+ TABLEAU TWELVE +

Same day. In the cornfield.

TOM

He’s shouting. He’s furious. He’s telling me to stay. He’s looking for me. He’s apologizing to me. Anything to get me to stay. He’s afraid. He’s finally afraid. I can feel his heart beating. He’s still calling me. I’m waiting. I can hear him coming closer. I don’t make a sound.

FRANCIS

(off) Tom! Tom!

TOM

Only the dog answers him in the distance. Not even God cares about him now. Like a madman, he’s looking for me in the cornfield. The dry stalks of corn slap him in the face. He can’t see a thing. I raise the shovel. First I hit him in the back of the neck. A stifled cry. He falls. That was cowardly. I should have hit him from the front. I couldn’t have done it. He looks too much like you. The sun glows with hope. I hit him again. He collapses. You’re strong, man. Breathe, for chrissakes, breathe! He’s stopped moving. In the distance, the trees are autumn red. I kick him to see if he’s still alive. He’s still moving. A hare. Francis is a hare. He’s bleeding from his mouth. My hands in his mouth. I open. Wider and wider. “You tell me when to stop, man.” All around us, sheaths of gold. I’ll tell Agatha that Francis left for the city to be with Sara.

BLACKOUT