EPILOGUE

Twining Our Lives

The piano has been taken away. The house looks very empty. Sofia sits on a chair where the piano used to be. She looks into the distance. María Celia twines yarn as she recites a letter to her husband.

 

MARÍA CELIA: “It is late at night now and I strain my eyes to see your face. This morning I opened the door of the wardrobe and hugged your black suit which hangs next to my clothes. Here nothing has changed, my love. If anything, the regime has reduced the distribution of food once again. As for clothing supplies each person can expect a dress or a pair of pants every two years. Sofie hasn’t been doing well. Yesterday the only joy and little amusement we had, was taken away from us. A group of men came to our house to take Sofie’s piano away.”

(Sofia walks to the wall. She presses her ear against the concrete partition.)

“We’ve started a little protest on our roof and a hunger strike. For the time being we wait. This year the guava tree in our patio has given so much fruit, we don’t know what to do with all the guavas. And since Sofie and I are not eating, and the neighbors won’t accept anything from us, we bring the fruit into the house and put them everywhere, because the fragrance of the guava reminds us of Grandma Carucha and Mami. It’s like an invisible woman with a sweet perfume is staying with us, and the house feels less empty.”

(Sofia now looks as if she has lost her mind.)

SOFIA: María Celia, I think he’s home. Come here. I thought I heard him. Do you hear anything?

MARÍA CELIA: I don’t hear a thing.

SOFIA: Shshh . . . Come close to the wall. You hear his footsteps? He’s come back.

(María Celia goes along with what her sister is hearing, a way of consoling her.)

MARÍA CELIA: Yes. I can hear him.

SOFIA: You think he’s alone?

MARÍA CELIA: No.

SOFIA: Did you hear other footsteps? He’s standing still.

MARÍA CELIA: I think he’s drinking.

SOFIA: Already.

MARÍA CELIA: He must drink to forget. The pangs of love, Sofie.

SOFIA: María Celia, I used to play that song on the piano. You remember? He’s playing that song in his house. What should I do María Celia? What should I do?

MARÍA CELIA: Just listen, Sofie. Be still and listen.

(Soft piano music is heard through the wall. The music plays louder.

Lieutenant Portuondo knocks on the door.)

Just listen to the music . . . just listen . . .

(The music swells. The sisters let themselves be taken by the music, disregarding the knocking at the door. The music continues to swell, drowning out the persistent knocking. Blackout.)

END OF PLAY