up somewhere else? What if I hadn’t been raised Catholic? What if my mother had listened to me when I told her about that one incident? What if? What if? Life is full of what ifs, but they’re all ultimately meaningless. All that matters is what was, what is, and what will be. Mostly what is.
[An image of a park appears; lights back up on Jason 2; Jeffrey enters, crosses toward Jason 2, who is about 16 again]
JEFFREY: What’s up?
JASON 2: Nothin’. Just thinking.
JEFFREY: You do that a lot.
JASON 2: Too much, maybe.
JEFFREY: About?
JASON 2 [shrugs]: Nothin’.
JEFFREY: Right.
[Pause; Jeffrey looks at Jason 2, as if waiting]
JASON 2: The things in my head are meant to stay in my head.
JEFFREY: Good things or bad things?
JASON 2: They’re meant to stay in my head.
JEFFREY: If they were good things you’d want to share them. And bad things should be shared. They’ll weigh you down if you don’t get rid of them.
JASON 2: Sometimes you can’t get rid of them
JEFFREY: Bad things, then. That’s what I thought. Let me know if you want to talk. Any time. Later.
JASON 2: Where are you going?
JEFFREY: Football practice. I’m going to be late.
[Jeffrey exits; the park image disappears; lights back up on Jason; Jason 2 looks after Jeffrey; lights dim on Jason 2, but do not go fully out]
JASON [looking after Jeffrey]: I had such a crush on him. I didn’t know what it was at the time, but it was a huge crush. I was clueless. Duh. [Jason 2 turns back and comes back to center stage] I didn’t even know I was in the middle of a giant-sized boy crush, even though I thought of him all the time, even though I imagined us kissing or even having sex. I was so naïve back then. Well, maybe I still am. I dreamed—all the time—of us becoming the best of friends. That’s what I wanted, to be friends with the nicest boy in the world. That was it. Well . . . that was it that I could admit. More than friendship would have been nice. It certainly was in my fantasies, but I was so scared of anything more. So, if nothing else I really wanted him and me to be best friends. And if all of my other friends had disappeared it wouldn’t have mattered to me then—
JASON & JASON 2: . . . if only he and I could become best friends.
[Jason 2 exits during the following]
JASON: I thought about him and dreamed about him a lot. The dreams were about more than friendship, but I was so scared of that, so afraid of my body, that I could only pursue that thought when masturbating and then envelope it in shame when it was done. I didn’t know—I couldn’t know—that if he had liked me the physicality could be nice, that it could be mutual and beautiful. Shared exploration and touch. I didn’t know that was possible. Of all the possibilities I contemplated in life, I simply did not know love with him was possible. I only knew . . . I only knew other. But I imagined—a lot—and I would dream of Jeffrey when I could dream. It can be hard to dream. It can be hard to sleep.
[Jason 2 enters; he is about 10 or 11 now; Jason & Jason 2 lay down; perpetrator enters and crosses almost to Jason 2, then gets down on the floor and slithers like a snake and moves up beside him; we see abstract movements around Jason 2; an image of a hand reaching up and resting on a bed appears; Jason bolts upright, as does Jason 2]
[In the early morning hours; spoken by Jason & Jason 2]
J2: When in the early morning hours I wake
J2: and find beside me a hand
J2: that is not mine
J & J2: I tremble.
J: An alligator, some other beast
J: slithering,
J: sliding beneath the covers
J2: and I tremble.
J: The bogeyman has come from the closet
J: and
J2: found me near naked
J: in sleep and dreams,
J & J2: trembling
J: in fear with muffled screams
J2: inside me. Beside me
J2: the beast lies,
J: the beast lies,
J: and I tremble.
[Perpetrator exits; an image of a lone boy in a bed comes up on the screen]
J2: In the early morning hours I wake
J2: alone
J2: in my bed
J & J2: trembling, afraid of sleep.
JASON: I’m sorry, I have no sense of order. There is no chronology of pain. I know the things that happened, but I don’t know what came first, what happened when. I don’t remember all the details . . . just the feelings. Yet for each instance that I can recall there is at least one moment of clarity, one crystallized image that is etched so indelibly into my mind that I cannot get rid of it, I cannot shake it. This one . . . this was the alligator game, and the alligator came from the river beneath the bed. This is the knowing of that moment. [Slight pause] And I also know that the alligator touched me . . . in places that he should not . . . and who could I tell? My mother? I loved her, but she didn’t hear me. And if one’s mother doesn’t hear, who else will listen? [An image of a window appears; Laurie enters; Jason 2 is about 17 now] There was one.
JASON & JASON 2: Laurie . . .
JASON 2: Hi.
LAURIE: Good morning, sleepyhead. Your mom said to come in and wake you. I’m glad you were dressed.
JASON: I owe her my sanity.
JASON 2: Yeah, me too.
[Jason 2 & Laurie laugh]
JASON: There are these angels that come into one’s life and they may not even know it, but they say something or give you something at just the right moment. She was such a one and I will always remember her for it.
LAURIE: So, I was thinking about what you told me last night . . .
JASON 2: I shouldn’t have told you that. Maybe forget that I talked to you.
LAURIE: It’s too late for that. But I’m glad you talked to me.
JASON 2: Please don’t ever tell anyone.
LAURIE: I’m your friend. Your secret’s safe.
JASON 2: I’m not sure why I told you . . .
LAURIE: Because you can’t keep that kind of burden to yourself. It’s too much pressure. You’d explode. It’s okay. You can trust me.
JASON 2: I know. That’s why I did. But you can’t tell anyone.
LAURIE: I promise.
JASON 2: Thank you. I’m so ashamed of it.
LAURIE: Why?
JASON 2: These are horrible things, and I shouldn’t . . . I shouldn’t have let him do that to me.
LAURIE: You didn’t.
JASON 2: And I also . . . I shouldn’t say this, but . . . my body responds. I don’t like it, but my body responds. I feel guilty.
LAURIE: You’re so Catholic. You didn’t do anything wrong. He did. He’s the one who did those things to you.
JASON 2: But my body responds.
[Pause]
LAURIE: Maybe, but not your heart or your soul. [Pause] Right?
[Pause]
JASON 2: No, not my heart or my soul.
LAURIE: Good. So shut up with your guilt. It’s not your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong. Okay? Really, shut up. I came to take you on a road trip to the mall. Get up, let’s go.
JASON 2: I love you.
LAURIE: You know I’m dating someone, right?
JASON 2: Not in that way. In a friend kind of way.
LAURIE: I know. I’m not as dumb as you think I am.
JASON 2: No, you’re not dumb at all. I never really thought you were. Let’s go to the mall.
[Jason 2 gets up and they exit]
JASON: I didn’t really believe her, of course.
[Laurie re-enters]
LAURIE: Shut up. [He chuckles] It’s still not your fault. Right? [Jason nods] Right. Now shut up.
JASON: I do know that. Now. It took me years, but I know that now.
LAURIE: It figures you wouldn’t listen to me about it, but I’m glad you finally figured it out. [She starts to exit, but then stops] By the way, I love you, too—in a friend kind of way.
[Laurie exits; the window image fades out.]
JASON: I didn’t tell her all the details. I couldn’t. I told her the who but not the what. At least not the specifics of the what. [Pause; thinking] I wish I could dance. I wish I could express the what in dance, because the sense memory of it all must be in my body, not my mind. [Jason tries to dance, but finds he can’t; pause] Maybe that’s why I can’t dance. Maybe it’s in my heart and in my soul. [He tries another movement, then gives up; long pause] I was ten. [An image of a boy comes up—if possible an image of the actor playing the part would be best; Jason 2 enters; he is ten now] There had already been a couple minor incidents. Not actually minor, but we’re talking relatively speaking here. Nothing like what was to come. When I think about it I can’t even . . . I can’t . . . find . . . [The image of the child disappears] it’s very difficult to even think about it—let alone talk about it. If I talk about these things at all it’s usually through poetry—bad poetry, maybe, but poetry nonetheless—because poetry at least can distill complex emotions into images or simple words that convey the feelings. With a poem I feel like I’ve communicated it, I’ve shared my innermost secrets . . . and it’s safer, knowing that there is always room for interpretation. It’s also intellectualized, distanced. Still, it gets you where you need to go.
[from Compendium; spoken by Jason]
[An image of the moon appears]
Darkness has invaded daylight
before its time is due—
hot, sultry, threatening
as a summer cloud,
and I feel
(am)
guilty
for stepping heavily
and thinking lightly.
Primeval ancestors scoff at me
though I admire
the same ancient moon.
[Moon image fades into an image of a flower bud]
We are born,
the spring of life,
buds of renewal.
[Bud image fades into an image of a flower]
We grow,
like summer flowers in prayer.
[Flower image fades into an image of orange leaves]
We age and we die,
faded orange leaves
scattered in wind
beneath the feet of strangers.
[Image of leaves fades into a winter image]
And in the winter of life
we are but simple memories
melting into oblivion,
like the souls of snowflakes in spring.
[Winter image fades into image of a cross]
The dead souls, purgatorial souls,
the earthly souls, beseech their god.
Dear God, merciful God,
why do you punish us so?
Skulls at
the earthly souls, for they see daily
the broken cross rotting on the hill.
Sister, why did you not tell me
of the rotted, broken cross
when you asked me to tithe my soul,
my dead soul, my earthly soul?
Why did you not tell me
when I enlisted in the bishop’s army
that no soldier can whip the devil
in hand-to-hand combat?
I have waged that battle, and lost.
[Cross image fades into image of children playing]
I am asked to play a game.
I am expecting cops and robbers.
[Image of playing children fades into bleak winter scene]
Instead, my innocence is stolen
as December snowflakes fall
uneasily, huddling in masses
on the deserted playground.
[Image of winter fades into image of a swing]
The swings, the empty swings,
swing back and forth,
forth and back
in the bitter winter wind.
There is nothing more tragic
than a deserted playground.
[Swing image disappears; long pause; perpetrator enters and looks at Jason while he speaks]
There is nothing more tragic than a deserted playground. I can’t go on. It’s a long poem, about a lot of things, but it isn’t . . . it hides too much. It’s honest as far as it goes, but it holds secrets, realities hidden behind certain words. It was a step at the time. It was. But now I can’t hold secrets. Now, I have to look back and honestly deal . . . [Jason 2 enters; he is 10; an image of a bedroom comes up] . . . no matter how difficult. [Jason watches Jason 2 as he speaks] As I said, I was a little boy. Naïve, trusting. Why wouldn’t I be? [Perpetrator crosses to Jason 2] I was ten. I was asked if I wanted to play a game.
JASON 2: Yeah. What kind of game?
JASON: I was expecting something like cops and robbers. He told me it was a game I’d like, but that he’d have to tie me up to play it. I said . . .
JASON 2: . . . Okay.
JASON: I said . . .
JASON & JASON 2: . . . okay.
JASON: I was ten.
[Perpetrator unloosens his belt and uses it to tie Jason 2’s feet together; he then takes two other items and uses them to tie each of Jason 2’s outstretched arms; perpetrator moves over Jason 2 and sits on his chest; we see Jason 2 struggle but can’t see what is happening; the suggestion is a molestation]
JASON 2: No. No! Mom!
[Perpetrator and Jason 2 freeze in place; an image of a crucifix appears]
JASON: I was ten and small and no matter how hard I struggled I could not get him off of me or get out of my binds. The harder I tried the tighter they got. I tried kicking. I screamed. No one heard me. No one saved me. It felt like no one cared. To this day I don’t know what he did to me. I couldn’t see what was happening because he was on top of me, sitting on my chest with his back to my face. I couldn’t feel because I was too terrified and I had never experienced feelings in that part of my body before. All I know is that my pants were down and something was happening, something bad. All I saw straight ahead of me was his back and Jesus on a crucifix on the wall just past him. I can’t . . .
JASON 2 [Pleading]: No.
JASON: No.
[All lights go out except for the image of the crucifix]
[Jesus on the Cross looking down; read by Jason and Mom in just the light of the Jesus image]
J: My mother said
J: always
J & M: “We all have our crosses to bear.”
J: always
J: she said
J: always
J & M: “We are put on this earth to suffer.”
J: always
J: There, at that moment,
J: I saw Jesus on the cross
J: looking down
J: pain, anguish
J: looking down.
J: I am my own cross.
J: I am on my own cross.
J: I am my own burden to bear.
J: Jesus looked down.
J: He just looked down.
J: I wept.
[Perpetrator stands up, leaves; Jason 2 cries on the floor for a moment, then gets up, unties his feet, and runs to the opposite corner, where he lays down in a fetal position; Jesus image disappears so the stage is in blackness; lights back up; Jason is now in a fetal position; pause; Jason and Jason 2 sit up; image of a house interior comes up]
JASON: I was ten. I lost my innocence and my faith at ten.
MOM [entering]: I’m home. Can you come help me with the groceries?
JASON 2 [crossing toward her] Okay.
MOM: What’s wrong?
JASON 2: Nothin’.
MOM: Are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying. [He doesn’t speak] Okay, will you help me with the groceries?
JASON 2: Yeah.
[They exit; house image interior disappears; an image of closed lips comes up]
JASON: I didn’t speak. I didn’t say a word. I thought she wouldn’t believe me. I thought she wouldn’t do anything about it. [Perpetrator enters and stops, facing Jason] But I wouldn’t have said a word anyway because he made it so clear that I had better not ever tell anyone. [Jason sees perpetrator and stops talking; perpetrator walks toward Jason during the following, eventually circling around and standing behind him] As I was saying, I used to try to dance, but my body betrayed me, so now I don’t dance at all. Just in my head and in my words. Movement escapes me. I become paralyzed sometimes and cannot move and I am not always sure why. [Perpetrator whispers something in Jason’s ear, then exits; Jason is still frozen for a moment, then turns around, but perpetrator is gone] Sometimes my fear is overwhelming still. I don’t know what he said, what the threat was, but I do know that it was strong enough that even now, talking about it, I have this irrational fear that he will come and kill me. Maybe it’s not irrational. It is what it is, and I have to respect it, but I don’t have to be a slave to it. [The lips image disappears]. It’s important for me to be honest in my life, to be open, to share who and what I am and how I got to here. After all, I’m Irish as I mentioned. We tell stories. We pass on lessons through shared experiences. We laugh, we live, we love, we cry. [Beat] Okay, I guess that’s not so much the Irish. It’s human. And I have to be human, a whole human being. Facing what made me who I am, facing the hurt of my past, facing the fears I still have, is what allows me to heal in the present. It’s my gift, my horrible gift, to share. Because we are not alone in this world. For every hurt child known there are dozens of hurt children unknown, and they have to know they are not alone. This isn’t about me. It’s my story, but it’s not about me.
[He turns away and goes to the corner. Image of a bedroom comes up. Jason opens a beer and starts to drink. Mark and Nancy enter and stop below the platform; Jason is about 23]
JASON: Oh, hi
JASON: Well . . . what?
JASON: I’m confused.
MARK: Black Bear Lounge. Pitcher. Beer. Drink. It’s Friday.
JASON: Oh, shit. I totally forgot.
MARK: Yeah. So, you coming?
JASON: Of course. It’s Friday, I have to get drunk.
MARK: Friday?
JASON: All right. And Saturday night, sometimes Saturday afternoons. Oftentimes. Sunday beer bash. And of course the only way to forget the work week is to get drunk on two-for-one Mondays, then follow the specials through the other nights of the week. What was the question?
MARK: Are you coming?
JASON: Yeah, of course I’m with you. I thought I made that clear. It’s Friday.
[He steps down off the platform; bedroom image disappears; image of a bar comes up; Jason joins Nancy and Mark in the center playing area; they cross to the down right corner where a bartender stands]
BARTENDER: What’ll it be?
MARK: Three beers. [To Jason and Nancy]: First round’s on me.
MARK: Nothing. I got a check from my dad today.
BARTENDER: That’ll be five bucks. Plus a tip.
MARK: Subtle.
JASON: I love it. I love playing Brian.
MARK: I just really wouldn’t have a lover in real life who’s such an old man.
JASON: You wouldn’t have one that’s a man.
MARK: True that. But if I did he wouldn’t be that old.
JASON: Ex-wife. [To Mark] And you, soon to be ex-lover if this behavior keeps up.
MARK: You can’t rewrite the play.
JASON: No, I guess not. I’m stuck with you both. But okay, so I’m not a student any more, but I’m really not that old.
JASON: Uh, yeah.
JASON: He amazes me. All the characters in the play are dying, even the ones who don’t have a disease, except for Brian.
MARK: Who has terminal cancer.
JASON: He’s the only one who gets it; he understands that all of us are dying. The moment we’re born we begin to die—it’s a process—and only when you realize and accept the inevitable end of that process can you truly start living.
MARK: You think too much.
JASON: I mean it, though. He really is the only character in the play
who’s fully alive. [
JASON: Right. She’s pretty alive.
JASON: But nobody else. They’re all so afraid of dying they can’t live. They’re all so afraid of the world they can’t enjoy all that’s good in it.
[They get their beers and cross back to the platform, sitting on the edge of it]
MARK: Am I playing the gay character okay?
JASON: Why are you asking me? I’m not the director.
MARK: Because you’re . . . you know . . .
JASON: Gay?
MARK: Well, yes.
JASON: It’s okay. I am what I am.
JASON: Really, I hate musicals.
JASON: I sham what I sham.
MARK: Bad.
JASON: Thank you.
MARK: Let’s talk about sex.
JASON: That came out of nowhere.
JASON: Straight men.
MARK: And proud of it.
JASON: So, what about it?
MARK: Are gay men as promiscuous as what I’ve heard?
MARK: Are they?
JASON: Gay men aren’t. Some are, as are some straight men. I am, but I only represent myself.
JASON: Yeah, I can’t speak for all of gay humanity.
JASON: Yeah. It is what it is.
MARK How many?
MARK: What?
MARK: Shoot me. I’m curious.
JASON: It’s okay. My life is an open book.
MARK: All right then. So how many men have you had? Five or more?
JASON: This month? [Mark laughs] I think only four. Maybe even only three. In my life—I don’t know, I’ve lost count—50 or so. And I’m younger than you think; plenty of time to go.
MARK: Wow. I would never . . .
MARK: And here I thought you were a virgin. Two men. But how many women?
MARK [to Jason]: How many women for you?
JASON: None. Not my thing.
MARK: 50 men?
JASON: About. I said I lost count.
MARK: So you must have started young. [Perpetrator enters; stares at Jason from afar; Jason doesn’t answer] How old were you your first time? [No answer; Jason should have the same distant look that Mom had in earlier scene] Hello? [No answer] Hello!? Anyone in there?
JASON [coming back]: Oh, sorry, I was thinking.
MARK: You just went somewhere far away.
JASON: Thinking.
MARK: So the question was, how old were you your first time?
JASON: It depends on how you look at it. [Perpetrator takes a step toward Jason] Let’s just say the first time I chose to have sex I was in my early twenties.
MARK: That’s pretty late.
MARK: Are you saying what I think you’re saying?
JASON: I think I am. The first time . . .
JASON: . . . I was ten, a boy.
JASON: And then for about seven years or so, whether I wanted it or not. [Perpetrator exits] I’ve only told one other person about this.
MARK: Jesus. This sucks.
JASON: Sure does.
MARK (hesitantly): Me, too.
MARK: I don’t know how old I was. Maybe 12. No more than that. Not really sure. That was the first time. Around 12 I think. It happened for about four years. It was my uncle. I hated him.
JASON: And admit it.
MARK: I thought I was the only one.
MARK: I seriously thought I was the only one.
JASON: You’ve never told anyone either?
MARK: One friend, right after high school. Man, I still hate that uncle. I was glad when he moved. I’ll be glad when he dies.
JASON: I understand the hatred, and I also felt pity for him. I’ve tried to find forgiveness, but it’s very difficult. Hate is so much easier. The son-of-a-bitch is always with me. I know I need to find forgiveness for him to go away, but that’s no easy task.
MARK: If you can find forgiveness for it, you’re a better man than I am.
JASON: I don’t know that I can, but I know that I have to try. The hate will eat me up and kill me.
MARK: You’re right, but I can’t let go of it. It’s the only power I have.
MARK: I get it. Intellectually. I just don’t think I can do it. Listen, I gotta go. It’s been real fun.
JASON: Yeah, a hoot and a holler.
MARK: Well, most of the night was. And thanks for sharing. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one. Really nice to know.
JASON: Night.
[Jason stands; Nancy gives him a hug; Jason goes back to the platform; as he does the other two exit, saying goodbyes on their way out; the image of the bar disappears; image of the bedroom comes back up; Jason steps up onto platform and goes to far up left corner and sits, picks up his beer from earlier, and starts drinking again; Jason 2 enters, crosses, and steps up onto the platform, too. He sits and watches Jason for a bit. Jason continues to drink, then looks at Jason 2; he can’t speak, but he starts to cry. He stops, then digs around and finds a razor blade in the corner, which he looks at, then looks at Jason 2]
JASON: I’m sorry. [Jason puts the razor blade to his wrist and holds it there for a moment; Jason 2 crosses to him, takes it out of his hand, and exits; Jason is asleep; lights to black; in a moment lights come back up; Jason wakes up]
[The contemplation of suicide; spoken by Jason]
[An image of a sky full of stars appears]
The stars cry tears of light.
Night heat beats my temples.
Distant, very distant, laughter commences.
Tonight, the stars are my only friends.
But I must abandon their sorrow.
[The star image fades out; an image of a man’s wrist appears]
Window-fractured starlight disperses
over the thin metal blade in my hand.
My wrist pulsates. Blue veins throb
in anticipation, like sprinters awaiting the gun.
The cold metal finger caresses my skin.
[The wrist image fades out; an image of a razor blade upon a bed appears]
I close my eyes in fear of blood
as the metal probes my frightened wrist.
But the weapon sneaks stealthily from my hand
as my drunken body succumbs to sleep.
I awaken with a razor blade beneath my pillow.
[Razor blade image disappears; Jason stands]
JASON: Sometimes this process is like taking a broken piece of glass—a window maybe, shattered—and trying to piece it back together. There are so many fragments scattered in my mind, so many broken moments strewn about that I find it difficult to pick them all up, to find them, let alone figuring out where they fit. And maybe I have to be okay with that, maybe I have to accept that I may not ever find everything that was lost. But if I find enough, if I remember enough and connect enough pieces together I can at least peer into the window of my own soul and see me hiding in a corner there. I need to find that frightened, cowering child. I need to connect with him and let him know that it’s all right, that no harm can befall him now. I need to put these pieces together to be whole again.
[Image of stairs appears; Jason 2 enters; he is about 13 or 14; he is followed by the perpetrator; he crosses down right and turns around]
JASON 2: Where is it?
[Perpetrator points behind Jason 2, who exits, followed by the perpetrator; image of stairs disappears; Jason crosses to the corner of the platform and stops]
JASON: It’s not that every moment of my life has been horrible. In fact most of it has been incredibly good. I have experienced tremendous joy and love. I have been surrounded by wonderful people who love me deeply, even when I didn’t always know it, and even when I didn’t always love myself deeply. I have had angels intercede throughout my days. I’ve even had moments when I was able to dance freely. But there have always been these sudden sinkholes hidden on the path; there have been moments, too many of them, of horrible brutality. [Jason 2 screams, which stops Jason short; screen is filled with blackness] In the basement of my own house, with no one else home, in the pitch black of an unlit back room, I suffered the worst physical and mental pain of my life. [Another scream from Jason 2] I was so small compared to him . . . I didn’t know when I felt the hurt . . . I didn’t know what it was . . . but I know now . . . he raped me . . . [Another scream from Jason 2] Nobody heard. Nobody saw. I felt like an invisible boy. And it didn’t matter to him that I was screaming and crying because it wasn’t about me; it was about him. It was always about him. [Perpetrator enters, crosses, and exits; Jason 2 enters and collapses in the corner]
JASON 2: I hate you. I hate you.
JASON: How, how, how can I find forgiveness?
[An image of a smashed baby doll appears]
[No words; spoken by Jason]
There are no words.
Anguish
adorns my head
like a crown of thorns.
Hatred
cuts my throat
like a necklace of glass shards.
Screams
filled with blood
bear no witness;
they fall into the silent dark
Rage
But hatred must give way;
forgiveness must have sway;
and rage must fall to slumber.
[Image fades; Jason and Jason 2 both collapse on the floor; image of house interior comes up]
MOM [entering]: I’m home. [Sees Jason 2] Why are you laying on the living room floor?
JASON 2: I was tired.
MOM: Then get up, go to bed. Take a nap. This is no place to sleep. Sometimes you kids make we wonder.
[She turns to go]
JASON 2: I love you.
MOM: I love you, too, Jason. Now where did that come from? Mother’s Day is months away.
JASON 2: Just that I love you.
MOM: That’s nice.
[Pause; waiting]
JASON 2: Do you love me?
MOM: I just said I do. Didn’t you hear me? Of course I do.
JASON 2: Thank you, Mom.
MOM: Thank you? For loving you? You’re my son. Of course I love you. And you’re an odd boy sometimes.
JASON 2: Thank you for loving me, yeah.
MOM: By the way, what’s going on at school?
JASON 2: What d’ya mean?
MOM: You used to be one of the smartest kids in your class and now you’re getting C’s and D’s all the time.
JASON 2: I don’t know.
MOM: Well, you’d better figure it out. You’ll never get into college when you get older if this keeps up. You’re smarter than that.
JASON 2: I know.
MOM: You need to study harder and spend less time playing and sleeping. You spend so much time in your room behind closed doors. What do you do in there?
JASON 2: Nothin’.
JASON: Really, what I did most of the time was create characters in my head who drove around the squared patterns of my bedspread in their little Matchbox cars and Hot Wheels. They lived in a world where I was the policeman and I had the power and the bad guys didn’t get away with anything. I had a whole world constructed, and life was good there.
MOM: If you’re not going to take a nap, please don’t be making a lot of noise. I need some peace and quiet around here.
JASON 2: Okay.
[Mom and Jason 2 exit; house interior image disappears]
JASON: Somewhere along the line I had lost interest in school. I found it hard concentrating on anything at that time. It didn’t mean anything to me. My mother was right, I was lucky to get into college. If I think about it I’m lucky to be alive. After I quit college I pretty much went on a ten-year binge of alcohol and drugs. Mostly alcohol; it was my drug of choice. I made terrible decisions, although I still wouldn’t change them now because all of them helped me grow. But really, I was lucky to survive them. I’ve lived more than nine lives.
[Image of an evening street scene appears; Jon enters and waves]
JON: Yoo-hoo!
JASON: Jon!
[Jason steps down to greet him with a hug]
JON: Where have you been all my night?
JASON: At the bar. Where else?
JON: I didn’t see you there.
JASON: The room I was in was a little dark.
JON: Slut.
JASON: Yes, yes you are.
JON: Touché. And thank you, yes I am.
JASON: So what’s happening?
JON: Not much; I’ve only pulled a single trick all night.
JASON: It is Sunday.
JON: Sunday is when they most want you on your knees. You’re a Catholic boy. You should understand being on your knees.
[Street scene image fades into image of a car, which almost immediately fades back into street scene]
JASON: I think he was looking for some action.
JON: He was looking at you.
JASON: I’m sure not. Besides I don’t do that.
JON: Are you making judgments about my livelihood?
JASON: No, I just . . . I wouldn’t know how, and I’m sure nobody would be interested in me anyway.
JON: Some of them might like a cute little leprechaun instead of an aging Jewish drag queen. And how is easy. Just roll up your pant leg and grab your crotch. Just enough to show a little meat. They’ll get the hint. Just put your lips together and blow. You know how to blow, don’t you? [Street scene image fades into image of a car; this time it’s a little slower to fade back into the street scene image] That one is looking at you.
JASON: Right.
JON: He’ll go around the block another time probably, maybe twice, to get a good look at you. When he pulls over you just saunter up to the car and acknowledge him. He’ll look you over and if he still likes what he sees he’ll invite you for a ride in the car. You chit-chat a little bit, make a deal, and you’re on your way.
JASON: I don’t know about this—although I could use the money.
JON: It’ll be fun. Oh, but don’t show him your dick until the deal is made, though.
JASON: What? I wouldn’t. It wouldn’t occur to me. Would it occur to others to . . . no, of course not.
JON: Good.
JASON: That’s one of the rules, really.?
JON: For you, yes. If you do he’ll dump you out of the car and come back for me. Most tricks tend to like them bigger.
JASON: Bitch.
JON: Aren’t I?
JASON: If the pump fits. [Pause] Really, this doesn’t seem safe.
JON: Girl, you’re just trying to talk yourself out of it. Safe! Love is a dangerous game.
JASON: Love?
JON: Sometimes you have to pretend to get by in this world.
JASON: Really? Love?
JON: Life then. Whatever. It’s all dangerous, honey. Life is dangerous. Just live. [Street scene image fades into image of a car] Go get him, tiger. He’s waiting.
JASON: But I don’t know . . . how much?
JON: Let him offer and you decide if it’s good enough for you. I’m going to wander off this way a bit. Have fun. Toodles.
JASON: Wait. [Jon exits; Jason turns and crosses to up right corner] Good evening.
MAN [off stage]: What’s going on?
JASON: Nothing much. Just hanging around.
MAN: Nice night.
JASON: Yes, it is.
MAN: Wanna ride? Nice night for a ride.
JASON: Sure. [Image of car fades back into street scene image; Jason turns around; image of street scene disappears as he crosses back to platform] I had a whole group of friends who were hustlers back then. There was something exciting about that forbidden world of hustling, something that appealed to me from an intellectual point of view, sort of the radical sexual outlaw motif. It called to me in some strange way and so I followed the siren. Fortunately no sirens followed me. I remember being terrified that the man in that car might be a vice cop, and fortunately he wasn’t. Still, it proved to be the only time I ever did that. Not because of fear of the cops. If I had wanted to again I would have. [Pause] The man who picked me up seemed pathetic to me. He was maybe 50, sort of fat and bald—but I mean pathetic emotionally, not physically. He took me to his apartment out in the suburbs. He told me nobody knew this side of him—not his friends, not his family, nobody. He was afraid to go to gay bars for fear someone would recognize him, so he cruised the streets in search of younger men he would pay for sex. When we got to his bedroom we kissed. We did more sexually than was required by our agreement in the car and afterward I lay with my head on his chest, until the morning sunlight burst through the window revealing our nakedness. That day I was an emotional wreck. I was devastated by the man’s loneliness. Maybe our encounter had eased his loneliness, and mine too, for at least that one night, but what about the coming night? What about all the nights left in a lifetime of nights? My heart and soul, my whole being, felt empty. A week later I saw the man again for the last time. He was driving in circles around the same block. I don’t know if he saw me or not, but I felt like he was looking for me. I turned and walked away and never hustled again. I didn’t know it then but the bulk of all prostitutes, male and female, were abused as children. Those same abused children also have a tendency toward promiscuity. Now I’d like to believe that I don’t fall into anyone’s patterns, but the reality is that I was guilty of both. Only the one time did I hustle, but hell, I had more than a hundred partners in just a few years on the promiscuity scale. I don’t judge that. It’s not a good or a bad thing. It is what it is. And despite that, in my relationships I have been strictly monogamous—oddly enough my Catholic guilt wouldn’t allow for anything else—and that is not a good or a bad thing either. It just is. Before and between relationships I desperately searched for companionship—maybe love or acceptance—wherever I could find it. And occasionally I’d fall for an unattainable dreamboat or maybe someone who treated me like crap. I didn’t know that I deserved better. I settled because I was simply desperate to be loved. I wandered lonely streets and the back alleys of my own emotions, truly as pathetic as that man.
[In this anarchy must be love; spoken by Jason]
[Image of a glove appears]
A glove,
like a dismembered hand,
lays at the base of a statue
in the bloody dark
silence. My mind screams.
[Image of a newspaper in the street comes up]
A newspaper, like a tap dancer
in an empty auditorium,
clicks loudly across the street.
Death breathes in the wind.
[Image of headlights comes up]
Reflections of headlights in a window;
sharp white knives
slash my brutal eyes.
Death tiptoes across the dark.
[Image of dead flowers comes up]
And in a window box, ghosts of flowers
Swaying like hanging skeletons.
[Image of broken glass comes up]
Ahead, cars in graveyards of black snow.
Buildings, crumbling brick,
broken glass at my feet.
Naked trees embedded in concrete soil.
[Image of naked trees comes up\
The trees, bushes—budless, lifeless,
bending in the wind
that slaps my face
with the vengeance of a hurt lover.
And a voice in the wind—
in this anarchy there must be love.
Somewhere, somewhere
in this anarchic waste
there must be
please
love.
[Image of tree disappears]
JASON: I found many men to love me physically, but emotionally and spiritually was a little more difficult. I had one great unrequited love besides Jeffrey. His name was Mark and he was everything I found attractive—younger than me by a couple years, cute—I’ve always liked cute more than handsome—intelligent, with a great sense of humor. I was madly and quietly in love with him for a couple years and while we built a great friendship no romance ever blossomed. I realize now we would never have been right for each other, but back then I didn’t know any better. I did have a couple bad relationships, and a string of others that lasted for varying short periods of time. [Image of a house interior comes up; Jason 2 enters, playing with a toy car] The thing is if you don’t love yourself you can’t love others. It just doesn’t work. Still, somehow each one of those relationships built upon the last and I learned about myself and grew some more. Each one gave me a greater sense of value and somewhere along the line I began to love myself.
[Mom enters; Craig enters opposite]
MOM/CRAIG: Jason, I’m home.
JASON/JASON 2: Okay, be right there.
CRAIG: Hurry up, baby, can’t wait to see you.
MOM: Hurry up, Jason, I need your help.
JASON: With Craig I felt wanted. It didn’t last, but for the time we were together it was intense and passionate. My mom met him once and she didn’t like him. She couldn’t put a finger on it, but she just didn’t like him.
[Jason steps down on to the stage with Craig; Jason 2 exits with Mom]
CRAIG: Hey. How was your day?
JASON: Boring. And yours?
[They kiss]
CRAIG: I’ve had better. The girls in the costume shop were all just bitches today. And so were the boys. Is there a full moon?
JASON: I don’t know. Turn around.
CRAIG: Speaking of bitches.
JASON: Sorry, couldn’t resist.
[Jason 2 enters and goes back to playing with his car]
CRAIG: So what do you want to do tonight?
JASON: I don’t know. I don’t care. We could get in the car and go out somewhere.
CRAIG: I’m think I’m too tired to go out.
[Perpetrator enters]
JASON: Now that you mention it, staying home might be okay. Sorry you’re so tired.
CRAIG: I am, but not too tired to enjoy my hot little man.
[He takes a step toward Jason; perpetrator moves toward Jason 2]
JASON: You’re too funny.
[Jason 2 laughs nervously]
CRAIG: Come here. [No reaction] All right. I’ll come to you. Make me chase you. [Craig crosses to Jason as perpetrator crosses to Jason 2; Craig starts to unbutton Jason’s shirt as perpetrator starts to unbutton Jason 2’s shirt] You know you want it. [Craig gently pushes Jason back to the platform and sits him down, then pushes his shoulder down until he’s laying down; perpetrator takes Jason 2 and holds him down] You know you like it. [Craig leans down, half on top of Jason; he is kissing Jason’s neck and face; something is happening with Jason 2 and perpetrator, but we can’t see what; perpetrator gets up and starts to leave; suddenly Jason throws Craig off of him and jumps up and runs to center stage just as Jason 2 escapes and runs to center stage and stops next to him; they are both frozen in place; Craig and perpetrator step toward them; they both take another step further away] Are you okay? [Jason nods]
JASON 2: I don’t like it.
CRAIG: Yeah, right.
[Craig and perpetrator both turn and exit; Jason watches as Jason 2 goes back and picks up his toy car and exits; house interior image fades]
JASON: That was probably the worst flashback I’ve
ever had. I didn’t know what Craig had
done and neither did he. I felt bad for
him. I just . . . something he did—I
think it was the way he was laying on top of me and I couldn’t breathe or
move—triggered something in me and I literally threw him off of me. He was much bigger than me, but it didn’t
matter. I felt trapped and the adrenalin
started rushing. [Smiling] I think he was surprised at my strength and I
don’t think he understood my explanation.
Of course, how could he? In that
moment I became myself as a child. It’s
hard to explain—a grown man in a grown body who was at once in the moment and
at the same time in a small boy’s body in the past. I don’t know how that’s possible, but it was
real and it was scary. And Craig was the
one at that moment who was hurting me as a child. As horrifying as that flashback was, it
awakened something in me. It was another
step in picking up the pieces and in my personal growth. We broke up shortly after that, I’m not sure
why. Craig took a summer job in
[from Compendium; spoken by Jason]
[Autumn image of a man walking appears]
I walk along the concrete
paths of this town. The wind
whispers in my ear. Leaves dance
on the lawns and in the streets.
This is the season of my madness.
I stand naked in October wind.
I am the defeated king.
I am the triumphant pawn.
I am the laughing queen.
All around me is death and rebirth,
all around me gaily dancing leaves,
tomorrow’s nutrients of the soil.
[Walking image disappears; an image of alcohol appears]
Down the street I tread with hope,
yet fear. I am exposed
in my nakedness.
I disguise myself with brandy.
Satisfaction. Depression.
Gratification. Repression.
These are the conflicts of my soul
as I search for happiness.
But it will not be found
at the bottom of my bottle.
It will not be found
in echoes of late-night footsteps.
It will not be found
beside me in the strange beds of morning.
[Alcohol image disappears; image of Jeffrey and Brian appear]
I search for Eros in the sky;
by his grace I will live.
I see him standing
on the distant horizon.
I hear him whisper
in the breath of autumn wind.
I hear his song
inside my head.
I see him fading into darkness.
[Jeffrey and Brian images fade; light dim to almost black except for one that looks like a streetlight; image of a streetlight appears]
I see him fading
into darkness
and am now afraid
to walk home alone
at night, under
the streetlights
playing with my shadow.
[Image of autumn leaves appears]
I walk home alone with the breeze,
dying with autumn leaves.
[Leaves image fades; pause; Jason exits, then comes back with a large knife and sits on the platform; a series of images flash across the screen; they are of him alone, body parts, dead animals, things falling apart, etc.; Jason 2 enters, holding a Teddy bear; he is about 12 now; Jason 2 crosses to the platform and sits on the corner watching Jason; Jason sees Jason 2 and sets the knife down; Jason runs off of the platform and crosses; a light is spilling from under the curtain; Jason bangs on Lauren’s door; she opens it; image of a room appears]
LAUREN: Jason, it’s 2:00 in the morning. What’s going on?
JASON: Lauren . . .
[He can’t say any more; he just stands there, unable to look her in the eyes]
LAUREN: What is it? Are you okay?
[Jason shakes his head]
LAUREN: What’s wrong?
[Long pause before he can speak]
JASON: I can’t be alone.
LAUREN: Okay, okay. That’s fine. Have a seat. [He sits and she sits opposite; neither says anything; after a few moments Jason and Jason 2 start to cry; Lauren goes to Jason and holds him in her arms; Jason and Jason 2 are crying uncontrollably; Jason tries to say something but nothing comes out] It’s okay. You don’t have to speak. You don’t have to say anything. Just let it out. Whatever it is, let it out. [Both continue to cry; Lauren continues to hold Jason] It’s okay. . . whatever it is, it’s okay. [Jason and Jason 2 have spent their tears; they stop crying and stand; Jason hugs Lauren as Jason 2 squeezes his Teddy bear; Jason steps back and looks at her]
JASON: Thank you.
[They hug again]
LAUREN: Are you all right? [Jason nods] I’m not so sure I believe you. You can stay if you want. [Jason shakes his head] Come back again if you need to, all right? It doesn’t matter what time. Wake me up if you have to. Okay? [Jason nods again] Promise me. [Jason nods again; he turns and starts to cross to platform as Jason 2 is crossing away from it; Lauren exits; image of room disappears; Jason arrives back at the platform at the same time as Jason 2 exits]
JASON: I was dying. In many ways. Sometimes, taking a breath hurts because you know that every breath you take is that much longer in the world. I wanted to stop breathing. Jon did it. Why couldn’t I? He was abused as a child, too, turned to prostitution, alcohol, sex addiction. But he got to a point where his pain was unbearable, so he gave it away. To me, to some others. I still hold that pain for him. That’s the unfairness of suicide. I wanted to give mine away, too, but always there were angels in my world. Always there were people who took care of me at just the right moment. Lauren never did ask what had happened that night. She never intruded. She just let me be with my emotions. If there hadn’t been a light there, if she hadn’t answered, if she hadn’t been so understanding . . . well, I think that knife may have cut deeply. But that was a turning point. The other times I tried to kill myself I simply failed. This time I made a choice. [Jason 2 enters] Something inside me, some little part of me, perhaps that wounded child who survived everything back then, something made me stop. Some voice made me put that knife down and try to make a human connection. In the middle of a period when I trusted no one, when I was at the lowest and darkest moments of my self-abuse, when there seemed to be nothing left but despair, something made me stop. There was a little voice of hope that carried me down the hall where I saw a light beckoning and that little sliver of light saved my life. But a little light can build; it can grow to illuminate things unseen. Oh, it has taken me years, but there is so much light in my life now that I can see and feel in ways that I have not known in a long, long time. I have love now, I have a partner who cares deeply and who sits in silence when I need it, who holds me when I need holding, who doesn’t touch me when I am remembering unwanted touches, who loves all of me. I am healing. I have work to do yet, but I am putting the pieces back together. I am becoming a whole person. Now I am working on loving myself and loving that child inside me who needs protection. I promised him, way back after the last time I was molested, I promised him never again and I have the strength now to assure that promise. I think maybe I have reached the last step that I need to reach, and one of the most difficult things in my life. [Perpetrator enters and looks at Jason] And so I welcome him back for a moment, just to let him go again. [To perpetrator] You have no power over me any more. I forgive you. I forgive you because it is not my place to judge you, condemn you, explain you, or anything else. It’s not about you now, for the first time ever. It’s about me—because as long as I live without offering you that forgiveness you still have power over me. So, I forgive you. I let you go. I stopped hating you years ago and now pity you at best. You’re the one who has to live with what you did, not me. I am letting you go. [Perpetrator crosses away, behind Jason] I have carried this burden so long that I may not know how to live without it. But I understand that I am not done. I’ve only shared a few of the stories from that horrible past, just a smattering of the things that happened. There were many others. I have these images in my mind of being trapped in a closet, a storage unit, being made to touch him, being naked in a farmer’s field somewhere outside of town. I have to face them all and then let them go, one by one. It’s all about the letting go.
[One of the masked men in the audience stands up and crosses to Jason; perpetrator crosses to Jason 2; man gives Jason a hug as the perpetrator starts to touch Jason 2; the hug is just a little too long, a little too personal; Jason backs off, as does Jason 2 with the perpetrator; the man walks behind Jason; perpetrator moves behind Jason 2 and gets too close]
MAN 1: Do you remember that time when I saw you at a gay bar and we went back to my hotel and made love?
JASON [aside]: It wasn’t making love. It was sex. He wanted to pay me and I wouldn’t take his money. His manipulations reminded me of my childhood abuse, even though he wasn’t the one who . . .
MAN: Remembering that night with you in the hotel room is making me excited now. [Jason and Jason 2 both freeze up, paralyzed] I remember another time, when you and my boys were out in the yard, beneath that big tree out in front of our house. I don’t remember exactly when it was, but you were maybe 15. And the way you were sitting, there was something . . . the way your shorts sat on your leg as you were sitting there . . . they were sort of up your leg and your package was showing . . . and I tell you I wanted to rape you then and there.
[Man starts rubbing Jason’s shoulders as perpetrator starts rubbing Jason 2’s chest from behind; neither Jason nor Jason 2 can move]
JASON 2: No, I don’t like this.
[Jason gets out from under the man’s hands and steps away, just as Jason 2 tries to step away from perpetrator; perpetrator grabs Jason 2 by the arm and pulls him down to the floor.
JASON & JASON 2: I have to go.
[Jason steps away, then stops; he turns around and sees what is happening to Jason 2 on the floor; he looks at the man]
JASON: No, you have to go.
[Jason glares at the man, who tries to look at Jason, but seems to wither a bit; the man turns and leaves; as the man does so, the perpetrator also steps away from Jason 2 and exits; Jason steps down from the platform and crosses to Jason 2; Jason sits on the floor and takes Jason 2 in his arms and cradles him; lights fade to black]