004

1. Matilde

Matilde tells a long joke in Portuguese to the audience.
We can tell she is telling a joke even though we might not understand the
language.
She finishes the joke.
She exits.

2. Lane

Lane, to the audience:

It has been such a hard month.
My cleaning lady—from Brazil—decided that she was depressed
one day and stopped cleaning my house.
I was like: clean my house!
And she wouldn’t!

We took her to the hospital and I had her medicated and she Still Wouldn’t Clean.

And—in the meantime—I’ve been cleaning my house!

I’m sorry, but I did not go to medical school to clean my own house.

3. Virginia

Virginia, to the audience:

People who give up the privilege of cleaning their own houses—they’re insane people.

If you do not clean: how do you know if you’ve made any progress in life? I love dust.The dust always makes progress.Then I remove the dust. That is progress.

If it were not for dust I think I would die. If there were no dust to clean then there would be so much leisure time and so much thinking time and I would have to do something besides thinking and that thing might be to slit my wrists.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha just kidding.

I’m not a morbid person. That just popped out!

My sister is a wonderful person. She’s a doctor. At an important hospital. I’ve always wondered how one hospital can be more important than another hospital. They are places for human waste. Places to put dead bodies.

I’m sorry. I’m being morbid again.

My sister has given up the privilege of cleaning her own house. Something deeply personal—she has given up. She does not know how long it takes the dust to accumulate under her bed. She does not know if her husband is sleeping with a prostitute because she does not smell his dirty underwear. All of these things, she fails to know.

I know when there is dust on the mirror. Don’t misunderstand me—I’m an educated woman. But if I were to die at any moment during the day, no one would have to clean my kitchen.

4. Matilde

Matilde, to the audience:

The story of my parents is this. It was said that my father was the funniest man in his village. He did not marry until he was sixty-three because he did not want to marry a woman who was not funny. He said he would wait until he met his match in wit.

And then one day he met my mother. He used to say: your mother—and he would take a long pause—(Matilde takes a long pause)—is funnier than I am. We have never been apart since the day we met, because I always wanted to know the next joke.

My mother and father did not look into each other’s eyes. They laughed like hyenas. Even when they made love they laughed like hyenas. My mother was old for a mother. She refused many proposals. It would kill her, she said, to have to spend her days laughing at jokes that were not funny.

I wear black because I am in mourning. My mother died last year. Have you ever heard the expression: “I almost died laughing”? Well that’s what she did. The doctors couldn’t explain it. They argued.They said she choked on her own spit, but they don’t really know. She was laughing at one of my father’s jokes. A joke he took one year to make up, for the anniversary of their marriage. When my mother died laughing, my father shot himself. And so I came here, to clean this house.

5. Lane and Matilde

Matilde is looking out the window.

Are you all right?

Would you please clean the bathroom when you get a chance?

Matilde looks at Lane.

The house is very dirty.

Matilde is silent.

This is difficult for me. I don’t like to order people around. I’ve never had a live-in maid.

Matilde is silent.

Matilde—what did you do in your country before you came to the United States?

I was a student. I studied humor.You know—jokes.

I’m being serious.

I’m being serious too. My parents were the funniest people in Brazil. And then they died.

That must be very difficult.

I was the third funniest person in my family.Then my parents died, making me the first funniest. There was no one left to laugh at my jokes, so I left.

That’s very interesting. I don’t—always—understand the arts. Listen. Matilde. I understand that you have a life, an emotional life—and that you are also my cleaning lady. If I met you at—say—a party—and you said, I am from a small village in Brazil, and my parents were comedians, I would say, that’s very interesting. You sound like a very interesting woman.

But life is about context.

And I have met you in the context of my house, where I have hired you to clean. And I don’t want an interesting person to clean my house. I just want my house—cleaned.

Lane is on the verge of tears.

(With compassion) Is something wrong?

No, it’s just that—I don’t like giving orders in my own home. It makes me—uncomfortable. I want you to do all the things I want you to do without my having to tell you.

Do you tell the nurses at the hospital what to do?

Then pretend I am your nurse.

Nurse—would you polish the silver, please?

A doctor does not say: Nurse—would you polish the silver, please?

A doctor says: Nurse—polish the silver!

You’re right. Nurse—polish the silver!

Matilde gets out silver polish and begins polishing.
Lane watches her for a moment, then exits.

6. Matilde

Matilde stops cleaning.

This is how I imagine my parents.

Music.
A dashing couple appears.

They are dancing.
They are not the best dancers in the world.
They laugh until laughing makes them kiss.
They kiss until kissing makes them laugh.

They dance.
They laugh until laughing makes them kiss.
They kiss until kissing makes them laugh.
Matilde watches.
Matilde longs for them.

7. Virginia and Matilde

The doorbell rings.
The music stops.
Matilde’s parents exit.
They blow kisses to Matilde.
Matilde waves back.
The doorbell rings again.
Matilde answers the door.
Virginia is there.

Hello.You are the maid?

Yes.
You are the sister?

Yes.
How did you know?

I dusted your photograph.
My boss said: this is my sister. We don’t look alike.
I thought: you don’t look like my boss.You must be her sister.
My name is Matilde. (Brazilian pronunciation of Matilde: Ma-chil-gee)

I thought your name was Matilde. (American pronunciation of Matilde: Matilda)

Nice to meet you.

Nice to meet you. I don’t know your name.

Oh! My name is Virginia.

Like the state?

I’ve never been to Virginia.

Maybe I should go.

No. I mean, am I interrupting you?

No. I was just—cleaning.Your sister is at work.

She’s always at work.

Would you like to come in?

Yes. Actually—I came to see you.

They enter the living room.

Lane tells me that you’ve been feeling a little blue.

Oh. She told you that?

Come, sit on the couch with me.

Virginia goes to sit on the couch.
She pats the couch.
Matilde sits down next to her.

Do you miss home?

Of course I do. Doesn’t everyone?

Is that why you’ve been sad?

No. I don’t think so. It’s just that—I don’t like to clean houses. I think it makes me sad.

You don’t like to clean houses.

But that’s so simple!

Why don’t you like to clean?

I’ve never liked to clean. When I was a child I thought: if the floor is dirty, look at the ceiling. It is always clean.

I like cleaning.

It clears my head.

So it is, for you, a religious practice?

No. It’s just that: cleaning my house—makes me feel clean.

But you don’t clean other people’s houses. For money.

No—I clean my own house.

I think that is different.

Do you feel sad while you are cleaning? Or before? Or after?

I am sad when I think about cleaning. But I try not to think about cleaning while I am cleaning. I try to think of jokes. But sometimes the cleaning makes me mad. And then I’m not in a funny mood. And that makes me sad. Would you like a coffee?

I would love some coffee.

Matilde goes to get a cup of coffee from the kitchen.
Virginia takes stock of her sister’s dust.
Virginia puts her finger on the tabletops to test the dust.
Then she wipes her dirty finger on her skirt.
Then she tries to clean her skirt but she has nothing to clean it with.
Matilde comes back and gives her the coffee.

You’re welcome.

Virginia drinks the coffee.

This is good coffee.

We make good coffee in Brazil.

Oh—that’s right.You do!

Does that help you to place me in my cultural context?

Lane didn’t describe you accurately.

How old are you?

Young enough that my skin is still good.
Old enough that I am starting to think: is my skin still good?
Does that answer your question?

Yes.You’re twenty-seven.

Listen. Matilde. (American pronunciation)

Matilde. (Brazilian pronunciation)

I have a proposition for you.

I like to clean.You do not like to clean.Why don’t I clean for you?

You’re joking.

I don’t get it. What do you want from me?

I have my house cleaned by approximately 3:12 every afternoon. I have folded the corner of every sheet. The house is quiet. The gold draperies are singing a little lullaby to the ottoman. The silverware is gently sleeping in its box. I tuck in the forks, the spoons, the knives. I do not have children.

(With increasing velocity) Don’t be sorry. My husband is barren. Is that the right word for a man? I never thought that the world was quite good enough for children anyway. I didn’t trust myself to cope with how sick and ugly the world is and how beautiful children are, and the idea of watching them grow into the dirt and mess of the world—someone might kidnap them or rape them or otherwise trample on their innocence, leaving them in the middle of the road, naked, in some perverse sexual position, to die, while strangers rode past on bicycles and tried not to look. I’ve thought about doing some volunteer work, but I don’t know who to volunteer for.

A pause. She looks at Matilde.

Since I was twenty-two, my life has gone downhill, and not only have I not done what I wanted to do, but I have lost the qualities and temperament that would help me reverse the downward spiral—and now I am a completely different person.

I don’t know why I am telling you all of this, Mathalina.

Matilde thinks about correcting Virginia. She doesn’t.

I used to study Greek literature. One summer my husband and I went to Europe. It was supposed to be relaxing but I have trouble relaxing on vacations. We were going to see ruins and I was going to write about ruins but I found that I had nothing to say about them. I thought: why doesn’t someone just sweep them up! Get a very large broom!

I’m sorry. I was trying to say . . .

You were telling me how your life has gone downhill since you were twenty-two.

Yes. The point is: every day my house is cleaned by three o’clock. I have a lot of—time.

I’d be very happy to come here and clean Lane’s house before Lane gets home from work. That is what I’m telling you. Only don’t tell her. She wouldn’t like it.

I will let you clean the house if it will make you feel better.

Let’s start in the bathroom. I love cleaning the toilet. It’s so dirty, and then it’s so clean!

8. Lane and Matilde

Matilde is reading the funny papers.

It’s so clean!

The medication is helping?

I’m feeling much better.

Well—that’s terrific.

Lane exits.
Matilde takes out her medication.
She undoes the bottle,
takes one pill out,
looks at it,
and throws it in the garbage can.

9. Matilde

Matilde, to the audience:

The perfect joke makes you forget about your life. The perfect joke makes you remember about your life.The perfect joke is stupid when you write it down.The perfect joke was not made up by one person. It passed through the air and you caught it. A perfect joke is somewhere between an angel and a fart.

This is how I imagine my parents:

Music.
Matilde’s mother and father appear.
They sit at a café.

My mother and father are at a café.

My mother is telling my father a joke.

It is a dirty joke.

My father is laughing so hard that he is banging his knee on the underside of the table.

My mother is laughing so hard that she spits out her coffee.

I am with them at the café. I am eight years old.

I say: what’s so funny?

(I hate not understanding a joke.)

My mother says: ask me again when you’re thirty.

Now I’m almost thirty. And I’ll never know the joke.

Matilde’s mother and father look at her.

10. Virginia and Matilde

The next day.
Virginia folds laundry.
Matilde watches.
Virginia is happy to be cleaning.

You’re good at that.

You want to hear a joke?

I don’t like to laugh out loud.

I don’t like my laugh. It’s like a wheeze. Someone once told me that. Who was it—my husband? Do you have a husband?

Do you like your husband?

My husband is like a well-placed couch. He takes up the right amount of space. A man should not be too beautiful. Or too good in bed. A man should be—functional. And well chosen. Otherwise you’re in trouble.

Does he make you laugh?

Oh no. Something uncontrollable would come out of my mouth when he wanted it to. I wouldn’t like that.

A good joke cleans your insides out. If I don’t laugh for a week, I feel dirty. I feel dirty now, like my insides are rotting.

Someone should make you laugh. I’m not the person to do it.

Virginia. My mother once said to me: Matilde, in order to tell a good joke, you have to believe that your problems are very small, and that the world is very big. She said: if more women knew more jokes, there would be more justice in this world.

Virginia thinks about that.
Virginia comes across a white pair of women’s underwear.
Matilde watches.

I’ve never seen my sister’s underwear before.

Her underwear is practical. And white.

Virginia continues to fold underwear.

I wonder if Lane has gone through menopause yet. Her underwear is very white. Some women throw out underwear when they get a bloodstain. Other women keep washing the stain.

I can’t afford to throw away underwear. If I could, believe me, I would. I would buy new underwear every day: purple, red, gold, orange, silver . . .

Virginia folds a pair of men’s underwear.

It’s a little weird to be touching my brother-in-law’s underwear.

He’s a very handsome man.

When he and Lane first met, I thought: Lane gets the best of everything. A surgeon. With a specialty. He’s—charismatic.

Virginia touches her brother-in-law’s underwear as she folds.

Then I thought: it’s better to have a husband who is not too handsome. Then you don’t worry about him.

Virginia comes across a pair of women’s black underwear.

These don’t look like Lane.

Matilde and Virginia look at each other.

11. Lane and Virginia Have Coffee

Lane and Virginia have coffee in the living room.

The house is so clean!

It’s working out—with your maid? What’s her name?

(American pronunciation) Matilde.

That’s right: Matilde. (American pronunciation)

Don’t they say Matilde (Brazilian pronunciation) in Brazil?

I don’t know.

I think they do.

How would you know?

Virginia shrugs.

Well, I’m sure she would tell me if I were saying her name wrong.

Anyway. She seems much better. How are you?

How’s Charles?

Why do you ask?

That’s good. The last time I saw Charles was Christmas.You both work so hard.

He’s been doing nine surgeries a day—we hardly see each other.

I mean, of course we see each other, but, you know how it is. More coffee?

Matilde! Could you clear these, please?

Matilde enters.

(To Virginia) Your cup, miss?

Oh, I’ll get it—

Matilde winks at Virginia.
Matilde clears the plates.

Did everyone like their coffee?

LANE AND VIRGINIA

Matilde exits.

Oh.That’s Matilde. Sorry.That was rude. I should have introduced you. Or is it rude? Do you introduce the maid to the company?

I’m not the company. I’m your sister.

You’re right.

I should have introduced you. I can’t get used to having another person in the house.

Mmm.Yes. It must make you uncomfortable to—I don’t know—read a magazine while someone cleans up after you.

I don’t read magazines,Virginia. I go to work exhausted and I come home exhausted. That is how most of the people in this country function. At least people who have jobs.

A pause.
For a moment,
Lane and Virginia experience
a primal moment during which they
are seven and nine years old,
inside the mind, respectively.
They are mad.
Then they return quite naturally
to language, as adults do.

Sorry—I didn’t mean—

At the same time:

Are you—? I keep meaning to—

Oh—it’s just—I keep meaning to have you two over for dinner.

It’s ridiculous—living so close and never seeing each other.

You’re right. Maybe next week?

Next week is crazy. But soon.

Virginia nods.

12. Lane and Matilde

Night.
Matilde tries to think up the perfect joke.
Matilde looks straight ahead,
in the dark, in the living room.
She thinks.
Lane comes home from work.
She turns a light on.

Oh! You startled me.

You startled me, too.

What are you doing in the dark?

I was trying to think up a joke.
Almost had one.
Now it’s gone.

Oh—well—can you get it back again?

Is Charles home?

(With compassion) No.

Oh, well, he’s probably just sleeping at the hospital.

Matilde is silent.

Sometimes there’s no time to call home from the hospital.You’re going from patient to patient, and it’s—you know—crazy. When we were younger—Charles and I—we would page each other, we had this signal—two for good night—and three for—well, I don’t know why I’m thinking about this right now. The point is—when you get older, you just know that a person is thinking of you, and working hard, and thinking of you, and you don’t need them to call anymore. Since Charles and I are both doctors we both—understand—how it is.

Well, good night.

Are you going to—just—sit here in the dark?

I might stay up a little longer to—what’s the word?—tidy up.

Oh. Great. Just shut the light off when you—

Matilde turns the light off.

Oh. Good night.

Lane exits.
Matilde tries to think up the perfect joke.
She closes her eyes.
The lights around her go from night to day
as she composes.

13. Virginia and Matilde. Then Lane.

Virginia enters.
Matilde opens her eyes.
Virginia irons.
Matilde watches.

I have a really good joke coming.

You know how most jokes go in threes? Like this: Da da DA. I’m making up one that goes in sixes: Da da Da, da da DA.

I didn’t know jokes had time signatures.

Oh, they do. Ask me what my profession is then ask me what my greatest problem is.

What’s your profession?

I’m a comedian.

What’s your—

But you’re not laughing.

I’m laughing on the inside.

Oh. I like it better when people laugh on the outside.

I’m looking for the perfect joke, but I’m afraid if I found it, it would kill me.

Virginia comes upon a pair of women’s red underwear.

No—(As in—he wouldn’t dare)

But—(As in—he might dare)

Do you think—here—in the house?

Maybe a park. I bet he puts them in his pocket, afterwards, and forgets, because he’s so happy. And then she’s walking around for the day, with no underwear, and you know what? She probably likes it.

I hope it’s not a nurse. It’s such a cliché.

If she’s a nurse, they would pass each other in the hospital, and she would say: hello, Doctor. And she knows, and he knows: no underwear.

No underwear in a hospital? It’s unsanitary.

Or—maybe he just likes women’s underwear. He might try them on.

It’s possible. You don’t like to think about it, because he’s your brother-in-law, but these things happen, Virginia. They do.

Lane enters.
Virginia quickly puts down the iron and sits.
Matilde stands and begins to iron badly.
Virginia hides the red underwear.

(To Virginia) What are you doing here?

Lane moves to the kitchen.

Where are you going?

I’m going in the other room to shoot myself.

You’re joking, right?

(From the kitchen) Right.

Matilde and Virginia look at each other.
Matilde folds underwear.
Virginia sits.
Virginia stands.
Virginia sits.
Virginia stands.
Virginia has a deep impulse to order the universe.
Virginia arranges objects on the coffee table.
Lane enters.
Her left hand is bleeding.
She holds it with a dish towel.

Lane—what—are you—?

I’m disguising myself as a patient.

That’s not funny.

They look at her, alarmed.

Don’t worry. Even my wounds are superficial.

Can opener. I was making a martini.

Why do you need a can opener to make a martini?

I didn’t have the right kind of fucking olives, okay? I only have black olives! In a fucking can.

He’s gone off with a patient.

Virginia and Matilde glance toward the red underwear and look away.

Mastectomy.Yes.

Wow. That’s very—

Generous of him?

(To Virginia) A mastectomy?

Virginia gestures toward her breast.
Matilde nods.

How old is she?

VIRGINIA AND MATILDE

Not what I expected.

A young nurse? The maid? No. He’s in love.

But—with an older woman?

I’m almost—impressed. She must have substance.

She’s not a doctor.

Well, most men in his position ... he’s still—so—good-looking ...

I’ve never been jealous, I’ve never been suspicious. I’ve never thought any other woman was my equal. I’m the best doctor. I’m the smartest, the most well-loved by my patients. I’m athletic. I have poise. I’ve aged well. I can talk to anyone and be on equal footing. How , I thought, could he even look at anyone else. It would be absurd.

Wow.You really are—confident.

I was blind. He didn’t want a doctor. He wanted a housewife.

A pause.
Lane looks around the house.
She sees the objects on the coffee table—
a vase, some magazines, forcefully arranged.
She sees Matilde folding laundry, badly.

(To Virginia) Have you been cleaning my house?

Virginia and Matilde look at each other.
Matilde stops folding laundry.

No, I haven’t been cleaning your house.

Those objects on the coffee table—that is how you arrange objects.

Virginia looks at the coffee table.

I don’t know what you mean.

Matilde—has Virginia been cleaning the house?

I asked Matilde.

Has Virginia been cleaning the house?

You’re fired.

You’re both fired.

You can’t do that.

This is my fault.

I’m paying her to clean my house!

And your house is clean!

This has nothing to do with you, Virginia.

This has everything to do with me.

Matilde—do you have enough money saved for a plane ticket back home?

You can stay one more week. I will buy you a plane ticket.

Lane.Your husband left you today.

I’m aware of that.

You’re not capable of making a rational decision.

I’m always capable of making a rational decision!

You don’t need to buy me a plane ticket. I’m moving to New York to become a comedian. I only need a bus ticket.

(To Lane) You can’t do this!

I will not have you cleaning my house, just because the maid is depressed—

She’s not depressed. She doesn’t like to clean! It makes her sad.

Lane looks at Matilde.

(To Virginia) why?

I don’t know.

You looked through my things.

I find this—incomprehensible.

Can’t I do a nice thing for you without having a motive?

You have better things to do than clean my house.

I don’t know.

No, you don’t know.

I wake up in the morning, and I wish that I could sleep through the whole day, but there I am, I’m awake.

So I get out of bed. I make eggs for my husband. I throw the eggshells in the disposal. I listen to the sound of delicate eggshells being ground by an indelicate machine. I clean the sink. I sweep the floor. I wipe coffee grounds from the counter.

I might have done something different with my life. I might have been a scholar. I might have described one particular ruin with the cold-blooded poetry of which only a first-rate scholar is capable. Why didn’t I?

I don’t know.

I wanted something—big. I didn’t know how to ask for it.

Don’t blame Matilde. Blame me. I wanted—a task.

I’m sorry.
I don’t know what to say.
Except:
(To Matilde) you’re fired.

It’s not her fault!You can’t do this.

(To Virginia) What would you like me to do?

Let me . . . take care of you.

I don’t need to be taken care of.

Everybody needs to be taken care of.

Virginia. I’m all grown-up.

I DO NOT WANT TO BETAKEN CARE OF.

I don’t want my sister to clean my house. I want a stranger to clean my house.

Virginia and Lane look at Matilde.

It’s all right. I’ll go.
I’ll pack my things.
Good-bye, Virginia.
Good luck finding a task.

She embraces Virginia.

Good-bye, Doctor.

Good luck finding your husband.

Lane and Virginia look at each other.

14. Lane. Then Matilde. Then Virginia.

Lane, to the audience:

This is how I imagine my ex-husband and his new wife.

Charles and Ana appear.
He undoes her gown.
Is it a hospital gown or a ball gown?

My husband undoes her gown.

He is very gentle.

He kisses her right breast.

Charles kisses Ana’s right breast.

He kisses the side of it.

He kisses the shadow.

He kisses her left torso.

He kisses her left torso.

He kisses the scar,

He kisses the scar.

the one he made.

It’s a good scar.

He’s a good surgeon.

He kisses her mouth.

He kisses her forehead.

It’s a sacred ritual, and I hate him.

Matilde enters with her suitcase.
The lovers remain.
They continue to kiss one another
on different body parts, a ritual.

Is there anything else before I go?

My husband and the woman he loves. Don’t worry. It’s only my imagination.

They look happy.

People imagine that people who are in love are happy.

That is why, in your country, people kill themselves on Valentine’s Day.

Love isn’t clean like that. It’s dirty. Like a good joke. Do you want to hear a joke?

Matilde tells a joke in Portuguese.

Is that the end?

Yes. It’s not funny in translation.

I suppose I should laugh then.

Lane tries to laugh.
She cries.

You’re crying.

I think that you’re crying.

Well—yes. I think I am.

Lane cries.
She laughs.
She cries.
She laughs.
And this goes on for some time.
Virginia enters.

Charles is at the door.

Charles. In the hall.

You let him in?

What could I do?

And—there’s a woman with him.

In the house?

What does she look like?

(With a sense of apology) She’s beautiful.

From offstage:

The women look at each other.
Blackout.
Intermission.