Angels in America (30 page)

BELIZE
: Buttboy.

LOUIS
(In complete despair, quietly)
: Oh no.

BELIZE
: You know what your problem is, Louis? Your problem is that you are so full of piping hot crap that the mention of your name draws flies. You don't even know Thing One about this guy, do you?

(Louis shakes his head no.)

BELIZE
: Uh-huh. Well ain't that pathetic.

     
Just so's the record's straight: I love Prior but I was never in love with him. I have a man, uptown, and I have since
long
before I first laid my eyes on the sorry-ass sight of you.

LOUIS
: I . . . I didn't know that you—

BELIZE
: No 'cause you never bothered to ask.

     
Up in the air, just like that angel, too far off the earth to pick out the details. Louis and his Big Ideas. Big Ideas are all you love. “America” is what Louis loves.

(Louis is looking at the angel, not at Belize.)

LOUIS
: So what? Maybe I do. You don't know what I love.

     
You don't.

BELIZE
: Well I hate America, Louis. I hate this country. It's just big ideas, and stories, and people dying, and people like you.

     
The white cracker who wrote the National Anthem knew what he was doing. He set the word “free” to a note so high nobody can reach it. That was deliberate. Nothing on earth sounds less like freedom to me.

     
You come with me to room 1013 over at the hospital, I'll show you America. Terminal, crazy and mean.

(A rumble of thunder. Then the rain comes. Belize has a collapsible umbrella, and he raises it. Louis stands in the rain.)

BELIZE
: I
live
in America, Louis, that's hard enough, I don't have to love it. You do that. Everybody's got to love something.

(Belize leaves.)

LOUIS
(Quiet, resolved)
: Everybody does.

Scene 6

Same day. Hannah sits alone at the Visitors' Center reception desk. It's dark outside, and raining steadily. Distant thunder
.

Joe enters
.

They look at each other for a long moment
.

JOE
: You shouldn't have come.

HANNAH
: You already made that clear as day.

JOE
: I'm sorry. I . . . I . . . don't understand why you're here.

HANNAH
: For more than two weeks. You can't even return a simple phone call.

JOE
: I just don't . . . have anything to say. I have nothing to say.

HANNAH
: You could tell me so I could tell her where you are. You've been living on some rainy rooftop for all we knew. It's cruel.

JOE
: Not intended to be.

HANNAH
: You're sure about that.

JOE
: I'm taking her home.

HANNAH
: You think that's best for her, you think that she should—

JOE
: I know what I'm doing.

HANNAH
: I don't think you have a clue. You can afford not to. You're a man, you botch up, it's not a big deal, but she's been—

JOE
: Just being a man doesn't mean . . . anything.

     
It's still a big deal, Ma. Botching up.

     
(Tough, cold, angry, holding it in)
And nothing works. Not all my . . . oh, you know, my
effortful
clinging to the good, to what's right, not pursuing . . . freedom, or happiness. Nothing, nothing works anymore, nothing I try
fixes anything at all, nothing, I've got nothing, now, my whole life, all I've done is make . . . botches. Just . . .

     
(He looks down, shakes his head; he can't continue. Then:)

     
I'm really . . . um . . .
(This is not the word he wants to say)
bewildered . . .

(Little pause. Hannah looks at him; he wants consolation, but something stops her.)

HANNAH
(Quietly but firmly)
: Being a woman's harder. Look at her.

(Little pause.)

JOE
: You and me. It's like we're back in Salt Lake again. You sort of bring the desert with you.

     
Is she . . .?

HANNAH
: She's not here.

JOE
: But . . . I went to the apartment. She isn't . . .

HANNAH
: Then she's escaped.

     
I think maybe motion's better for her right now, being out and away from—

JOE
: It's raining. She can't be out on her own.

HANNAH
: Can I help look for—

JOE
: There's nothing you can do. You should go, Ma, you should go back home. It's a terrible time. You never wanted to visit before. You shouldn't—

HANNAH
: You never asked me.

JOE
: You didn't have to—

HANNAH
: I didn't and I shouldn't and I don't know
why
I did, but I'm here, so let me help.

JOE
:
She's my responsibility. Ma
. Fly home. Please.

HANNAH
: I . . . can't.

JOE
: Why?

HANNAH
: I . . .

     
Aunt Libby thought she'd smelled radon gas in the basement.

JOE
: What?

HANNAH
: Of the house.

JOE
: You can't smell radon gas, it has no smell, and since when do you listen to, to Libby? I can't—
(Continue below:)

HANNAH
: I acted on impulse, and I . . .
(She decides against telling him that she's sold the house)

JOE
(Continuous from above)
: I can't, um, could we talk about this another—

HANNAH
: That thing you told me, that night. On the telephone, from Central Park. When you were drinking.

JOE
: No, we can't do that. Not now. I don't want to—
(Continue below:)

HANNAH
: You said you thought you—

JOE
(Continuous from above)
: I don't want to talk about it. Forget it.

HANNAH
: But I think maybe now we ought to, we ought to—

JOE
(Suddenly scarily enraged)
: NO!! And do what?! PRAY TOGETHER?!
NO
. I couldn't . . .
stomach
the prospect!

(Hannah turns away. He stares, baffled; it takes several moments for him to realize she might be crying.)

JOE
: Are you . . .?

     
I'm sorry. Don't cry.

HANNAH
(Not turning to face him)
: Don't be stupid.

     
And if I ever do. I promise you you'll not be privileged to witness it.

JOE
: I should . . .

(Still facing away, she nods yes.)

JOE
: Is there radon gas in the—

HANNAH
: Just go.

(Little pause.)

JOE
: I'll pay to change your ticket.

(Joe exits. Hannah sits. She's alone for several moments. There's a peal of thunder
.

     
Prior enters, wet, in his prophet garb, dark glasses on, despite the dark day outside. He's breathless, manic.)

PRIOR
: That man who was just here.

HANNAH
(Not looking at him)
: We're closed. Go away.

PRIOR
: He's your son.

(Hannah looks at Prior. Little pause. Prior turns to leave.)

HANNAH
: Do you know him. That man?

     
How . . . How do you know him, that he's my—

PRIOR
: My ex-boyfriend, he knows him. I, I shadowed him, all the way up from—I wanted to, to . . . warn him about
later
, when his hair goes and there's hips and jowls and all that . . . human stuff, that poor slob there's just gonna wind up miserable, fat, frightened and
alone
because Louis, he can't handle bodies.

(Little pause.)

HANNAH
: Are you a . . . a homosexual?

PRIOR
: Oh is it
that
obvious? Yes. I am. What's it to you?

HANNAH
: Would you say you are a typical . . . homosexual?

PRIOR
: Me? Oh I'm
stereotypical
. What, you mean like am I a hairdresser or . . .

HANNAH
:
Are
you a hairdresser?

PRIOR
: Well it would be
your
lucky day if I was because frankly . . .

(Little pause.)

PRIOR
: I'm sick. I'm sick. It's expensive.

     
(He starts to cry)

     
Oh shit now I won't be able to stop, now it's started. I feel really terrible, do I have a fever?

(Hannah doesn't touch his forehead. He offers it again, impatiently.)

PRIOR
:
Do I have a fever?

(She hesitates, then puts her hand on his forehead.)

HANNAH
: Yes.

PRIOR
: How high?

HANNAH
: There might be a thermometer in the—

PRIOR
: Very high, very high. Could you get me to a cab, I think I want . . .

     
(He sits heavily on the floor)

     
Don't be alarmed, it's worse than it looks, I mean—

HANNAH
: You should . . . Try to stand up, or . . . Let me see if anyone can—

PRIOR
(Listening to his lungs)
: Sssshhh.

     
Echo-breath, it's . . .
(He shakes his head “no good”)
I . . . overdid it. I'm in trouble again.

     
Take me to Saint Vincent's Hospital, I mean, help me to a cab to the . . .

(Little pause, then Hannah exits and reenters with her coat on.)

HANNAH
: Can you stand up?

PRIOR
: You don't . . . Call me a—

HANNAH
: I'm useless here.

(She helps him stand.)

PRIOR
: Please, if you're trying to convert me this isn't a good time.

(Distant thunder. Prior looks up, startled.)

HANNAH
: Lord, look at it out there. It's pitch-black. We better move.

(They exit. Thunder.)

Scene 7

Same day, late afternoon. Rain is coming down in sheets, an icy wind has picked up. Harper is standing at the railing of the Promenade in Brooklyn Heights, watching the river and the Manhattan skyline. She is wearing the dress she wore in Act Three,
Scene 3
, inadequate for the weather, and she's barefoot
.

Joe enters with an umbrella. Harper turns to face him
.

HARPER
: The end of the world is at hand. Hello, paleface.
(She turns back to the skyline)

     
Nothing like storm clouds over Manhattan to get you in the mood for Judgment Day.

(Thunder.)

JOE
: It's freezing, it's raining, where are your shoes?

HARPER
: I threw them in the river.

     
The Judgment Day. Everyone will think they're crazy now, not just me, everyone will see things. Sick men will see angels, women who have houses will sell their houses, dime store dummies will rear up on their wood-putty legs and roam the land, looking for brides.

JOE
: Let's go home.