Tony Pasqualini

About In the Dark

IN the dark was one of the winners of the Fusion Theatre’s 2013 ten minute play contest, The Seven, and was subsequently produced at the Fusion’s home theatre in Albuquerque in June, 2013, directed by Aaron Worley,

with the following cast:

Jonathan.....John Wylie

Alice.....Jacqueline Reid

The entire play is printed below.

IN THE DARK

By Tony Pasqualini

Cast of Characters:

Jonathan Salt...a man in his fifties, a doctor

Alice.............a woman in her late thirties, his wife

(In the darkness, we hear a phone ringing. We hear footsteps approaching the phone and a man’s mumbling voice.)

MAN: God...damnit. (Phone continues to ring). Hold on. (He bumps into something) Ow. Fuck. (Picks up the phone) Yes, hello. (Listens) Yes, it’s me. (Listens) What is that? Is this the hospital?

(Listening, as he switches on a lamp. The man is Jonathan Salt, and we are in the living room of his home in New Haven, Connecticut. It is approximately 1:30 in the morning. Jonathan wears a robe over his pajamas. There is a cardboard box, full of old clothes, in the corner of the room.)

JONATHAN: The hospital. Are you calling from the hospital? (Listens) You don’t know where you are. Well, then I guess you have the wrong number. (Listens) Yes, it is, but-- (Listens) Who is this? (Listens) I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. (Listens) That’s not funny. (Listens for only a second.) No, it’s a stupid joke all right. It’s the middle of the night. Don’t you have anything better to do?

(Jonathan’s wife, Alice, also wearing a robe over her pajamas, sleepily enters the room. Jonathan shrugs at her.)

JONATHAN: Is anyone there with you? (Listens, then speaks as if to a child.) Wherever you are, are there any other people around? (Listens) Well, then I don’t know what to say. You must be somewhere. (Listens) Except I can’t help you. What number did you think you were dialing? (Listens) Okay, you don’t even know the number you dialed? (Listens) Yes... (Listens) Yes, that’s ours, but obviously you have it wrong. (Listens) No, it wasn’t me that gave you this number because I don’t know who the hell you are. (Listens for a longer time) How did you...? Where did you get that information? What kind of a sick, perverted person are you? (Listens for a split second.) No. Enough. It’s the middle of the goddamn night. Please do not call here again. If you do I’m contacting the police.

(Jonathan hangs up the phone.)

ALICE: Who was that?

(Beat)

JONATHAN: My mother

(Another beat.)

ALICE: Interesting.

JON: (Sighs) Why do we still have this stupid landline? I’ll never get back to sleep. I mean all we get are cranks and charities.

ALICE: You wanted to keep it. As an emergency.

JON: Agh. Fucking unbelievable. It’s almost two. Shit.

ALICE: You have something to do in the morning?

JON: Yes, surgery. Nine a.m. That means I’ll get...what? Five hours sleep at best.

ALICE: Hot milk?

JON: Oh, god, please. What are we in the nineteenth century? I’ll try some of the brandy Tommy Tyler brought us.

ALICE: Drunken. Back in the nineteenth century, if memory serves.

JON: Whatever then. Something strong
(Alice goes to the bar and gets him a small glass of whiskey.) ALICE: So who was it really? (Jon looks at her) The phone call?

JONATHAN: Uh...my mother. So she claimed.

ALICE: Weird.

JONATHAN: Tell me about it. She called me Jonathan. Knew I worked at the hospital. What else? There was something else, too?

ALICE: That’s kind of creepy.

JONATHAN: I guess. (She puts his drink down on a nearby table) Was an actual old lady, though.

ALICE: Really?

JONATHAN: Far as I could tell. Had that high-pitched, shaky voice, with a whine of disappointment at the end of every sentence. (Imitating) “Jonathan...it’s me your mother. Why haven’t I heard from you lately?”

ALICE: Be just like her, don’t you think?

JONATHAN: Hell, she’d be calling four or five times a day, if she could. ALICE: And I wonder how you got to be the way you are.

(He gulps his drink.)

ALICE: Think you can sleep?

JON: No, I’m wide-awake. You go back though. I’ll putter.

(Alice doesn’t move.)

JON: Really, I’m fine. Go ahead.

ALICE: I was thinking...

JON: Yes?

ALICE: Might be a good time for us to talk. We haven’t in awhile.

(Beat. Jon sighs.)

JON: I thought we were beyond this. I thought we agreed—

ALICE: (Gently) You agreed.

JON: It’s unnecessary though. Don’t you see that? To keep rehashing the same tired arguments. What good does it do us? What good does it do you? We’ve found a solution here. It’s unusual I know, but...we’re still together. We can still laugh and share a meal... a drink...comment on the events of the day...

ALICE: And other things?

JON: What other...? (She just stares at him) Look, I’m there with you...every moment...I’m right there. It’s not perfect, I know. (She laughs) But better than most damnit! You know the things I’ve seen over the years...at the hospital...couples come in and...the horrible ways they’ve hurt each other. Mentally and physically. And these are perfectly reasonable, decent people...could be our neighbors...members of our family. We should be thankful for what we have. (Beat. He thinks of something.) Oh...now I remember.

ALICE: What?

JON: The other odd thing the old woman said. She said I was acting like my father. Can you believe that? Even mentioned the dinner party thing.

ALICE: What dinner party thing?

JON: My mother would always complain that whenever they went to party of some sort, all the time they were there, he’d never say a word to her. As if they were strangers. Even drove off one night without her.

ALICE: Really?

JON: So went the story.

ALICE: Hm. Maybe she has a point then.

JON: How? What point?

ALICE: The way you treated her. Awfully mean, don’t you think?

JON: Berating a prank caller is hardly the same as forgetting your wife at a dinner party.

ALICE: Only an observation.

(Phone rings.)

JON: Oh, come on! This is too much. I am not dealing with this crazy woman again.

(Rings again. He doesn’t move.)

ALICE: Hear her out. Maybe that would help. (Rings again)

JON: You can’t have a rational conversation with a psycho.

ALICE: Do you expect her to just disappear?

JON: I don’t care what she does. (Beat) Is this about you? Is that what’s going on?

(Rings again)

ALICE: Would you like me to talk to her?

JON: Knock yourself out.

(Alice answers the phone.)

ALICE: (Into the phone) Hello. / This is Alice. To whom am I speaking? / Is it? / Well...yes, it’s good to talk to you, too, Josephine. / Yes, that’s right. Been a long time. / Years I think.

JON: Have you lost your fucking mind woman!

ALICE: Ssh! (Back to phone) No, he’s here. / I’ll put him on, but first.../ Josephine...? / Do you know where you are? / Uh-huh. Would you like Jonathan to come get you?

JON: I’m not going anywhere. Are you crazy? It’s the middle of the night!

ALICE: (Still into the phone) I see. / I see. / I see. That would be...very interesting. / Yes. I can see your point. / Let me talk to him.

JON: Talk to me about what?

ALICE: We’ll discuss this, yes. And you call back in a bit. JON: Don’t fucking tell her to fucking call back!
(She silences him with a look.)

ALICE: That is him shouting, yes. / You’re right he does have quite the potty mouth. / Did you? With soap. / Oh, I would like to have seen that. / Good. Well, we’ll talk then in a very short while. Bye now.

(She hangs up. They stare at each other for a moment.)

JON: Okay. Now you’re just being willful. And spiteful.

ALICE: Am I? Why would I do such a thing?

JON: Because...I won’t comply with all of your demands, so you’re going to use this lunatic old woman as some sort of cudgel to beat me into submission. (Beat) What does she want? She wants me to go somewhere?

ALICE; Yes.

JON: Now? In the middle of the night.

ALICE: Soon. Yes, tonight.

JON: Fucking looney tunes!

ALICE: I think she’s in trouble. I think she needs you.

JON: I don’t know this woman. You don’t know her. She’s probably...in some sort of institution, or...convalescent home, or who knows where. And got hold of a phone and... Did she say? Did she say where I was supposed to pick her up?

ALICE: She said you would know.

JON: Well, I don’t. So that settles that, doesn’t it?

ALICE: I guess it does.

JON: I’ll talk to her when she calls back. I’ll put an end to it.

ALICE: Okay.

JON: I will. Don’t you worry. (Beat. Alice watches him.) Why do you keep looking at me like that? Constantly. Day in and day out. It’s unnerving, Alice. Like you’re hoping you can somehow stare me away. Well, you can’t. I’m not going anywhere. I think I’ve made that very clear.

ALICE: You have. And since you’re not...I think then I need to go ahead with my plans.

JON: What plans are those?

ALICE: Well, for instance, tomorrow.

JON: What about tomorrow?

ALICE: I’ve been invited away for the weekend. Up to a house in the wine country. Sounds very nice and—

JON: Who the hell invited you to the wine country? You don’t know a damn thing about wine. What good would you be in the wine country? And anyway tomorrow is Project Runway night. They’re down to the final six—

ALICE: I don’t care. I don’t give two shits about the final six on Project Runway. I’ve been invited for the weekend—

JON: By who?

ALICE: By a man.

JON: A man!

ALICE: A man I’ve been seeing. For almost four months now.

JON: That’s impossible.

ALICE: We meet during the day. Lunch, coffee. An hour here, an hour there.

JON: This is a lie. I would have known. I would have sussed it out. You can’t keep something like that from me.

ALICE: I’ve become a good sneak. You’ve made me a good liar, Jon. One of the benefits of it all I suppose.

JON: I tell you it’s impossible!

ALICE: Well, in any case...so you don’t worry. I won’t be home till Monday.

JON: Oh. Well, that’s very comforting. I’m very comforted that this weekend you’ll be in the good hands of some prissy wine connoisseur.

(Jon goes and pours himself a large drink from the whiskey bottle.)

ALICE: Please don’t get drunk.

JON: What do you care what I do? You’re going ahead with your ‘plans.’ Are you afraid if I get drunk I’ll interfere with your ‘plans?’ Your exciting weekend in the ‘wine country.’

ALICE: Do you know how long it’s been? Since...?

JON: It doesn’t matter how—

ALICE: It does matter. Do you know how long it’s been?

JON: I don’t keep track of the exact number of days—

ALICE: Not days. Years. Four and a half years, Jon!

JON: Can’t be that much—

ALICE: It is. Would you like to see my old calendars?

JON: (The wind out of his sails) Look, Al...in the great scheme of the universe...four and a half years isn’t really...isn’t so much...

ALICE: It was never supposed to be this long. Not nearly. A few weeks, maybe. That’s what you said. That’s what you promised. And it was all right at first. I mean strange of course. No one could possibly understand, but it was all right. Even after a few months it was still...comforting in a way. But now...

JON: Do you hate me? Is that what you’re telling me?

(Again she just stares. The phone rings.)

JON: God fucking damnit! (He goes and answers it) What is it? What the hell is it you want from me? I’m not your son. All right? You’re not my mother. My mother has been dead for many many years. And I am not going out in the dark of night on some wild goose chase. / No. You are wrong. I don’t belong... I belong here goddamnit! This is my home. Now leave me the fuck alone! (He slams the phone down) I’m going to call the police. That’s what I’m going to do. You cannot just harass someone in the middle of the night.

(He picks up the phone again to dial 911. Dials and listens.)

JON: What the hell...? There’s no dial tone. Now the phone is broken. Well, that solves one problem at least.

(He hangs up. Alice crosses to the phone and picks it up. There are no phone wires.)

ALICE: It’s unplugged. I had our landline shut off months ago. I left the phone out tonight because I’m taking some things to the Goodwill. (She puts the Goodwill box on the sofa.) Your suits, ties...electric razor.

JON: Wait. You’re taking my things to the Goodwill.

ALICE: Yes. First thing tomorrow.

JON: And this phone...has just been ringing without...and somehow a woman on the other end has—

ALICE: Your mother.

JON: A woman who claims to be my mother on the other end has...miraculously...

ALICE: It’s all been miraculous, hasn’t it, love?

(Pause)

JON: I still don’t...I don’t understand what the hell--

ALICE: She’s calling you, Jon. What’s not to understand?

JON: And I’m supposed to walk out of here now. Walk off...where? Where is she, if she’s calling me?

ALICE: You have to find out.

JON: Oh, great. Works out swell for you, doesn’t it? Get rid of me at long last.

ALICE: You used to joke about how smart I was to marry an older man with a bad ticker. You said I’d end up a rich young widow.

JON: And look at you now. Running off to the wine country. Boy oh boy there’s truth in jest, isn’t there?

ALICE: Do you remember though?

JON: What?

ALICE: How much I loved you. How whenever you made that joke it would make me cry because...because you were the great love of my life. You remember that, don’t you? (Beat) Jon...? (Beat) You remember.

JON: I do. Of course I do. (Beat) I should change, I guess. Pack a bag.

ALICE: Not necessary.

JON: Ah. (He looks outside) Just walk out there in the dark, huh?

ALICE: That’s the idea.

JON: Not my thing, you know. The dark.

ALICE: Is it anyone’s?

JON: Why is it my mother who called, of all people?

ALICE: Would you have preferred your father?

JON: No, no. Point taken.

(Beat. Jon reaches out to touch her face, but stops just before making contact. He slowly pulls his hand back.)

JON: Okay. See you around, kiddo.

ALICE: See you around, my love.

(Jon exits the stage. Alice watches him go. She puts the phone away in the box. Shuts off the lamp so that the stage, again, is dimly lit. She sits. Stares straight out. Lights fade.)

The End