Trust Me

Dramatis Personae:

OCTAVIA, a cellist who has just committed adultery and has an idea;

NEON, the agent of VINYL SCRATCH (not present) and her brother, currently in an asylum;

MADELINE, the fiancee of NEON;

THE PRIEST, a Catholic priest of kind heart and hearty stomach;

THE PREACHER, a Roman Catholic priest with a remarkable way with words;

THE CONDUCTOR, Francesco Romanchi, a renowned Italian maestro, a cellist, a violinist and composer;

THE CHOIR;

THE ORCHESTRA;

THE MAN;

THE FLOOR SWEEPER;

THE VILLAGERS;

THE PRODUCER (cameo).

All persons are entirely coincidental. Nothing has been done to protect the goodname of innocents. It’s God’s job, for hellsake.

Raise the curtain!

***

I

The act is set in a newly-built Catholic church in a casual district that seems to be somewhere of an Arizona landscape, but it just as well might be Cleveland, New Jersey, London, or Moscow, or Berlin, or Milan. It definitely does not have the rural feel of Northern Europe, but it is not a skyscraper-littered street. The church is nearly empty, with the majority of the population following the Protestant version of Christianity. (Definitely not Moscow then. Definitely not Milan.) Octavia takes up the steps and crosses her chest.

OCTAVIA: (whispers) In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen. (dips her fingers in the water and repeats the ritual) The procedure… Where? Ah. (Walks past the rows, considering stopping for a prayer) No, not now. Not here. There. (Walks into the confession box) Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.

THE PRIEST: …

OCTAVIA: How long since my last confession? (Counts) Eleven years, I think. I have given in to all the sins there are. Drinking. Gambling. Hypocrisy. Anger. Blasphemy. Gluttony. ...Homosexuality. Yes, I know it’s a sin. I am not a Lutheran whore. I know it’s sinful. I don’t preach  it- But that’s just who I am!

THE PRIEST: …

OCTAVIA: Look, the Bible is not a modern book. I am not saying we should give up our tradition, but The Church-

THE CHOIR: Sin!

OCTAVIA: I’m sorry, but, Jesus Christ, it’s-

THE CHOIR: Sin! Sin!

OCTAVIA: Sorry! Sorry! I’m sorry!

THE CHOIR: Sin! Sin! The fires of Hell await you, sinner!

OCTAVIA: (cries) No, please, sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, forgive me, I’ll go to a monastery, please!

THE CHOIR: Fires of Hell! Sinner! Sinner!!

THE PRIEST: …

OCTAVIA: (yells) I’m sorry! For whatever I did! For whatever I didn’t do! I’m sorry I’m sorry I’M SORRY FOR WHAT I AM I’M SORRY PLEASE LET ME GO!!! (Runs away from the box and the church without crossing her chest)

THE CHOIR: (quietly) Sin.

THE PRIEST: (Enters the church and walks towards the altar. Suddenly notices something and turns his head. Walks towards the empty confession box and closes the door. Begins the prayer) Pater noster, qui es in caelis…

***

II

The act is set in a mental institution in a casual district that seems to be somewhere of an Arizona landscape, but it just as well might be Cleveland, New Jersey, London, or Moscow, or Berlin, or Milan. It is a private clinic, and has cosy wards that look much like tiny dorm rooms. (Definitely not London then. Definitely not New Jersey.) NEON is standing by the window, gazing out towards the cloud-covered sky. The city is passing past him, big and lighty, covered with dust and grime. He sees summer snow. (Definitely not Cleveland then. Definitely not Berlin.) There’s a distant sound of a flickering lamp. He feels hallucinations slip by.

NEON: It was a nice and very sunny day~

THE CHOIR: A sunny day~

NEON: I felt my troubles withering away~

THE CHOIR: Awa-ay~

NEON: And when I saw you sitting there, oh when I saw those eyes, that hair, I didn’t know what I could say~

THE CHOIR: Oo-oo-aah~

NEON: Oh, where are you, my love? (Builds up to E4, a groovy bass-baritone still) Where~ Are~ You~ My~ Loooooooooooooooooooooooo~

MADELINE: I’m here! I’m here! (Storms into the room)

NEON: Away! (Backs up) Away!

THE CHOIR: Away! Away!

MADELINE: My love! My love!

THE ORCHESTRA begins playing a tritone-based string rhythm.

NEON: Away, you witch! Away, you bitch! Away! Get off my life!

MADELINE: (cries) My love! My groom! What have they done!

NEON: Away! I want you gone! (Shifts key to B minor, the prolonged C# sounding very dissonant) And ne-ver come a-gaaaaaain!~

THE CHOIR: Away! Away!

THE ORCHESTRA silences.

MADELINE: (walks up to the middle of the room, blistering in the light) I would have said that you are gone to me~

And that you’re never coming baaaaack~

THE CHOIR: Co-ming baaaaaa~

MADELINE: I would have chosen yet another breed~

And taken sin behind your back~

THE CHOIR: Oooooo~

MADELINE: But I have never laughed or cried in vain~

And so in vain I’ve never loved~

THE CHOIR: Ne-ver loooooo~

MADELINE: But if you want me out oooof your life~

This is what I am frightened ooooof~

NEON backs to the window, scared, trembling.

MADELINE: Love me!

NEON: No!

MADELINE: Embrace me!

NEON: No!

MADELINE: Accept me!

NEON: No!

MADELINE: Hold me!

NEON: No!

MADELINE: Trust me!

NEON: No!

MADELINE: I am the one you love!

NEON: No! No! No! No! (Slams his fist against the table) I’m not talking about you! I’m talking about my sister, my precious sister!

THE CONDUCTOR: (runs through sheet music) What is he doing? He isn’t singing!

THE CHOIR: …

THE ORCHESTRA is waiting.

NEON: Don’t you see? I don’t need your love. I don’t need you or any other woman. As long as I have my sister, my little Vinyl, my precious gem, I am complete. Now get away!

MADELINE: I will still love you. You can’t cross me out of your life. (Leaves)

Uneasy, awkward silence. THE CONDUCTOR sighs and shrugs. THE CHOIR moves away. THE ORCHESTRA leaves the stage to get some rest. THE PRODUCER rubs his chin. He looks at his watch: it is time for him to attend another play.

THE PRODUCER: Skibbidy-bop, skibbidy-bop, skibbidy-daa.

The curtain falls.

Entracte.

***

III

The act is set in a riverside Italian village, past the rustic houses. THE ACTORS walk along the field path, some chewing barley. THE VILLAGERS are wearing dirty shirts and coppola caps. OCTAVIA, a young woman, is wearing a tuxedo and is drawing the attention of the male population. She is carrying a sharp carving knife, which rests unconcealed in her hand, so THE VILLAGERS try to stay away. OCTAVIA is smiling at the warm summer sun and singing.

OCTAVIA: (Tiptoeing) O angry day, O angry day!

THE CHOIR: Rejoice! Rejoice!

OCTAVIA : (Cradling the knife) When dads, like ash, are swept away!

THE CHOIR: O angry day! O angry day!

OCTAVIA: (Walking on out of the village, and towards the seaside gleefully) Ring-a-ding-ding, daddy! (Smiles in ecstasy) That’s what Jesus and St Peter say! (Hits F-sharp)

THE CHOIR: O angry day! Rejoice!

OCTAVIA walks past an old Catholic church, where the mass can be well-heard. The chimes still tingle from the time. She stops and crosses her chest.

OCTAVIA: In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.

THE PREACHER begins the prayer loudly. OCTAVIA pauses before the church, then walks up to the steps. The stone breathes with cold and is a pleasant counterpart to the heat in the air.

THE PREACHER: Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum. Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra.

OCTAVIA: On earth as it is in Heaven. (Crosses her chest)

THE PREACHER: Panem nostrum quotidianum da nobis hodie, et dimitte nobis debita nostra sicut et nos dimittimus debitoribus nostris.

OCTAVIA: Forgive us our sins. (Crosses her chest) Or was it ‘trespasses’? (Ashamed, places the knife in her pocket. The handle peeks out still.)

THE PREACHER: Et ne nos inducas in tentationem, sed libera nos a malo. Amen.

OCTAVIA: Yes. (Nods) Deliver us from evil. Amen. (Takes out the knife and begins to pray) Sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio, contra nequitiam et insidias diaboli esto praesidium. Imperet illi Deus, supplices deprecamur: tuque, princeps militiae caelestis, Satanam aliosque spiritus malignos, qui ad perditionem animarum pervagantur in mundo, divina virtute, in infernum detrude. Amen. (Crosses her chest) In infernum detrude. Yes. What was it in English?

THE CHOIR begins to hum a low note. THE ORCHESTRA starts to play a rough, abrupt string rhythm.

OCTAVIA walks along the rustic path. Her smile is reeking of joy and murder. She seems to be absolutely content and perfectly sure of what she is going to do. She looks like a Catholic inquisitor from the Dark Ages.

THE CHOIR: Welcome to the New Dark Ages~

THE CONDUCTOR: Stop! That’s copyright material!

OCTAVIA: Praise the Lord! Down fell Sodom and my father, down to earth, those pillars of salt! (Finally approaches the familiar villa. Stops. Breathes in and out, fighting an upcoming anxiety attack. Gathers her courage and rings the bell.)

THE MAN walks out of the villa, coming up to the almost non-existing fence. (In Italian:) Can I help you, ma’am?

OCTAVIA: (in Italian) I am looking for Senor Philarmonico. Is he in? (Aside) Who the hell is he?

THE MAN: I’m sorry, ma’am… I don’t know what to say… (Glances at the knife in fear. He is used to such pointless violence on this goddamn island. He is used to the mafia but he is not used to young women in tuxedos bearing carving knives.)

OCTAVIA: Say what it is.

THE PLAYWRIGHT: You think we can change it? Pass it on translation?

THE PRODUCER: Tatta-ratta-tatta-da.

THE PLAYWRIGHT: Sure, budget cuts. Chop chop!

THE MAN: He committed suicide, poor fellow. (Winces) About six years ago. God knows what made him do that. (Sighs) Didn’t leave no note, no notice, nothing. Poor goodwife! (Shrugs in melancholy) Why? Did you know him?

OCTAVIA: (Smiling) No, not at all.

The ACTORS vacate the stage. The lights are out. A FLOOR SWEEPER shrivels his broom lightly. OCTAVIA is sitting on the empty stage and laughing.

The curtain falls.

Finita!