AFTER THE SONG

A play in one act

by John van Sicklen Maeck II

Based on This Time I Would Like to Stay
Essays on Love and Grace

Characters

JOHN, sixty-five. A writer. He has packed Ruth’s things before she has asked for them.

RUTH, in her seventies. She has known John for several months. She has returned for a lost earring and hopes to stay for breakfast.

MARTIN, John’s contemporary and longtime friend. His adult daughter is bringing her new partner to lunch. Martin has prepared more than the lunch requires.

YOUNG JOHN, John as a young adult. Played by the actor who plays Martin. No literal change of age is required.

Setting

A San Francisco apartment. Saturday morning. A table, two chairs, a counter and a front door. A cushion on one chair has a torn tie. The chair itself is stable. On the table are two mugs, a small plate, a pen and a folded sheet of paper. An electric kettle, a coffee pot and a loaf of bread wrapped in a cloth stand on the counter. A woman’s scarf and a paperback are packed in a paper shopping bag by the door. The missing earring is at the bottom of the bag. Coffee is ready. Breakfast is not.

Daylight falls across the back wall. It moves gradually as the morning passes.

One continuous act for three performers. Martin and Young John are doubled. The imagined encounter requires no change of set; a shift in light or attention may mark it. Ruth remains still and neither hears nor takes part in the encounter. Young John leaves before the morning resumes. All characters and circumstances are fictional.

After the Song

JOHN puts the folded paper into the shopping bag. He takes it out. He writes one more word, crosses it out, folds the paper and leaves it under his mug.

JOHN: Dear Ruth.

The bell rings. He moves the bag behind the door, then opens it. RUTH is outside, wearing a coat and carrying a handbag. She touches her bare earlobe.

RUTH: I got halfway to the market.

JOHN: What’s wrong?

RUTH: An earring. Can I come in?

He opens the door farther. She enters and kisses him. For a moment he holds her.

RUTH: Good morning.

JOHN: Good morning.

RUTH: There. We managed it.

JOHN: What does it look like?

RUTH: Like this one.

She turns her head for him. He smiles.

RUTH: My mother gave them to me. She has opinions about where I leave them.

JOHN: I’ll look.

RUTH: Thank you.

He moves toward the counter. She sees the bag.

RUTH: That looks like my scarf.

JOHN: It is.

RUTH: And my book.

JOHN: You left them.

RUTH: Last night.

JOHN: Yes.

RUTH: You work quickly.

JOHN: I didn’t want you to worry about them.

RUTH: I wasn’t worrying.

JOHN: Well. Good.

She takes the scarf out of the bag. A small leaf is caught in its folds.

RUTH: There’s half a park in this.

JOHN: I took you the long way.

RUTH: I noticed.

JOHN: I didn’t want that bit to end.

RUTH: Neither did I.

She puts the leaf on the small plate. Her hand rests on his. He turns his hand beneath it. They stay like that. She lays the scarf over a chair and puts her book on the table.

RUTH: I was going to ask if you wanted breakfast.

JOHN: Here?

RUTH: I thought the bakery. But here will do.

JOHN: Of course I want breakfast.

RUTH: With me.

JOHN: Yes. I understood the implication.

RUTH: You answered the part about food very promptly.

He laughs. She smiles. He almost reaches for her; instead he straightens a mug.

JOHN: Coffee?

RUTH: Please.

He pours. He notices the folded paper under his mug and puts a hand over it.

RUTH: Have you already written about last night?

JOHN: No.

RUTH: That was quick too.

JOHN: I was trying to explain something.

RUTH: To me?

JOHN: Eventually.

RUTH: I’m here now.

JOHN: I can see that.

He takes his hand off the paper. She does not reach for it.

JOHN: I had a lovely evening.

RUTH: So did I.

JOHN: I mean that.

RUTH: I believed you the first time.

JOHN: I don’t want you to think—

He stops.

RUTH: What?

JOHN: This morning feels different.

She puts down her mug.

RUTH: Different how?

JOHN: Last night I knew what I wanted. This morning there seem to be consequences.

RUTH: I wanted you last night too.

JOHN: I know.

RUTH: You sound surprised to remember it.

JOHN: I didn’t want to assume.

RUTH: You found a bag, though.

He looks at it. She sits.

RUTH: I haven’t asked you to sell the apartment.

JOHN: I know you haven’t.

RUTH: I haven’t brought a second set of saucepans.

JOHN: I wouldn’t object to saucepans.

RUTH: What would you object to?

A second bell. JOHN moves toward the door too quickly.

JOHN: That’s Martin.

RUTH: Does he have the answer?

JOHN: He’s come for his chair.

RUTH: Then this shouldn’t take long.

JOHN opens the door. MARTIN enters carrying an empty reusable shopping bag.

MARTIN: I thought I’d put the cushion in this. Morning, Ruth.

RUTH: Morning.

MARTIN: Am I early?

JOHN: No.

RUTH: John was explaining something. I think we’re both early for the explanation.

MARTIN: I can come back.

RUTH: Your chair is here. Apparently everything is ready to go.

MARTIN sees the paper bag. He looks at JOHN, then chooses to examine the cushion tie.

MARTIN: You said you’d fixed this.

JOHN: I tied it. It tore farther up.

MARTIN: Ah.

JOHN: I’ve got a needle somewhere.

MARTIN: You’ve been saying that since Wednesday.

JOHN: Coffee?

MARTIN: That would help.

JOHN finds another mug. MARTIN takes his chair toward the door. RUTH lifts her scarf from it. He stops, awkwardly holding the chair while JOHN hands him coffee.

RUTH: We could all sit down.

MARTIN: One of us would have to be particularly fond of somebody.

RUTH laughs. JOHN does too, a little late. MARTIN puts the chair down. He remains standing.

MARTIN: My daughter’s bringing her fellow to lunch. I need somewhere for him to sit.

JOHN: You could let him stand.

MARTIN: I’ve considered it.

RUTH: Do you dislike him?

MARTIN: I haven’t met him.

RUTH: You’re ahead of schedule.

MARTIN: He sends her things. Long things. He says his whole life depends on whether she loves him.

JOHN: People say that when they’re in love.

MARTIN: I know. I’ve said it. I don’t want my daughter having to keep a man alive by loving him.

RUTH: What does she say?

MARTIN: She says I should meet him before I give her the benefit of my extensive experience.

JOHN: Sensible.

MARTIN: You haven’t heard me rehearse my questions.

JOHN searches a drawer. He takes out a small sewing tin and opens it.

JOHN: Here. Hold that bit against this bit.

MARTIN puts down his mug and holds the torn ends together. JOHN tries to thread a needle.

JOHN: We used to like a grand declaration.

MARTIN: We still do. I was delighted by the last one addressed to me.

JOHN: I grew up with those songs from the sixties. I used to turn up the radio before I knew what they were singing about.

MARTIN: I remember your car.

JOHN: Terrible car. Wonderful radio. We had some good times.

MARTIN: We did.

RUTH: So did I.

They look at her.

RUTH: You two weren’t the only people alive. I liked wanting someone. I liked being wanted. I still do.

JOHN: So do I.

RUTH: Good. I was beginning to feel I’d attended something we were all going to regret on principle.

JOHN: I don’t regret you.

She looks at him. He returns to the needle.

MARTIN: I remember a girl calling the house. I told my roommate to say I’d gone to Big Sur. I was sitting on the kitchen floor eating her peaches.

JOHN: Did you ever tell her?

MARTIN: No.

MARTIN rubs a mark on the back of the chair. It does not come off.

RUTH: I had a room with a window over an alley. Music downstairs. Nobody could find me unless I let them.

MARTIN: Sounds wonderful.

RUTH: It was. My father had the address, of course. He sent the rent.

They laugh. JOHN finally threads the needle.

JOHN: Ha.

MARTIN: Try not to put your finger in it.

JOHN starts to sew. He has to concentrate.

JOHN: I can hear a song now and be right back inside it. All that longing. I don’t want to be finished with that.

RUTH: Neither do I.

JOHN: Then what are we supposed to grow out of?

RUTH looks at the paper bag. She takes a drink of coffee rather than answer. MARTIN steadies the cushion. MARTIN’s phone vibrates. He reads it while keeping one hand on the cushion.

MARTIN: She’s reminding me he’s a vegetarian.

JOHN: You knew that.

MARTIN: I said I did.

RUTH: What are you making?

MARTIN: Fish.

A silence. MARTIN looks from one to the other.

MARTIN: I can do eggs.

RUTH: Ask her.

He does, with his free hand. JOHN pulls a stitch through.

JOHN: There was always somewhere else to go.

RUTH: I asked a man to come with me once.

JOHN: Where?

RUTH: Down the coast. I had a car for the summer. He sold his bicycle to help pay for the trip. I told him we’d find work and a room somewhere.

MARTIN: Did you?

RUTH: I found a room. With somebody else.

JOHN stops sewing.

RUTH: He was standing there with a duffel bag. I remember being annoyed by the bag. I asked him what he’d thought was going to happen.

JOHN: You were young.

RUTH: Yes. So was he.

MARTIN’s phone vibrates.

MARTIN: Eggs are fine.

Nobody answers. He pockets the phone.

MARTIN: What did you do?

RUTH: I gave him some money for a bus. He was going to leave anyway.

MARTIN: Was he?

She turns her mug by its handle.

RUTH: He took the money.

JOHN turns the cushion over. His thread catches. MARTIN helps free it. RUTH takes an envelope from her handbag.

JOHN: What’s that?

RUTH: Something I was going to ask you.

JOHN: You can.

RUTH: Tickets. Thursday. The little concert I told you about.

JOHN: You bought them?

RUTH: Two.

JOHN looks toward MARTIN. MARTIN looks closely at the stitch.

JOHN: We hadn’t decided.

RUTH: I know.

JOHN: You said you were thinking of going.

RUTH: I was thinking of going with you.

JOHN: Ruth—

RUTH: They were selling out.

She puts the envelope on the table.

RUTH: I tried the website three times. It kept asking whether I was a robot. Eventually I began to wonder.

JOHN does not laugh. She pushes the envelope toward him. He keeps his hands on the cushion.

RUTH: Thursday, John. That’s all.

JOHN: I haven’t decided what I want.

MARTIN lets go of the cushion. JOHN holds it alone.

RUTH: This morning?

JOHN: More than this morning.

RUTH: All right.

She puts the tickets back into her handbag. She collects her scarf.

JOHN: I didn’t say no.

RUTH: You didn’t say yes, either.

MARTIN picks up his mug and moves toward the counter, giving them what little privacy the room permits.

JOHN: For months I kept looking at the telephone. Then you’d call, and there was an evening to live toward. Sometimes I forgot to eat.

RUTH: I didn’t. You should have come round.

It almost makes him laugh. He cannot quite manage it.

RUTH: I kept the messages.

JOHN: You did?

RUTH: You sent one while I was in the dentist’s chair. I had to wait twenty minutes to look at it.

She puts a hand into her handbag, then takes it out empty.

RUTH: I was pleased it was you.

She puts on her scarf. JOHN does not stop her.

MARTIN: Shall I take the chair as it is?

JOHN: No. It’s nearly done.

JOHN resumes sewing. MARTIN returns. Neither looks at RUTH. She stands near the door, holding her handbag. Then she takes off the scarf.

RUTH: My earring.

She crouches to look under the table. JOHN starts to bend toward her. The thread pulls taut.

MARTIN: You’ve still got this.

JOHN straightens. RUTH stays down a moment. She wipes under one eye before standing.

RUTH: Nothing there.

JOHN: We’ll find it.

MARTIN’s phone vibrates. He reads it.

MARTIN: She’s asking me to put away the photograph.

JOHN: Of her mother?

MARTIN: His wedding. To his former wife. I looked him up. I printed it.

JOHN: Martin.

MARTIN: I wasn’t going to leave it on his plate.

JOHN looks at him.

MARTIN: It was on the sideboard.

RUTH: You printed it?

MARTIN: The printer was on. She thinks I’m treating her as if she were nineteen.

JOHN: Well.

MARTIN: I know how old she is. I was there.

He begins typing. He stops. He shows JOHN the screen.

MARTIN: Does this sound all right?

JOHN: You could leave out the part about experience.

MARTIN: It’s the part I have.

JOHN reads farther. RUTH takes off her coat. She has decided to stay for the earring, at least. MARTIN looks at the phone.

MARTIN: I don’t want her hurt.

JOHN has no ready answer. He sets the cushion down.

MARTIN: I used to be the person she called. About everything. A leak. A feeling. Now I hear about things when they’re already over.

JOHN: You’re hearing about this one.

MARTIN: Yes.

MARTIN looks at the phone. He deletes what he has written and types again.

MARTIN: I’ll put it away. Anything else I can do?

He sends it before he can add more. He sits in the uncushioned chair. JOHN puts a hand briefly on his shoulder.

MARTIN: I bought enough food for six. There are three of us.

JOHN: You’ll have leftovers.

MARTIN: I was going to give them some to take home. I bought containers.

RUTH sits opposite him. JOHN remains by the cushion.

RUTH: I’d take the food.

MARTIN: Would you?

RUTH: Yes. I don’t like those containers that never close properly.

MARTIN: These close.

A small relief. MARTIN picks up his mug. The phone vibrates. He reads it, then puts it away without reporting the reply.

JOHN: What did she say?

MARTIN: See you at lunch.

JOHN finishes the last stitches. MARTIN helps him tie the cushion to the chair. It takes the two of them a moment to coordinate their hands.

JOHN: There.

MARTIN tests the tie, then lifts the chair. The cushion stays in place.

MARTIN: Thank you. What do I owe you?

JOHN: Nothing.

MARTIN: Excellent. I brought exactly that.

He puts his empty shopping bag in his pocket. He starts toward the door. JOHN holds it for him.

MARTIN: You coming for a walk tomorrow?

JOHN: Yes.

MARTIN: Ten?

JOHN: Ten.

MARTIN: If you ask me how the lunch went, allow a little time.

JOHN: I will.

MARTIN looks toward RUTH and hesitates.

MARTIN: See you, Ruth.

RUTH: Good luck with the eggs.

MARTIN: Thank you.

He goes. JOHN closes the door. RUTH remains at the table. There is now only one chair.

JOHN: I’ll get another.

RUTH: John.

He stops.

RUTH: Stay there a minute.

He leans against the counter. She takes out the envelope, holds it, puts it back.

RUTH: It was nice buying two.

JOHN: I should have gone with you to get them.

RUTH: You haven’t said you’re going to the concert.

JOHN: No.

RUTH: I bought them online anyway.

She laughs once. He starts to speak.

RUTH: Don’t say it was nice of me. I wanted to go with you.

JOHN: I know.

RUTH: I told my sister I’d met someone.

He straightens.

RUTH: I didn’t give her your address.

JOHN: I didn’t mean—

RUTH: I know everything you don’t mean.

She looks away. He takes the folded paper from under his mug.

JOHN: I was going to leave this with your things.

RUTH: May I read it?

JOHN: It isn’t finished.

RUTH: May I?

He hands it to her. She opens it.

RUTH: Dear Ruth. I am trying to find an honorable way of saying—

She turns the paper over. There is nothing on the other side.

RUTH: You’ve given a lot of room to the honorable part.

JOHN: I couldn’t get further.

RUTH: What were you going to say?

JOHN: I’m lonely.

She looks up from the paper.

JOHN: At night I go back over it. The women I loved. The drives. Waiting for the telephone. Wondering whether a letter had arrived.

RUTH: How many?

JOHN: I start counting. Then I remember somebody I hadn’t thought about for years. It was only a few weeks. Do I count her?

RUTH starts to answer. JOHN goes on.

JOHN: Of course I count her.

RUTH leaves the letter open on her lap.

JOHN: There’s one woman I keep remembering outside a theatre. Her hands were in her pockets because she’d lost her gloves. She was laughing before she got to me. I can see her coming round the corner as clearly as I can see you.

RUTH: What happened?

JOHN: We were happy for more than a year. Then she wanted something I couldn’t decide about. I wanted it after she’d gone.

He looks at the letter. JOHN straightens. At the far edge of the daylight, YOUNG JOHN appears, puts on a jacket and checks its pocket for keys. RUTH remains seated with the letter open on her lap. The action of the apartment pauses.

JOHN: Where are you going?

YOUNG JOHN: To see her.

JOHN: What are you going to say?

YOUNG JOHN: I don’t know yet.

He smooths the front of his jacket.

YOUNG JOHN: That I want to be with her all the time.

JOHN: Do you?

YOUNG JOHN: Tonight.

JOHN looks down. YOUNG JOHN starts toward the door.

JOHN: Then why say all the time?

YOUNG JOHN: Because she might let me stay.

The younger man waits for an answer. JOHN has none ready.

YOUNG JOHN: You know what it’s like.

JOHN: Yes.

YOUNG JOHN: I can feel it in my hands. I keep thinking about touching her.

He raises a hand toward the door and holds it there.

YOUNG JOHN: What am I supposed to do with it?

JOHN: Stay here a moment.

YOUNG JOHN: With you?

JOHN: If you like.

YOUNG JOHN turns back. He puts his hands in his pockets, takes them out again.

YOUNG JOHN: Is this what you’ve learned? To stand still?

JOHN: To let someone finish.

YOUNG JOHN: You still interrupt.

JOHN: I know.

YOUNG JOHN: Sometimes you just save the worst bit.

JOHN: Sometimes.

YOUNG JOHN looks toward the door. His hand rises again. He notices it and lets it fall.

YOUNG JOHN: I’m still thinking about her.

JOHN: So am I.

YOUNG JOHN: Then are you teaching me how to choose, or how to be afraid of what I want?

JOHN looks at the bag behind the door.

JOHN: I don’t want you afraid of wanting her.

YOUNG JOHN: Who packed that?

JOHN: I did.

YOUNG JOHN: Did she ask you to?

JOHN: No.

A pause. JOHN looks toward RUTH. She has not moved.

YOUNG JOHN: What were you going to tell her?

JOHN: I haven’t managed it yet.

YOUNG JOHN: So what makes you—

JOHN: Nothing. I wish someone had told me I could wait.

YOUNG JOHN: Would you have listened?

JOHN: I don’t know.

The younger man checks his keys again. This time he leaves them in his pocket.

YOUNG JOHN: If I wait, she might go.

JOHN: She might.

YOUNG JOHN: I could ask her to walk tomorrow.

JOHN: Do you want to?

YOUNG JOHN: Yes.

JOHN: Then ask her.

YOUNG JOHN: She could say no.

JOHN: Yes.

YOUNG JOHN looks at the door. He takes a breath and waits. After a moment he removes his jacket and leaves the edge of the light. YOUNG JOHN is gone. RUTH lifts her eyes from the letter. The morning resumes. JOHN turns toward her.

RUTH: Have you seen her since?

JOHN: No.

RUTH waits.

JOHN: I’m sixty-five. I’m not married. I look at the time and think, where did it go?

He rubs his face.

JOHN: Then I remember her laughing, and I can’t call it wasted. But it’s gone.

RUTH: I don’t know what to say to that.

JOHN: You don’t have to know.

She reaches for his hand. He lets her take it. Neither speaks. They let go. She folds the letter and puts it on the table.

JOHN: I was happy last night.

RUTH: So was I.

She takes a breath, picks up her mug. It is empty. She puts it down.

JOHN: You said you felt at home here.

RUTH: I did.

JOHN: Why?

RUTH: You put a blanket over my feet. I’d been cold all evening.

JOHN: Do you know what I was thinking when we came round the corner?

RUTH: That you’d lost your keys.

JOHN: After that. The light caught the side of your face. You turned to say something. I didn’t hear the beginning. I was so glad you were there.

She smiles.

JOHN: I kissed your hair. I cried a little. I thought I should apologize for it.

RUTH: I noticed.

He crosses to her. She stands. He touches her hair. She catches his hand and brings it to her cheek. They kiss. She stays near him.

RUTH: I have to go to my sister’s this afternoon.

JOHN: I remember.

RUTH: You asked me to come to dinner tonight.

JOHN: I did.

RUTH: I could get a later train.

JOHN: Could you?

She looks down at their hands. He loosens his hold. She lets her hand fall.

RUTH: I’ve changed the visit twice already.

JOHN: Because of me?

RUTH: Once.

She steps away and collects her coat.

JOHN: What time is the train?

RUTH: After lunch.

JOHN: When will you be back?

RUTH: Tomorrow evening.

She sits with the coat on her lap. He sits on the floor beside the counter.

JOHN: Martin and his peaches.

RUTH: Yes.

A quiet interval. JOHN drinks his cold coffee. RUTH holds her empty mug.

JOHN: Shall I make some more?

RUTH: I’d like tea.

JOHN: I’ve got tea.

RUTH: I know. I saw it in the drawer.

He gets up, rinses their mugs and puts the kettle on.

RUTH: One cup. Then the bakery.

She strokes the edge of the envelope through the opening of her handbag.

JOHN: I’ve been writing about grace.

RUTH: Did that help?

JOHN: Until you came back for the earring.

She laughs, then looks at the time.

RUTH: I need to eat before I go.

She gets up and puts on her coat. She takes the envelope from her handbag and holds it out. JOHN turns from the counter.

RUTH: Thursday?

He looks at the envelope.

JOHN: No.

She draws it back. He reaches toward it before she has put it away. She stops.

RUTH: Do you want it?

He withdraws his hand.

JOHN: Who will you ask?

RUTH: Daniel, perhaps.

JOHN: Daniel.

She watches him, then looks down at the tickets.

RUTH: I haven’t asked him yet.

JOHN: No.

She puts the tickets in her handbag and fastens it. The kettle clicks off. JOHN looks toward it.

JOHN: Do you still want tea?

RUTH: Yes.

He makes tea and offers her a mug. She takes it and sets her handbag down. She unwraps the loaf on the counter, breaks off a piece and holds it out to him. He takes it. She tears off a piece for herself.

JOHN: Thank you.

They stand at the counter, eating bread and drinking tea. She brushes a crumb from her sleeve. He finishes his piece.

RUTH: I’m going on to the bakery.

JOHN: I’ll come.

She looks at him, then puts down her mug. He does the same. He gets his jacket and checks his pocket for his keys. She collects her book, scarf and bag. He opens the door.

JOHN: You can leave the book here, if you like.

She looks from him to the paperback.

RUTH: I might want to read it tonight.

She puts it in her handbag. He nods, then stops.

JOHN: The earring.

RUTH: We haven’t looked properly.

They look at the table, the counter, the floor. JOHN checks the paper shopping bag. He tips it gently onto the small plate. A tiny earring falls out beside the leaf.

RUTH: There she is.

She puts it on. JOHN holds his palm below her hand in case it falls. She catches it herself. He withdraws his hand.

JOHN: Is it all right?

RUTH: A little crooked.

She adjusts it. JOHN takes a step toward the table, where the unfinished letter lies. He stops. RUTH waits at the open door. He joins her. They go out together. The letter stays on the table. The bread lies open beside the cups. There is one chair. Daylight has moved farther along the back wall.

End of play

John van Sicklen Maeck II is a San Francisco writer working in memoir, poetry, theatre, and reflective nonfiction. His writing explores love, grief, family, and the difficulty of caring for another person without taking over.