Short Time

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SHORT TIME a one-act play by Dean Francis Alfar writing as John Constantine DRAMATIS PERSONAE DANNY, a man in his early twenties, well-built ALAN, of the same age, slim and good-looking WENA, Danny’s estranged wife SETTING: a motel room in Pasig, around 10:30 p.m. (A shaft of light suddenly shows us a handsome man, standing alone downstage. This is ALAN, in his twenties, with a devastating smile. He is dressed very tastefully, perhaps in a dark blazer and a pair of brown oxfords. He addresses the audience.) ALAN’S MONOLOGUE ALAN: After high school, Danny and I both took the entrance exam at U.P. He found the damn thing a cinch, while I simply died after seeing the Math part. The night after the exam we made a pact. Should we both get in, we’d follow our dreams and get into Mass Com for him, and Psych for me. Should either of us fail to get into U.P., the other would refuse to go to college there. Should we both fail, we’d say that U.P.’s standards were rigged, and then kill ourselves over the shame. A suicide pact sealed with half a case of beer. Seeing as I am still here, the suicide pact never went into morbid play, and we both got in. Because we lived in the boondocks, we got in the same dorm. Our first year was crazy. I remember actually studying and still failing my damn Math class. Danny, on the other hand, barely studied and got away with everything. Together we were inducted in the more peculiar habits of college life. We were assaulted on all fronts by all sorts of people, begging for our attention, our support, our money. From marches to Malacañang to the CCC people with their bibles and peace tracts. Somehow, Danny and I survived.

Transcript of Short Time

SHORT TIME  a one-act play  by Dean Francis Alfar  writing as John Constantine   DRAMATIS PERSONAE  DANNY, a man in his early twenties, well-built  ALAN, of the same age, slim and good-looking  WENA, Danny’s estranged wife   SETTING: a motel room in Pasig, around 10:30 p.m.   (A shaft of light suddenly shows us a handsome man, standing alone downstage. This is ALAN, in his twenties, with a devastating smile. He is dressed very tastefully, perhaps in a dark blazer and a pair of brown oxfords. He addresses the audience.)  ALAN’S MONOLOGUE  ALAN: After high school, Danny and I both took the entrance exam at U.P. He found the damn thing a cinch, while I simply died after seeing the Math part. The night after the exam we made a pact. Should we both get in, we’d follow our dreams and get into Mass Com for him, and Psych for me. Should either of us fail to get into U.P., the other would refuse to go to college there. Should we both fail, we’d say that U.P.’s standards were rigged, and then kill ourselves over the shame. A suicide pact sealed with half a case of beer.  Seeing as I am still here, the suicide pact never went into morbid play, and we both got in. Because we lived in the boondocks, we got in the same dorm. Our first year was crazy. I remember actually studying and still failing my damn Math class. Danny, on the other hand, barely studied and got away with everything. Together we were inducted in the more peculiar habits of college life. We were assaulted on all fronts by all sorts of people, begging for our attention, our support, our money. From marches to Malacañang to the CCC people with their bibles and peace tracts. Somehow, Danny and I survived.  On my third year, I auditioned for a play, dragging Danny along for moral support. Not that he was any. Hell, he was more nervous than I was. Anyway, I got the part, some insignificant walk-on, really, and I thought that was that. But no. Danny became friends with some girl in the cast named Rowena. And soon, they’d exchange nods when they’d meet each other in the corridors.  I never really liked her. She had this “artiste” mentality, spouting out quotations from some obscure playwright or actually reading, and claiming to understand, what was vogue with the intelligentsia then: existentialism. Trash, was more like it. She’d hang out with her theater friends or with her Fine Arts friends and they’d talk all day about blind

leaps of faith. That was fine with me. My philosophy was that everyone was free to fill their minds with trash, as long as they didn’t try to convince me. Well, Wena invited Danny over once and he actually enjoyed the damn thing.  I was also invited, of course, but there were other, more practical things to do. Soon, Danny spent more and more of his time with Wena and her friends. But that was fine with me.  The only times I really saw him was when we’d go home together for the weekend. And for the first few weeks, all he’d talk about was her.  Wena.  Which was sad, really. What he didn’t understand was that she wasn’t really interested in him. She couldn’t possibly know him as well as I did. He was my best friend, for heaven’s sake. And what he was doing to himself was pathetic.  We graduated on time, except for Wena who had a semester more to go. I got work in some company, selling things. Yes, a wonderful use for my degree. And Danny got into an ad agency.  And Wena was left at U.P.  Life was fine again. We’d meet at Rustan’s after work and walk a bit before going home. Every now and then, we’d go out bowling or for a drink. It was fine.  Until one time before Christmas, when Danny brought Wena to his house and she stayed there until God knows what time. I was civil. It was Christmastime, after all.  But when New Year came, Danny told me that they were getting married in June.  Then everything changed.  (Blackout. When the lights go on again, we find ourselves in a room decorated in shades of black and red. The place is dominated by a huge bed with a stylish headboard and a number of mirrors. However, despite the décor [or perhaps because of it], we know that it’s no ordinary room. It is a motel room.  We see DANNY sitting on the bed facing the audience. He is fully dressed—shirt, tie, slacks, and leather shoes—and we can see that he is uncomfortable. Everything around the room seems untouched, except for a side table which has on it a wallet, a set of keys, a pack of cigarettes, and a silver-plated lighter on it. On a chair next to the table we see a neatly folded pile of clothes, beneath it a pair of saddle shoes.  

DANNY gazes around the room, as if memorizing every detail. He stands up and walks to the television that is firmly embedded in the wall. Idly, he turns it on and flicks through the channels. A few moments pass. He leaves the TV on, walks to the side table and looks at the menu of dishes offered by the motel. He puts that down and moves back to the TV. While he is engaged thus, the bathroom door opens and ALAN steps into the room, clad only in a white towel.)  ALAN: Your turn.  DANNY: (whirls around, as if surprised) What?  ALAN: I said it’s your turn now. To use the bathroom. (He continues on to the opposite side of the bed and lights a cigarette.) What’s that?  DANNY: Nothing. (flicks off the TV) I was just… nothing.  (ALAN watches him from his side of the room. DANNY walks back near the bed, almost aimlessly. ALAN, cigarette in hand, walks to the TV and flicks it on. Except for the sounds of a television program, there is silence.)  ALAN: Seems to be nothing good on at this time.  DANNY: Yeah, I guess. It’s mostly recapped news now.  ALAN: Yeah, I guess so. (flicks TV off) Well, aren’t you going to take a shower or something?  DANNY: Huh? No, no. I’m all right.  ALAN: Fine.  DANNY: Fine. Right.  (ALAN crosses and sits on the bed beside him. He looks at DANNY. DANNY stands up and goes to the TV.)  ALAN: You just said yourself there’s nothing on at this time. Come on, pare. Relax a bit. Here, want a stick?  DANNY: No. Later, maybe. Not now.  ALAN: Fine.  DANNY: Yeah. 

 ALAN: Well?  DANNY: Well what?  (ALAN sighs, takes a puff from his cigarette and begins to make smoke rings.)  DANNY: Alan, I don’t think this is such a good idea.  ALAN: Oh, please. Not again. We’ve talked about this before already, okay?  DANNY: Yes, but this, this is different. We’re here.  ALAN: Hmmm.  DANNY: We’re here. In this place. Alone.  ALAN: It’s kind of nice, isn’t it? I like the lights.  DANNY: Forget the lights. Let’s go. It was wrong to come up here in the first place. (He begins to walk to the table for his wallet and keys.)  ALAN: What’s wrong with you?  DANNY: I can’t do this. Get dressed. Let’s go.  ALAN: Danny, we’ve just arrived.  DANNY: And we’re just about to leave. Get dressed.  ALAN: No. (He takes a towel from the bed and hurls it at DANNY.) Take a shower.  DANNY: You’re not listening to me! I said get dressed!  ALAN: You’re the one who’s not listening. I said take a shower! The bathroom’s right over there.  DANNY: No! Come on, pare. This has gone too far already. People might have seen us enter. Let’s get out of this place. Now. Come on!  ALAN: Don’t make it sound like it was my idea! You wanted to come here. You wanted to be here with me. You’re the one who wanted to—  DANNY: Shut up! 

 ALAN: Don’t you shut me up! You’re the one who practically forced me to come here with you. The least you could do is be a man about it!  DANNY: Be a man about it? Did you hear what you just said?  ALAN: Shut up and take a shower, Danny. Don’t start this.  DANNY: Alan, listen to me, we—  ALAN: No, YOU listen to me! We’re finally here. You took the step. Now take a shower! DANNY: No!  ALAN: Fine! Then don’t!  DANNY: I’m leaving.  ALAN: Don’t make the mistake of stepping out of that door, Danny.  DANNY: (whirls around) Or what? You’ll force me to stay here?  ALAN: I don’t have to. You’re already here.  (DANNY turns around and moves to the door.)  ALAN: Putang ina, I said stay!  (DANNY stops, shuddering at the door. He is wordless and seems to be in tears. ALAN moves to him.)  ALAN: I’m sorry. Hey, come on. Sorry.  (He leads DANNY back to the bed. They sit on the edge. DANNY remains quiet. ALAN pours a glass of water from a plastic pitcher and offers it to DANNY.)  ALAN: Here.  (DANNY refuses the glass. ALAN replaces it on the table.)  ALAN: You okay? (DANNY nods.)  ALAN: (quietly, almost hesitantly) What are you afraid of?  

(DANNY suddenly laughs.)  DANNY: What a stupid question.  ALAN: Then give me a stupid answer. What are you afraid of?  DANNY: In case you’ve forgotten, I’m married.  ALAN: And in case you’ve forgotten, she’s gone.  DANNY: Yeah.  ALAN: You’re better off without her. All she ever did was bitch around.  DANNY: I thought you liked her. You talked every now and then.  ALAN: I talked to her because she was your wife. And now she’s gone.  (There is a pause.)  DANNY: Yeah. (silence)  DANNY: I wonder where she is right now?  ALAN: I don’t.  DANNY: (raises his hand with the wedding band) You know, this means nothing now. (Blackout. Then a pinprick of light reveals WENA downstage, armed with a suitcase haphazardly crammed with clothes. WENA may have been pretty once but now there is a certain tiredness about her. She wears heavy makeup which ill suits her, her hair in obvious disarray.)  WENA’S MONOLOGUE  WENA: Danny and I got married in June and moved into an apartment in Quezon City. The wedding was wonderful. I got some friends to sing and it was just beautiful. I walked down the aisle to the arms of the only man I ever loved. I thought my life was set.  How naive. How stupid.  It turns out that life isn’t that easy. And for all that Sartre had to say about life and shit, he was dead and I was living in a place whose pathetic appearance that I once saw through a rosy tint was there in all its misery. 

 Furniture was no problem. There was hardly any room. Oh, maybe I expected too much, but that hovel was really pitiful. But I was with Danny. And everything was going to be all right.  You see, in college, Danny radiated a mysterious aura. I met him after a play audition and we became friends then and there. We really hit it off. Of course his looks helped a lot, but his mind was fascinating. Or rather, I thought it was fascinating. The in thing then was to fall in love with someone’s mind, for wasn’t the mind what truly counted?  I don’t know why I ever bought that shit. Anyway, Danny was very interesting. He spoke very little but what he had to say always had something worthwhile. We spent hours walking or reading quietly, and the silence would only be interrupted by a sudden dawning of the meaning of philosophy. It was great. Until his weird friend Alan would arrive from one of his obscurely late classes and tug at Danny to go back to the dorm.  I never liked Alan. He felt that what we talked about was useless and he preferred to do “better” things. Sure. As if he ever did anything worthwhile. We never spoke to each other. It was a mutual understanding that if we ever spoke, only one of us would come out alive. And it wouldn’t be him.  I never understood why Danny spent so much time with the bastard. I mean, apart from the fact that they lived near each other and went home for the weekends. Alan was strange, in a way I couldn’t put my finger on then. All I knew was that I felt he was a bad influence on Danny. I tried talking to Danny about him once. Which was a big mistake. There’s nothing wrong with Alan, he said. And that was that. So I left it at that.  After we were married I thought I’d never see Alan again. I really did. For some reason he inspired the worst in me. Then I found out that Danny would sometimes go over to Alan’s house, and he’d tell me he had to stay late because of some project. And like the idiot I was, I believed him.  Until the frequency of these late night projects became too much for even an idiot to believe. I called up the office one time, from the store across the street. The guard said that he wasn’t there.  Imagine the thoughts that crossed my mind. Another woman? Danny was with another woman. Several scenarios, each more lurid than the previous one, played around my head.  When Danny came home we fought. And he told me where he had been going to all those times.  Alan’s house. 

 At first to ask for help with a project, which, wonder of wonders, had to do with the company Alan worked for. Then just to talk.  I think I took it well. The thoughts of another woman faded from my mind. At least he’s with Alan, I thought.  Stupid.  I thought that after that project everything would go back to the way it was. But it didn’t. His visits to Alan’s house became a habit and I had to cope with that. Until my dreams came. Sad, disgusting dreams of Danny and Alan.  I tried to talk to Danny about this thing, which I considered a problem. But he’d shrug it off, defensively. And his visits continued. Until I couldn’t take any more of it.  Now I wish it was a woman he visited.  It would have left me some pride.  (The lights shift. DANNY enters and finds WENA packing.)  DANNY: (standing next to her) Wena, don’t do this. Please, let’s talk about this.  WENA: (shrugs him off and continues to place more clothing in the suitcase) Get away from me.  DANNY: Come on. Why are you doing this?  WENA: What do you care?  DANNY: What do I care? I come home from work and find you packing up half the house and you ask me that question? Wena, love, what’s wrong?  WENA: (suddenly) Don’t touch me!  DANNY: What the hell is the matter with you? Are you leaving? Are you leaving me?  WENA: No, I pack my clothes every day for the sheer joy of it.  DANNY: Hey, there’s no need to talk like that. I just asked you a simple question.  WENA: (shouts) Well, what does it look like I’m doing? God, sometimes I wonder why I waited this long! 

 DANNY: Waited for what? Wena, what the hell are you talking about?  (She doesn’t answer him. DANNY seizes her and whirls her around to face him.)  DANNY: What are you doing?  WENA: Let me go!  DANNY: Not until you stop and talk to me!  (WENA claws his face. DANNY yells and abruptly lets her go. WENA goes back to packing.)  DANNY: Shit. That hurts! What the hell is wrong with you?  WENA: Will you just leave me alone?  DANNY: Wena…  WENA: (shouts) Just leave me alone!  (Silence. WENA is shuddering. After a pause, she continues to pack, furiously.)  DANNY: Wena… (She doesn’t reply.)  DANNY: Wena, please don’t go.  (She turns to him and crosses to a chair in the opposite side of the room.)  WENA: Where’s my blouse?  DANNY: What?  WENA: My blouse. It was right here this morning.  DANNY: What blouse? I didn’t—  WENA: Never mind.  DANNY: (helpfully) Oh, the black one with the lace?  WENA: No.  

DANNY: Oh. Was it the blue one with—  WENA: Forget it, Danny.  DANNY: If it’s the blue one, I saw it in the other room along with—  WENA: I said forget it! Are you deaf now?  DANNY: Sorry, I was just trying to—  WENA: Just shut up, okay?  DANNY: Wena…  WENA: Look, you want to be useful? Get out of here! Get out of my life!  DANNY: What are you talking about?  WENA: Shit, will you stop asking these stupid questions?  DANNY: Wena, I love you.  WENA: Bullshit.  DANNY: Whatever this thing is we’ll work it out, I know we will.  WENA: You never loved me.  DANNY: (taken aback) That’s not true! You know I love you. Look, whatever idiotic thing I’ve done, I’m sorry, okay?  WENA: (whirls around to face him) Sorry? SORRY? Sorry doesn’t even begin to describe how you should be feeling right now!  DANNY: Well, it would help if you told me what I did.  WENA: (suddenly laughs maniacally) You still don’t know, you idiotic bastard.  DANNY: Know what? What is it that I’m supposed to have done? What?  WENA: Forget it.  DANNY: What? What is it?  

WENA: Forget it.  DANNY: What am I—?  WENA: (shouts) Just forget it, okay?  DANNY: Will you stop shouting! If you’d tell me what triggered this off, we can talk about it.  WENA: Right. Talk about it. That’s all we do. Talk, talk, talk! Well, you want to know something, Danny? I’ve had it with talking things over.  DANNY: Well, how am I supposed to understand you if you don’t talk to me?  WENA: That’s the problem, isn’t it? That’s just it! Danny, we talk all the time. How’s work? How’s the project coming along? What’s for dinner? What’s good to watch tonight?  DANNY: Those are not the only things we talk about! God, you make it sound like our life’s a routine.  WENA: Ah! It dawns on him.  DANNY: Talking is healthy. Alan says—  WENA: Oh, what did Alan have to say this time?  DANNY: Alan says it’s vital.  WENA: Wow. You know, if I wrote down everything Alan ever said, I’d have a book.  DANNY: Well, he’s right, isn’t he? We’ve had our share of bad times. I know things have not been easy on you since your mother died, but—  WENA: My mother?! My MOTHER? God, Danny, what does my mother have to do with this?  DANNY: You can’t deny that you’ve changed.  WENA: I don’t believe this. (She goes back to packing.)  DANNY: If you have difficulty accepting the loss, that’s understandable. Really, it is.  WENA: Will you stop throwing the blame on me? 

 DANNY: What blame? For what?  WENA: For your entire screwed-up life, Danny. My mother died. So what? Everyone does some time. Accepting the loss? Shit! I’m okay! It’s my loss and I’ve gone on with my life. She had cancer for God’s sake.  DANNY: Then why are you packing? (WENA expels a sigh of frustration.)  DANNY: Why?  WENA: When was the last time you made love to me?  DANNY: What?  WENA: When?  DANNY: Why? What does that have to do with all this?  WENA: Answer the damn question.  DANNY: Hell, I don’t know. Two, three months, I guess. But what does that have to do with this?  WENA: It’s more accurate to say a year.  DANNY: A year?  WENA: One year.  DANNY: I guess I’ve been busy. (WENA hurls a shirt at him.)  WENA: Busy?  DANNY: Is that what you want?  WENA: From you, not anymore.  DANNY: That is probably the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.  WENA: I’m not surprised. You hear very little. The way your mind works astounds me.  DANNY: Sex? This is all about sex?  

WENA: Why, yes it is!  DANNY: If you want sex, I’ll give you sex.  WENA: (laughing) Don’t say that. It sounds like a joke. Did Alan teach you that line?  DANNY: Alan?  WENA: Isn’t his place where you spend your energy?  DANNY: Alan and I are just good friends. And what you imply is beneath you.  WENA: Beneath me? I don’t know, I’ve never tried it myself. So who goes beneath, you or him?  (DANNY slaps her. She takes the pain without a word, hurls a final piece of clothing into the suitcase and shuts it up with a vengeance. She walks to the door, resisting DANNY’s efforts to stop her.)  DANNY: Look, I’m sorry. Alan and I are just friends, nothing more. I go to his place just to talk, that’s all.  WENA: (smiles) Of course you do. Before or after?  (WENA exits.)  DANNY: Wena—  (The lights shift once again, and a pinpoint of light illuminates DANNY.)  DANNY’S MONOLOGUE  DANNY: I tried to stop her. I phoned everyone we knew. I thought she’d be at her sister’s house in Cainta. I never found her.  She never understood me. She never believed I loved her. But I worked for her. Everything I made went to our savings so that we could buy our own house someday. She never understood. She never did.  Whenever I’d try to talk to her, we’d end up fighting. So I decided not to talk about anything that we’d fight about. That was better than those shouting matches, right?  She just never understood. She never listened. At least Alan did. Maybe he was right about her. Maybe I should have listened to him. I don’t know. 

 When I’m with Alan, it’s as if everything’s all right in the world. We talk for hours over a beer and some peanuts. About this and that and everything. His life is so colorful. All the time I realize that there’s something new about him. And his stories and jokes are a riot. It’s like he never grew up.  Wena never liked Alan and Alan hated Wena. That was sad, really. The two people I love most in the world would exchange killing glances and hope to God that by some miracle the other would fall dead. I don’t know why they hated each other. I really don’t.  That’s why I didn’t tell Wena that I visited my old friend from time to time. She wouldn’t understand and we’d probably argue about it. Besides, there’s nothing wrong in visiting an old friend, is there? It’s not as if anything happened.  Alan is a good friend of mine that I grew up with. Wena treated his name like it was an intrusion in our married life. Which was stupid, of course.  Wena never understood.  She never did.  (The scene reverts to the motel room. ALAN returns to his position beside DANNY.)  ALAN: Enough about Wena.  DANNY: Yeah. Enough about her. (a pause)  DANNY: PUNYETA, Alan! How could this happen to me? How could she do this to me? Shit! What’s wrong with me?  ALAN: There’s nothing wrong with you. She’s the one who’s all screwed up.  DANNY: Yeah?  ALAN: Yeah. Smoke?  DANNY: Hmmm. Thanks. (They both light up.) This is all so very strange.  ALAN: (laughs) You think so, huh.  DANNY: Of course, you idiot.  ALAN: I don’t think there’s anything strange right now.  

DANNY: You’d think so. You’re used to this. (a pause)  ALAN: Used to this.  DANNY: You know what I mean, Alan. Come on.  ALAN: What makes you think I’m used to this?  DANNY: Hey, I didn’t mean anything by that.  ALAN: What makes you think I’m used to this?  DANNY: Look, just forget what I said, all right?  ALAN: What makes you think I’m used to this?  DANNY: Shit. Your stories, for one. God, you’re full of them! Shall I name names?  ALAN: Bastard. (He snuffs out his cigarette.)  DANNY: Hey, I was only joking…  ALAN: You believed them?  DANY: What? Your stories? Yes!  ALAN: I don’t believe this. (He stands up and moves downstage.)  DANNY: O, what’s wrong?  ALAN: How could you?  DANNY: How could I what? Alan, you’re not making much sense.  ALAN: Just what kind of person do you think I am?  DANNY: What?  ALAN: You think I just go to bed with just anyone, and, and… shit!!  DANNY: Then why did you tell me all those stories if you feel this way about them? It’s crazy!  ALAN: You’re crazy! 

 DANNY: I’m crazy?!  ALAN: Yes! You’re crazy!  DANNY: I don’t get you.  ALAN: Stories are just that. Stories. Nothing more.  DANNY: What, are you telling me they were all lies?  ALAN: Will you just leave it at that? Just… stop it.  DANNY: Fine then. They’re gone.  ALAN: Yeah. Give me a stick.  DANNY: Here. (He hands ALAN a cigarette.)  (ALAN moves back to the bed and sits down heavily. DANNY watches him.)  DANNY: You know, I think I’m the one who’s supposed to be tense.  ALAN: No one has a monopoly on tension.  DANNY: Feel free. (a pause)  ALAN: So?  DANNY: So?  ALAN: Are you getting undressed or what? We have only two or so hours left here.  DANNY: I’m not— (ALAN interrupts him with a gesture.)  DANNY: Alan?  ALAN: Hmmm.  DANNY: Did it ever occur to you that we’d be together in a place like this? (ALAN doesn’t reply.)  DANNY: Alan?  

ALAN: Yes.  (Another pause. DANNY begins to look around the room again.)  DANNY: (out of the blue) I’m not gay.  ALAN: What’s the point of that?  DANNY: I don’t know. I just wanted to say that.  ALAN: If you’re not gay, then why are we here?  DANNY: I just wanted to be with you. To talk, you know…  ALAN: In a motel room. In Pasig. With me.  DANNY: Yes! I hate it at home. Ever since Wena left, I—  ALAN: Danny, it’s been three months since she left you.  DANNY: Yes, I know. But the hurt hasn’t lessened any.  ALAN: So you asked me to be here, with you, in a motel room in Pasig. Just to talk. With this towel around my waist. (a pause)  DANNY: Yes.  ALAN: Jesus. Can we get over this part? We both know why we’re here. I’m no moron, Danny.  DANNY: Yeah.  ALAN: Take your shoes off.  DANNY: Alan.  ALAN: Take your shoes off. At least.  (DANNY removes his shoes, averting his face from ALAN.)  ALAN: And the socks.  (DANNY removes his socks, and places them neatly in his shoes.)  

ALAN: And your—Shit, pare! Do I have to tell you everything?  DANNY: No.  ALAN: And so?  DANNY: No. Not yet. Alan, I’m not so sure about this.  ALAN: Give me strength, God. Look, Danny. I’m not going to rape you. It’s not like I kidnapped you and brought you here against your will, drugged and all.  DANNY: I never said anything like that.  ALAN: Oh, and so what do you mean?  DANNY: I’m not sure I understand what you mean.  ALAN: Oh, for God’s sake. Look. We are two consenting adults. In a motel room. Are we going to stare at each other and exchange witticisms all night?  DANNY: There’s no need to talk like that.  ALAN: What do you expect me to say? You come to my house and ask me to go to Greenhills with you for a pizza. Halfway through that Manager’s Choice you say, “Let’s go.” “Go where?” I ask. Then you smile and say, “You know where.” So we drive here, park in the garage, go up the stairs, and I take a shower and you expect me to believe YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT WE’RE HERE FOR?  DANNY: It took a lot to come here.  ALAN: I’ll say.  DANNY: Listen, Alan, I just wanted to see if I could… If I could come here. With you.  ALAN: Apparently it’s within your capabilities.  DANNY: Don’t be sarcastic.  ALAN: You want to go to bed with me. (DANNY doesn’t answer.)  ALAN: You want to touch me. You want me to touch you. You’ve wanted me for so long, haven’t you? Even when Wena was still here, you wanted me, didn’t you?  DANNY: No. 

 ALAN: Oh, yes you did. Come on. We’re both men. We’ve been friends for years. I can read your mind, Danny. Admit it. You want me.  DANNY: Shut up.  ALAN: You want me. You’ve wanted for so long but you’ve always been afraid. Afraid of her. Afraid of me. Afraid of yourself. Afraid of the truth.  DANNY: I said stop it!  ALAN: I’ve seen you look at me. Shit, pare. We’ve been friends for so long. Did you think I was blind to your secret? Why do you think I told you all those sex-citing stories? Because you wanted to hear things like that. You knew this day would come.  DANNY: Enough, Alan.  ALAN: You’ve had it all planned in your mind, long before tonight, haven’t you? You just couldn’t stop it, that feeling inside. It’s bigger than you. Stop trying to fight it, Danny! Stop fighting it!  DANNY: Alan!  ALAN: You got married but you always doubted yourself. Deep in your heart, you knew, but you refused to accept it. Accept it now, Danny. The truth!  DANNY: I said stop it!  (ALAN quickly moves to kiss DANNY on the lips. DANNY pushes him back and stands up.)  DANNY: Get away from me, you faggot!  ALAN: Look at yourself before you call me names, Danny! Who wanted to come here? Who thought of all this? Who planned tonight, Danny?  DANNY: Putang ina mo, bakla!  ALAN: Mas putang ina ka! Bakla? Who’s gay? It takes one to know one, Danny. And it takes one to be one! Why can’t you accept the fact? It’s easier!  DANNY: Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!  

ALAN: Just as soon as you accept it! You’re like me, Danny. You’ve always been so. And there’s nothing wrong in being like this! Your marriage to that bitch was just an excuse. Did you actually think anyone really believed you?  DANNY: Shit! If I were gay do you think Wena would marry me in the first place?  ALAN: Idiot! She loved you! She loved you! Love knows no sex, Danny. I should know! Wena loved you and married you because she loved you, and not for anything else!  DANNY: Liar! That’s not true! That’s not the only reason she married me!  ALAN: Will you stop deluding yourself! She loved you! Is there any greater reason for marriage? Is there?  DANNY: Yes! She married me because I’m a man!  ALAN: Listen to yourself!  DANNY: She married me because I’m a man. I am NOT gay! You listen to yourself, if she loved me, why did she leave me?!  ALAN: Because you never loved her as a man should!  (DANNY lunges at ALAN and tries to strike him.)  DANNY: Liar!  ALAN: You couldn’t do it! She told me, Danny! She told me! That’s why she left you. She couldn’t take it anymore!  DANNY: Liar! (He tries to strike ALAN again.)  DANNY: She married me because I was a man! A MAN!  ALAN: Listen to yourself!  DANNY: No, dammit! You listen! I’m not gay, like you! Bastard! I’m not anything like you! Can’t you understand that, you idiot! I AM NOT GAY!  ALAN: (shouts) THEN WHY ARE WE HERE?  (DANNY doesn’t answer. ALAN walks away and lights a cigarette. He smokes it, with his back to DANNY.)  

DANNY: (softly) We’re here because I want to be with you.  (ALAN doesn’t reply. DANNY begins to weep as he goes on.)  DANNY: We’re here because it’s time for us to be together. We’re here because I’m so tired. I’m so tired, Alan. I’m 24 and I’m so damn tired. I just want to be with you, but I don’t want to know what that means. I don’t want to know what that makes me. I don’t want to know… (He begins to remove his tie and shirt.)  DANNY: I—I don’t know what I am. All I know is that I have no one else but you. Everything has lost its simplicity. I don’t understand anything anymore. All I know is that you’re here, now. And I’m here, now.  (ALAN moves to stand before DANNY. He touches him very tenderly. As he does, DANNY’s tears flow more strongly.)  DANNY: Hold me. Don’t let me go. (ALAN embraces him.)  DANNY: Don’t let me go. Don’t let me go. Don’t leave me.  ALAN: Shhh.  (He leads DANNY to the bed, very tenderly. DANNY allows himself to be led and lies down on the bed. ALAN straddles him and strokes his hair. DANNY touches his face and slowly raises his face towards ALAN. ALAN pulls back a little.)  ALAN: Sleep now.  DANNY: W—what?  ALAN: Sleep now. Rest. Close your eyes.  DANNY: Why? W—where are you—  ALAN: Shhh. Just close your eyes, Danny.  (ALAN kisses DANNY’s forehead tenderly and then leaves the bed. He quickly puts his pants and t-shirt and shoes on. DANNY sits up, eyes red, puzzled.)  DANNY: Why are you getting dressed? (ALAN doesn’t answer.)  DANNY: Alan—? (ALAN quickly moves to the door.)  DANNY: Alan?! 

 ALAN: (almost a whisper) I’m sorry.  DANNY: What?  ALAN: Not this way, Danny. Not this way.  DANNY: What are you talking about? Come here.  ALAN: Not this way. Not us.  DANNY: After all this, you tell me “not us”. What are you trying to say?  ALAN: I just wanted to show you who you are. I’m sorry.  DANNY: Bastard! (He hurls a pillow at him, then the ashtray.) Putang ina mo! Putang ina mo!  ALAN: Now you’re free.  (ALAN opens the door, then leaves. We hear his offstage shout.)  ALAN: YOU’RE FREE, DANNY! YOU’RE FREE!  DANNY: Putang ina mo! (He stands up.)  DANNY: ALAN!!!  (He rushes to the door and we hear his offstage cry: ALAN! After a few seconds, he returns, one hand clutching his head. He stands in the center of the room. Then he moves to the TV and turns it on. He returns to the bed, sits tailor-fashion, and gazes unseeing at the screen. The lights softly fade.)