Angels in America (36 page)

              
That you or any Being should wish to endure them?

              
Death more plenteous than all Heaven has tears to mourn it,

              
The slow dissolving of the Great Design,

              
The spiraling apart of the Work of Eternity,

              
The World and its beautiful particle logic

              
All collapsed. All dead, forever,

              
In starless, moon-lorn onyx night.

(The Angel goes to Prior.)

ANGEL
: We are failing, failing,

     
The Earth and the Angels.

     
Look up, look up.

(Prior and the Angel are looking up.)

ANGEL
: It is Not-to-Be Time.

(The sound of the enormous generator begins to slow and then to fail. The lights in the chamber dim.)

ANGEL
(Asking Prior a real question, mystified by his persistence)
:

              
Oh who asks of the Orders Blessing

              
With Apocalypse Descending?

              
Who demands: More Life

              
When Death like a Protector Blinds our eyes, shielding from tender nerve

              
More horror than can be borne?

(She returns to stand with the other Principalities, all facing Prior.)

ANGEL
: Let any Being on whom Fortune smiles

     
Creep away to Death

     
Before that last dreadful daybreak

     
When all your ravaging returns to you

     
With the rising, scorching, unrelenting Sun:

     
When morning blisters crimson

     
And bears all life away,

     
A tidal wave of Protean Fire

     
That curls around the planet

     
And bares the Earth clean as bone.

(Pause.)

PRIOR
: But still. Still.

     
Bless me anyway.

     
I want more life. I can't help myself. I do.

     
I've lived through such terrible times, and there are people who live through much much worse, but . . . You see them living anyway. When they're more spirit than body, more sores than skin, when they're burned and in agony, when flies lay eggs in the corners of the eyes of their children, they live. Death usually has to
take
life
away. I don't know if that's just the animal. I don't know if it's not braver to die. But I recognize the habit. The addiction to being alive. We live past hope. If I can find hope anywhere, that's it, that's the best I can do. It's so much not enough, so inadequate but . . . Bless me anyway. I want more life.

(He turns away to leave. When his back is turned, the Angels silently make mystical signs
.

     
Prior stops, suddenly feeling sick again: leg pain, constricted lungs, cloudy vision, febrile panic and under that, dreadful weakness
.

     
He gathers his strength, then turns again, with a new calm, to face them.)

PRIOR
: You haven't seen what's to come. You've only seen what you're afraid is coming. Until it arrives—please don't be offended but . . . all you can see is fear.

     
I'm leaving Heaven to you now. I'll take my illness with me, and. And I'll take my death with me, too.

     
The earth's my home, and I want to go home.

Scene 6

Seven
A.M.
Prior descends from Heaven and slips into his hospital bed
.

Belize is sleeping in a chair
.

PRIOR
(Waking)
: Oh.

     
I'm exhausted.

BELIZE
(Waking)
: You've been working hard.

PRIOR
: I feel terrible.

BELIZE
: Welcome back to the world.

PRIOR
: From where, I . . .

     
Oh. Oh I—

(Emily enters.)

EMILY
: Well look at this. It's the dawn of man.

BELIZE
: Venus rising from the sea.

PRIOR
: I'm wet.

EMILY
: Fever broke. That's a good sign, they'll be in to change you in—

PRIOR
(Looking around)
: Mrs. Pitt? Did she—

BELIZE
: Elle fait sa toilette. Elle est
tres
formidable, ça. Where did you find her?

PRIOR
: We found each other, she—

     
I've had a remarkable dream. And
(To Belize)
you were there, and
(To Emily)
you.

(Hannah enters.)

PRIOR
: And you.

HANNAH
: I what?

PRIOR
: And some of it was terrible, and some of it was wonderful, but all the same I kept saying I want to go home. And They sent me home.

HANNAH
(To Prior)
: What are you talking about?

PRIOR
(To Hannah)
: Thank you.

HANNAH
: I just slept in the chair.

PRIOR
(To Belize)
: She saved my life.

HANNAH
: I did no such thing, I slept in the chair. Being in hospital upsets me, it reminds me of things.

     
I have to go home now. I had the most
peculiar
dream.

(There's a knock on the door. It opens. Louis enters.)

LOUIS
: Can I come in?

(Brief tense pause; Prior looks at Louis and then at Belize.)

EMILY
: I have to start rounds.

     
(To Prior)
You're one of the lucky ones. I could give you a rose. You rest your weary bones.

PRIOR
(To Louis)
: What are you . . .

     
(He sees Louis's cuts and bruises)
What happened to
you
?

LOUIS
: Visible scars. You said—

PRIOR
: Oh, Louis, you're so goddamned literal about everything.

HANNAH
(A quick glance at Louis when Prior says his name, then)
: I'm going now.

PRIOR
: You'll come back.

HANNAH
(A beat, then)
: If I can. I have things to take care of.

PRIOR
: Please do.

     
I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.

HANNAH
: Well that's a stupid thing to do.

(Hannah exits.)

LOUIS
: Who's she?

PRIOR
(A beat, then)
: You really don't want to know.

BELIZE
: Before I depart. A homecoming gift.

(Belize puts his shoulder bag on Prior's lap. Prior opens it; it's full of bottles of pills.)

PRIOR
(Squinting hard)
: What? I can't read the label, I—

     
My eyes. Aren't any better.

     
(Squints even harder)
AZT?

     
Where on earth did you . . . These are hot pills. I am shocked.

BELIZE
: A contribution to the get-well fund. From a bad fairy.

LOUIS
: These pills, they . . . They make you better.

PRIOR
: They're poison, they make you anemic.

     
This is my life, from now on, Louis. I'm not getting “better.”

     
(To Belize)
I'm not sure I'm ready to do that to my bone marrow.

BELIZE
(Taking the bag)
: We can talk about it tomorrow. I'm going home to nurse my grudges. Ta, baby, sleep all day. Ta, Louis, you sure know how to clear a room.

(Belize exits.)

LOUIS
: Prior.

     
I want to come back to you.

Scene 7

Same morning. Split scene: Louis and Prior in Prior's hospital room, continuous from
Scene 6
. Harper and Joe in Brooklyn. Joe sits in a chair; Harper enters from the bedroom, dressed for traveling, carrying a small suitcase
.

HARPER
: I want the credit card.

     
That's all. You can keep track of me from where the charges come from. If you want to keep track. I don't care.

JOE
: I have some things to tell you.

HARPER
: Oh we shouldn't talk. I don't want to do that anymore.

     
Credit card.

JOE
: I don't know what will happen to me without you. Only you. Only you love me. Out of everyone in the world. I have done things, I'm ashamed. But I have changed. I don't know how yet, but . . . Please, please, don't leave me now.

     
Harper.

     
You're my good heart.

(She looks at him, she walks up to him and slaps him, hard.)

HARPER
(Quietly)
: Did that hurt?

(Joe nods yes.)

HARPER
: Yes. Remember that. Please.

     
If I can get a job, or something, I'll cut the card to pieces. And there won't be charges anymore. Credit card.

(Joe takes out his wallet, gives her the card.)

JOE
: Call or . . . Call. You have to.

HARPER
: No. Probably never again. That's how bad.

     
Sometimes, maybe lost is best. Get lost. Joe. Go exploring.

(Harper takes a bottle of Valium from a coat pocket. She shakes out two pills, goes to Joe, takes his hand and puts the Valium in his open palm.)

HARPER
: With a big glass of water.

(Harper leaves.)

LOUIS
: I want to come back to you.

     
You could . . . respond, you could say something, throw me out or say it's fine, or it's not fine but sure what the hell or . . .

     
(Little pause)

     
I really failed you. But . . . This is hard. Failing in love isn't the same as not loving. It doesn't let you off the hook, it doesn't mean . . . you're free to not love.

PRIOR
: I love you Louis.

LOUIS
: Good. I love you.

PRIOR
: I really do.

     
But you can't come back. Not ever.

     
I'm sorry. But you can't.

Scene 8

That night. Louis and Prior remain from the previous scene. Joe is sitting alone in Brooklyn. Harper appears. She is in a window seat on board a jumbo jet, airborne
.

HARPER
: Night flight to San Francisco. Chase the moon across America. God! It's been years since I was on a plane!

     
When we hit thirty-five-thousand feet, we'll have reached the tropopause. The great belt of calm air. As close as I'll ever get to the ozone.

     
I dreamed we were there. The plane leapt the tropopause, the safe air, and attained the outer rim, the ozone, which was ragged and torn, patches of it threadbare as old cheesecloth, and that was frightening . . .