LITMIR.BIZ

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a chair and sits.]

      So what are we going to do, you ask? This. Find out what the deposit, cash, on a small two-man farm, in one of those blank spaces, is. Take some bread, man. [Offering a slice.]

      ZACHARIAH. No! [Hurls his slice of bread into a corner of the shack.]

      MORRIS. What’s this?

      [Zachariah sweeps away the plate of food in front of him.]

      Zach!

      ZACHARIAH. You’re not going to make me forget. I won’t. I’m not going to. We had woman I tell you. [Pounding the table with his fists.] Woman! Woman! Woman!

      MORRIS. Do you still want the farm?

      ZACHARIAH. Shut up! I won’t listen.

      [Jumps up and rushes across to the other side of the room where his jacket is hanging, and begins to put it on.]

      What do you think I am, hey? Two legs and trousers. I’m a man. And in this world there is also woman, and the one has got to get the other. Even donkeys know that. What I want to know now, right this very now, is why me, Zach, a man, for a whole miserable year has had none. I was doing all right before that, wasn’t I? Minnie used to come. He had a bottle, or I had a bottle, but we both had a good time, for a long time. And then you came . . . and then . . . and then . . . [Pause.]

      MORRIS. Go on . . . say it.

      ZACHARIAH. . . . then you came. That’s all.

      [Zachariah’s violence is ebbing away. Perplexity takes its place.]

      You knocked on the door. Friday night. I remember, I got a fright. A knocking on my door on Friday night? On my door? Who? Not Minnie. Minnie’s coming all right, but not like that. So I had a look, and it was you standing there, and you said something, hey? What did I say? ‘Come in.’ Didn’t I? ‘Come in,’ I said. And when we had eaten I said, ‘Come out with me and a friend of mine, called Minnie.’ Then you said: ‘Zach, let us spend tonight talking,’ Ja, that’s it. That’s all. A whole year of spending tonights talking, talking. I’m sick of talking. I’m sick of this room.

      MORRIS. I know, Zach. [He speaks quietly, soothingly.] That’s why we got plans for the future.

      ZACHARIAH. But I was in here ten years without plans and never needed them!

      MORRIS. Time, Zach. It passes.

      ZACHARIAH. I was in here ten years and didn’t worry about my feet, or a future, or having supper on time! But I had fun and Minnie’s music!

      MORRIS. That’s life for you, Zach. The passing of time, and worthless friends.

      ZACHARIAH. I want woman.

      MORRIS. I see. I see that, Zach. Believe me, I do. But let me think about it. Okay? Now have some supper and I’ll think about it.

      [Morris puts his own plate of food in front of Zachariah and then moves around the room picking up the food that Zachariah swept to the floor.]

      You get fed up with talking, I know, Zach. But it helps, man. [At the window.] You find the answers to things, like we are going to find the answer to your problem. I mean . . . look what it’s done for us already. Our plans! Our future! You should be grateful, man. And remember what I said. You’re not the only one who’s sick of this room. It also gets me down. [Turning to Zachariah, leaving the window.] Have you noticed, Zach, the days are getting shorter, the nights longer? Autumn is in our smelly air. It’s the time I came back, hey! About a year ago! We should have remembered what day it was, though. Would have made a good birthday, don’t you think? A candle on a cake for the day that Morris came back to Zach.

      [Zachariah leaves the table and goes to his bed.]

      You finished?

      ZACHARIAH. Ja.

      MORRIS. [Pause. Morris makes the sandwiches.] Has it helped, Zach?

      ZACHARIAH. What?

      MORRIS. The talking.

      ZACHARIAH. Helped what?

      MORRIS. About . . . woman.

      ZACHARIAH. It’s still there, Morrie. You said you was going to think about it and me.

      MORRIS. I’m still busy, Zach. It takes time. Shall I talk some more?

      ZACHARIAH. Let me!

      [He speaks eagerly. The first sign of life since the outburst.]

      Let me talk about . . . woman.

      MORRIS. You think it wise?

      ZACHARIAH. You said it helps. I want to help.

      MORRIS. GO on.

      ZACHARIAH. YOU know what I was remembering, Morrie? As I sat there?

      MORRIS. No.

      ZACHARIAH. Guess.

      MORRIS. I can’t.

      ZACHARIAH. [Soft, nostalgic smile.] The first one. My very first one. You was already gone. It was in those years. [Sigh.] Her name was Connie.

      MORRIS. That’s a lovely name, Zach.

      ZACHARIAH. Connie Ferreira.

      MORRIS. You were happy, hey?

      ZACHARIAH. Ja.

      MORRIS. Don’t be shy. Tell me more.

      ZACHARIAH. We were young. Her mother did the washing. Connie used to buy blue soap from the Chinaman on the corner.

      MORRIS. Your sweetheart, hey!

      ZACHARIAH. I waited for her.

      MORRIS. Was it true love?

      ZACHARIAH. She called me a black hotnot, the bitch, so I waited for her. She had tits like fruits and I was waiting in the bushes.

      MORRIS [absolute loss of interest]. Yes, Zach.

      ZACHARIAH. She was coming along alone. Hell! Don’t I remember Connie now! Coming along alone she was and I was waiting in the bushes. [Laugh.] She got a fright, she did. She tried to fight, to bite . . .

      MORRIS. All right, Zach!

      ZACHARIAH. She might have screamed, but when I had her . . .

      MORRIS. All right, Zach! [Pause.]

      ZACHARIAH. That was Connie. [He broods.]

      MORRIS. Feeling better?

      ZACHARIAH. A little.

      MORRIS. Talking helps, doesn’t it? I said so. You find the answers to things.

      ZACHARIAH. Talking to one would help me even more.

      MORRIS. [Pause.] You mean to a woman?

      ZACHARIAH. I’m telling you, Morrie, I really mean it, man. With all my heart.

      MORRIS [the idea is coming]. There’s a thought there, Zach.

      ZACHARIAH. There is?

      MORRIS. In fact I think I’ve got it.

      ZACHARIAH. What?

      MORRIS. The answer to your problem.

      ZACHARIAH. Woman?

      MORRIS. That’s it! You said talking to one would help you, didn’t you? So what about writing? Just as good, isn’t it, if she writes back?

      ZACHARIAH. Who . . . who you talking about?

      MORRIS. A pen-pal. Zach! A corresponding pen-pal of the opposite sex! Don’t you know them? [Zachariah’s face is blank.] It’s a woman, you see! [Looking for newspaper.] She wants a man friend, but she’s in another town, so she writes to him—to you!

      ZACHARIAH. No, I don’t know

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