Boxing the Sun Aurin Squire
what he saw. ACT 1.1 The Brownstone apartment windows are alive with light, while the thumping bass of a rooftop party can be heard. BILLY, an old woman in a cheap bathrobe and slippers limps out the front door. Her hair is in curlers and her face is smothered in cold crème. She gently sits down on the steps and sighs with relief. After looking around for a moment she whips out a metal file and begins grinding it to her hardened feet. CLAIRE, an old woman with a young spirit walks out in bathrobe and slippers, takes a step out on to the stoop and closes the door behind her. She turns around and sees BILLY, whose back is toward her. CLAIRE: What are you doing out here? BILLY: Couldn’t sleep. CLAIRE: Me neither. Wanna run around the block? BILLY: You’re joking. CLAIRE: Come on, I’ll race you. BILLY: You’ll race me to what? My first heart attack? CLAIRE: Billy, who are you kidding? You ain’t got no heart. BILLY: Said the scarecrow with no brains. CLAIRE: I’m not fussing with you tonight. BILLY: Then don’t start anything. It’s too hot. CLAIRE: Gets so hot during the day that my body can’t cool down at night. There ain’t no ventilation in my room. I tell you, this place is like a tinder box. The heat just messes with your body. BILLY: It ain’t the heat that’s the problem. It’s the noise. Damn fools in 3A throwing another house-rent party. If they’d get a job they wouldn’t have to scramble at the end of the month. Boom-chicky-boom-ta-boom-ta-boom bass banging on my wall all the good-God evening I couldn’t even get to sleep with wax plugged in my ear. Not with this racket. CLAIRE: So let’s make some noise of our own. BILLY: What are you jawing about? CLAIRE: I got some Coltrane, Ella and Lady Day in my room. Lets hook up the record player, stick the speakers out of the window and blast them right back. BILLY: Claire, you need a hobby. CLAIRE: I need a friend. BILLY: Then go to bingo night at First Baptist. But leave me and my corns out of this. CLAIRE: Those corns look tougher than Goodyear tires. Probably give you an edge in a race. (She gets up and starts getting into racing stance. Her back clenches up on her and she stands.) BILLY: See. It serves you right. That’s what you get. CLAIRE: Scoot over. (BILLY scoots over and CLAIRE sits down next to her. BILLY goes back to grinding her feet. CLAIRE stares out.) CLAIRE: It’d be great to have a man to call on tonight. BILLY: It’s too hot for a man. CLAIRE: I thought you said it wasn’t hot. BILLY: No, I said it wasn’t hot enough to disrupt my sleep. But it would be too hot for…’that.’ 40 Proscenium Spring 2015