From the upstairs window, piano music.
RUBY: I am fifteen.
(Into: Daphne’s Dive, four years later, evening. Changes mark the passing of time: most notably, a girl’s sneaker is affixed to the bar. The potted aloe’s still there. Campaign posters declare: ACOSTA FOR COUNCILMAN-AT-LARGE. Daphne sets out snacks, catering trays, drinks. Pablo, Jenn and Ruby paint finishing touches onto a banner. The TV news is on mute and they all glance at it frequently.)
REY: My gramps rode the rails in the Great Depression. He didn’t need more than a sandwich in his bucket and he’d make do. If Acosta loses tonight I’m taking you on a ride.
DAPHNE: After all you’ve had to drink?
REY: Hey Ruby, has your mom ever left this bar?
RUBY: I’ve never seen her from the waist down.
REY: There’s a new bridge on the Susquehanna, we’ll glide over it like birds.
DAPHNE: I’m a mammal, honey. A mammal who is throwing a party.
REY: Not if Acosta loses.
DAPHNE: Celebration, consolation, I’m throwing a party.
REY: Well, this weekend? The Susquehanna ain’t going nowhere.
DAPHNE: And leave Ruby alone?
REY: She’s fifteen.
DAPHNE: I gotta work.
REY: When the bar closes.
DAPHNE: And sleep where?
REY: Nowhere, just ride there and back.
DAPHNE: What’s the point of riding a motorcycle in the dark?
REY: Crossing the Monongahela at night? You can’t see a thing but you hear the water below. You lose your stomach and sprout wings.
DAPHNE: You think I’m gonna wrap my legs around some asymmetrical mermaid titties?
PABLO: Hey. They are not asymmetrical.
DAPHNE: And if it rains?
REY: Then we ride in the rain.
DAPHNE: And if it pours?
RUBY: Rey, stop flirting and come give us a hand?
(They hang the hand-painted banner: CITY COUNCILMAN JOE ACOSTA. Inez and Acosta enter, all nervous energy.)
INEZ: Take that down, it’s bad luck!
ACOSTA: They have to prepare for the party, negra.
INEZ: What party? Knock wood, take it down! Rub the lucky shoe!
(They take down the banner as Inez rubs the shoe on the bar.)
ACOSTA: They’re calling the whole thing in the next ten minutes.
PABLO: Shouldn’t you be at your headquarters?
ACOSTA: Too much pressure. And if I win, I can make a big entrance.
RUBY: Nervous?
ACOSTA: Yup.
INEZ: He just drank a bottle of Mylanta.
RUBY: Want to hear my speech?
ACOSTA: You’ll do fine.
DAPHNE: Let her practice.
ACOSTA: Trust me, I won’t hear a word right now.
(Inez holds up a padded envelope.)
INEZ: Well, Papi, God is good. This is your ticket, viejo. Surprise.
ACOSTA: From Antonio Acosta, P.R.?
(Acosta opens it, pulls out an old suit. Aged at the seams, fabric and cut from a different era, but meticulously cared for. There is a letter enclosed.)
“Dear Joe, Six generations of Acosta men have worn this. It’s crossed islands, continents, oceans. Now it’s in your hands. Treat it right. Mend any holes, starch it and when the time comes, send it to the next Acosta man who needs it.” (Amazed) It’s the suit.
INEZ: Does your old lady got your back, or what?
ACOSTA: My pop used to tell these stories. That for generations every Acosta man shared one suit. Mailed it back and forth, in an envelope. Because we were poor, but it became tradition. I thought, “Okay, whatever you say, Pop, never let the truth ruin a good story, right?” But it exists . . . Negra, how on earth . . .
INEZ: Put it on, the clock is ticking.
(He goes to the bathroom but the door is locked.)
DAPHNE: The toilet flooded.
INEZ: Change out here, apúrate!
ACOSTA: Everyone look away.
INEZ: You might be blinded by the sight of Acosta’s chicken legs.
(Acosta changes.)
You want to know about a wild-goose chase? The number of Acostas I had to call? I was pulling Acostas out of the woodwork. Area codes, country codes, corners of the earth . . . And I made some fast enemies, too. Women like, “Puñeta, don’t you ever call my man again!”
(Reading the letter:)
JENN: Check it out. A list of everyone who’s worn the suit.
RUBY: “Miguel Gallard Acosta, wedding, Puerto Rico. Hernan Acosta, baptism, Chicago. Fransisco Suarez, funeral, Orlando. Charles Acosta, one-hundredth birthday, Brooklyn.”
JENN: “Bronx Legal Aid Society, first trial.”
RUBY: “Mayoral inauguration, Loíza.”
JENN: “Family portrait, Hawaii . . .”
(Acosta models the jacket.)
PABLO: Ay bendito, that’s adorable!
ACOSTA: I can’t wear this thing.
PABLO: A suit for a teeny-tiny Acosta.
INEZ: Guapo, it’s a true power suit. Jenn, can you take out the sleeves?
(Jenn inspects the cuffs.)
JENN: There’s enough fabric. I got my kit.
INEZ: They’re watching out for you, Papi, all the Acosta men. Maferefún!
(Jenn begins to alter the suit, sewing deftly, hemming with agility.)
REY: Ticker says you’re sixty-two percent in the Northeast.
INEZ: Go ’head! All them gringos voting for quality!
PABLO: Quality my ass.
ACOSTA: Up yours.
REY: The Northeast is blue collar. They like a working man.
INEZ: They respect a born-and-bred Catholic with the balls to criticize Cardinal Bevilacqua. My husband ain’t gonna bow to no man who condemns the use of a rubber. Who says I’m going to hell for using a diaphragm? Think about it.
PABLO: No thank you.
RUBY: What’s a diaphragm?
DAPHNE: Something she stopped needing a long time ago.
INEZ: Birth control for married women. You just worry about condoms—they protect against pregnancy and STDs.
DAPHNE: Change the subject.
REY: Thank you.
INEZ: Prude.
DAPHNE: She’s fifteen.
INEZ: Exactly, fifteen is the new forty. This is the stuff Mami was never frank about. (To Ruby) Next week I’ll bring a banana and a condom.
DAPHNE: Drop it, Inez.
INEZ: Unlike you, we can’t all be the Virgin Mary on our wedding night.
(Daphne shatters a glass in the sink.)
DAPHNE: What?
INEZ: Shit.
RUBY: You were married?
ACOSTA: Do you two have to get into it at this moment?
DAPHNE: You. Outside.
(Inez follows Daphne out to the curb.)
INEZ: Learn to laugh at yourself. (Silence) It was my nerves, Daph.
DAPHNE: Ruby’s not a virgin.
INEZ: Then she needs information on how to stay protected.
DAPHNE: Her stepfather, Inez. Why do you think DHS let me adopt her? Even with the mom fighting tooth and nail?
INEZ: Who else have you told?
DAPHNE: The police, DHS, the adoption agency.
INEZ: How old was Ruby? Was it one time? Many times?
DAPHNE: Unlike you, I respect people’s privacy.
INEZ: Put her in therapy.
DAPHNE: I do. I eat ramen to pay for her sessions.
INEZ: But you never asked my advice?
DAPHNE: How is this about you?
INEZ: Do you need money?
DAPHNE: So you can lord it over my head?
INEZ: There’s a surgery to reconstruct the hymen.
DAPHNE: Are you out of your fucking mind?
INEZ: She needs to be normalized. I didn’t found Women’s Way for nothing. I talk to girls like her every day. Girls worse off.
DAPHNE: Yeah, you save every stranger who calls that hotline.
INEZ: Allow Ruby the grace of getting it out in the open. No secrecy.
DAPHNE: Coming from you, that’s a masterpiece. (Silence)
INEZ: That was different. We were children.
DAPHNE: You were a teenager. And Mami asked you to keep your mouth shut and you did.
INEZ: Because I was naive. You think if I understood the full extent of things . . .?
DAPHNE: You knew enough to avoid Papi like the plague. And to avoid looking me in the eye for years.
INEZ: You were my baby doll. Still are.
DAPHNE: You are not to talk to my daughter about sex.
INEZ: Ruby is a virgin. Teach her that. Look her in the eye every night and say, “Ruby, tu eres una virgen.”
(Ruby comes outside.)
RUBY: Are you two talking about me?
INEZ: Give us another minute, kiddo?
DAPHNE: Stay out here. Any news?
RUBY: He lost Germantown.
(Inez goes into the bar.)
You were married?
DAPHNE: Come on, I want to hear your speech.
RUBY: You were married, Mom?
DAPHNE: The ceremony outlasted the marriage. A Catholic mass so long, time started to reverse on itself.
RUBY: What was his name?
DAPHNE: Tomorrow I’ll pull out the box and show you a few photos, okay?
RUBY: You said you’ve never been in love. I thought, maybe she’s not attracted to men . . .
DAPHNE: Not the ones who come through here.
RUBY: Women, then?
DAPHNE: Boy girl black brown yellow polka dot, people are knuckleheads.
RUBY: If you ever want to go on a date, I can tuck myself in at night.
DAPHNE: I own a bar. I need two feet to stand, two hands to mix, a brain to add. All these other parts? Extraneous.
RUBY: Have you ever had a wet dream?
DAPHNE: That’s a boy thing.
RUBY: I read a book that said girls get them, too.
DAPHNE: What book?
RUBY: It said girls can have them.
DAPHNE: Have you had one?
(Silence.)
Is there someone at school you can ask?
RUBY: I go to Holy Innocents. Sex Ed is like: “Touch your privates, burn in hell.”
DAPHNE: Okay. I gotta go prep.
RUBY: So am I gonna burn in hell?
DAPHNE: If you’ve done that, I’m sure it’s fine, you don’t need my permission.
RUBY: Have you ever, like one time?
DAPHNE: Maybe when I was a kid, I don’t remember.
(Silence.)
No, Ruby. I’ve never done that.
(Jenn appears.)
JENN: Fits him like a glove. Suit looks damn fine.
RUBY: Go. Prep.
(Daphne exits into the bar.)
JENN: You nervous, Ruby Slippers?
RUBY: About a speech? After all the times you’ve had me dancing at the Love Statue?
JENN: My dad used to get cheap suits, make me hem the pants, pin the jackets. Polyester so thick, the needles would break in half. But I learned to sew. He always said, (Chinese accent) “My daughter is sinful American, my wife is terrible Christian. My only companion is suit on my back.” The day he kicked me out, I rammed all his ties down the toilet.
RUBY: Oh shit.
JENN: Jammed ’em in there with the plunger. Then, peed on it.
RUBY: Ew.
JENN: If you get nervous during your speech, think of that.
RUBY: You ever miss them?
JENN: You ever miss yours? (No response) I’m the one who found my mom. Came home after school, snuck into her room to grab a few bucks. There she was, face down on the floor. Her grandfather’s antique pistol in her hand.
RUBY: You’re the only one who doesn’t tiptoe around me.
JENN (A beat): I do miss her. Just like the devil misses heaven.
RUBY: Can we go dancing tomorrow?
JENN: What flag I should bring?
RUBY: “What do we want? Complete social transformation! When do we want it? Every day!”
JENN AND RUBY: Every day! Every day!
(Pablo appears at the door.)
PABLO: It’s getting down to the wire.
(They head back inside.)
ACOSTA: Just Mantua and Kensington left, final results any minute.
REY: You got nerves of steel, man.
(Pablo raises a drink.)
PABLO: Before you become a big shot and stop answering my calls . . . To Acosta. Whose application of cologne may lack subtlety. Who wears a two-finger ring.
INEZ: That’s my viejo.
PABLO: But if there’s any artist I look up to . . . Different mediums, different aesthetics. But you made an entire neighborhood your canvas. So if you win this thing, I’m going to give you my largest trash painting to hang above your sofa, you son-of-a-bitch!
ACOSTA: I’ll take that!
(They drink.)
RUBY: Can I practice my speech now?
ACOSTA: Go for it.
RUBY (Handing Jenn the written speech): Follow along in case I forget?
ACOSTA: Have Pablo do it since Jenn won’t be there.
JENN: I won’t?
ACOSTA: Dressed like that?
RUBY: She’s been sewing you banners all week.
ACOSTA: That has nothing to do with the press conference.
RUBY: No freaks allowed?
DAPHNE: Don’t say freak.
JENN: I prefer witch, libertine, or harpy but freak’s good.
ACOSTA: She’s dressed for the party, she’ll be at the party.
RUBY: I’m not going if she doesn’t.
ACOSTA: You’re too sensitive.
DAPHNE: Jenn promised she’d stay and help me set up.
JENN: No I didn’t.
(Daphne takes the speech and puts it in Pablo’s hand.)
DAPHNE: Pablo’s got your back, right?
PABLO: Are we friends or are we friends?
RUBY: We’re friends.
ACOSTA: Practice the speech.
RUBY (Can’t let it go): What are you, embarrassed by her?
ACOSTA: Daphne, get control of this girl. I’m nervous as shit right now!
RUBY: Are you embarrassed by Jenn?
ACOSTA: Not on Halloween.
RUBY: I knew it!
JENN: Next Halloween, go as a shadow of your former self. Go as invasion of the body snatchers.
ACOSTA: Meaning what, exactly?
DAPHNE: Deep breath.
JENN: Turncoat.
INEZ: Hey!
ACOSTA: Beggar!
JENN: Anyone remember Acosta who fed the homeless? Who cuffed himself to the precinct steps? Who marched at my side? No one. Breathe easy, I won’t touch your press conference. DuPont? Aria Health? They commit crimes against humanity and you’re licking caviar off their toast points.
RUBY: Stop it, both of you.
ACOSTA: Me?!
JENN: For the record, I didn’t vote today.
(Silence.)
REY: I didn’t vote either. I was hungover.
ACOSTA (To Rey): Thank you. (To Jenn) Next time you need a favor, don’t come to me. (To Ruby) Now the speech.
INEZ: Imagine a hundred cameras in your face.
RUBY (Rattled): Congratulations City Councilman Joe Acosta—
INEZ: Don’t say that! Rub the lucky shoe!
RUBY: Congratulations you know who—
INEZ: Lean into the mike so they can hear you.
DAPHNE: Déjala hablar—
ACOSTA: Ya negra.
INEZ: On the podium, there will be a microphone—
PABLO: Just go, Ruby.
RUBY: SHUT UP EVERYONE SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!
(Ruby cries a bit. Rey offers a bandanna from his pocket.)
REY: It’s clean.
RUBY: Congratulations City Councilman Joe Acosta, and congratulations to the voters of Philly. Acosta’s my adoptive uncle, but he’s more than a dude to watch the Sixers with. Last year he said, “Dream up a project, Ruby, think big, no boundaries, write a business plan, and I’ll help you fundraise.” Imagine A Nation was born. We visit after-school programs. The kids have to create a flag for a more perfect union. After a sewing lesson with a local artist (Eyeing Jenn) they get a needle and thread and become little Betsy Rosses. In our first year alone, two hundred flags, two hundred nations, have been dreamed up, stitch by stitch—
(Acosta’s phone rings.)
ACOSTA (Into the phone): Alejandro? (Listens, hangs up) I got it.
(Everyone erupts into cheers. “That’s it! That’s right! Felicidades!” Hugs and applause all around.)
INEZ: Thank you Lord from above!
ACOSTA: You ready?
RUBY: Is the speech okay?
ACOSTA: There won’t be a dry eye in the house.
INEZ: Let’s show ’em what you got!
DAPHNE (To Ruby): How did God let you fall into my lap? You have fun, okay? (To Pablo) Stay with her.
RUBY (To Jenn): You should’ve voted for him.
JENN: Knock ’em dead, Ruby Slippers.
(Inez, Pablo, Rey, Acosta and Ruby exit. Jenn and Daphne are left alone.)
DAPHNE: Guess we can hang that banner now.
JENN: He doesn’t want me in the room? I bless the room from afar.
DAPHNE: Damn sister. Everything she touches turns to gold. Careers, men, bitch hits the numbers more than I do. Fuck ’em?
JENN: Fuck ’em.
(They do a shot.)
I should’ve voted. My messiah complex got the best of me.
DAPHNE: You don’t have a messiah complex, you’re just an artist.
JENN: It’s my actual diagnosis. Being The Savior is a natural high.
DAPHNE: You think you’re God’s gift to the world?
JENN: God’s alarm clock.
DAPHNE: Shit, if you’re the messiah, this round’s on me.
DAPHNE AND JENN (Toasting): Fuck ’em!
DAPHNE: Were you the messiah when we first met?
JENN: I was embarrassed about it then. I hadn’t developed a sense of humor, which is essential.
DAPHNE: So were you born the messiah?
JENN: Became. After I ditched my husband in San Francisco.
DAPHNE: You got secrets, girl!
JENN: To our husbands?
DAPHNE AND JENN (Toasting): FUCK ’EM!
DAPHNE: I don’t even want to know what you wore on your wedding day.
JENN: A veil with eleven colors and a huge papier-mâché mask. When it was time for the vows I took it all off and showed my natural self.
DAPHNE: That’s some Ringling Brothers shit.
JENN: He was the Kerouac of Asian America. Poet girls would throw their panties at him. Before the wedding he was bohemian, but after? “Iron my blazer, arrange a car, write a press release.” I left for New York, dabbled in that eldest of professions.
DAPHNE: You were a ho?!
JENN: Gotta keep the lights on. Gotta piss off the ex.
DAPHNE: How many dudes you been with?
JENN: “Dudes?”
DAPHNE: Oh, so you’re . . .
JENN: Open. And you’re . . .
DAPHNE: Catholic.
JENN: I’m no Wilt Chamberlain, but it was the eighties. And then the big a-ha moment. I’m alone in a motel room. Client has left. Feeling low. The door goes creak so I look over but the physical door of the room hasn’t moved. It was my heart, opening like a cabinet, so out of use it creaked when it opened. A beautiful voice said, “Today is transformation day. The only thing at stake is the world. So go and dance, go and dance.”
DAPHNE: Keep a secret? We waited till our wedding night. And then we were too scared to go through with it.
JENN: How old were you?
DAPHNE: Twenty-four.
JENN: And when you divorced?
DAPHNE: Twenty-four.
Nestor proposed marriage in the third grade. I accepted in the fourth. He bought me a big silver corsage for junior prom. He made Liberace seem straight. He thought a traditional marriage would help. The vows would switch up his spirit, the ceremony would be an eraser, just wipe away all that shame. He wept both times we had sex. He took off to New York, got HIV, the disease took him like that. (Snaps) Teamed up, you and Nestor would’ve turned the world upside down. Two bright souls born in dark times.
JENN: Bureaucratic mix-up. I should’ve been born in the future.
DAPHNE: No. You should’ve been out there marching with MLK.
(Jenn feels Daphne’s breasts above her shirt. Jenn’s hands slip underneath Daphne’s shirt—feeling something with concern at first, then curiosity. Daphne pushes Jenn’s hands away.)
Thank you.
JENN: What happened to your stomach?
DAPHNE (Noticing): Oh shit, Ruby’s on TV!
JENN: Turn it up.
DAPHNE: The speaker’s been dead for years.
JENN: She looks great.
DAPHNE: Confident, isn’t she?
(Jenn slips her hand into Daphne’s, embracing her, as they watch the TV.)
There he goes. City Councilman Joe Acosta.