ACT FOUR

Early morning.

Lights up on the backyard. A hint of sunlight over the east threatens the darkness.

The Moon is faint, weak, low in the sky, softly playing the violin. Martín and Gabriela, not touching, sleep side by side. Cat watches Gabriela sleep. Martín wakes up.

 

MARTÍN (To the Moon):

After my pistol of love
found its target and
exploded with love-shrapnel
inside her, and sent her mind
to the dizzy edge of the universe,
where it sat and wondered
what the fuck hit it . . .
she fell asleep.
Mission accomplished!
I am now a man.
Other men notice my manhood
and are suddenly afraid.

MOON (Bored, sarcastic):

. . . So hide your daughters, people.

MARTÍN:

So hide your daughters, people!

(Gabriela wakes up.)

 

GABRIELA:

I just had the strangest dream . . .

MARTÍN:

I think I got you pregnant.

GABRIELA:

Then you have the only sperm
on earth that crawls across cement,
burrows through cotton panties,
and grows flowers in barren sand.

MARTÍN:

Ask the moon what I did!

MOON (Weak):

At night, love can’t
hide from me.
My light penetrates.
When virgin blood and
virgin seed hit the sheets,
I’m there,
counting the droplets.
Last night? Zero.

GABRIELA (To the Moon):

Delightful job you have.

MOON (Weak):

It’s a living.
But, now, my time is almost over.
Gotta go to bed.
My sister the sun is
impatient and pushy.

GABRIELA:

In my dream: cats don’t talk.
Refrigerators are indoor appliances.
The moon doesn’t play the violin.
On the moon, sunlight cooks the land
and there’s zero romance and no sound.
Dreams don’t get born there.
Some day the moon will be landfill,
people think.
So the moon watches,
with indifference,
as the earth rises
out of its bleached horizon,
all soft and blue,
like a marble covered in tears.

(The Moon yawns, gets dimmer.)

 

MOON:

Yeah, whatever.

GABRIELA:

But what if I’m still dreaming?
What if none of us wake up?
What if we go on like this:
dreaming and sleeping,
until we’re like boxes-within-boxes
and there’s no way out?

MOON:

Adios, Gabby!

GABRIELA (To the Moon):

Before you go, explain my dream to me.
I couldn’t recognize Benito and me.

MOON:

That was a dream about soul mates.

GABRIELA:

Who never agree? Who misinterpret?

MOON:

You two go deep.
So the wounds go deep.
You give a person so much,
you rearrange them.
You rewrite them.
He’s your creation.
You’re his.

GABRIELA:

Was it all a mistake?
Was it all hormones
and sweaty fingers?
Beer and pot and sucking each other?
Was it the uniform?
Was it the jokes he told
and the food he cooked?
Was it just youth?
Why didn’t I take more pictures
of those days?
Why can’t I remember
them better?

MOON (Weak):

Too tired to think . . .

GABRIELA:

Who wouldn’t get married
under those circumstances?
Who wouldn’t assume
that passion—and tenderness—
could last forever?
Who could have predicted
the changes in the body and the spirit?

(The Moon starts to set.)

 

MOON (Fading):

. . . Don’t turn to me
for precise answers, Gabby . . .
I’m a reflection of a reflection . . .
I’m a codependent satellite ...
not even confident enough
to be a planet . . .
and what you ask about . . .
are intangibles . . .
there will always be things
you can’t know about each other ...
there has never been a machine
made to X-ray the heart
and reveal its secrets,
except for poetry . . .
and I’m way too tired
to deal with poetry tonight . . .
Shakespeare called me “inconstant” . . .
“That monthly changes in her circled orb” . . .
even got my gender wrong . . .
the motherfucker . . .
but I guess I am . . .
that’s as close to precise
as the moon can get ...

MARTÍN (To the Moon):

I wish you’d leave already!

MOON (To Gabriela):

Think. Be strong.
And be careful . . . everything you do
may seem like a mistake . . .
for a very long time to come . . .

(The Moon disappears. More sunlight.)

 

GABRIELA (To Martín):

Boy, you need to go.

MARTÍN:

But I’m your man.
And you stole my virginity.
You owe me something for that.

GABRIELA:

Sun’s coming up.
Benito comes home from the field
this morning, seven a.m.,
must be close to that,
I suggest you disappear, muchacho.

MARTÍN:

I’m only saying
I want to spoil you—
on a cellular level.

GABRIELA:

Child, I’d break you in two.

MARTÍN:

Then give me back my virginity.

GABRIELA:

I’ll give you back your virginity.

(Gabriela kisses Martín passionately.)

 

MARTÍN:

The giving was better than the taking!

GABRIELA:

You’re a sweet kid, Martín.
You don’t belong in Barstow, either.
We have that in common.
You kiss good.

MARTÍN (To Cat):

I kiss good.

GABRIELA:

I can see going crazy in your bed
and burning your house to the ground
with the two of us
taking long baths together
and drinking so much beer
we’d both have comas for a week.

MARTÍN:

I’m searching for the downside
to all this.

GABRIELA:

I can see you getting
more and more dangerous, Martín.
I can tell by looking in your eyes:
you’re the type
that falls in love real easy.
That plans babies
after the first conversation.
Like somebody I
fell in love with
when I wasn’t much
older than you.

MARTÍN:

You think . . . other girls
see the same danger as you?

GABRIELA:

You broadcast it through your eyes.

MARTÍN:

Are you saying I’ll never get laid?

GABRIELA:

Not with me, muchachito.

(Martín looks at Gabriela, angry; it’s as if his entire personality has changed.)

MARTÍN:

I gotta go.
This whole thing is bullshit!
And I don’t want any more of you
playing with my head,
you cutting my nuts off,
you doing psycho- brujeria-witchcraft on me.
I’m glad we never got involved—bitch!
I’m glad I broke your heart!

GABRIELA:

Did I miss something here? . . .

(Martín starts to climb over the yard’s fence.)

 

MARTÍN:

Oh sure, you look at Martín—
ay, he’s so cute,
those chubby cheeks make me hot—
but you don’t know.
Before I met you, all I thought about
was renting porn, shooting coyotes
at night, and taking target practice
on the moon.
You made me think new thoughts!
If I have to face manhood without you—
will the world crush me?
If I don’t touch a woman’s thing,
like really soon,
will I finally go berserk
and blow you all away?
Or will my explosions
happen so deep inside
no one will feel them but me?

(He is gone. Gabriela sadly thinks about him, the Moon and Benito: all the men in her life. The Cat looks at her worriedly.)

CAT (To Gabriela):

You okay, nena?

GABRIELA:

I don’t know what I’m going to do
to get ready for Benito.

CAT:

You could have both
your eyes sucked out of your face
and replaced with the eyes
of a teenage Persian slave girl.

GABRIELA:

No. Did that.

CAT:

You could change into
Salvador Dalí’s foreskin
and fuck a red-haired soprano.

GABRIELA:

No.

CAT:

Or you could organize the red ants
that live in the garage and
teach them to milk each other
so you never run out of milk
for Benito’s coffee.

GABRIELA:

Yeah . . .

CAT:

You could drink a hummingbird’s saliva
drop by little drop . . .

GABRIELA:

. . . and stare into Benito’s eyes
and try to read his mind
and wonder if we still
love each other.
And if I can’t figure it out
I think the thing I have to do
is devise a gruesome test.

CAT:

A gruesome test! I like that!

GABRIELA:

The first night we met,
there was a fight in a white-trash bar.
Benito and other recruits
were on the floor getting nailed
by local skinheads.
I pulled him to his feet
and ran out of the bar with him
before it really got ugly!
As we ran from the bar
into the night . . .
there was a wicked moon in the sky,
smoking a Cuban cigar,
playing a mandolin with
thirteen-and-a-half strings.
Benito stopped to look at the moon.
The skinheads were gaining on us.
He said it looked so cool tonight.
I didn’t even notice it
and he made me notice it.
I realized I like a man who notices
the moon even with skinheads
coming closer and closer.
I thought that was brave and thoughtful . . .
I thought that was manly and kind.
He asked me if I was an angel and
wondered if God would let him fuck me
if he was extra good around Christmas.
I was fifteen years old!
And I took him as far from virginity
as you can get.
And for a while,
we were each other’s
drugs and cigarettes.
We floated in and out of dreams
that both of us wrote . . .
I can forgive everything
if I know for sure
he’s the same man I saved from peril.
So I’ll ask him about last night.
Did he see last night’s moon
or has he stopped looking
at the sky forever?

(The sound of a car entering the house’s garage.)

 

CAT:

Guess who.

(Gabriela opens the refrigerator. It’s full of sand.)

GABRIELA (Nervous):

Outta milk!
I’m getting weird déjà vu.
Got nothing clean to wear
but these shorts.

CAT:

He’ll see you like that
and think: horny housewife.

GABRIELA:

This can’t be like other times.
I have to think about Benito.
I have to make him see
we could be looking
at a train wreck . . .

(Coyote’s Ghost enters the backyard. Cat gasps, smiles.)

 

CAT:

Nena, wait! What do I do
if my lover’s a ghost?

GABRIELA:

Fuck him anyway, Cat.

(Gabriela moves off by herself, waiting for Benito.

Coyote’s Ghost and Cat stare at each other in wonder.)

 

CAT (To Coyote’s Ghost):

I thought you were dead, Coyote.

COYOTE’S GHOST (To the Cat):

I’m a ghost.

CAT:

I thought I’d never see you again.

COYOTE’S GHOST:

I’m a memory.

CAT:

A vivid one—my body remembers!
A dif ficult one too.

COYOTE’S GHOST:

I’m a dream.
I’m not really here.

CAT:

I know. I miss you.

COYOTE’S GHOST:

You were right not to trust me.
I wanted to hurt you.
To teach you to be wild.
Then kill you quick—
and eat you
and not give a shit.

CAT:

When the moonlight stabbed you
and ripped you off,
all my hopes for a wild ride
in the endless night seemed to end.
But you’re back!

COYOTE’S GHOST:

Why do you stare at me?

CAT:

You’re transparent!
It’s so cool!

COYOTE’S GHOST:

I can’t even smell you.

CAT:

Coyote, I’m hot.

COYOTE’S GHOST:

I can’t smell anything.
What kind of hunter will I be?

CAT:

Smell me and you’ll know.

COYOTE’S GHOST:

My appetite for blood: gone!

CAT:

There are other kinds of smells.
Other kinds of hunger.
An infinity of tastes.
And ways to satisfy.

COYOTE’S GHOST:

Show me what you mean . . .

(Cat approaches Coyote’s Ghost and breathes deeply.)

 

CAT:

¡Ay! You smell like air!
You smell—like heaven,
like a graveyard on a cloudy day.
You smell like transformation, hope, prayers.
You smell like a whisper.

COYOTE’S GHOST:

What are you thinking, Cat?

CAT:

Thoughts! Wild ones!

COYOTE’S GHOST:

Do you trust me?

CAT:

I trust you.

COYOTE’S GHOST:

How long will I last with you?

CAT:

Before we lose our courage?

COYOTE’S GHOST:

How long do I really have?

CAT:

Before the deceptions start?

COYOTE’S GHOST:

And the fights to the death.

CAT:

And the madness.

COYOTE’S GHOST:

How long can we possibly last?

CAT:

Before we have to test
each other’s love?

(Cat and Coyote’s Ghost approach each other. They dance.)

 

BENITO’S VOICE:

Where are you?

GABRIELA:

In the backyard.
I slept here last night.

(Benito enters the backyard.)

 

BENITO:

Something wrong with the bed?

GABRIELA:

I just did, that’s all.

BENITO:

Is there any coffee?

GABRIELA:

You lost a lot of weight.

BENITO:

God bless that army food.

GABRIELA:

And nice circles under the eyes.

BENITO:

Ain’t slept in forty-eight hours.

GABRIELA:

You don’t like my haircut . . .

BENITO:

Makes you look older—
but not too much—
five or six years at the most!

GABRIELA:

Here’s your gun.

BENITO:

Don’t say “gun”—it’s a “weapon.”
Your gun hangs between your legs.

GABRIELA:

Nothing hangs between my legs, soldier-boy.

BENITO:

Except for me. Gabby.
My cute, smart, sexy,
totally hot Gabby . . .

GABRIELA:

I have a question.
It’s going to sound stupid,
but I have to ask you.
Did you see the moon last night?

BENITO:

. . . better than pogey bait . . .

GABRIELA:

Did you see the moon last night?
I really have to know this, Benito.
I really have to know.

(Lights fade to black as Gabriela awaits Benito’s answer.

Cat and Coyote’s Ghost dance slow and hot and tight.)

 

 

END OF PLAY