Bui-Doi - The Dust of Life by David Christner

This Play is the copyright of the Author and may not be performed, copied or sold without the Author's prior consent

ACT I, SCENE IV

SCENE: LIGHTS COME UP on Claire seated on a couch in her living room.
She is drinking a scotch, and trying unsuccessfully to light a
cigarette when there is a KNOCK at the door. She gulps down the
scotch, hides the cigarettes, rises, straightens her dress and goes to
the door. Wei appears when she opens the door.

CLAIRE: Mr. Chan . . . come in, please. (He enters a little
uncomfortably). Taylor will be right in. Please-sit.

(He extends his hand.)

WEI : Mrs. Munroe-

CLAIRE : No. It's Ms. James actually.

WEI: Forgive me.

CLAIRE: I don't think that's so serious an affront that it calls for
forgiveness, Mr. Chan. In fact, you don't have to apologize at all.
It's a common error.

WEI: What is? Not taking your husband's name?

CLAIRE: No, the error is in assuming that we women so willingly give
up our own names to take on the name of . . . some stranger we may
have met in a bar.

WEI: I see. (A beat.) Then James is your maiden name?

CLAIRE: No. James is actually the name of my husband from my first
marriage, but then, since I didn't know who I really was, I did take
the name of my husband-in that case, who I did meet in a bar, but
that' s another story entirely.

WEI: I see. So, you know who you are as your former husband's first
wife, but not as the wife of Taylor Munroe in your second marriage?

CLAIRE: No, no, no. You don't understand at all. By the time I had
established my own identity as a woman and as an individual, in my
first marriage, it was too late to go back. I couldn't revert to my
maiden name then. My entire new identity as a woman was connected to
the last name of my first husband, which it still is, so taking on my
maiden name, either then or now, was and is out of the question.

WEI (curiously): What is your maiden name?

CLAIRE (waits, then): Finkleheimer.

WEI: Why didn't you just say so?

CLAIRE: Would you like a drink, Mr. Chan? I could use a drink.

(He glances at his watch.)

CLAIRE: The sun is well below the yardarm, Mr. Chan. If not here
then it must be in Hong Kong.

WEI: Haven't you heard? The sun never sets on the British Empire.

CLAIRE: It did last July. Hong Kong is no longer part of the Empire,
Mr. Chan.

WEI: So it isn't.

CLAIRE: “So it isn't.” Taylor would like that, Mr. Chan. You seem to
have a way with words. (A beat.) Now, how about that drink?

WEI: Perhaps just a glass of water.

CLAIRE: Domestic? Imported? Or tap?

WEI: Life is very complicated in your country, Ms. James.

CLAIRE: Call me Claire. In fact, call me Claire baby. Everybody
does.

WEI: I think I'd prefer to call you Ms. James.

CLAIRE: That's fine then too. Ms. James-baby. (A beat.) So, what
can I do for you, Mr. Chan?

WEI: You were getting me some water.

CLAIRE: Jesus, I almost forgot. In fact, I did forget.

(She crosses to wet bar.)

CLAIRE: I'm going with the imported-Canadian Springs. The domestic
stuff is a little bit on the flat side-I think it's because they
take the fluoride out and then have to put it back in-and as for tap
water: I never touch the stuff . . . although I suppose it touches me.
In the bath I mean. It-tap water-is one of the few things I don't
drink.

WEI: Are you all right?

CLAIRE: Oh, god, am I going on and on? I get nervous in unfamiliar
situations, which this is, and when people make demands on me, which
they are. First there's this situation, and then there's Taylor, and
my gentleman friend Howard and then . . . oh, I don't know anymore.
Everything just seems so . . . overwhelming.

WEI: I'm sorry.

CLAIRE: You don't have to be sorry. Not for me. You have a lot more
to be sorry for than I do.

WEI: I have a great deal to be grateful for as well.

CLAIRE: Like having a father who didn't even know you existed until
yesterday? (Wei is stung.) Oh, God! I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said
that; what a disaster. (A beat.) Oh, yes, Taylor knows who you are and
he told me; Taylor has a cop friend who knows everything. I wouldn't
have believed it just by your appearance . . . that you're Taylor's
son. You don't look at all like Taylor.

WEI: It's the gene mix. Could have just as easily gone the other way.


CLAIRE: Oh my god! He said exactly the same thing. It's really true;
it's just dawning on me that Taylor has this whole other life that I
know absolutely nothing about.

WEI: Neither does he.

CLAIRE: Oh, yes, he does. He lives in his mind, you see. He knows.
Maybe he doesn't know on a conscious level that he knows, but he knows
all right. And I know absolutely nothing! He says nothing; he shares
nothing. Of himself, I mean. Otherwise, he overly generous, but that's
to compensate for the other. It's all so . . .

WEI: Depressing?

CLAIRE: No, not depressing. I'm not depressed, Mr. Chan, just a
little-distraught. I get this way when Taylor won't take his Prozac.


WEI: Taylor Munroe is taking Prozac?

CLAIRE: Yes! No! He's supposed to be, but he won't take it.

WEI: So you're depressed?

CLAIRE: Distraught! But don't tell him I told you so.

WEI: Why should I tell him?

CLAIRE: Because he's your father. And because he's a guy and you're
a guy and guys of all races and ages and nationalities and creeds and
ethnic groups and intellects stick together to maintain the upper
hand. Don't tell me you don't either! It's a guy's world, and you
aim to keep it that way.

(A few beats.)

WEI: Will you tell me one thing?

CLAIRE: Why should I?

WEI: Because I am your half-step son.

CLAIRE: Oh my god!

WEI: Why does Taylor Munroe need Prozac?

CLAIRE: To make me feel better. I get very-distraught-to see him
go off into that black cosmic hole of despair because of me.

WEI: Black cosmic hole of despair?

CLAIRE: It's a very dark place he goes sometimes.

WEI: You drive him there?

CLAIRE: No, you can't drive there! It's in his head.

WEI: By making him unhappy, I mean.

CLAIRE: Nobody has to make Taylor unhappy, Mr. Chan. It's in his
nature, his past, the war, his view of how the world works and his
inability to do anything about it.

WEI: So that's why he takes Prozac?

CLAIRE: That's why he's supposed to take it, but he won't because he
doesn't care a twit about how I feel.

WEI: How do you feel?

CLAIRE: Distraught! I already told you!

WEI: Is it your relationship with Taylor that makes you distraught?

CLAIRE: No, it's my lack of a relationship with Taylor that makes me
distraught. (A beat.) Why am I telling you this?

WEI: I don't know. Maybe you need someone to talk to.

CLAIRE: Of course I need someone to talk to; everybody does. And I
have someone. I just . . . it's really not my fault, you know.

WEI: Of course not.

CLAIRE: Taylor is just so . . . remote and inaccessible. And when he
goes “in there” and leaves me out here . . . well, it's very lonely,
and I need someone.

WEI: Remoteness then is one of his strong points, would you say?

CLAIRE: Oh, yes. Maybe his strongest! Can you imagine wanting to live
like that?

WEI: What makes you think he wants to?

CLAIRE: Because he chooses to do it. Mr. Chan, and if you can
penetrate the wall of isolation that Taylor has constructed around
himself, you will have accomplished something that neither of his
wives nor any of his children have been able to do.

WEI: I didn't come here to solve my father's personal problems, Ms.
James.

CLAIRE: An intelligent choice, Mr. Chan, I assure you. Now where the
hell is he? (She crosses to a doorway.)

Taylor, your . . .

(Looks to Wei.)

WEI: Guest.

CLAIRE: Guest is here. Come out and say hello.

(Taylor enters, goes to Wei and shakes his hand.)

TAYLOR: Mr. Chan, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were here. (To
Claire.) Why didn't you tell me?

CLAIRE: I wanted to have a little chat with Mr. Chan myself.

TAYLOR: Did you?

CLAIRE:
Oh, yes, Mr. Chan and I had quite a lot to share as you can probably
imagine.

TAYLOR: I'd prefer not to. (A beat.) So, Mr. Chan . . . what can we
do for you?

WEI (crossing to outside door):
There's someone I want you to meet. (A beat.) An old friend.

(He opens the door, speaks to someone in muffled tones then stands
aside to let MING CHAN, 48, his mother enter. She is tall and slender,
very attractive. She's wearing a dark skirt and a high collared silk
blouse. Her long hair is up and neatly fastened, and she is wearing
expensive accessories, including Mikimoto pearls and a lady's Rolex.
She stands just inside the room, looking at Taylor but showing no sign
of any emotion. Taylor stares at her and has no idea whatsoever of
what to do or say.)

WEI: Mr. Munroe, I believe you're acquainted with my mother . . .

(BLACK OUT)

End ACT I

[end of extract]

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