All New People (2 page)

Charlie
      What the fuck are you talking about?

Emma
      Isn't that
you
? You're the dickhead kid asking for a robot sidekick when you've already gotten a million dollars. God gave you life and you've come back to whine for happiness. Life should be enough. Take life and walk . . . be grateful.

Charlie
      OK look, I can see that you're a little out of sorts, so I'm gonna say this as kindly as possible. I don't give a fuck about God. Now I suppose it's obvious, I've got a couple things on my mind. But don't you fucking dare stroll in here and just splatter your religion all over the room, OK?

A cell phone rings.

Emma
      You know I'm not really sure what the etiquette is in this situation. Should I not get that?

Charlie
      Go ahead.

Emma
      Normally I wouldn't; and I agree with you that it's a little weird because of the nature of what you're sharing. But the truth is, I'm expecting an important delivery and this pertains to that.

Charlie
      Go ahead.

She answers. Attempts to be covert.

Emma
      Hello? . . . Myron; thank God. Look; can you come by the big house in Loveladies. Well I came over here to show these people the house and it turns out someone's trying to hang himself in the living room . . . No, I'm not shitting you . . . Yes I have to get this all sorted out before they arrive; I imagine it will be a bit hard for them to envision playing Jenga in the summertime if they think some suicidal ghost is gonna be swinging over their heads . . .

She notices
Charlie
staring at her.

Emma
      OK, I should go.

She hangs up. He stares at her.

Emma
      You know, even as I said that I realized it was crass. That was my friend, Myron.

Charlie
      Awesome.

Emma
      So you were saying . . .

Charlie
      I wasn't saying anything. Look, would you mind terribly waiting outside for your friend?

Emma
      It's freezing outside! I can be quiet. I won't say another word.

Charlie
      I don't think that's possible.

Emma
      No. I can do that.

Charlie
      I'm pretty sure you can't. I'd literally bet my life on it.

Emma
      We could have like a meditation.

Charlie
      No meditation. Just quiet. No talking. You'll just wait for your friend in silence. You'll get whatever it is he's delivering and then be off on your merry little way.

Emma
      No. You're right. Peace and fucking quiet. Amen. I talk too much when I'm nervous. Sorry . . . I don't know why I'm so nervous . . . I mean I know why I am, I suppose, the circumstances are . . . unique. But I can handle it.

Charlie
      OK.

Emma
      I just can't quite . . . stop . . . talking.

Charlie
      OK, well . . . let's start now.

Emma
      Yes. I agree.

Emma
paces a bit. It's clear silence is hard for her. She looks at photos, then crosses to a piece of African art that sits on a stand behind the couch. It consists of hundreds of tiny beads woven together. She fondles it, and almost immediately the beads begin to fall all over the floor, making a ton of noise and destroying the artwork. When it finally stops, they both stare at each other.

Emma
      I can fix that.

Charlie
      Just please leave it.

Emma
      Don't be silly, it won't take long. I'm just gonna need some thread and a magnifying glass.

Charlie
      Please just leave it alone.

Emma
      No, no, no. This is so embarrassing. I'll have my friend Myron come in and help me fix it. He's good with the arts and all that; taught high school drama for ten years. Watches tons of movies. He's completely in love with me and I may have to marry him to stay in the country, but talk about a last resort; I have absolutely no attraction to him
sexually, but I love his mind. He's one of those people who so beautifully straddles the line of insane and sane. (
Beat.
) Maybe
that's
your problem.

Charlie
      I'm insane?

Emma
      You're
too
sane.
In
sane you'd be walking around Manhattan yelling at pigeons and talking to statues – I once watched a homeless guy in Union Square Park have a thirty-minute heated discussion with a statue of Gandhi. Just screaming at fucking Gandhi! Telling him to eat a fucking sandwich. And no one's doing anything. Not one person in that park had Gandhi's back except me. So I walked right up to him and said, ‘Listen you crazy fuck! Leave Gandhi alone. Have some respect! He is a man of peace. If he wanted to eat, he'd eat.' He called me a cunt and roller-bladed off. Anyway, my point is, you're not that kind of crazy. You're probably too sane. You think too much; that'll drive you crazy.

Charlie
      Has anyone ever told you that you talk a lot.

Emma
      Yes. But I was a bit backed up from our meditation.

Charlie
      What is your name?

Emma
      Emma.

Charlie
      Charlie.

Emma
      Yes I know. Sad Charlie. It's nice to meet you. And just in time too, huh?

Charlie
      Emma, I killed six people.

Emma
      What's that now?

Charlie
      That's why I'm gonna kill myself. I murdered six innocent people. You asked what put me over the edge . . . the straw that broke the camel's back . . . It was that. That's what it was.

Silence.

Charlie
      You have less to say now.

Emma
      That's a pretty heavy piece of straw sad Charlie. You're not gonna murder me are you?

Charlie
      I haven't decided yet.

The doorbell rings.

Emma
      Oh, fuck. The Goldbergs!

Beat
.

Would you mind terribly not mentioning this to them? Something tells me this whole . . . murder/suicide thing might put them off a bit.

She drapes the noose against the wall and quickly crosses to the door. She opens it to reveal
Myron
.
He is in his late thirties and wears a fireman's uniform.

Emma
      Welcome!

Myron
      Hey, baby.

Emma
      Oh, Myron, it's just you. Thank God. Come on in. This is Charlie; this is his parents' house.

Myron
      No it isn't. This isn't your house.

Charlie
      How do you know?

Myron
      Because I know a lot of things.

Emma
      You said this was your house.

Charlie
      I did say that.

Myron
      This is Kevin O'Donnell's house. Super-rich stock broker guy. That's not you. Sweetheart, how do you not know whose house you're renting out?

Emma
      Our office handles over a thousand houses on this island, Myron. Do you think I've got everybody's family memorized? Do I look like the fucking
Lion King
?

Myron
      Elephants are the ones with good memories, not lions.

Emma
      Whatever.

Charlie
      He's right.

Emma
      About the lions?

Charlie
      No. Kevin's my friend. This is his house. Are you a fireman?

Myron
      No, I'm a gay stripper. What's with the noose?

Emma
      Charlie's planning on killing himself.

Myron
      Fuck, that's right! Exciting. I was just sitting at the station staring at the wall. This is already better.

Emma
      And one more thing, Myron . . . moments ago he also told me he killed some people.

Myron
      Emma are you stoned?

Emma
      Quite.

Myron
      This guy hasn't killed anybody. He's fucking with you.

Charlie
      You just met me. How could you possibly know what I'm capable of? How do you know I'm not seconds away from blowing your fucking head off?

Myron
      I'm a vibe guy, OK? I get vibes. And your vibe, frankly, reeks of pussy. I think you're making shit up to try to get laid. And there's nothing wrong with that; I do it all the time.

Last week I told some girl in Atlantic City I was at the Normandy invasion. Now that would have made me at least eighty-nine years old, but she bought it. She blew me behind a shoe-shine booth outside
Caesar's
; said it was ‘for the troops'.

Emma
      What a lovely story.

Myron
      The next night I even upped the ante: pretended to have a nightmare and started yelling ‘The Gooks are coming, the Gooks are coming!' That drove her ape-shit. So I've played this game; I know how it works.

Charlie
      The Japanese weren't at Normandy.

Myron
      What?

Charlie
      Amongst all the preposterous nonsense that you just said, one phrase stands out amongst the rest as the most idiotic. You implied that the Japanese were at Normandy. It was the Germans. The Americans called them ‘
Jerry
', but there were no ‘
Gooks
'.

Myron
      No
Gooks
at Normandy?

Charlie
      No
Gooks
at Normandy.

Emma
      That sounds like the title of some brave general's autobiography . . . How many people did you say you killed, Charlie?

Charlie
      Six.

Myron
      Bullshit.

Charlie
      I think I'm gonna have a drink now.

As
Charlie
crosses to the bar, he slips on the hundreds of beads that have been scattered across the floor from the artwork. He lands on his back.

Charlie
      Awwww, fuck!

Emma
      Oh my God! Charlie! The beads! Are you OK? You are just not having a good day, are you?

Myron
(
suddenly suspicious
)     This place has been booby-trapped. I saw this in a movie once . . .

Emma
     
Home Alone.

Myron
      Yes.
Home Alone
.

Emma
      It has not been booby-trapped. I broke some African art. It was a piece of shit anyway; probably made in China. The beads went everywhere, I need your help sewing it all back together.

Myron
      We'll need some thread and a magnifying glass.

Emma
      That's what
I
said.

Charlie
stands holding his back.

Myron
      That's gonna hurt tomorrow.

Emma
      Luckily for Charlie there won't be a tomorrow. I suppose that's
some
good news.

Charlie
pours a drink at the bar.

Myron
      I'll take one of those too, thanks.

Charlie
      I'm not pouring you a drink; you're a fireman. What if there's a fire?

Emma
and
Myron
laugh.

Charlie
      What's so funny?

Emma
      It's the dead of winter, Charlie. There aren't gonna be any fires.

Charlie
      Things don't burn in the winter?

Myron
      They do, but they don't. There's no one on the island. Only a few thousand people in the off-season. Almost two hundred thousand in the height of summer. But right now, this place is a ghost town. Anybody who's here now, is here cause they got no place else to go.

Emma
      Guilty as charged. I'd love to be anywhere else but here. No offense to my only friend; but I'm stuck. Outta money, no visa, can't rent a house out to save my life . . . I'm hopelessly tangled in nothingness.

Myron
      I mean there are the occasional things of course . . . chest pains, smoke alarm at the coffee shop, somebody tries to make a fire and forgets to open the flue. But for the most part it's quiet around here. I can have a drink . . . or three.