Angels in America: A Gay Fantasia on National Themes: Revised and Complete Edition (32 page)

JOE
: Don’t worry about that, just get out of the—

(Joe tries to push Louis aside; Louis pushes back, forcefully.)

LOUIS
: Did you fuck him, did he pay you to let him—

JOE
: MOVE!

(Louis throws the Xeroxes in Joe’s face. They fly everywhere. Joe pushes Louis, Louis grabs Joe.)

LOUIS
: You
lied
to me, you
love
me, well fuck you, you cheap piece of—

(Joe shoves Louis aside. Louis stumbles as Joe starts for the door.)

LOUIS
: He’s got AIDS!

(Joe stops.)

LOUIS
: Did you even
know
that?

(Joe starts again for the door, but Louis grabs him. They struggle.)

LOUIS
: Stupid closeted bigots, you probably never figured out that each other was—

JOE
: Shut up.

(Joe slugs Louis in the stomach, hard. Louis goes to his knees. Again Joe tries to leave, but Louis grabs his leg and won’t let go. Louis pulls himself up, using Joe’s leg and jacket, as Joe struggles to free himself.)

LOUIS
: Fascist hypocrite lying filthy—

(Joe punches Louis in the face. Louis drops to the floor, clutching his eye. Joe stands over him.)

JOE
: Now stop. Now stop. I . . .

LOUIS
: Oh jeeesus, aw jeez, oh . . .

JOE
: Please. Say you’re OK, please.
Please
.

LOUIS
: That . . . Hurt.

JOE
: I never did that before, I never hit anyone before, I—

(Louis sits up. One eye has been cut. Blood’s running down his face.)

JOE
: Can you open it? Can you see?

LOUIS
: I can see blood.

JOE
: Let me get a towel, let me—

LOUIS
: I could have you arrested you . . . Creep.

     
They’d think I put you in jail for beating me up.

JOE
: I never hit anyone before, I—

LOUIS
: But it’d really be for those decisions.

     
(Laughing)
It was like a sex scene in an Ayn Rand novel, huh?

JOE
: I hurt you. I’m sorry, Louis, I never hit anyone before, I . . .

(Joe tries to touch Louis. Louis shoves Joe’s hand away.)

LOUIS
: Yeah yeah get lost. Before I really lose my temper and hurt you back.

     
I just want to lie here and bleed for a while. Do me good.

(Joe stands still, not knowing what to do. He looks at his hand, which he’s hurt in the fight; there’s blood on it
.

     
He looks at Louis, then starts to leave, then stops. He stares at Louis, unable to move
.

     
Then he leaves.)

Scene 11

Later that night. Roy in a very serious hospital bed, monitoring machines and IV drips galore. Ethel appears
.

ROY
(Very weak, singing to himself)
:

     
John Brown’s body lies a-moulderin’ in the grave,

     
John Brown’s body lies a-moulderin’ in the grave,

     
John Brown’s body lies a-moulderin’ in the grave,

     
His truth is marching on . . .

ETHEL
: Look at that big smile. What you got to smile about, Roy?

ROY
: I’m going, Ethel. Finally, finally done with this world, at long long last. All mine enemies will be standing on the other shore, mouths gaping open like stupid fish, while the Almighty parts the Sea of Death and lets his Royboy cross over to Jordan. On dry land and still a lawyer.

ETHEL
: Don’t count your chickens, Roy.

     
It’s over.

ROY
: Over?

ETHEL
: I wanted the news should come from me.

     
The panel ruled against you Roy.

ROY
: No, no, they only started meeting two days ago.

ETHEL
: They recommended disbarment.

ROY
: The Executive still has to rule . . . on the recommendation, it’ll take another week to sort it out and before then—

ETHEL
: The Executive was waiting, and they ruled, one two three. They accepted the panel’s recommendation.

ROY
(A beat, then)
: I’m . . .

ETHEL
: One of the main guys on the Executive leaned over to his friend and said, “Finally. I’ve hated that little faggot for thirty-six years.”

ROY
: I’m . . . They . . .?

ETHEL
: They won, Roy. You’re not a lawyer anymore.

ROY
: But am I dead?

ETHEL
: No. They beat you. You lost.

     
(Pause)

     
I decided to come here so I could see could I forgive you. You who I have hated so terribly I have borne my hatred for you up into the heavens and made a needle-sharp little star in the sky out of it. It’s the star of Ethel Rosenberg’s Hatred, and it burns every year for one night only, June Nineteen. It burns acid green.

(Roy has turned his face away from her, looking in the opposite direction.)

ETHEL
: I came to forgive but all I can do is take pleasure in your misery. Hoping I’d get to see you die more terrible than I did. And you are, ’cause you’re dying in shit, Roy, defeated. And you could kill me, but you couldn’t ever defeat me. You never won. And when you die all anyone will say is: Better he had never lived at all.

(Pause. Roy slowly turns his head back to stare at Ethel.)

ROY
: Ma?

     
Muddy? Is it . . .?

     
Ma?

ETHEL
(Uncertain, then)
: It’s Ethel, Roy.

ROY
: Muddy? I feel bad.

ETHEL
(Looking around)
: Who are you talking to, Roy, it’s—

ROY
: Good to see you, Ma, it’s been years.

     
I feel bad. Sing to me.

ETHEL
: I’m not your mother, Roy.

ROY
: It’s cold in here, I’m up so late, past my time.

     
Don’t be mad, Ma, but I’m scared . . .? A little.

     
Don’t be mad. Sing me a song. Please.

ETHEL
: I don’t want to Roy, I’m not your—

ROY
: Please, it’s scary out here.
(He starts to cry)

     
(He sinks back)
Oh God. Oh God, I’m so sorry . . .

(Little pause.)

ETHEL
(Singing softly)
:

     
Shteyt a bocher

     
Un er tracht,

     
Tracht un tracht

     
A gantze nacht:

     
Vemen tzu nemen

     
Um nit farshemen

     
Vemen tsu nemen,

     
Um nit farshem.

     
Tum-ba-la, tum-ba-la, tum-balalaike,

     
Tum-ba-la, tum-ba-la, tum-balalaike,

     
Tum-balalaike, shpil balalaike—

(Roy is completely still, his eyes closed. He’s not breathing. Ethel watches him; then, quietly:)

ETHEL
: Roy . . .? Are you . . .?

(She crosses to the bed, looks at him. Goes back to her chair.)

ETHEL
: That’s it.

(Belize enters, goes to the bed.)

BELIZE
: Wake up, it’s time to—

     
Oh.

     
Oh, you’re—

(Roy’s eyes pop open and he sits bolt upright!)

ROY
: No I’m
NOT
!

     
(Shaking with some terrible, jubilant, hateful joy) I
fooled you, Ethel! I knew who you were all along! I can’t believe you fell for that Ma stuff!! I just wanted to see if I could finally,
finally
make Ethel Rosenberg sing!
I WIN!

     
(Something very bad happens in his head
—
he’s thrown a pulmonary clot, and it strikes his brain
—
and he falls back on the bed)

     
Oh fuck, oh fuck me I—

     
(In a faraway voice, to Belize)
Next time around: I don’t want to be a man. I wanna be an octopus. Remember that, OK? A fucking—
(Punching an imaginary button with his finger)
Hold.

(Roy dies.)

ACT FIVE:

Heaven, I’m in Heaven

January 1986

Scene 1

Very late, same night. Prior has been moved to a proper hospital room. He’s standing on his bed, a pillow covering his crotch. There’s an eerie light on him. Hannah is sleeping in a chair, a flimsy hospital blanket covering her lap and legs. She stirs, moans a little, wakes up suddenly, sees Prior
.

PRIOR
: She’s approaching.

HANNAH
: What are you . . .?

     
She is?

PRIOR
: Modesty forbids me explaining exactly
how
I know, but . . . I have an infallible barometer of Her proximity. And it’s rising.

HANNAH
: Oh, nonsense, that’s—

PRIOR
: She’s on Her way.

(The lights drain to black.)

HANNAH
: Turn the lights back on, turn the lights—

(There is the sound of a silvery trumpet in the dark, and a tattoo of faraway drums. Silence. Thunder. Then all over the walls, Hebrew letters appear, writhing in flames. The scene is lit by their light. The Angel is there, suddenly. She is dressed in black and looks terrifying. Hannah screams and buries her face in her hands.)

ANGEL
: I I I I Have Returned, Prophet,

     
(Thunder!)

     
And not according to Plan.

PRIOR
: Take it back.

     
(Big thunderclap)

     
The Book, whatever you left in me, I won’t be its repository, I reject it.

     
(Thunder. To Hannah:)

     
Help me out here. HELP ME!

HANNAH
(Closing her eyes tight, trying to shut it all out)
: I don’t, I don’t—
(Pulling the blanket over her head)
This is a dream it’s a dream it’s a—

PRIOR
: I don’t think that’s really the point right at this particular—

HANNAH
(Under the blanket)
: I don’t know what to—

PRIOR
: Well it was
your
idea, reject the vision you said and—
(Continue below:)

HANNAH
: Yes but I thought it was more a . . . metaphorical . . . I—

PRIOR
(Continuous from above)
: You said scriptural precedent, you said—

(Prior tries to yank the blanket away from Hannah, who hangs on to it.)

PRIOR
: WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO—

HANNAH
: You, you wrestle her.

PRIOR
: SAY
WHAT?

HANNAH
: It’s an angel, you just . . . grab hold and say . . . oh what was it, wait, wait, umm . . . OH! Grab her, say, “I will not let thee go except thou bless me!”

PRIOR
: And then what?

HANNAH
: Then wrestle with her till she gives in.

PRIOR
(A beat, then)
: YOU wrestle Her, I don’t know how to wrestle, I—

(Prior faces the Angel, who has been waiting for him, blazing with menace. She opens her arms, challenging, terrifying. Prior draws as deep a breath as he can; then, to his and her and Hannah’s surprise, he charges at the Angel. He throws his arms around her waist. She emits a terrible, impossibly loud, shuddering eagle-screech.)