Night, colder than it should have been but it didn’t feel cold.
The place, a stretch of city blocks between two apartments.
The time, somewhere close to three am.
The girl drunkenly holds the arm of the boy for support.
Girl: Sorry if I’m weighing you down. Standing on my own seems nearly impossible at the moment.
Boy: I don’t mind it much. In fact its encouraged.
Girl: Oh really? You encourage strangers to cling to you and depend on the fact that you know where you’re going.
Boy: Well, first of all of course I know where I’m going. And second of all you’re not a stranger.
Girl: I suppose it depends on your definition of a stranger. Our definitions could be very different.
Boy: My personal definition? Hmm lets see, I would say a stranger is someone that I don’t know the name of.
Girl: Really? That’s the best you can do? So anyone you know the name of you know.
Boy: I guess I don’t see where you’re going with this….
Girl: How can that be the determining factor of knowing someone? It’s a name, a label, that by no means tells you who the person is.
Boy: It would be so easy for me to call you a pretentious asshole right now, but I won’t. Continue with your point.
Girl: All I’m trying to say is you know nothing about me. I mean what my best friend is your roommate. Okay. Fine. You know that I got off a plane, what five? Maybe six hours ago. But what was I was doing before I got on the plane? Maybe I was at the brothel I work at. [she says lamely]
Boy: Did you really just use the word “brothel”? [laughs] Wow.
Girl: I guess no one really uses that word huh? It was just the first thing that came to mind. My point is…. Is this how this works? I mean I’m new to the whole college thing here. I’m the girl for the weekend or something and we just don’t know anything about each other and that’s that?
Boy: You know, if you hadn’t been so caught up in us getting to know each other we maybe could actually get to know each other.
Girl: Oh. I guess that would be okay. I mean, if that’s something you want.
Boy: Yeah. I do.
Girl: So….how ‘bout them Dodgers?
Boy: [stops dead in his tracks] The Dodgers? It’s all about the Sox.
Girl: Well, I know they’ve been disappointing lately but they’re a solid team, besides watching baseball is the only way I bond with my dad. Well, that and fine art. [the boy laughs] Oh shit. There I go being pretentious again. I need to stop talking.
Boy: No please! I haven’t been exposed to art very much. I like it I just don’t really see it. Why do you like it? Not saying you shouldn’t I’m just curious how you feel about it. I’ve been to museums but I’ve never been to Europe or anything like that. I’ve never left the states.
Girl: Never? Man I would just----
Boy: [The boy pauses and looks at her carefully] Do you want to stop? Do your feet hurt?
Girl: Would you be grossed out if I took my shoes off? I mean, it’s kinda at the point that I don’t really care, but I figured I should ask.
Boy: If I’m at all grossed out I promise not to show it.
Girl: Deal. [she takes off her shoes] So tell me about you [she says as she struggles with her shoes]
Boy: Well, I mean, I’m a pitcher, I have a big catholic family, personally not too religious but just enough…I live here, I don’t know what’s there to know?
Girl: I always find it interesting what people say as the first thing about them. I mean, what it is to them that’s the defining thing.
Boy: Yeah, I guess baseball.
Girl: Are you… any good?
Boy: I guess….
Girl: That’s not an answer. You know when you’re good at something, especially if it’s the thing that defines you.
Boy: [laughs.] Okay! Okay, I’m good. I could be great. I’m not yet but I could be.
Girl: Now that is a solid answer, humble, yet sure of yourself.
Boy: Do you always analyze the things people say or am I just----
Girl: Usually, yes.
[they stop and face each other.]
Girl: I’m not religious. At all.
Boy: That’s….fine?
Girl: No I mean, I’m not religious at all, but we were in Italy, at the Vatican and I saw the Sistine Chapel. I was standing there looking up at the ceiling and I felt this strange connection, this religious connection to it that I’d ever felt before. That’s the closest I’ve ever been to finding it. I mean, right then and there I could have walked up to my mother and said “Fine Mom, I’ll be Catholic because I believed in God for a split second.” Then where would I be the next day? If I wasn’t looking up at this divine piece of like insanity would I still believe in it? Why would I pin point one belief now? Why stop looking now am I right----
[he grabs her face and kisses her.]
Girl: I’ve been waiting for you to do that.
Boy: Why didn’t you?
Girl: If I had it would have put me in an odd position of power. A position I find myself in far too often. When it matters most, I prefer to be the one taken off guard.
[he looks at her, smiles, grabs her hand and pulls her to sit on a bench]
Boy: So what is your “defining thing” exactly? What is the first thing you would use to describe yourself?
Girl: I tell people it’s acting.
Boy: Acting?
Girl: Yeah, is that surprising or something?
Boy: Well no, I mean, now that you say it, it makes sense.
Girl: How?
Boy: All I mean is I could see you doing that. The way you talk. Actors talk with their hands.
Girl: [laughs] Wow, how astute of you to notice. Now, for the rest of the night I am going to be self conscious of my gestures. [she sits on her hands]
Boy: No don’t. That’s dumb. [he grabs her hands and holds them] I just mean, the way you talk is more expressive than a lot of girls, a lot of people for that matter. What did you mean by you tell people acting? Is it something else?
Girl: Well, I tell people acting because it’s easy to have a conversation about that. “Oh, you act? Wow. Tough business, what’s your back up?”
Boy: But if you love it enough…
Girl: [makes a gagging sound] Yeah. I mean that’s the sentimental way to look at it. I’ve attempted to be more logical in my old age. [sarcastically]
Boy: So then what does define you?
Girl: I feel like, well at least I would like it to be my observations about people. I mean, that’s my foundation for everything. I wouldn’t be me if I wasn’t the way I am. [she looks off trying to figure out if that combination of words made sense.]
Boy: [ studies her face and laughs] You’re drunk.
Girl: Perhaps a little.
[they awkwardly look at each other for a beat and then slowly she moves her legs and puts them on his lap. They kiss]
scene.
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