Proscenium Journal Issue Two Spring 2015

DENISE: She would still be here if I hadn’t driven her away.

JASON: Then she wasn’t strong enough.

DENISE: And what makes you think I am?

JASON: You don’t think you are?

DENISE: Obviously not. Look at me.

JASON: I am. What I see is…

DENISE: Is this another part of your game?

JASON: No game. Just saying what I see. What I feel. How do you feel?

DENISE: You don’t care.

JASON: Of course I care. I want to know. I even want to know how your day went.

DENISE: (laughs) Nothing special.

JASON: There’s always something special.

DENISE: The same as every day.

JASON: And what’s every day?

(DENISE shrugs it off and then thinks for a moment.)

DENISE: Every morning I slap my alarm clock off and roll out of bed. Alone. I go to work, sit in meetings, daydreaming and hoping that I’ll be ignored so that my bosses won’t talk down to me. “Did you catch that, honey? Or do you want us to talk slower?” Afterward I go to the bathroom and hide out in the stall until lunch time. I even started smoking. Not because I enjoy it, but just because it gives me something extra to fill my time with during the day. Every afternoon at around 3:30 I start watching the clock. Not because I have anywhere to go, or have anyone to go home to… it’s all just habit. And at exactly 4, I sprint to the elevator and catch the nearest train back to the hood, where men, teenagers and little boys whistle and holler at me for just walking down the street. And if I choose to ignore them or take offense to their pleasantries, I’m called an uppity bitch or a frigid dyke. Then I reach the front steps where Billy and Claire are usually sitting there. They say ‘hi’ to me and I can see a look of pity in their eyes, probably thinking ‘poor girl, she has no life except work and TV.’ And they wouldn’t be too far off from the truth. I take a shower to wash off my walk home and put on my bathrobe and fix my dinner.

And that’s at around 5. I spend the rest of the night watching Turner Classic Movies and debating whether I should just throw in the towel and become a full-fledged spinster with five cats, knitting needles and those fuzzy pink Sears slippers with the animal of my choice riding on the hood of my feet. That is my day.

JASON: Why? DENISE: What other choice do I have?

JASON: Anything…

DENISE: Or anybody?

JASON: What do you have to lose?

DENISE: I don’t know. What do you plan on taking this time?

JASON: Just another chance.

DENISE: And if I do, what do I get?

JASON: What do you think I am, a car salesman? I don’t know what you’ll get. I don’t even know what I’ll get. I just know it’s worth risking it to find out. We’re both dying, Denise. And it ain’t pretty. It’s not even quick. It’s slow and gray and pointless. Why are we doing this to ourSpring 2015 Proscenium 77