Musings

[The stage is open, lit on the left side with a humble, yellow glow, and dimming purple on the right. The lights should not be cut cleanly; they should blend towards the middle, like changing colours at sunset. There is an upright wooden chair on the left and a side table with books. On the right is a rocking chair. Curtain rises. It is mid-morn. GALE, a tall, handsome university professor, is seated left, reading a newspaper. Enter ELLIS stage right, a small, plump man, balding and bespeckled, dressed in a half-open shirt, braces, and odd socks. He storms over, waving a letter, to his side.]

ELLIS: For goodness’ sake, when are you going to post this letter? It’s been on the table over a week!

GALE: [without looking up, turns a page of the newspaper] Then post it.

ELLIS: [astonished] Post it! Post it! Why on earth would I post it? Have you gone crackers?

GALE: [turns another page] Why ever not?

ELLIS: [points to his feet] Because I lost my shoes, Gale! Those measly students of yours stole them!

GALE: That’s because you left them on the porch, overnight.

ELLIS: You know my memory isn’t what it was!

GALE: In the rain.

ELLIS: [flops into his rocking chair] I can’t post the letter. I can’t do it. That’s why I left it to you.

GALE: And that’s why you never get what you want. Because I am not your subordinate. [She begins to fold the newspaper up] The solution to your list of problems is simple, Ellis—buy some new shoes. 

ELLIS: [rocking furiously] I can’t buy new shoes if I can’t walk to the shop, Gale! You are crackers!

GALE: Ever heard of something called the Internet?

ELLIS: That blasted machine. I can never get it to work. You’ll have to do it for me. [Beat] Please.

GALE: [sinical] Some manners, for a change! How delightful of you, Ellis. I was thinking of going for a walk this afternoon, so perhaps I can post the letter for you then.

ELLIS: [aghast] This afternoon—?! The postman collects the letters at three!

GALE: At four, dearest.

ELLIS: At three! No, you must go immediately. It’s almost midday!

GALE: Who is the letter for?

ELLIS: [grumbling] I’m certain it’s at three. Oh, for heavens’ sake, it’s for Doctor Langham! I’ve invited him to dinner in two days’ time. An old acquaintance from my polo days.

GALE: [fingering her books] It’s four. Who’s that? You never played polo.

ELLIS: Water polo, Gale. And yes, I did. I thought you were supposed to be clever. And it’s three!

[Laughing, GALE selects a book. ELLIS watches, struggles to get up, and slips on his socks. He stops just where the lighting parts—he cannot cross the threshold. He searches how to bridge the stage.]

ELLIS: What are you doing? You’re supposed to be posting my letter!

GALE: I said I would post it for you, during my afternoon walk. The postman collects at four.

ELLIS: [paces back and forth in front of the invisible barrier] I don’t understand you at all. You forget about my shoes, you don’t know the collection time, you don’t even know who my friends are!

GALE: [quietly] It’s too late if you’ve invited him, and the letter has been waiting a week.

ELLIS: [walking slowly back to his rocking chair] I miss my dearest Gale. And I miss my shoes. They gave me such support. They gave me somewhere to walk. Now I can’t even post my own letters. 

GALE: [quietly] You’re too late.

ELLIS: [sits on the floor beside his chair] She said she’d post it that afternoon. She said, during her walk, it was on the way, so she’d post it... [mumbling] It’s three, not four, it’s three, not four... 

[The sound of a crash fills the stage, loud and sudden. GALE’s side goes pitch black. Only half the stage remains lit with purple. ELLIS rocks back and forth on the floor. After a beat, he rises, goes to the threshold, and reaches his hand into the darkness. He retracts it suddenly, reaches again, and walks forwards, obscured. When he returns to his side, he is holding a book; he sits and reads. Curtain falls.]