Enrique R. Carrasco

                                                          Synopsis

Set in the not-too-distant dystopian future, the play explores the attempted erasure of people of color and the LGTBQ+ community under authoritarian rule. During an indeterminate period of time in separate prison cells, Juan, a gay Mexican-American, and Fabienne, a female Haitian-American, struggle to hold on to their identities—the only reason for their imprisonment. They use songs and memories to survive. Knowing they will soon be exterminated, they fight back against the erasure, celebrating their identities and the richness of their communities. While at the outset of the play their relationship is prickly, by the end they profess their love for each other just before Fabienne dies. The ultimate message of the play is that the scenario it sets out could very well happen in this country if we look away.

                                                                          Copyright @ 2024 by Enrique R. Carrasco

THE CHARACTERS

JUAN, Mexican-American, gay, in his 30s

FABIENNE, Haitian woman in her 30s

SETTING

Near future, two cells divided by a wall.

The props are as follows: A mat in each cell placed in the middle of the cell; two buckets; tin plates with brownish matter; tin cups; and a wall partitioning the cells. JUAN and FABIENNE are wearing dirty and nondescript long sleeve shirts and pants. They’re barefoot. In some form or fashion, there will be a display of “Day?” before each scene. There should be a good amount of dark time before and after each display.

DAY?

Lights fade up.

(FABIENNE is lying face up on her mat, hands behind her head. JUAN is sitting alongside the wall.)

JUAN

You there?

FABIENNE

Where else would I be?

JUAN

Just checking.

FABIENNE

Why?

JUAN

Habit, I guess.

FABIENNE

Well, break it. Please.

JUAN

It’s not that easy.

FABIENNE

Try. You’ll be a better person for it.

(pause)

JUAN

How long has it been?

FABIENNE

Why do you keep asking me that?

JUAN

Habit.

FABIENNE

Of course.

JUAN

Well? What’s your guess?

FABIENNE

I’m not sure. I’ve stopped counting.

JUAN

A year?

FABIENNE

I don’t know. Maybe.

JUAN

Could be more.

FABIENNE

Could be.

JUAN

Could be a lot more.

FABIENNE

However long it’s been, time is cruel.

JUAN

Cruel?

FABIENNE

I never thought about it that much, but now I have.

JUAN

Go on.

FABIENNE

There are so many ways—

JUAN

Yeah.

FABIENNE

So many—

JUAN

Tell me.

FABIENNE

Ways—

JUAN

Uh-huh.

FABIENNE

Will you let me finish?

JUAN

Of course.

FABIENNE

You always do that.

JUAN

Do what?

FABIENNE

Interrupt me.

JUAN

Sorry. You were saying?

FABIENNE

Time.

(pause)

JUAN

I’m listening.

FABIENNE

We use it in so many ways in our lives. What time is it?

JUAN

I don’t know.

FABIENNE

For Christ’s sake, I mean that’s one example.

JUAN

Oh, I get it. So maybe another one is…uh…we had the time of our lives.

FABIENNE

That’s right. Now is the time to strike.

JUAN

Time machine. May the force be with you!

FABIENNE

What?

JUAN

Strike that.

FABIENNE

But time can also be used as a weapon, a weapon of erasure.

JUAN

Sorry, you’re losing me.

FABIENNE

It reminds us of who we’re not.

JUAN

What does that mean?

FABIENNE

With every second that passes, every minute, hour, month, year, we wish we could be out there. But that won’t happen. Instead, all of us—could be 1000 just in this place—will live out our days in these boxes, seeing no one, food, if you can call it that, shoved under the door. A bucket to relieve ourselves. A razor thin mat for a bed. With time, we’ll forget who we are. With time, we’ll forget who we used to be. With time, we’ll forget our families, our friends, our communities. With time, we wither away. With time, we become nothing. With time, we die here. That’s what they want.

(pause)

JUAN

You’re wrong.

FABIENNE

How am I wrong?

JUAN

I refuse to believe that.

FABIENNE

You’re in denial. You’ve been in denial with every passing, miserable moment.

JUAN

You know, sometimes I really don’t like you, Fabienne.

FABIENNE

Good. The feeling is mutual, Juan.

(FABIENNE turns on her side away from the wall.)

FABIENNE

I’m tired.

JUAN

Really?

FABIENNE

I’m done for the day.

JUAN

Wait, no!

FABIENNE

Leave me alone.

JUAN

Please don’t go! We’re not finished.

FABIENNE

Shut up.

JUAN

I need to hear your voice!

FABIENNE

Zip it. I’m not your therapist.

JUAN

You’re the only one who will talk to me!

FABIENNE

Not my problem.

JUAN

But we’re friends.

FABIENNE

No, we’re not.

JUAN

But—

FABIENNE

Roll over and play dead for now.

JUAN

Now that’s cruel.

(long pause)

JUAN

Hello?

(JUAN puts his face into his hands and cries softly.)

Fade to black.

DAY??

Lights fade up.

(JUAN has his back to the wall and sings part of “Yo No Te Pido La Luna”by Daniela Romo. FABIENNE is sitting along the wall, her head resting on the wall.)

JUAN

Quiero envolverme en tus brazos, Que no quede entre tú y yo un espacio. Naa aah, Ser el sabor de tu boca y llenarme toda con tu aroma, Na aah, Ser confidente y saber por dentro quién eres tú, Nah aah, Como un tatuaje vivo impregnarme en tu ser, no borrarme de ti, Naha ah, Yo no te pido la luna tan solo quiero amarte, quiero ser esa locura que vibra muy dentro de ti, Naha ah, Yo no te pido la luna, solo te pido el momento de rescatar esta piel y robarme esa estrella, que vemos tú y yo al hacer el amor, Nah aah.

FABIENNE

What song is that?

JUAN

It’s called Yo No Te Pido La Luna. I’m Not Asking You For The Moon.

FABIENNE

What’s it about?

JUAN

It’s a love song. Part of it goes, “I’m not asking you for the moon, I just want to love you, I want our bodies to come together, I want to taste your lips and be filled with your scent, and know who you are inside.”

(pause)

It’s our song.

FABIENNE

Whose?

JUAN

Gay Latinos, Latinas and all others in our community. Like it?

FABIENNE

It’s okay.

JUAN

Rude.

Fade to black.

DAY???

Lights up.

(FABIENNE and JUAN are running vigorously in place, breathing hard. They’re shouting but not screaming, the latter happening at the end of the play.)

FABIENNE

How much longer do we have to do this?

JUAN

It’s only been a few months, I think!

(pause)

But I can’t be sure! Maybe longer! Yeah, I would say longer! To be honest, I don’t have a clue!

FABIENNE

That’s not what I meant!

JUAN

What did you mean?!

FABIENNE

Today! How much longer today?

JUAN

How about…30 minutes!

FABIENNE

Are you kidding me?

JUAN

You can stop anytime!

FABIENNE

No! Hell no! You’re not going to outlast me! Ever!

JUAN

Do you see me stopping?

FABIENNE

Of course not! Have you seen a wall between us?

JUAN

Oh, that thing!

FABIENNE

Do you—

JUAN

What?

FABIENNE

There you go again!

JUAN

Sorry!

FABIENNE

Do you know what the word futile means?

JUAN

No, but I know what fertile means! Close enough?

FABIENNE

It means pointless! That’s what we’re doing now! Pointless exercise!

JUAN

No, it’s not!

FABIENNE

How so?

JUAN

When I get out, I’m gonna do a marathon! And after that…uh… a triathlon. Yeah, that’s it! A triathlon!

(beat as he breathes hard)

I’ll start from behind. But then…but then, I’m gonna blast my afterburners and smoke everybody! See ya! Boom!

FABIENNE

You’re losin’ it!

JUAN

That ship has sailed!

(they run for a few beats)

Ok, let’s pick up the pace, Fabienne!

FABIENNE

What! No!

JUAN

Feel the burn! Haha! Wooo!!! I’m crushin’ it!

FABIENNE

Yeah, you’re a veritable Olympian, Juan! Going nowhere! Ever! You know that, right?

JUAN

No, I don’t know that, Fabienne! I refuse to know that!

FABIENNE

We’ll never see the light of day! We’re running into darkness!

JUAN

No, no we’re not, Fabienne!

FABIENNE

You’re an idiot!

JUAN

That’s rude! No, that’s a double rude!

FABIENNE

(exasperated)

What???

Lights down as they keep running.

DAY????

Lights fade up.

(JUAN is sitting facing the wall. FABIENNE is lying on her back on the mat, arms folded.)

JUAN

You there?

FABIENNE

Yes, yes, I’m here. I wish you would shut up.

JUAN

I’m bored.

(FABIENNE looks at the wall incredulously.)

FABIENNE

I can’t believe you said that.

JUAN

I have another memory I want to share. It’s kinda strange but it keeps looping in my mind. Want to hear it?

FABIENNE

Not really. You’ve used up your quota.

JUAN

C’mon, what else do you have to do?

FABIENNE

Let me check my calendar. Oh, sorry, I have a call with God.

JUAN

She can wait. OK, ready?

FABIENNE

I’m all ears.

(FABIENNE covers her ears. As JUAN relates the story, FABIENNE will improvise feigning interest and interjecting with one to three-word comments that relate to what JUAN is saying, such as when JUAN says, “I love yellow,” FABIENNE says, “you don’t say!” FABIENNE eventually stands up and makes faces at the wall and moves around the cell making funny/odd gestures. But she becomes serious and listens carefully when Vivian asks JUAN if he wants to know her name.)

JUAN

So one fine spring day I found myself sitting on a park bench having my lunch. It was lovely out. The daffodils were blooming. I love yellow. The trees were coming back to life. I think they were oak trees, but I can’t be sure. Maybe maple? The birds were chirping all around me, like, like a song! That’s right, like a song! The sky was a beautiful blue with white puffy clouds. You know, like cotton balls. Happy clouds! The lake was shimmering green. I always picked a bench that faced the lake where I could watch the waves. Pretty waves. I could watch them forever. Anyway, I opened my lunch tote, and I pulled out my favorite sandwich: peanut butter and jelly. Now there’s only one way to make the classic PB&J, which is my way, of course. First, you always use smooth peanut butter, not chunky. Then you always use concord grape jelly. Not strawberry or apricot. Last but not least, you always use white bread. Don’t even think about whole grain. No. Absolutely not. So, there I was, munching on my PB&J and sipping on a bottle of spring water. I prefer spring over distilled, although distilled is cheaper, I suppose. Then I heard a click. I looked to my right and I saw a woman holding a pretty serious looking camera. She was maybe six feet tall and she wore a grey sweatshirt, cut-off jeans, and black boots. She had tattoos all over, and a pink nose ring. She was, like, really, really white. I asked her, did you just take a photo of me? She said, I did. I asked, why did you do that? That’s what I do, she said. I said, but you don’t know me. I didn’t give you permission. And she said, I don’t need it. I said, what? She said, I’m a street photographer.  I said, uh-hu, so you take photos of streets? She said no. I said, oh, OH, I’m so sorry, do you live on the streets? Are you homeless? Oh my god, I’m so sorry. She said, no, I have a room. In a house, I’m guessing, I said. No, she said. Uh-hu..hmmm.. I asked her, okay, why are you out here? She said, I want to capture people when they least expect it. Capture, that’s an interesting word, I said. I use my camera to capture people and they live forever in my photos, she said. So, I get to live forever eating a PB&J in your photo, I asked. Yes, she said. Lovely…I guess, I said. Then she asked, do you want to know my name? You know, yes, yes, I want to know your name, I exclaimed, maybe too loudly. Vivian, she said. Well, that’s a nice name, I said. Can I sit, she asked. Of course, I said. So, what does she do, she sits so close that we’re touching. Such a nice day, she said, looking up at the sky. Indeed, I said. She went on, when I leave my room, I ask my camera to help me capture what’s real in everyday life, from the bizarre to the beautiful. Some days I can do that, other days I can’t. Today I captured beauty. I captured the blooming daffodils, the yellow contrasting beautifully against the green grass. I captured the fluffy white clouds living lazily in the immense blue sky. I captured the rhythm of the breaking waves along the lake’s shore. And I captured you, Juan. Wait, how do you know my name? I said. You don’t remember? she asked. High school, she said, in the gym, you asked me to dance. A slow dance. I kissed you and you kissed me. My jaw must’ve dropped to the ground when she said that. Oh my god, you’re Vivian Moore…with…lots of tattoos now. Hmm-hmm, she said. But why are you here, taking a photograph of me… uhh.. eating a PB&J, I asked. I came here last week and saw you, she said. I knew it was you. Your face, as kind and sweet as it was that night. Your eyes, I’ve never forgotten them, she said. I sat there in sort of shock. I didn’t know how to respond, what to say. Do you want to look at some photos, she asked. Ssshhhure, why…not, I said. Then she put the camera in my hands and wrapped her hands around mine. I said to myself, okay, what’s happening here. Then she started scrolling through dozens of photos of me, in different moments, from gazing at the sky to feeding a piece of bread to a squirrel. I looked at her and she was getting closer. Hello, Juan, she said, almost in a whisper. Hello, Vivian, I whispered back…

(pause)

FABIENNE

Well? Did you kiss her?

JUAN

What? No!

FABIENNE

Why not?

JUAN

It was years since I had seen her.

FABIENNE

So?

JUAN

Well, for one I like kissing men now—but I still like kissing women, too, I suppose. But I don’t like big lips. Same for thin ones. They have to be just—

FABIENNE

Just stop, Juan! She wanted a kiss! She wanted to kiss you and she wanted you to kiss her. I ask again, why didn’t you kiss her?

(pause)

JUAN

I don’t know. Part of me wanted to. Maybe it was the nose ring. Anyway, I handed back the camera, gathered my stuff, and said, really nice to see you again, Vivian. I have to get back to work. Good luck…capturing people. When I was a block away, I looked back at her. She was still sitting on the bench, her head down looking at her camera.

FABIENNE

You fool! You stupid fool!

JUAN

Don’t call me that, Fabienne!

FABIENNE

Do you know how precious that kiss could’ve been?

JUAN

How was I supposed to know, huh? How? It’s so easy for you to sit there and pass judgment on me. It was a chance encounter. That’s all it was. A freak moment in time. That’s all!

(pause)

FABIENNE

It’s gone. You can’t go back.

(pause)

JUAN

It was a strangely beautiful moment.

FABIENNE

And you walked away from it.

JUAN

Yes. I walked away from it, Fabienne. I walked away. But for the record, I did kiss again. Still, that day in the park. It loops in my mind. And it never ends.

Fade to black.

DAY?????

Lights up.

(FABIENNE and JUAN are sitting on their mats with a tin plate of what hardly looks like food. JUAN is eating. FABIENNE stares at the plate, moving the substance around but not eating. They each have a tin cup of what may be water.)

FABIENNE

What is this crap?

JUAN

Poop.

FABIENNE

Probably rat crap.

JUAN

Just don’t look at it, like when you eat an oyster. You don’t gaze at it lovingly. You just swallow and get it over with.

FABIENNE

Oysters. I hate them. But I would give my right arm for one now.

JUAN

You should ask them for one. Seems like a fair trade. An oyster for a body part.

FABIENNE

They’re starving us, one day at a time.

JUAN

At least we got a cup of water today.

FABIENNE

It’s probably horse piss.

JUAN

I can only dream of good, real food. And even the dreams are fading.

FABIENNE

Even PB&J’s?

JUAN

Tragically, yes.

FABIENNE

Sorry.

JUAN

Wait. Did you just say something nice to me? Something empathetic?

FABIENNE

No. You’re losing your mind.

JUAN

Well, I know that, but I swear I heard you say—

FABIENNE

Have you heard of griyo?

JUAN

Maybe.

FABIENNE

It’s Haiti’s national dish.

JUAN

Tell me about it. I can eat it in my mind.

FABIENNE

We ate it on Sundays, about mid-afternoon. It was a special time when my parents would tell us stories of West Africa. Of our proud ancestors, the Griots. The French made them slaves, put the roots of who I am in chains, and took them to Haiti. Then griyo was born. It’s incredible. You want to use the best pork shoulder you can find. Then you marinate it in lemon juice and Haitian spices. The aroma is heavenly.

JUAN

Hmmm… Go on.

FABIENNE

Then you fry it to seal in the juices. When it’s ready, you serve it with red beans and rice, pickled cabbage, and peppers. Sometimes we would have fried plantain, too.

(long pause)

JUAN

Can I have seconds?

FABIENNE

I miss that food. I miss my family, my community. Spending weekends with friends, sharing special moments of our lives, laughing, crying.

(pause)

 I miss Emmanuel. He was a good man, a decent man, and kind.

(pause)

I remember when I had COVID. I was so weak. I could barely move. One morning there was a knock on the door. When I opened it, he had left a care package with everything from fruits to tissues. There was a card in it that said, I’m with you always, my love.

(pause)

He was quite the kisser, too. Long kisses. Warm kisses. So sweet that I melted into him.

(pause)

We were engaged. We were so happy. So hopeful of a beautiful life together. We planned to save and eventually open our own ice cream shop.

JUAN

You’ll see them again. You’ll get to kiss Emmanuel again.

FABIENNE

They separated us when they invaded our community. It was early evening in the spring. We were sitting around the table about to give thanks for our meal when they pounded on the door. They yelled, get out now! We heard people screaming. Emmanuel said, no, we won’t until you tell us why. They beat him brutally on the spot. He died two days later.

(long pause)

JUAN

I’m so sorry, Fabienne.

(pause)

FABIENNE

What about you, Juan? Have you loved any food other than PB&Js?

(pause)

JUAN

Hands down, frijoles de olla, a heavenly bean stew made with onions and garlic. Mi mama made a big pot of it on the weekends. I helped her make the tortillas. Ate some right on the spot. Couldn’t resist.

FABIENNE

Hmmmm… Can I come over?

JUAN

If you promise to be nice.

(pause)

FABIENNE

You said you like kissing men. Did you have an Emmanuel in your life?

JUAN

I did. Mario. I met him on a dating app. His profile drew me in immediately. He was a human rights lawyer who loved to dance. In fact, he danced competitively. A handsome man with gorgeous black hair. I wasn’t a lawyer, but I was a wicked paralegal. And I love to dance. I was a regular at the late-night salsa clubs. So I swiped right. Two months later we were in love. He valued me, all of me. We liked to look for new dishes to cook together. After dinner we would often dance.

(pause)

It was a Friday night. It was horribly cold outside. But we were staying warm in a gay Latino bar, waiting for the salsa DJ to start the dancing. We were drinking dirty vodka martinis, celebrating his thirty-first birthday.  We were about to have a birthday kiss when they burst the door open. They all wore black. A hateful swat team. They beat us bloody with their batons. Broke Mario’s jaw. I never saw him or my family again. I was told they invaded all the Latino neighborhoods.

(long pause)

FABIENNE

Do you know where this crap belongs?

JUAN

In the toilet? That would seem the logical place.

FABIENNE

Up their damn asses.

JUAN

Okay. That’s officially gross.

FABIENNE

You know what we have to do, right?

JUAN

Yes, of course. I believe in telepathy.

FABIENNE

Shove this crap back at them.

JUAN

That’s what I saw in your mind.

FABIENNE

Ready?

JUAN

Locked and loaded!

FABIENNE

On the count of three. One, two, three!

(They start shoving their plates forward and lights down.)

DAY??????

Lights fade up.

(FABIENNE is lying on the mat facing the wall. JUAN is in the process of moving his bucket into the far corner.)

FABIENNE

(feebly)

You there?

JUAN

I’m not sure anymore.

FABIENNE

How long has it been?

JUAN

A long time.

FABIENNE

But how long?

JUAN

A really long time. Ok? Really long, Fabienne.

(long pause; FABIENNE starts coughing)

JUAN

That cough isn’t getting any better.

(pause)

FABIENNE

That day in the park. It must’ve been so beautiful. The flowers, the sky, the clouds, the water.

JUAN

It was.

(FABIENNE has a coughing fit.)

FABIENNE

That song of yours.

JUAN

What about it?

FABIENNE

Can you sing it again?

JUAN

I thought you didn’t like it.

FABIENNE

Is that what I said?

JUAN

In so many words.

FABIENNE

I can’t remember. Sorry if I said that.

JUAN

You’ve really come around on the apology front.

(pause)

FABIENNE

Can you sing it again?

JUAN

What?

FABIENNE

Sing it again, please.

JUAN

Not now. You need to rest.

FABIENNE

Please, sing it.

(As JUAN sits facing the wall and starts singing the song, FABIENNE crawls on her hands and knees to the wall and sits alongside it. At some point she starts sobbing. JUAN stops singing.)

JUAN

Fabienne?

(pause)

Fabienne. Talk to me.

(FABIENNE stops crying, long pause of silence)

(pause)

Fabienne! Say something. Don’t fade on me! Fabienne!

FABIENNE

Your song. That’s actually a beautiful song.

JUAN

It is.

FABIENNE

(coughs)

Goodnight, Juan.

JUAN

I think it’s the middle of the day.

FABIENNE

Oh.

Fade to black.

FINAL DAYS

Unless otherwise indicated, FABIENNE’s coughing should overlap just a bit with JUAN’s lines so that the dialogue flows.

Lights fade up.

FABIENNE

(coughs)

Did you get the note?

JUAN

It was in the poop they fed us.

FABIENNE

They’re moving us.

JUAN

I knew this day would come. I denied it. But I knew.

FABIENNE

Why bother telling us?

JUAN

To remind us that we’re vermin. Vermin about to be exterminated.

FABIENNE

(coughs)

I’m scared.

JUAN

So am I.

FABIENNE

Will it hurt? To breathe it in? How long will it take?

JUAN

I don’t know.

(pause)

FABIENNE

Hatred. It’s always been there, hidden in the shadows until it became acceptable to be openly hateful.

JUAN

Of us.

FABIENNE

Of all of us who are not them. We’ll never be them and they want to make sure of that. We’re from shithole countries. We’re destroying the blood of their country.

JUAN

They looked the other way when he said those things, when he did those things.

FABIENNE

He had his fanatical mobs willing to do anything for him. And those who should have spoken out, didn’t. Why would they? Because of him, they could buy nice houses and nice cars, enjoy great vacations, never worry about money. Yes, Juan, they looked the other way.

JUAN

When they took our families, our friends.

FABIENNE

Torched our communities. We had nowhere to go. Borders closed, trapping us here. We can’t take you, they said. We have our own problems. No mercy. None at all.

(coughs)

They’re erasing us, Juan, our memories, our identities. Of all that makes us human.

(long pause)

JUAN

Let’s fight back. Tell them they can’t erase us. Fight back, Fabienne!

FABIENNE

How?

(JUAN jumps to his feet and screams.)

JUAN

MY NAME IS JUAN HERNANDEZ AND I’M A PROUD MEXICAN-AMERICAN!

FABIENNE

(FABIENNE jumps to her feet.)

MY NAME IS FABIENNE BAPTISTE AND I’M A PROUD HAITIAN-AMERICAN!

(coughs)

JUAN

I AM BROWN AND GAY AND I’M BEAUTIFUL!

FABIENNE

I AM BLACK! MY COLOR IS BEAUTIFUL!

JUAN

I HAVE A FAMILY! MY FATHER’S NAME IS CARLOS! MY MOTHER’S NAME IS CARMEN! MY BROTHER’S NAME IS JESUS! AND MY GAY LOVER’S NAME WAS MARIO!

FABIENNE

I HAVE A FAMILY! MY FATHER’S NAME IS JOSEPH! MY MOTHER’S NAME IS ROSE! MY SISTER’S NAME IS DARLINE, MY BROTHER’S NAME IS PAUL! MY LOVER’S NAME WAS EMMANUEL!

(coughs)

JUAN

MY COMMUNITY IS RICH WITH ARTISTS, DANCERS, MUSICIANS, POETS, TEACHERS, DOCTORS, LAWYERS!

FABIENNE

AND MINE IS RICH WITH LOVE, FAMILY, AND UNBREAKABLE COMMUNITY!

JUAN

AND I CAN MAKE THE BEST PB&J IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD!

FABIENNE

I CAN COOK A GRIYO LIKE NO ONE ELSE! WE ARE HUMANS WHO LOVE AND LIVE. WE EXIST! YOU CAN’T ERASE US!

JUAN

THAT’S RIGHT! YOU CAN’T ERASE US, PUTOS!

FABIENNE

DID YOU JUST CURSE?

JUAN

DAMN RIGHT!

(Both scream simultaneously at the top of their lungs, improvising on “you can’t erase us,” such as “never, never,” “we exist,” “we love.” After a number of lines, they stop. Both are breathing hard. JUAN drops to the floor on his butt. FABIENNE, in a coughing fit, leans over on her knees.)

(very long pause as they recover)

JUAN

Fabienne?

FABIENNE

Yes?

JUAN

Will you dance with me?

(pause)

FABIENNE

Okay, but how?

(coughs)

JUAN

Take my hands.

(FABIENNE holds her hands out.)

FABIENNE

Where are yours?

JUAN

Here.

(JUAN reaches out.)

JUAN

Feel them?

FABIENNE

Yes.

(coughs)

JUAN

Do you hear the salsa music?

FABIENNE

Yes, I do!

JUAN

Now move your hips!

(They start moving their hips in a salsa fashion.)

JUAN

Now move towards me.

(Both of them move towards the wall.)

JUAN

Now move out.

(They both move out, still holding hands.)

JUAN

Like it?

FABIENNE

I do!

JUAN

Now I’m going to twirl you! Ready?

FABIENNE

Yes!

(JUAN twirls FABIENNE)

JUAN

Still standing?

FABIENNE

Of course! I love it!

(she has a bad coughing fit, JUAN waits until she recovers)

JUAN

Stay with me, Fabienne. Can you do that?

FABIENNE

Yes.

JUAN

Good. Now, a slow dance. Okay?

FABIENNE

Sure.

JUAN

Okay, hold my hips.

(FABIENNE holds her arms out as if holding JUAN’s hips.)

JUAN

Feel them?

FABIENNE

Yes.

JUAN

Now I’ll put my arms on your shoulders. Hear the music? Soft and slow?

FABIENNE

I do.

JUAN

Let’s dance.

(They sway slowly from side to side.)

FABIENNE

Can you come closer?

JUAN

Here I come.

(They closer to the wall and dance for a number of beats, FABIENNE coughs.)

FABIENNE

Juan?

JUAN

Yes?

FABIENNE

Will you kiss me?

(They both stop dancing and drop their arms.)

JUAN

What?

FABIENNE

(Her voice becomes progressively weaker from here on.)

Will you kiss me?

JUAN

What do your lips look like?

FABIENNE

Just how you like them.

JUAN

How do I find you? Your face? Your lips?

FABIENNE

Let’s tap on the wall until the taps meet.

(they do that)

JUAN

I think we’re face to face.

FABIENNE

Kiss me, Juan.

(They kiss the wall for a long kiss.)

FABIENNE

Thank you.

JUAN

It’s the kiss I should’ve given Vivien, the kiss I could’ve Mario in the bar, the kiss you could’ve given Emmanuel again.

FABIENNE

That’s the past. This is now. Juan has kissed Fabienne, and Fabienne has kissed Juan.

JUAN

It felt good.

FABIENNE

It did. It felt really good.

(pause)

They’ll never erase all of us, will they?

JUAN

Never.

FABIENNE

Then I’m at peace.

(she coughs terribly)

Thank you, Juan.

JUAN

I love you, Fabienne.

FABIENNE

I love you, too.

(FABIENNE falls to the floor and dies.)

JUAN

Fabienne?

(pause)

Fabienne! Say something. Please. Fabienne!

(long pause)

I’ll see you in the park. We’ll sit together on that bench. It’ll be just as beautiful. The sun on our faces. A cool breeze whispering to us. The waves rhythmically coming to shore. We’ll smile and laugh, sometimes uncontrollably. We’ll share our favorite foods. We can kiss if you want. And time will be infinite, Fabienne. Wonderfully, peacefully infinite.

Fade to black.

THE END

by Enrique R. Carrasco

Synopsis

The play explores the use of language, particularly the iterability of words, to ponder the meaning of words, in particular, “it’s okay,” as manifested in the dynamics between brother and sister, Juan and Alicia, as they confront mental health issues and Alicia’s suicide. What appears to be a pleasant meet-up turns into a moment of reckoning for Juan. By the end of the play, we realize Alicia is not there in body. But her spirit whispers to Juan, in iterable words, that “it’s okay.”

                                                                                           Copyright © 2023 by Enrique R. Carrasco             

THE CHARACTERS

JUAN                                        ALICIA’S brother, thirty-three years old

ALICIA                                      JUAN’S sister, thirty-years old

SETTING

Present day, a park, the fall season

For the monologue at the beginning and the ending segment, the stages is empty except for a chair that JUAN straddles facing the audience. Otherwise, JUAN and ALICIA are sitting on a park bench and move around as indicated. The stage should be strewn with autumn leaves. They are wearing autumn attire. ALICIA wears a white scarf that stands out from the rest of her clothing.

         Lights up.

JUAN

Words

We live by them

We live through them

Around them

In them

Words are me

They are you

They are they

They are us

(pause)

Words

They are the genius of our understanding

Our misunderstanding

Only because they are

They must be

They will always be

Iterable

They must mean different things

At different times

At different places

In different circumstances

I think of the word

Love

I love the blue sky

I love ice cream

I love you

But what about

It’s okay?

What about my sister

Alicia

     Fade to black.        

The bench is set on stage. ALICIA and JUAN are seated on the bench.

    Lights up.

(JUAN is eating out of a bag of donuts)

JUAN

Beautiful, isn’t it. Peaceful.

ALICIA

Yeah, it is.

JUAN

Almost has its own rhythm. The water, the waves. You know?

ALICIA

Peaceful in the morning. The grand Lake Michigan that connects us.

JUAN

What do you mean?

ALICIA

Our lives here in Chicago. Our lives in Grand Haven.

JUAN

Our roots in Quito. The peace of El Chimborazo on a clear morning.

ALICIA

Spectacular.

JUAN

Want some?

(offers a donut to ALICIA)

ALICIA

No thanks.

JUAN

You never eat.

ALICIA

I’m never hungry.

JUAN

Suit yourself.

(munches)

JUAN

Peaceful. What does that mean? You know? Really.

ALICIA

So many things, I guess. Lake Michigan absent a storm. Shimmering.

JUAN

How about no wars?

ALICIA

That’s an easy one. But it’ll never happen.

JUAN

You’re a pessimist. You always have been.

ALICIA

Sometimes. Depending on the day. If I’ve eaten a stale donut.

(JUAN looks at ALICIA and chuckles, he stands with bag in hand and moves away from ALICIA, still munching)

JUAN

Ok. Let’s try..uh…no hate. How about that?

ALICIA

Are you kidding me?

JUAN

What?

ALICIA

Get real.

JUAN

But why—

ALICIA

Why?

JUAN

Yes. I’m asking you what I think is a simple—

ALICIA

Because we’ve become hateful people. Seems like we thrive on it. The more, the better. And killing for it? That’s the sweetest hate possible.

(JUAN looks at ALICIA with concern)

JUAN

Wow.

ALICIA

You asked.

(pause)

JUAN

But we can still love. Right?

ALICIA

Only glimpses of it.

JUAN

More than glimpses. You know that.

(JUAN tosses the donut bag at ALICIA)

Catch!

(ALICIA, still seated, makes no attempt to catch it)

Uh…the idea is to put your hands somewhere in the vicinity of the flying object to catch it.

ALICIA

Maybe next time.

JUAN

(JUAN crouches looking at the ground using his finger to brush stuff)

Acceptance.

ALICIA

(ALICIA stands and moves to the opposite side of JUAN picking up leaves and letting them float to the ground, sometimes blowing on them like a wind)

How is that peaceful?

JUAN

For us. You. Me. Millions. We accept that we have it. It’s random. But we try to do something about it. Try to find peace. When our minds are just right. When the torment in our heads leaves us even if it’s not forever.

(pause)

ALICIA

Why us?

JUAN

(JUAN throws an imaginary stone as if to hit a target)

Why not us? Why Aunt Sandra? Why not Sandra? It’s random.

ALICIA

I wish you could just cut it out. A deft doctor with a scalpel. Better yet, let me do a do- over. Be born without it.

JUAN

What if you’re born with spina bifida? Spend your life in a wheelchair. It’s random.

ALICIA

You think everything is random.

JUAN

(JUAN picks up another stone and throws it)

Yes. Everything. You. Me. That oak tree. The lake. Even our conversation. We’ve gotten here, to this moment, through a series of random events.

ALICIA

You’re brutal, Juan.

(pause)

JUAN

(JUAN goes back to the bench)

The what if’s.

ALICIA

What?

JUAN

The what if’s. That mindset is useless.

ALICIA

Useless. What does that mean?

JUAN

It sets up an alternate reality that we’ll never reach or find. What if we could change one thing, just one thing, that would prevent catastrophe, stop the worst from happening. But we can’t. We’re left with anger, pain, despair.

ALICIA

(ALICIA returns to the bench facing JUAN)

It doesn’t need to be so dark, dear brother.

JUAN

Enlighten me, then, dear sister.

ALICIA

What if we could reach medical breakthroughs that would eliminate mental illness entirely?

JUAN

Now it’s my turn. Are you kidding me? It’s in the brain, Alicia. You’d have to lobotomize every newborn to do that. It’s a fact, a fact that you can’t change.

(pause)

Besides, there’s a new invention. It’s called medication. Have you heard of it? I think you have. Only you’ve been sticking your head in the sand.

ALICIA

(ALICIA turns away from JUAN)

Are we going to have this conversation, this debate, again?

JUAN

Yes. Yes, we are.

ALICIA

I don’t want it.

JUAN

It’s not about what you want. It’s what you need.

ALICIA

I don’t need drugs.

JUAN

Right, right. You’ll get addicted. Make you a zombie. Is that what I look like to you? Something out of the Walking Dead?

ALICIA

You want to do drugs, more power to ya. Do a commercial for pharma. Just leave me alone. I can handle myself. I don’t need your attention.

JUAN

Oh, really? You don’t need attention?

ALICIA

That’s right.

JUAN

That’s really rich. You’ve gotten all the attention in this family.

ALICIA

That’s not true.

JUAN

Alicia, if that’s not true, then why are we here?

ALICIA

(ALICIA turns to JUAN)

I don’t know, Juan. Why are we here?

JUAN

Because you need to stop. Stop selfishly looking for attention, as if you’re addicted to it. That’s your drug of choice.

ALICIA

That’s not fair.

JUAN

Oh, no? What about the family reunions. Remember? One moment, you’re, you’re—

ALICIA

Stop! Stop it!

JUAN

No. NO, I won’t stop. Yes, one grand moment you’re the life of the party, flitting around the room, laughing, dancing, twirling about. And the next, Alicia? Do you remember?

ALICIA

Shut the fuck up, Juan!

JUAN

(JUAN stands up abruptly, looking at ALICIA)

Fuck no! And the next moment you’re collapsed on your bed, never to be seen for the rest of the evening. Poor Alicia. Where did she go? Is she all right? Everything stops because we’re worried about our poor dear sister.

ALICIA

Go to hell.

JUAN

Yeah, hell. That’s what it’s been like to put up with you.

ALICIA

Then let me remind you what you did to us when you nearly jumped off that roof.

JUAN

Yeah, I was crazy. Full blown bipolar explosion. But I’m on meds now. I don’t need attention.

ALICIA

You did when you were in the hospital. Or don’t you remember that?

JUAN

I owned that. And I vowed never to go back. And I didn’t. Why? Because. I. Took. Medication. Medication, Alicia.

ALICIA

(ALICIA stands up abruptly, walks away from JUAN and then turns to him)

Will you fucking stop with your medication mantra? You talk as if pills would transform my life and give me a ticket to the kingdom of God.

(ALICIA looks up at the sky and puts her hands together as if praying)

Hail Mary full of Oxycontin!

JUAN

That’s different. No comparison. You know that.

ALICIA

Speaking of comparison, do you know why I don’t take your precious pills?

JUAN

Here we go.

ALICIA

The sibs always looked up to you. First in your class at Yale. Editor of the Harvard law review. Hot shot lawyer in a big law firm. And me? Your always-underperforming little sister. Middle of her class at Michigan State. Always in your shadow.

JUAN

Alicia—

ALICIA

I’m not finished. Do you really want to know why I would rather throw pills down the toilet? Because I want to show you, show our sibs, show the fucking world that Alicia Mendez can do something right. On my own! That I can get my act together, get my head straight without the almighty pills! That I can achieve something, Juan, achieve something on my own!

JUAN

At what price, huh? How many times in the psych ward?

(JUAN turns away from ALICIA)

And then the pandemic hit. One day you’re radiant. Absolutely beautiful. The next you’re a shell of yourself. Withered. Emaciated. Demons in your head. This time it was involuntary. We forced you into that hospital.

(ALICIA sits slowly on the ground, wrapping her arms around her knees, facing away from JUAN)

(significant long pause)

ALICIA

(softly)

Why didn’t you call me?

(long pause)

JUAN

(looking surprised, JUAN turns slowly towards ALICIA and says quietly)

What?

ALICIA

Why didn’t you call, Juan? Forgot my number? A number you’ve called a million times.

JUAN

Of course not.

ALICIA

I was waiting.

JUAN

I….I…

ALICIA

Waiting for you.

JUAN

Look, Alicia…

ALICIA

Why didn’t you call? I want to know.

JUAN

I…I was crazy busy. We were closing a huge deal. I hardly slept for weeks.

ALICIA

Oh, that’s right, the gifted lawyer climbing his way from associate to partner. The air must be pretty thin at the top of the legal mountain.

JUAN

You have no idea. The pressure I was under. You wouldn’t have a clue.

ALICIA

Oh, that’s right. How could I?

JUAN

(dismissively)

Stop. Just stop.

ALICIA

My brother. My dear pill-popping bipolar brother. Couldn’t find the time.

JUAN

That’s enough!

ALICIA

(ALICIA turns to JUAN sitting on her knees)

The one person who could understand me. Understand my world. Our world. Was I asking for too much attention?

JUAN

Why are we doing this?

ALICIA

You know why.

JUAN

You’re breaking the rules!

ALICIA

Rules are made to be broken, right counselor?

JUAN

(JUAN turns away from ALICIA)

Leave me alone!

ALICIA

(ALICIA stands and approaches JUAN little by little as they speak)

No, I won’t. It’s time.

JUAN

I don’t want to talk about this, dammit!

ALICIA

What if, Juan?

JUAN

I’m leaving.

ALICIA

You can’t. So I ask again, what if?

JUAN

Shut up!

ALICIA

What if you could change one thing…

JUAN

Please, Alicia!

ALICIA

Now is the time, Juan. Now you can’t stop it.

JUAN

Don’t!

ALICIA

What if you could change one thing, one thing that would prevent a catastrophe.

JUAN

You don’t have to do this!

ALICIA

Yes, I do.

JUAN

No, no, no, you don’t!  

ALICIA

(lovingly)

It’s time, Juan.

JUAN

No, it’s not!

ALICIA

(ALICIA is now stands closely behind JUAN and says lovingly)

You can’t run away from me. Not anymore.

JUAN

(JUAN turns toward ALICIA)

STOP! STOP!! PLEASE, ALICIA!! DON’T DO IT! PLEASE DON’T DO IT!

ALICIA

(lovingly)

Just one thing. If you could change just one thing, my dear brother. Say it.

JUAN

NO, I WON’T!

ALICIA

(lovingly)

Say it, Juan.

JUAN

OK! I SHOULD’VE CALLED! I SHOULD’VE CALLED!

(pause)

ALICIA

Why didn’t you call?

JUAN

BECAUSE I WAS AFRAID, OK?

(pause)

 Afraid. So afraid of that darkness. That black hole you were in.

(pause)

I didn’t…I couldn’t…I couldn’t go there. I just couldn’t.

ALICIA

I just wanted to talk to my brother.

JUAN

I didn’t know what to say, Alicia! I couldn’t find the words! I was mute! Frozen! Afraid! Afraid of you!

ALICIA

But it was a simple word. I just wanted to hear you say my name, speak it, into my world, dear brother.

(JUAN collapses to the ground, sobbing)

JUAN

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I should’ve called. Oh, God, I should have called, Alicia. I’m so sorry.

(very long pause, the lights begin to fade on ALICIA)

ALICIA

(ALICIA sits on her knees)

Love.

JUAN

What?

ALICIA

It’s a word. That signifies the bond between us. The bond we’ll always have. Always.

(long pause)

JUAN

I love you, Alicia. All of you, not the Alicia that could’ve been.

ALICIA

I love you, Juan. All of you. Who you are now.

(long pause)

(JUAN and ALICIA sit on the ground facing the audience)

Lights completely down on ALICIA

JUAN

Beautiful, isn’t it? Peaceful.

ALICIA

Yeah, it is.

       Fade to black.

      Lights fade up. JUAN faces the audience straddling a chair and ALICIA stands behind him and to the side. Lighting should suggest that ALICIA is there in spirit. She’s barefoot and wears a simple white dress.

JUAN

Words

They will always be iterable

What about, it’s okay?

We say

It’s okay, I suppose

It’s okay, it’s good to go

It’s okay to cross the street

But there’s more

Right?

Something deeper

Pervasive

Consuming

About it’s okay

When things

Bad things

Confront us

At any time

Anywhere

Suddenly, perhaps

Randomly, so often

Violently, at times

We then ask

What’s the point?

Words hurt me

Wound me

They stab me

Leave me dead to the world

(pause)

No words

No

Words

They disappear

Fade to nothing

Leaving only the wordless abyss

Then someone

Maybe someone you can’t see

But only feel

That someone 

Touches you

Says to you

In a whisper

ALICIA

(whispering)

It’s okay

JUAN

Wait.

What?

What did you say?

What are you saying?

What do you mean?

ALICIA

(whispering)

It’s okay

JUAN

How?

How?

How is it okay?

How can it be okay?

How?

ALICIA

(whispering)

It’s okay to feel the trauma of grief

It’s okay to feel the pain of letting go

It’s okay to fear the future without me

JUAN

But what then?

ALICIA

A promise

A promise, Juan, that it’s okay

That you will survive

A promise that there are better days to come

Better days

(pause)

Words, Juan

What you will speak tomorrow

Because you will be there

      Fade to black

THE END

MISS UNDERSTANDING

Enrique R. Carrasco

CHARACTERS

MISS UNDERSTANDING:  An attorney arguing a case on appeal that was decided against her in the court below.

JUDGES 1, 2, and 3:  Judges on an appeals court.

MISS UNDERSTANDING is engaging in oral argument before three appeals court JUDGES 1, 2, and 3.  She uses her impressive advocacy skills to try to persuade the appellate court judges that the trial court mistakenly allowed “extrinsic evidence” (testimonial or documentary evidence other than the contract itself) to interpret the contract.

Lighting should highlight the actors only; the JUDGES should be elevated, looking down on MISS UNDERSTANDING.

Lights up.

MISS UNDERSTANDING

May it please the court, I represent–

JUDGE 1

What is your name, Miss?

MISS UNDERSTANDING

Understanding.

JUDGE 2

Is that what you want?  Understanding?

JUDGE 3

You’ll have to earn it.

MISS UNDERSTANDING

Your honor, my name—

JUDGE 1

Is your name yours and no one else’s?

JUDGE 2

But how can that be?

JUDGE 3

Can, say, John Smith, claim ownership of his name?

MISS UNDERSTANDING

That’s not the issue in this case.

JUDGE 1

But what is your name, Miss?

MISS UNDERSTANDING

Understanding.

JUDGE 2

It will do you no good to beg here.

JUDGE 3

I should think not.

MISS UNDERSTANDING

Respectfully, I’m not begging.

JUDGE 1

But isn’t that why you’re here?

JUDGE 2

You’re begging for our vote.

JUDGE 3

A majority opinion, at least.

MISS UNDERSTANDING

I’m an advocate, not a beggar.

JUDGE 2

A tramp with a briefcase.

MISS UNDERSTANDING

That is offensive.

JUDGE 1

I think it is endearing, actually–a lawyer tramp with a gleaming briefcase.

JUDGE 2

So why are you here?

MISS UNDERSTANDING

I have an argument.

JUDGE 3

You wish to bedazzle us with rhetoric.

JUDGE 1

Enchant us with gems of wisdom.

JUDGE 2

Speak from the mountaintop of truth.

MISS UNDERSTANDING

Yes.

JUDGE 1

Proceed.

MISS UNDERSTANDING

Thank you.  The question is whether the lower court properly admitted extrinsic evidence—

JUDGE 2

The extrinsic posits the existence of the intrinsic, yes?

MISS UNDERSTANDING

It would seem so.  However, that is not the question here.

JUDGE 3

The question is whether the dichotomy is real.

MISS UNDERSTANDING

The contract is real.

JUDGE 1

Is it?

JUDGE 2

Perhaps it is merely conceptual, an ephemeral idea beyond capture.

MISS UNDERSTANDING

The language in the contract is real.  It is plain.

JUDGE 3

You mean the piece of paper in the record called “contract?”

MISS UNDERSTANDING

Yes, your Honor.

JUDGE 1

But what is that paper beyond mere fibers of wood?

JUDGE 2

If I take that piece of paper and fold it correctly, does it not become a paper plane?

MISS UNDERSTANDING

It would if children were at play.  But the transaction at issue here is between adults with a serious purpose.

JUDGE 3

What are you saying?  Adults cannot make paper planes?  That is preposterous!

JUDGE 1

Outrageous!

JUDGE 2

An unconscionable proposition!  Do you not agree, counsel?

MISS UNDERSTANDING

I would if we were prohibiting adults from making paper planes. Respectfully, however,

paper planes are irrelevant to this appeal.  

JUDGE 3

How do we determine what is relevant or irrelevant?

JUDGE 1

If a contract relates to the sale of gelatin, is pudding irrelevant?

MISS UNDERSTANDING

Pudding would be irrelevant if the plain language of the contract referred to gelatin.

JUDGE 2

But don’t most puddings contain gelatin?

MISS UNDERSTANDING

Honestly, your Honor, I don’t know.

JUDGE 3

You’ve come to this court unprepared?

JUDGE 1

She has no clue!

JUDGE 2

Shockingly ignorant!

MISS UNDERSTANDING

I am not ignorant. I did come prepared to discuss the issue in this case but not to discuss the idiosyncrasies of paper planes, gelatin or pudding.

JUDGE 1

What do you mean by “idiosyncrasies?”

JUDGE 2

Are you suggesting we are idiosyncratic?

JUDGE 3

Abnormal in some way?

JUDGE 1

Aberrations?

JUDGE 2

Anomalies?

JUDGE 3

Are you saying we are peculiar?

MISS UNDERSTANDING

No, your Honor, I am not saying you are peculiar. What is peculiar is the extrinsic evidence in this case. It cannot be admitted.

JUDGE 1

Is that the test you are asking us to apply, whether the extrinsic evidence is peculiar?

JUDGE 2

Peculiar can mean odd.

JUDGE 3

Freakish.

JUDGE 1

Or strange. Is that what you mean, the extrinsic evidence is strange?

(long pause)

                              MISS UNDERSTANDING (becomes increasingly desperate)

Yes, your Honor, it is strange. So strange that you must not allow it to be admitted. It has no basis in reality.  It is devoid of meaning.  It makes a mockery of what is true, right and good.  It leads to desperation, plunges us into darkness so deep that our lives lose meaning.  We lose the ability to think, to feel, to love.  We are reduced to flesh without souls, flesh that decays and reeks of rot.  There is nothing but rot.  Putrid rot infested with maggots…..

              (very long pause)

JUDGE 1

What is your name, Miss?

MISS UNDERSTANDING

Understanding.

JUDGE 2

Is that what you want? Understanding?

MISS UNDERSTANDING

Desperately, your Honor.

JUDGE 3

Your time is up, counsel.

MISS UNDERSTANDING

I know.

THE END

To most people, international finance is an arcane topic, something most of us don’t think about. When asked about it, we might say it’s something that occurs on Wall Street by elite investment banks such as Goldman Sachs or what you read about in the Wall Street Journal or the Financial Times. We might also venture that it’s something taught at the Harvard Business School and at some law schools. But most of us, if prodded by the question, would throw up our hands and say international finance is a topic that occurs somewhere in the financial stratosphere, the province of international banks and other financial institutions, not people. But that’s just not true. Like any narrative, international finance is created and inhabited by people.

For that reason, as a professor at the University of Iowa College of Law, I made it my mission to explain international finance in plain English so that lay persons could understand it and how it might affect them. In the late 1990’s, I created the E-Book on International Finance & Development, a groundbreaking work that used the internet, which at the time had just developed the World Wide Web, to explain to a global audience the Asian financial crisis and other topics in the field. At about the same time, I established the University of Iowa Center for International Finance & Development, where I worked with fantastic students to expand upon my mission.

All of my work culminated in 2015, when I published a textbook titled, Fundamentals of International Finance: What You Need to Know. It was unique in that I used my skills as a playwright to explain the subject matter. I’ve been writing plays for some time, almost all in the genre of the short play, fifteen to twenty minutes in length. In 2002, my play, Soccer Moms, was selected for the Annual Festival of One-Act Plays at Theatre Three in New York. While I was at the College of Law, I produced a number of plays based on cases in my Contracts class. So in the textbook, I wove in vignettes to explain things in each chapter.

Now I want to reach non-students who might be interested in the narrative of international finance as presented in the textbook by using my blog to post just the vignettes along with some very limited explanatory prose. The narrative will begin with a profound event at the close of World War II. But to give you a taste of what’s to come, I’m going to jump ahead to give you a vignette relating to the financial crisis that shook the world beginning in 2008. It’s based on a story I read in the paper about how the crisis, which began in the United States, affected a community in Wingecarribee Shire, Australia. I used the vignette to explain the role of credit rating agencies in the crisis. It’s a story about how the CRA’s failed to fulfill their role as the “gatekeepers,” that is, conveying to the investing public the risks of holding highly complex securities. When I use quotation marks in the vignettes it signifies actual statements taken from the original sources.

I hope you enjoy it. If you don’t…well…there’s always Netflix,

“The Gatekeeper’s Reckoning”

Setting: 1:00 a.m., law office, New York, present day

Characters

David: lawyer

William: janitor

(lights up)

William: May I empty your trash, sir?

David: Sure. Thanks. Let me get out of the way.

(David stands up and William empties the trash can, noticing many empty cans of energy drinks; David catches William looking at the cans)

David: I know. Ridiculous. They fill the whole trash can.

William: To each his own, sir.

David: I live here. Catch a cat nap now and then.

William: A twenty-four hour operation, isn’t it, sir.

David: We’re global. Time zones keep us busy.

William: It would seem we’re all connected, sir.

David: You bet. And you can drop the “sir.” Call me David.

(William returns the trash can to its spot and faces David; David sits, William doesn’t move)

William: Okay. David.

David: There we go.

(William turns to leave)

David: Wait. How about you?

William: Me?

David: Your name, sir!

William: Smith.

David: No, I mean your first name.

William: William.

David: Can I call you Bill?

William: I prefer William, if you don’t mind.

David: Not at all. William it is.

(pause)

David: You’re new here, aren’t you?

William: My first week, sir.

David: David.

William: Yes, David.

(David pulls a bottle of 18-year-old scotch and two tumblers from his desk drawer)

William: Quite nice.

David: Have some with me, to celebrate your first week.

William: Thank you, but no.

David: C’mon, William. You’re almost done, right? I can use a break before I call Singapore. Sit down and have a bit, just a bit. We can talk. It’s important for me to know the staff.

William: Why is that?

David: It’s in my best interest, William. I have the cleanest carpet of all the offices on the floor.

(pause)

David: That was a joke, William.

William: You’re quite the comedian.

David: David.

William: David.

(David pours some scotch)

David: Let’s press restart. William, how nice of you to stop by. Please have a seat. You have a moment, don’t you?

William: But your work—

David: Will always be there. Sit, please. You look thirsty. How about a bottle of primo spring water? Got some in the little fridge here.

(Williams sits upright in an office chair facing David, David unscrews the bottle cap and hands William the water)

William: Thank you . . . David.

David: No problem.

(William holds the bottle on his lap, doesn’t drink; David puts his stocking feet on his desk, takes a drink of scotch)

David: Are you Australian, William?

William: Yes, I am. My accent—

David: I know it well.

William: How so?

David: Scuba diving. Heron Bommie.

William: The Great Barrier Reef.

David: Spectacular. Spent a week there just last June.

William: First time?

David: Been there about a dozen times. How about you?

William: A bit beyond my budget. Quite a ways from my town in any event.

David: Where’s that?

William: Burrawang. In Wingecarribee Shire.

(David takes a long pull, all the while looking at William, long pause)

David: Wingecarribee Shire. I’ve heard of it. About two hours from Sydney, yeah?

William: Indeed.

David: Beautiful place . . . I’ve been told.

William: Quite. Eucalyptus trees, roos, koalas, wallabies . . .

David: Why did you leave such an idyllic place for the craziness of New York?

William: I lost my church.

David: Your church?

William: Yes, my church. Not very big, but good congregants. I was the pastor. I lost it in 2008. My church.

(David takes another long pull and pours more scotch)

David: Sorry.

William: For what?

David: Your loss. Your church.

(William stares at David)

David: Drink, William. It’s good water, don’t you think?

(William doesn’t drink)

William: What do you do, if you don’t mind my asking?

David: Not at all, William. I’m a corporate lawyer.

William: What do corporate lawyers do?

David: Lots of stuff. I do finance. Everything from project finance to Eurobonds.

William: Bonds?

David: Yes. Sort of international bonds.

William: Sounds complex. You must have considerable expertise.

David: I would like to think so, William.

William: How have you come about it?

David: Degrees in business and law. Then lots of hard work.

William: Here? I mean, you’ve become an expert in finance here?

(David takes a pull)

David: I was at a credit agency before I came here.

William: Credit agency. What is that?

David: They’re private companies that rate the creditworthiness of companies or countries that issue debt securities, like bonds.

William: Creditworthiness?

David: Their ability or willingness to pay a debt.

William: This is quite interesting. May I ask you about these agencies? Could you spare a few moments?

David: Of course. I told you I needed a break.

(David takes a drink)

David: You haven’t touched your water, William.

(William takes a sip of water)

David: What you want to know?

William: How many of these agencies are there?

David: There’re two U.S. firms that dominate the market, Standard & Poor’s and Moody’s. Fitch Ratings, a British firm, has a slice of the market but not as big. Then you got a bunch of little fish.

William: So if I understand correctly, these firms issue ratings so people know how profitable these . . . securities, debt securities will be.

David: Not quite. Credit agencies aren’t like investment analysts that make recommendations on whether to buy, sell or hold a security. Their ratings are useful because they’re a standard way to figure out whether it’s worth lending to a company or government and at what price—you know, the interest rate on a bond.

William: I see. They’re sort of gatekeepers, aren’t they?

David: Precisely, William.

William: They tell the world if a security is gold or trash?

(David takes his feet off the desk)

David: That’s a colorful way of putting it.

William: What’s the gold rating? The best gold?

David: Triple A.

William: And the trash?

David: If you use Moody’s ratings, anything below BBB loses its “investment grade” status and become speculative. Sometimes it’s called junk.

William: Trash.

David: Sure. Trash.

William: Such a range. How do they do it?

David: They look at a bunch of data ranging from the issuer’s financial position to the quality of management.

William: Data. It seems that it’s at the heart of the ratings. How do they collect it?

(David starts putting his shoes on)

David (looking at his shoes): Good questions, William. Typically there’s a team of raters with a lead analyst.

William: Were you a lead analyst, David?

(David stops tying his shoes and looks at William)

David: Yes.

William: Hmmm . . . What did you do?

David: I coordinated the gathering and analysis of the data. Then presented it to the rating committee. It decides what rating the debtor or the financial instrument will receive.

William: Who pays for all of this?

(David finishes tying his shoes and stands up)

David: The issuer, William.

William: Are you saying that the very firm that has asked you to rate its securities is paying you?

David: Yes. The issuer pays the credit rating agency.

(William, still sitting upright, takes a sip of water)

William: You said you were a lead analyst. When? Perhaps 2008?

David: William, this has been a great conversation, but I have to start preparing for my call to Singapore.

William: May I finish my water, David?

David: Sure.

(William takes a sip of water)

David: Why don’t you chug it.

William: You didn’t answer my question.

David: What question was that?

William: Were you an analyst in 2008?

David: Yes, I was.

William: So you were turning trash into gold, weren’t you? Taking subprime mortgages and turning them into mortgage-backed securities with triple A slices. The same with collateralized debt obligations.

David: You seem to know a lot about finance for a janitor.

William: I’ve had a number of years to read books. After all, David. I lost my church.

David: I said I was sorry, pastor. Build a new one. I’ll make a sizeable donation.

(William takes a sip)

William: Have a seat, David.

David: Thank you, but no.

William: “Let’s hope we are all wealthy and retired by the time this house of cards falters.” Does that sound familiar? Was it in an email you sent to an analyst on your team?

(David walks to the office door and tries to open it and can’t)

William: Please, have a seat, David.

David: Open this door!

William: You and the others rated thousands of these securities worth trillions of dollars on paper without really knowing what you were doing. You conspired with your clients to maximize profits by making sure you could create securities with big slices of gold. Gold that was actually trash. But why would you care, David? You and your clients were making money hand over fist. You sold your soul to the devil. All for revenue.

(David reaches in his pocket for his cell phone)

William: Are you looking for this?

(William stands up and raises his hand holding David’s cell phone)

William: Don’t even bother with your office phone.

David: Look, Mr. Pastor-turned-wacked-out janitor, everybody had a hand in it—borrowers, mortgage brokers, investment banks, just to name of few. And let’s not forget about the investors, they blindly bought the stuff. They looked at the ratings as if we were making investment recommendations. We weren’t. And they should’ve known that. Everybody was having a party, including the investors, including Wingecarribee Shire. And what about the ultimate gatekeepers, the regulators? Why don’t you creep them out?

William: There wouldn’t have been a party without the gold, and you helped create it, David. The party came to an end in 2007, didn’t it? The housing market collapsed. Then all of you downgraded billions of dollars of these securities. The gold was downgraded to junk. Within a year, nearly $2 trillion securities were downgraded.

David: What do you want from me?

William: You haven’t asked me, David. Aren’t you curious?

David: Asked you what?

(William approaches David, standing close to him)

William: Why I lost my church. My lovely church in Burrawang.

(David rushes to the wall and starts pounding)

William: There’s no one here, David. Unusual, isn’t it.

David: Let me out of here, please!

William: My church along with others in the township of Wingecarribee Shire invested in the securities. The gold slices. I was hoping to build a children’s wing for my church. Many families in my church. Then the gold turned into trash. Into trash, David! We lost everything! Everything, David!

(pause)

William: My families left. I preached to a nearly empty church.

(pause)

William: I lost my church, David. It was torn down . . . God abandoned me. Abandoned Wingecarribee Shire.

(long pause)

David: If I could take it all back—

William: You all were the gatekeepers . . .

(William goes to his cart and pulls out a hammer and slowly approaches David)

David: What are you doing?

William: Those securities weren’t trash, really. No, that’s not the right word, David.

David: Please put that down.

William: They were a deadly virus.

David: I left the agency. I couldn’t stay there.

William: You could’ve contained the virus. But you did the opposite. And the virus went global, all the way to Wingecarribee Shire.

(long pause)

David: I’m truly sorry, William. Please don’t hurt me.

William: Do you pray, David?

(David starts trembling)

David: I used to.

William: I as well. I want to pray again.

(pause)

David: You can build another church . . . in Burrawang.

William: Why do you think I’m here?

David: I’m sorry? What?

(William raises the hammer)

William: Are you good with a hammer, David?

(fade to black)