The Aftershock

Scene 3

[Tango music. Anton and Vera undress for bed while their daughters shiver in their beds next door.]


ANTON
It was a mistake.

VERA
Too late. They live. They eat. They speak. They steal our clothes and tell stories in the dark.

ANTON
Too late. We should have stayed at the hotel. We were happy there.

VERA
You were happy at the hotel.

ANTON
Yes. We were happy.

VERA
They cried all night.

ANTON
We should have stayed.

VERA
A second honeymoon?

ANTON
A holiday.

VERA
The halls were narrow. The porters whispered behind our backs.

ANTON
The natives were delightful.

VERA
We couldn’t speak the language. The porters laughed at us.

ANTON
We take too much for granted. In sophisticated countries, nothing is taken for granted.

VERA
Nothing?

ANTON
A man checks into a hotel, with three young women.

VERA
Actions often speak for themselves.

ANTON
In a sophisticated country every businessman has his “concubina.” The desk clerk doesn’t presume to pass judgment.

VERA
We slept until noon because we couldn’t afford the breakfast, and the porters said we were lazy.

ANTON
Some matters need no explanation.

VERA
They were only boys. What did they know?

ANTON
A man checks into a hotel with three women.

VERA
I slept heavily. In my dream, a taxi would arrive—its polished body crouched like an inviting leopard. And I would go.

ANTON
Silk dresses rushing on the stairs. The white gleaming marble of a naked throat.

VERA
I turned to wave goodbye to my husband and my children. They would miss me. How could they not miss me?

ANTON
I found a leather wallet in the lobby; it was full of money. Foreign currency. Thrown in my path by chance.

VERA
By chance.

ANTON
How could I not give it back?

VERA
After dark a taxi with warm breath and purring body took me where it wanted to go. In the plaza women walked by me, brushed by like sleepwalkers. Lights danced off my dress.

ANTON
I became an important man in that hotel. The porters respected me. I could come and go as I pleased.

VERA
No questions asked?

ANTON
A man checks into a hotel. He meets three women in black leather coats, in the lobby. If he signs his name, they will take a room together.

VERA
If they take a room...

ANTON
No questions asked.

VERA
If they take a room...

ANTON
A man checks into a hotel. He leaves his wallet at the front desk.

VERA
And then?

ANTON
It is not his hotel, and three women in black leather dresses leer at him with crimson smiles.

VERA
In the lobby.

ANTON
On the balcony.

VERA
How can he see them?

ANTON
He is going away. He sees them. On balconies. From far away. Looking back. While going away. He was lost in the blue-black street. It is not his hotel. He has mistakenly signed his name.

VERA
A man--intelligent, well-read--checks into a hotel and signs his name. Black on white. It is his name; it is not his hotel. He signs his name. Three women with black leather whips follow him to a room. What are his last words?

ANTON
I have put too much faith in my ability to escape at the last possible moment.



© 2007 S. P. Miskowski. All rights reserved.