Julia Rose Eng

[EMERY is sitting on a bench with a Van-clad foot propped up. He is hugging his knee, watching the skaters that are presumably not far from his seat. The sun is beginning to set, he is bored, and he is impatient.]

[Enter ROSE from the left, speed walking with a bit of bounce in a sundress, as if she is aware of being watched. She has headphones in and a half-drunken grapefruit juice in her left hand. ROSE is stylish, ostensibly happy, and she is glossy but unpresuming. She nearly walks past the bench where EMERY is seated, but he sticks his foot out to stop her from steam-rolling on past. ROSE is startled.]

ROSE: (apologetically, but smiling) I’m really sorry I’m late, I was doing the interview and then I got caught up with-

EMERY: -the subway?

ROSE: No, no, no, it was-

EMERY: -the barista from-

ROSE: -this [holds up plastic cup] is a juice. It was the art director of-

EMERY: …Celine? Vogue Italia? I mean you have to give me-

ROSE: (sullen but annoyed) -we’re not even in the right country for that one.

[PAUSE. ROSE lights a cigarette with a sparkly red lighter and shields it from the soft breeze that comes down the street with a manicured hand. EXTENDED PAUSE. ROSE fumbles with the lighter for an uncomfortable period of time. We hear clicking which is abruptly interrupted by EMERY’s hand, which shoots in front of ROSE’s face to attempt to solve the problem. ROSE shoos his hand away dismissively and EMERY sits back. PAUSE.]

EMERY: Are you going to finish?

ROSE: Finish what.

EMERY: Whatever excuse you were beginning to-

ROSE: -excuse? It was a job opportunity.

EMERY: Rose.

ROSE: (in a mock-serious tone) Emery.

[EMERY gives her a stern look. He gestures for her lighter. ROSE gives him a harsh up-then-down and then returns to facing forward, his request ignored. ROSE brings her knees up to her chest. She is wearing Manolo Blahniks or some pretentious equivalent.]

EMERY: (condescendingly) You’re seriously…I mean.

ROSE: (flatly) So how was your day.

EMERY: It was…Y’know.

ROSE: You know?

EMERY: Yeah.

[PAUSE]

ROSE: (sincerely) [takes hold of his hand] I’m sorry.

[LIGHTS GO OUT and there is a PAUSE]

[When LIGHTS COME UP we see ROSE in a pair of boots to the left of EMERY, who is looking off into the distance. Another unfamiliar MAN sits to the left of ROSE, creating a ROSE sandwich. They all have beer bottles in their hands. The sun has set, and the faint, low, glow of streetlights illuminate their faces. ROSE and EMERY have their legs crossed, but rather than towards one another or in a parallel manner, they are pointed away from one another. ROSE is on her phone. The MAN minds his own business. It is clear that there must be other people around, and tell-tale signs of a late night spent in and out of bars and in and out of minds lay strewn in littered piles: empty bottles of various shapes and sizes, burnt and flattened cigarettes, and a single high heel. ROSE peers over to EMERY, lips pursed, ready to puncture the seal.]

ROSE: (breaking the eerie silence) You know, Phoebe and Colin are getting married this September.

EMERY: Oh wow…[the thought settles in his mind] Shit. They’ve been dating for like three months though.

ROSE: (innocently) Phoebe’s nice.

EMERY: (sardonically) Is she?

ROSE: (concerned) Why, did something…happen?

EMERY: No. [PAUSE] Just wondering.

ROSE: I just told you she’s nice.

EMERY: (defensively) I mean, she’s an actress. So. I’m just, like, clarifying. 

ROSE: [EXTENDED PAUSE] Why don’t you just ask Colin. [PAUSE] Like, whether Phoebe’s nice or not.

EMERY: No, Jesus, that’s fuckin’ weird. Like…who does that. They’re getting married.

[EMERY drinks, then ROSE does, then after some time, the MAN does as well. They’re all in the pity club. On the bench. EXTENDED PAUSE]

EMERY: My parents want to do Thanksgiving this year, it’s like, a thing, y’know…(doubtfully apologetic) Sorry, I guess.

ROSE: No, it’s fine. [PAUSE] (quietly) They don’t love me, though. I dunno.

EMERY: They like you.

ROSE: They don’t love me though. 

EMERY: Does it matter? (dismissively) Does it really matter that fuckin’ much to you? (stubbornly)  Look, your parents don’t even like me. So.

ROSE: (still quietly, as if treading a thin line) Kind of. Love and like. It kind of does. To me. [PAUSE, ROSE leans back towards EMERY] (teasingly) You should still ask.

EMERY: What, Colin? I thought you wanted to drop it. (exacerbated) Jesus.

ROSE: No, I never said that. Why do you care so much whether Phoebe is nice or not?

EMERY: Why don’t you ask Colin then, since you care.

ROSE: Maybe I will. [faking a dreamy, swoonful trance] (mockingly)  Colin, oh Colin, Colin and his motorcycle and his little Sweet-Tart of a fee–yahn–say. Colin who…[blanking]…who actually committed to something and saw it through. [PAUSE] Do you know how massive it is to be working on films like that at his age? [BLANK PAUSE, ROSE stares out past the invisible confines of the stage, her bubble, her ecosystem, looking for the elusive Colin to appear. She abruptly jolts to her feet.] I’m gonna go find him.

EMERY: That’s not…[ROSE begins to march off in a strangely comical, rigid manner, her boots clomping against the ground like a million revolts under her toes.] fair. [turning to the MAN, chuckling, as if to play off the pathetic tragedy before him] She’s one of those girls, I guess. Just totally enamored with the boss. Must be something Freudian or some shit.[sighs]

[The MAN clearly wants nothing to do with EMERY and begins to stand up, but EMERY holds his arm while he gestures with the other, as if to clutch something precious and small. The MAN concedes and re-plants himself where he once was.]

EMERY: Y’know. She’s like…like an egg. You get this little egg, and it’s like an honor. (sarcastically, goofy) Wow, oh, I get an egg! But after the feeling of being special wears off, you look at the egg, and you’re like, shit, I need to carry this egg ev-er-eywhere. You need to be careful, so fuckin’ careful, man, because (louder) God knows what will happen if you…(quietly, delayed, smiling) drop. it. [continues to pretend to hold the small object, the MAN tries to scooch away but EMERY pulls him back in.] I want to nurture it and protect it and all that shit. I wanna take her and nestle her and hold her right here [EMERY gestures to the soft patch between his collarbones and throat] where I can keep her close and warm. [PAUSE] (frantic) But sometimes I wonder, (looking for reassurance) and I wonder if this happens, maybe, to like, other guys, what would happen if I just applied a bit more pressure…(quietly) Like, just put my chin closer and closer in until the egg just. [gestures the crushing of the small object in his hand, as if having a revelation] Pshhh. Before the egg turns into a real chick that can run to the nearest Colin. Just Pshhhh. And I can’t tell if that’s fucked up.

MAN: Man…[maudlin, confused, out of it] I’m just like…regular?

EMERY: But like…

MAN: (spacey) Dude…I dunno. You’re talking about that girl like she’s an egg…(slowly)…my girl’s…like…a girl. Yeah? I hold her like a girl.

[LIGHTS GO OUT and there is a PAUSE.]

[When the LIGHTS COME UP it is a bright, fruitful, sun filled day. These are the days when the air is pregnant with clean hope and faith in the beings who inhale our exhales and whose exhales we inhale. EMERY is on the bench, in his spot, all the way to the right. ROSE has his head in her lap, and she holds the book up to the sky, as if to offer something to the light of the day. Her feet are in only long, woolen socks, and her boots have been discarded by the foot of the bench. Today is a nice day for nice people. Most importantly is ROSE’s gently swollen stomach, a bump of beginnings. ROSE flips through the pages that hang above EMERY’s face as he stares up at a woman he has learned to love. EMERY takes great pride in his ability to love, but his pride teeters.]

ROSE: (wistfully) I’m thinking for a boy, Holden. But for a girl, Camille. I dunno. That or Margot.

EMERY: (frankly) Margot.

ROSE: I’m leaning towards Camille.

EMERY: Don’t like the way it sounds.

ROSE: But it’s like…Rose, Camille. Flowery shit.

EMERY: Don’t swear around the baby. [PAUSE] I don’t like the “Cuh” sound. It’s kinda harsh. Doesn’t sound right.

ROSE: [looks back up to him] So if I didn’t want to use Holden and I wanted Cain, that’s a no?

EMERY: Yeah…no.

ROSE: [puts the book down and stares up to the sky] But remember the statue, the Vidal one in Paris?

EMERY: Nope. Like, anything that starts with a C. Or a K. No.

ROSE: And is that ‘cause of-

EMERY: Y’know. Yeah. [EXTENDED PAUSE] Do you think it’s, like, fucked up to bring a thing into the world? Like, are we gonna…fuck this up? ‘Cause like, me and my thoughts…and you and your-

ROSE: I know. But I don’t know. This can be- [PAUSE] it’ll be good for us. [PAUSE, she looks at him intently] It’s yours. I promise.

EMERY: Sure…yeah.

[EXTENDED PAUSE]

ROSE: I invited Phoebe. Yeah, Pheebs, you know, she said she’d bring some wine and stuff. (thinking, confused) I can’t drink it. But you guys can. Yeah. (awkwardly) Since we haven’t seen each other since. Um. The wedding got canceled.

EMERY: Oh, yeah. About the names-

ROSE: (hastily) We don’t have to bring it up-

EMERY: -Yeah, and with Co-m’just-

ROSE: -Just, like, don’t bring it-

[Enter PHOEBE and MAN from right. PHOEBE is a cleaned up girl with a tote bag. She is tall and flushed with her hair slicked back into a ponytail. It’s as if she has just returned from an exercise class of sorts in leggings and a sports bra. MAN follows her closely, he looks clean too, like PHOEBE cleaned him up.]

PHOEBE: Hi, I brought-

EMERY: (politely, modestly) -you didn’t have to-

PHOEBE: -trust me, I-

[PHOEBE and MAN nestle themselves on top of a blanket that PHOEBE lays down, also from her tote bag. PHOEBE is to the left of ROSE, and MAN is to the right of EMERY. MAN treats PHOEBE as if he doesn’t want to fuck it up, he’s gentle but awkward like a nervous freshman. It’s endearing.]

EMERY: [extending a hand from his supine position] Hi, I’m Emery, I’m-

PHOEBE: [shaking hand] (sweetly) Oh, I know you, don’t worry, Rose has-

[MAN interrupts handshake by jutting his hand out for a firm fist bump between men who know that they are perceived as the best kind of man]

MAN: Yo. I think we met, you’re the egg dude.

ROSE: (humoring it) The what-

EMERY: -nothing, nothing. [PAUSE] Phoebe, I’m sorry, about-

PHOEBE: (pseudo-content) -it’s totally, fine, it’s…it’s whatever.

MAN: (sincerely) Babe…[ROSE visibly cringes and looks away] your feelings are important.

PHOEBE: (giggling) Shut upppp. It’s so annoying when you’re all like that, like, oh noooo, I’m so soorrryyyy, like really, it’s fine.

MAN: (aphoristically, more serious than needed) Well, that’s the thing about men.

ROSE: Aren’t you-

MAN: Sure. He [referencing EMERY] thinks that women are like eggs, like you’re an egg, but if women are eggs, then men are like boa constrictors that swallow eggs whole. Like in that story about the boy on the moon-

PHOEBE: (correctively) The asteroid. It’s an asteroid.

[PHOEBE pours little plastic cups of wine for everyone except for ROSE, who gets a package of raspberries instead.]

MAN: See, that’s how stupid it is. We’re just, like. I dunno. Colin thought he was a boa constrictor. He’s just a garden hose that wants to be something deadly. 

EMERY: (defensively) So my analogy wasn’t totally stupid.

MAN: No, it was.

EMERY: (disappointed) Oh.

[LIGHTS GO OUT.]