UMBRELLA

 A man in his forties bangs on the knocker of a brownstone. A woman with a flat affect opens the door.


Bill

Hello, Diane.


Diane

He’ll be down in a minute.  


Bill

What’s he doing?


Diane

He’s learning to tie his shoe. 


Bill

He’s advanced.  His bilateral integration is off the charts.


Despite herself, she releases a constrained giggle. 


Bill contd

What? 


Diane

Nothing,  Nothing. 


Bill

It’s true. 


Diane

I guess it’s true then.


Bill

It is.  (pause) I like your new haircut. 


Diane

Yeah.  Sure.  Right.  


Bill

Oh, come on now, D. Be nice. It’s easier than you think. 


Diane

I’m going to the kitchen.  He’ll be right down. 


She slams the door. He knocks again. She opens the door.


Bill

Why do you have to be so goddamn horrid? 


Diane

Because I want to be.  Because I have a right to be.  Because the two of us are in a new place.


Bill

Where are we, Diane?


Diane

In this deep shithole of an almost dead union.  I can’t wait to be officially liberated.


Bill

Oh yeah? 


Diane

But I’m not sad.


Bill

I am. 

        

                                        Diane

Right.  Even though you’re with a woman who can’t walk across a crowded room without flipping her hair like a teenager with esteem issues. 


Bill

Oh, for Christ sake.  We just started dating if you really want to know. 

 

Silence.  No eye to eye contact. 


Diane

I can hardly look at you.  


Bill

Please.  Stop.  Let’s try to …


Diane

I have no try left in me. 


Bill

I do. 


Diane

And your face, your skin.


Bill

What about them? 


Diane

You’re ashen. 


Bill

Oh really?


                                        Diane

Actually, the word that really comes to mind is  malarial.


Bill

You and your fuckin’ fancy vocabulary. 


Diane

So kill me for talking good. I’m not sorry I said it.  I won’t apologize. 


Bill

And I won’t apologize for saying you still love me.


Diane

(yelling to  upstairs ).  MICHAEL, YOU GET DOWN HERE THIS MINUTE.  IT’S TIME TO GO.


It begins to downpour. 


Bill

Holy shit. 


Diane

He has an umbrella.  


Bill

He can handle an umbrella ? 


Diane

It’s tiny.


Bill

PurpIe I suppose.


Diane

Paisley.


He steps in the foyer and moves toward an umbrella stand full of umbrellas just inside the door.  She stops him with her hand on his chest. 


Diane (surprised that he thinks he can) 

You can’t come in here !


Bill

Oh, no? 


Diane

No.  Not unless the court permits it. 


Bill

You fuckin’ cunt. 


Diane

Call me whatever you want.  You’re not coming in.  You’ve  become “a creature void of form” to me.


Bill

Dylan.  Shelter from the Storm. 


She pushes him out the door and slams it shut again. He pounds on it.  Louder and louder.  She opens it.  He grabs an umbrella and moves to walk out the door.  She blocks his exit, grabs it out of his hand and hits with it him hard on his arm.  He grabs her by the shoulders and throws her to the floor.  They fight over the umbrella.  He wins. They yell profanities.  It is violent. 


Diane

That’s mine.  That’s mine.  No.  No. No. No. No. You can’t have it. 


Bill

Fuck you, you crazy bitch.  You’re are fucking crazy, low class cunt.


Diane

You will not take it. You won’t. I forbid it.


Crying, he raises his knee, breaks the umbrella it two and drops it on floor.  He turns around and opens the door. She slams it behind him. 





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