Act 2, Scene 8

Meli begins monologuing just like in any other scene.

MELI:

I was at the movie theater watching When Harry Met Sally on a late-night showing, taking a rest from working on next year’s application artwork, when Fede finally popped out of my head. He needed a shave and a shower. Now that movie is permanently ruined for me.

Meli turns to the old radio from where Fede’s voice has been coming out and addresses it as if it were Fede. The radio shall then respond to her and so they will go back and forth for the scene.

MELI:

I’m applying for the Fulbright again.

FEDE:

You didn’t get it?

MELI:

Oh, I did get it, but the process was so damn fun I want to do it all over again.

FEDE:

You didn’t get it. That’s a real shame, that sculpture you did I really liked.

MELI:

The one of my head, right?

FEDE:

Right

MELI:

Well now I’m applying with the one of your head; sticking to my original plan.

FEDE:

Why?

MELI:

Why not?

FEDE:

I’d expect you’d prefer starting something from scratch but, if you feel that’s the way to go, then that’s the way to go, especially if you like the piece.

MELI:

The piece is a metaphor for you, buster, so you better hope I like it.

FEDE:

I do like it.

MELI:

Do you?

FEDE:

Can I be honest with you? 

MELI:

Better late than never.

FEDE:

It reminds me of things I don’t want to remember. Parts of me that are not me anymore. All that soviet stuff is far behind me.

MELI:

I see, it’s all good. It’s your life, you’re entitled to that. I guess what I’m asking for is some understanding, because I live inside you and inside you is kind of totally and very soviet, which is fine if you don’t like. I did not intend to make you uncomfortable with the sculpture, I just tried to capture what my eyes saw every day, what they saw of you. But if what my eyes have been betraying me all this time, I’m sorry, but I’d like to know who really is the man that sleeps in my head. Is that fair?

FEDE:

That man is me, and I’m still and have always been me. It’s only those things, that programming, that has changed, but that’s what attracted you to me in the first place so I was afraid of taking it away from you.

MELI:

I don’t think that’s what drew me to you.

FEDE:

Sure.

MELI:

Well, it may be part of it, but that’s not nearly enough for me to have stayed with you this long. There’s a whole person besides your past, and I love that person… Fede this is just some stupid scholarship project, I swear it has no more significance than that.

FEDE:

You say that, but I know how much it means to you. It’s all you work for.

MELI:

Maybe, but all that work was for naught, so perfect timing to leave this behind us.

FEDE:

Yeah, that might be for the best. And anyways, you have ways to finance yourself.

MELI:

Meaning?

FEDE:

Nothing.

MELI:

Actually, I do know what you mean. My inheritance be it in money or other forms. Well, Fede, you would know if you’d kept in touch with my present life that I’ll soon make better use for it than keep it. Alright? So no, I don’t think I have the neatest finances right now… Not that I’m complaining, I think you’d understand better than most why redistributing the capital or whatever might be a good thing.

FEDE:

I’d understand this because I’m poor, is what you’re saying?

MELI:

You’d understand because you were raised a communist, and I’m not saying it like its a bad thing.

FEDE:

I can’t help but think that, at least sometimes, you’re jealous of my circumstances. You take such pains to have less than what others would kill to have.

MELI:

Then what the hell am I supposed to do?! If I go on as I am then I’ll always be the spoiled chick to you, but if I do something about it then I’m just a naive poser. What am I, Fede?

FEDE:

I have never thought either thing of you! I’m just worried that you’ll get frustrated if you don’t get to save the world.

MELI:

A savior complex? Weren’t you supposed to be the Next Socialist Messiah?

FEDE:

Communist, more like.

MELI:

Oh, whatever, you quiet nerd! First, I know you think all those things about me, everyone does. Second, is it not worth anything to at least try to save the world? Are we all just fucked forever and that’s it?

FEDE:

I don’t know, not anymore, but I’m sure there’s plenty you can do that doesn’t need to involve me. And what’s your big plan anyways? How’s any of these going to help the Proletariat, huh?

MELI:

I don’t have any illusions about it, but by getting a scholarship I can get a leg up to a spot where I could help others to get a leg up, others that have better things to say than me and deserve the chance to say them more.

FEDE:

So you’d like to live vicariously through them? Heh, I thought you wanted to be the star and not the muse.

MELI:

Yeah, but I’m telling you now that I know I’m not worth shit to be a star! Now I know it, you know it, everyone at school knows it and now the goddamn Fulbright program does too. I had my shot and blew it. Fine, I’ll just try shooting in another direction.

FEDE:

You know you have an art gallery inside you? I don’t see why this is the moment when you kill your passion for art. Or is the gallery just for tax evasion?

MELI:

Heh, no. You can never keep a straight description of that gallery, but there’s been some constants I’ve noticed. Please say them.

FEDE:

What? I don’t know. It’s big, with lots of marble and gold details. Lots of rooms and halls. Art deco, was that a real term?

MELI:

It’s a mansion, or palazzo, or something like that Fede. Underneath all the pretension and the art all you have left is an empty, opulent, decadent –hell, bourgeoise mansion. It’s been that way all along. It’s what I’ll always be. For quite a good bit I thought I could be something else, but Mom was right, I should have just helped out with her philanthropy and saved my time.

FEDE:

A house… God, I’m terrible at this. A house is not only what it is, but also what it’s used for? Does that make any sense at all?

MELI:

It does.

FEDE:

All the art there, that has to be worth something isn’t it. Or what? Are the foundations of my head all that there is to me? Am I only some failed communist projects? Am I only the ruins of my childhood?

MELI:

I don’t know. I’m sorry. I don’t know. Maybe… Jesus.

FEDE:

Tell me. Maybe what?

MELI:

Maybe what I saw inside of you was not the real you, only who I thought you were. I don’t know if that’s better or worse than the alternative.

FEDE:

I think both are equally terrible.

MELI:

My feelings for you are real, that much I know.

FEDE:

Same here. What I feel is real.

MELI:

Are you certain?

FEDE:

I was not certain, and I’m sure she wasn’t either.

We kept looking at each other. For an instant I felt all the love Meli had for me, the home she was for me. I wanted in that moment for her to know all the ways she was special, how right nowhere was right for me except for her, in her. What made it all the more perfect was that she shared that feeling, the smallest of her expressions always reassured me.

The instant passed, and then the guilt kicked in.

I hated myself; I knew she would be happier if she didn’t feel that way for me. I was nothing but a failure. There was something rotten inside me that would poison her life.

The shame was great, but I was willing to carry it, I was willing to carry anything as long as we were together. I prayed that she wouldn’t be sharing a similar suffering, thinking similar things of herself and I.

Unfortunately, when you live with someone for so long, you end up thinking similarly.

            END OF SCENE