SIDE D - Beverly, Mark

BEVERLY. Well, now that we know who we are... how about a drink?

 

MARK. A what?

 

BEVERLY. A drink. A drink.

 

MARK. Oh, no.

 

BEVERLY. No?

 

MARK. No. We don't keep any liquor here. I could get you some coffee or some penicillin, if you'd like.

 

BEVERLY. No. No. I was inviting you. (Out of her tote bag she pulls a half finished bottle of Scotch.) I had an accident with the Scotch on the way out here.  There's quite a dent in it. (She laughs-MARK doesn’t.) Anyway, we both look like we could use a little. Hmm?

 

MARK. No. I don't drink.

 

BEVERLY. (Rummaging in her bag.) Ah, a dope man.

 

MARK. Neither. I like to avoid as much poison as possible.

 

BEVERLY. I see.

 

MARK. Anyway, it's really not the time or place, is it?

 

BEVERLY. Oh, I don't know.

 

MARK. Well, you go ahead. If you feel you have to.

 

BEVERLY. No. No, really. I don't need it. I mean, I’m not . . . forget it.  (She looks remorsefully at the bottle, takes off the cap, takes a swig, replaces the cap and puts the bottle back in the tote bag. Mark stares at her, obviously displeased by the action. There is a pause. Beverly smiles. Mark does not.) So. How is he?

 

MARK. Dying. How are you?

 

BEVERLY. (Taken aback.) Ooooops. Let's start again. Is he feeling any pain?

 

MARK. Are you?

 

BEVERLY. Strike two. Well, I think we've got it all straight now. He's dying. I'm drunk. And you're pissed off. Did I leave anything out?

 

MARK. No, I think that just about covers it.

 

Beverly. Tell me. How is he?

 

MARK. Hard to say. One day he's flat on his ass, the next day he's running around like a two year old. But he is terminal-officially. They moved him down to these cottages because there's nothing they can do for him in the hospital. But he can't go home, either. There's some pain. But it's tolerable. At least he makes it seem tolerable. (Pause) Look. I don't mean to be rude or stupid about this …

 

BEVERLY. Why not? I like people to be rude and stupid. It's one of the ways you can be sure they're still alive. Oh dear, I did it again, didn't I?

 

MARK. Yes. You have to understand-I mean, you will be careful, won't you?

 

BEVERLY. About what?

 

MARK. That's exactly what I mean. You’re . . . I’m sorry, but you're very stoned, aren't you? And you're dressed in funny clothes, and you're saying a lot of funny things but I'm just not sure, frankly, what the fuck you're doing here.

 

BEVERLY.  (Still flip.) Neither am I. You sure you wouldn't like a drink?

 

MARK. Positive. Look, please, don't you think it'd be better if you came back some other time, like tomorrow or next year or something?

 

BEVERLY. I'd just have to get drunk all over again.

 

MARK. I mean, it's sort of a delicate situation, right now. He's had a very bad time of it and any kind of, well, disturbance . . .

 

BEVERLY. Such as me? Oh, you'll get used to it. You just have to think of me as your average tramp.

 

MARK.

. . . . any disturbance might be dangerous, especially psychologically and. . . Shit! I sound like

 an idiot, the way I'm talking. Plus you don't seem to be understanding a goddamn word I'm saying!

 

BEVERLY. No. I am. I am. You know, you don't look like a faggot.

 

MARK. Oh, for Christ's sake!

 

BEVERLY. No, I mean it... I mean, I didn't expect…

 

MARK. Well, you'll get used to it. You just have to think of me as your average cocksucker. All right?

 

BEVERLY. Good. Now we're getting someplace. Are you sure you wouldn't like a drink?

 

MARK. No! I would not like a drink. You have a drink. Have two. Take off your clothes. Make yourself at home. (He grabs his jacket and heads for the door.) When you're ready to throw up, the bathroom is in there. (He exits.)

 

BEVERLY. (Left with the bottle.) Hey!

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END