SCENE 2

The next day, early afternoon

The radio plays an inane BBC daytime talk show as David tries to work in his bedroom.

Maria dusts her room, listening to the radio.

The telephone rings. Maria turns down the radio and answers the phone:

MARIA Hello? Yes, it’s a good time. I know. I’m sorry, but thank you for calling. You too.

She hangs up, returns to her room and continues dusting, raising the volume on the radio.

DAVID Maria? (she doesn’t hear) Maria! The radio is—

MARIA Yes, David?

DAVID If you don’t mind, your radio is a little distracting!

MARIA What you say David?

DAVID I said the radio is very loud! It breaks my concentration! Can you please turn it down!?

MARIA I will not turn it down! I will turn it off!

DAVID Okay, thank you!

MARIA How is that solution?!

DAVID It’s fine, thank you!

MARIA Is a good solution to our problem!

She turns off the radio. He resumes typing as she enters his bedroom.

MARIA (cont.) Do you know why all problems are the same? Because they have a solution. That is how we know is a problem in the first place.

DAVID All right.

MARIA And after you solve the problem, you think it was not so bad as when you first see it.

DAVID (patronizing) That’s very wise. Thank you.

He resumes typing. She lingers—

MARIA Did you make the book?

DAVID What?

MARIA Did you write the book?

DAVID I’m revising the book, yes. It takes a long time.

MARIA You not finish it?

DAVID No, of course not.

MARIA You in the room three hours. I clean my flat two times.

DAVID Well, it takes a little more than three hours to finish a book.

MARIA I know about this.

DAVID Don’t you have like somewhere to—My grandfather told me you have a job.

MARIA I do a volunteer at the library. But I take the week free for you.

DAVID I wish you didn’t do that. I kind of assumed I would have the days free to work and we’d maybe just run into each other at night.

MARIA Well now we know it is a different situation.

He glances at her briefly, then resumes typing.

MARIA (cont.) So. Why you not give your boss the book when he ask?

DAVID He’s not my boss. He’s my publisher. It’s different.

MARIA How is different?

DAVID It’s a more equal relationship. If anything, I have the upper hand.

MARIA He pay you?

DAVID Yes, of course.

MARIA You give him the book when you finish?

DAVID Yes.

MARIA Then he your boss.

DAVID Okay. He’s not though.

David resumes typing. Maria looks around, picks up an errant dust mite . . .

MARIA So why you not give him the book six week ago?

DAVID I did. I gave it to him. But he thinks it’s not funny enough. It’s not even supposed to be so funny. It’s irrelevant. He’s a middleman.

MARIA Is for children?

DAVID The book? Obviously not. It’s targeted to college students. Smart kids. Readers.

MARIA Is not children’s book?

DAVID No. Why would I write a children’s book?

MARIA Your first book was children’s book.

DAVID The Running of the Bulls was not a children’s book! It was a young adult novel.

MARIA It seem more like for children.

DAVID Well, you can read it, I’ll get someone to send you a copy, and you’ll see—

MARIA I read it already. Two times I read it.

DAVID Did you?

MARIA Of course. My family write a book of course I read.

DAVID The family didn’t write the book, I wrote the book.

MARIA But I think was for children.

DAVID Well, I wrote it, so I know who I wrote it for. I wrote it for young adults.

MARIA That is what children are, young adults.

DAVID It’s a completely different genre. It’s not relevant. Anyway, it was an antifascist allegory!

MARIA What this means?

DAVID It means the story’s not supposed to be taken literally. It’s a metaphor. You probably didn’t fully understand the story.

MARIA Story was about talking animals.

DAVID Talking bulls! And they were representative of the oppressed populace under General Franco.

MARIA And they each must have a birthday party in the jail.

DAVID The birthday party is a metaphor for stunted growth! And the jail is a metaphor for—for Spanish jail!

MARIA And the animals who not talk too much must wear a silly hat.

DAVID The hat is about mind control, which is why they can’t talk! It’s a thinly veiled allegory and an allusion to Hemingway and Orwell that literally any eighth grader would understand!

MARIA Is a very strange story but many people buy, I think.

DAVID It sold 64,000 copies worldwide. It was translated into Korean.

MARIA Is good, no?

DAVID Not when it’s selling to children. (as if interviewed:) You know, it’s interesting, it was a great accomplishment, publishing at that age, that kind of early success, it’s good, it’s not bad, it’s good . . . But in retrospect, I’m not really . . . I don’t really like it that much. You know? I can acknowledge the book’s strengths, but I don’t like it.

MARIA Yes, I think me too.

DAVID Excuse me?

MARIA I read it again just before you come here.

DAVID And you decided you don’t like it.

MARIA You want the truth?

DAVID No, not really.

MARIA Okay.

David resumes typing. Long pause—

MARIA (cont.) And I think the New York Time no like it either.

DAVID Jesus Christ!

MARIA I read review.

DAVID You read the Times’ review?

MARIA I put it in frame.

David pushes aside his laptop, marches into the kitchen.

DAVID It was a bad review!

MARIA My flesh and blood in New York Time, I put in frame. Is important newspaper.

Maria pulls the framed review off the wall and holds it proudly.

MARIA (cont.) I was thinking you maybe sign it for me.

DAVID What? No. I’m not signing a bad review.

MARIA Maybe you write it small. In the corner.

DAVID Absolutely not.

MARIA Maybe just with pencil.

DAVID No. Maria, I’m not signing that. How did you even get it?

MARIA Your grandfather send me.

DAVID Why would he send a bad review overseas? He doesn’t even send me birthday cards.

MARIA I like to read about my family.

DAVID Then I’ll send you a good review! We had Newsweek, we had the AP!

MARIA You not send me nothing. You not call me never!

DAVID I will when I get back. I’ll send you a different review. I’ll send you ten reviews! Please throw that one out. It’s embarrassing to me! Please!

MARIA Is on a wall in Poland! Why is embarrassing?

DAVID It just is. I shouldn’t have to explain myself! I will send you a better review if you feel like you really need one—

MARIA (an explosion) I don’t want better review! I want New York Time review!

Maria aggressively slams a jar of pickles down on the table.

MARIA (cont.) You eat pickle. Is no meat.

DAVID (quieted by her outburst) Okay, sure. Okay.

MARIA You not eat nothing today.

DAVID Yeah, sorry. I’m not that hungry.

MARIA Because you not eat nothing.

DAVID I tend not to eat when I’m writing. It’s inhibiting.

MARIA Your mother will yell at me if she know you eat nothing.

DAVID My mother’s not going to yell at you. She doesn’t care.

MARIA She’s your mother. (beat) When I come to your house, she make beautiful fruit salad. Look like art. Cut melon in different shapes. Like a picture.

DAVID Did she?

MARIA You no remember?

DAVID No.

MARIA Your mother, she is a good cook.

DAVID I feel like I don’t remember her ever cooking anything.

MARIA No, she cook all the time.

DAVID Yeah, I don’t think she did.

MARIA No, she cook always.

DAVID Well I grew up with her, so.

MARIA Your mother is a nice woman.

DAVID She is.

MARIA (sadly) And she is beautiful woman.

DAVID Okay.

MARIA Is she still so beautiful?

DAVID My mother? I don’t know, she looks the same. That’s weird. Don’t ask me that.

MARIA I mean, the father is nice too. But the mother? This is something unusual.

DAVID Great.

MARIA You no remember me? I come to your house. 1993. March.

DAVID Yeah, I’m sorry, I don’t remember.

MARIA You put on a little play for Jerzy, for me. You and your sister pretend you on a boat. It was not such a good play—

DAVID Well, with limited resources, it’s difficult to fully realize a vision—

MARIA And your sister play like a pirate man. She look like a man anyway, so is good for the role. You no remember?

DAVID (laughing) I definitely don’t remember that, no.

MARIA Well, you were young boy.

DAVID Not that young.

MARIA I think you too young to remember me.

DAVID No, I was probably ten or eleven.

MARIA Yes, is young. Too young to remember an old woman at your house.

DAVID Hmm. Well I think I would have probably—

MARIA You were too young! Is it!

They eat in silence.

MARIA (cont.) In 1951 I go to America for eleven months. I stay with your grandfather and his family. In The Queens.

DAVID Just Queens.

MARIA His sister, Ruthie, she want to go out every night. At time she was married to famous artist. She want to take me out, show me to her friends. “Look at my cousin. From Poland. From war.”

DAVID That’s nice.

MARIA No, is not nice. (beat) She bring me to meet Elizabeth Bishop.

DAVID Elizabeth Bishop, the poet?

MARIA She tell me before we go to her apartment, “Lizzie is very close friend. Very good friend.” She call her name Lizzie but is not her name, you know. She tell me, “Maria, don’t talk about the war. Don’t make Lizzie sad.” Everyone else, she tell me “You talk about war, they want to know what happen to the European Jew.” But Lizzie, she tell me, “Keep it light.” Keep it light, I no understand. I think she mean, Don’t turn off the light at Elizabeth’s apartment. I think, I am guest, why would I do such a foolish thing? But when we get to the apartment, first thing Elizabeth say is, “Tell me about war.”

DAVID (laughing) Of course.

MARIA And I am perplex. I look at Ruthie and I see she is also perplex.

DAVID So what did you do?

MARIA I tell Lizzie, “No. I will not tell you about war.” (beat) Ruthie not introduce me to any more friends.

DAVID Can I ask you about it?

MARIA About?

DAVID About the war. I’m kind of interested.

MARIA (affecting nonchalance) Of course you ask me! I am like open book.

DAVID Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.

MARIA Sha, uncomfortable! What you want to know?

The telephone rings.

DAVID Yeah, maybe just don’t pick it up this time— (she does) Okay!

MARIA Hello? Yes? I received the letter. No, I’m sorry, I can’t. Thank you for calling. (hangs up) It was for fake blind people again.

DAVID That’s shocking.

MARIA So what you want to ask me?

DAVID Right, if you don’t mind, I would love to know—I’m very curious about your experiences.

MARIA David, stop this, you are nervous. I am me! You ask.

DAVID Okay, sorry. So. My mother told me a little bit about you— about your family—during the war.

Uncomfortable, Maria stands up quickly and enters her room.

MARIA I forget what I need from here. (sitting down, pretending to laugh at herself:) I am losing my mind rapidly. You continue.

DAVID Okay. Thank you. So, I know, I know a little bit about your family.

MARIA Me too. What you know?

DAVID I know that you lost—that you lost your whole family.

MARIA Not lost, they all die.

DAVID Right.

MARIA My brother shot in front of my face. Do you like the pickles?

DAVID What, yeah, they’re fine.

MARIA Different from American pickles, I think. Maybe not so good.

DAVID No, they’re good. I don’t mind them.

MARIA You eat anything you want. Zenon take me food shopping tomorrow.

DAVID All right, thank you. So you went to live with your babysitter’s family. Is that right?

MARIA Yes, I live there.

DAVID And Jerzy was her son, right?

MARIA Why you ask me questions? You know the whole story.

DAVID No, I don’t. I only know a little bit. I’m just sort of interested.

MARIA Is very interesting.

DAVID But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.

MARIA What you talk, uncomfortable? Is no problem.

DAVID All right. How long did you live with them?

MARIA Seven year.

DAVID And they hid you, or . . . ?

Maria nods slightly, choked.

DAVID (cont.) And did you know that, like, your family had been—

Overwhelmed, Maria slides her chair back abruptly and moves to the fridge. David quiets, uncomfortable. She stares in the fridge.

MARIA So what is title of your new book?

DAVID Sorry about that, Maria.

MARIA What is name of new book?

DAVID It’s an expression, it’s an English expression. I don’t know if you would know it. Maybe I can ask you another time, I didn’t mean to make you upset—

MARIA What is name of your new book?

DAVID It’s called Mindreader. Cause I thought you might want to start from the beginning—

MARIA What does this mean, The Mindreader?

DAVID I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or to pry—

MARIA Tell me what this mean, The Mindreader.

Maria busies herself, boiling a pot of water.

DAVID A mindreader is a person who has the ability to—who can hear other people’s thoughts. And it’s not The Mindreader. It’s just Mindreader.

MARIA I think The Mindreader is maybe better.

DAVID Okay. But as the writer of it—seeing as it’s mine—I kind of like it just as Mindreader.

MARIA Good. You no change it just because I tell you.

DAVID I wouldn’t do that.

MARIA You must stay in your own mind, trust yourself, David. But maybe also change the title. I think it sound better.

DAVID You’re a confusing person.

MARIA You too.

DAVID I know.

MARIA So this thing—Mindreader—this is not a real thing.

DAVID Of course it’s not real.

MARIA So why you make up something fake?

DAVID It’s a science fiction novel. It’s supposed to be about something that’s not real. But good science fiction—the kind I’m interested in—makes some comment on the real world. It says something about society in a way that other forms of literature—

MARIA I understand, I understand. I think is good idea.

DAVID You do?

MARIA Yes, I think you know this.

DAVID Well it’s nice to hear it.

MARIA But you say book is also supposed to be funny.

DAVID Right.

MARIA And you can do this?

DAVID Do what?

MARIA You are funny?

DAVID Yeah. I’m funny.

MARIA (as though learning new information) Oh.

DAVID I can be very humorous. You can’t tell?

MARIA You seem more angry I think.

Maria takes the kettle and pours two cups of tea.

MARIA (cont.) You come shopping tomorrow?

DAVID No, I don’t think I can.

MARIA Why? What you do?

DAVID I’m trying to finish a book. I think I may have mentioned it to you several dozen times.

MARIA But you no work. I hear you. You say “I am working on book,” but I can hear you.

DAVID What do you mean?

MARIA I know you not pushing on computer. I hear you.

DAVID You can hear that I’m not typing?

MARIA I hear everything.

DAVID That’s frightening.

MARIA Is small flat.

DAVID Well, why do you care what I’m doing?

MARIA Because if you in my house and not pushing on computer, you should be with me.

DAVID Okay, well, I promise I’ll work tomorrow, I’ll push, I’ll get something done. It’s not hard to write something, it’s just—

MARIA So why you no do it?

DAVID I could write a book easily. It’s a little more difficult to write something good. To write something people like—to write something people buy.

MARIA You want to be famous. Is it?

DAVID No. I would like to be acknowledged, but no, not famous, not necessarily.

MARIA I think this is not a good thing.

DAVID You’re entitled.

MARIA I tell you joke—is Polish joke—you understand me more. Little bird sit in a field. A cow walk by and go to bathroom all over little bird. But little bird get up, is not dead, and climb out of cow remains and clean himself with tongue and feathers. Is disgusting maybe to you but is not important. When the bird is clean, he fly away and sit on wire—the most high wire in the village—and he sing a song, is happy. A big bird—hawk, I think—hear him singing, fly down and eat the bird. Now he die for real. So.

DAVID (beat) In America, we have jokes that are funny.

MARIA You don’t understand it maybe.

DAVID No, it’s a nice story. I’ll try to find a way to squeeze it into my book.

MARIA Yes, I think you not understand.

DAVID Well, it was a little difficult to follow with your accent. (beat) So what does it mean?

MARIA Is better to sit in cow remains than to fly high and sing. You sit in cow bathroom and it smell and is dirty but is safe and you know you will not be eat by hawk bird.

DAVID That’s very progressive. Did you learn that from Stalin?

MARIA I learn this from many people.

David, momentarily overcome, moves to her. The telephone rings. David watches her as she grabs it.

MARIA (cont.) Hello? Yes I received your letter. I did read it. I know. Thank you. Of course. No, thank you for calling. Goodbye. (hangs up)

DAVID I’m sorry. That they keep calling you.

MARIA I am used to it. I think is maybe more bad for the boy who must call me all day.

DAVID Maria. Maria. Can I tell you something? This guy I know—a friend of mine—this guy I know, he wrote a novel, a best seller, on his cell phone.

MARIA Is good subject to write about.

DAVID No, he didn’t write it about his cell phone. He wrote it literally on his cell phone. He text-messaged himself one paragraph a day on his subway ride to work. Text messages are like little notes you can send through a cell—

MARIA I know about SMS. What is story?

DAVID It’s about a homeless man on the G train—on the subway in New York. It’s like a day in the life of this one guy.

MARIA Is good, no?

DAVID It’s meandering. It’s not—it’s fine, it’s just stupid though because people are only buying it because he wrote it on the subway. He went on Letterman. It’s not the book that people are buying, it’s the story of how he wrote it and it just seems like bullshit, kind of.

MARIA You come to Poland.

DAVID So?

MARIA You come to Poland to write the book. He just go on subway.

DAVID Yeah, well I came to Poland because I thought—because I have a relative here.

MARIA I live here.

DAVID Right. And I wanted to visit you.

MARIA No, you want to write your book.

DAVID But I could have gone anywhere. I thought it would be nice to come here though. To come see you. You’re my family.

MARIA I think you maybe just come here to write the book.

DAVID Maria, I was trying to share . . . I thought I should tell you about this guy because I wanted to tell you that I feel at all times—like I don’t know where—or what I’m going to—I feel like the world is just unfair and I wanted to share that, with you.

MARIA (beat, gently) Come, David. We take our tea in the other room. We watch Wolf Blitzer. Is American.

DAVID I know who he is.

Maria leaves David alone. He remains seated, staring into his mug. Maria enters the TV room, places her tea on a small table and flips on CNN International.

WOLF BLITZER History was made in Washington this week when the President warmly welcomed the president of Vietnam to the White House. I spoke with President Triet during his Washington visit. Mr. President, thank you for joining us. Welcome to the United States.

In the kitchen, David grabs the framed NY Times review.

He sits at the table and reads it, genuinely pained. He removes it from the frame and holds the thin paper in his hands. He looks at it in disgust, wanting to rip it apart . . .

Instead, David grabs a pen, quickly signs his name on the article and fits it back into the frame. He opens the cabinet and tries to silently place it back but he rustles the pots and pans loudly.

MARIA David, don’t break the house.

DAVID Sorry. I’m coming.

David brings his tea into the TV room. He sits next to Maria, placing his tea next to hers. The lights begin to fade.

WOLF BLITZER Mr. President, did you ever think, during the war, that you would be the president of Vietnam and that you would come to the United States and would be warmly received at the White House? (translator answering:) No. I never think this would happen.

BLACKOUT—