The Other Shore (28 page)

Sleepwalker:

You say anybody does who is human.

Prostitute:

Are you saying only money can buy a woman’s love?

Sleepwalker:

You didn’t say that, you say.

Prostitute:

You don’t believe a woman can truly love someone, and that her love is not for sale?

Sleepwalker:

You say you believe in everything, including God.

Prostitute:

In fact, you don’t believe in nothing!

Sleepwalker:

This, you say, is not a bad thing. You ask her, do you believe?

Prostitute:

I only believe in money!

Tramp:

Right on! That a girl!

Prostitute:

(
Pulls the bag to her side.
) What’s inside? It’s quite heavy, let’s have a look.

Tramp:

(
Smiling.
) Take a guess.

Sleepwalker:

Not a weapon, you hope, you say.

Tramp:

I’ve never stepped out of line, I’m content with my poverty. I’d never rob or mug anybody, and I’d never steal anything.

Sleepwalker:

You say, maybe you plan to use the thing to defend yourself.

Tramp:

There’s no need. When you have nothing to lose or nothing worth robbing, why do you need that kind of stuff?

Sleepwalker:

You never know if you’ll be hit by an unexpected disaster or something, you say loudly. How do you know if someone’ll go crazy, just out of the blue like that? Or if a bullet’ll go astray, and…and who knows what else? Then you’ll surely get it! Nothing is certain in this world!

Tramp:

Everything must have a cause before it happens. There must be a reason.

Sleepwalker:

Can you be so sure that you won’t be hit by a car when you cross the road? You ask.

Tramp:

You’ve got to watch the lights. If you keep changing your mind and leap onto the road before you’re sure it’s clear, can you blame the car if you get hit? (
Smiles.
)

Sleepwalker:

You don’t even have a place to go home to, you say, maybe you, you mean you yourself, are the cause of all of this?

Tramp:

So you’re saying you’ve got a home, right? Then how come you’re still prowling the streets at this ungodly hour of the night? (
Smiles.
)

(
All is quiet, then gradually the wind starts to blow.
)

Prostitute:

(
Opens the bag
.) Hey Pa, there’s something in here.

Tramp:

Stop it! Stop it!

Prostitute:

What does it matter?

Tramp:

You can’t touch it!

Prostitute:

It wouldn’t be fulla money, would it?

Tramp:

Girl, nobody can say for sure, especially when luck crosses your path.

Prostitute:

(
Takes no heed of Tramp and fishes out a bundle of paper from the bag.
) Oh, lottery tickets.

Tramp:

If you say so.

Prostitute:

Stop fooling around. All of these are tickets people’ve thrown out, yeah?

Tramp:

But people had to buy them with money, didn’t they?

Prostitute:

Don’t pull my leg no more, old man. They’re good for nothing. Why did you pick’em up?

Tramp:

We’ve all got to work, right? We each have our own line of work. Look, those who have nothing to do, aren’t they all trying to find some job for themselves? You see, girl, my job is collecting all kinds of lottery tickets. (
Smiles.
)

Prostitute:

You just wanna find something to do when your belly’s full. Gosh, what a waste of time!

Tramp:

Oh no, don’t put it that way. There are people who’d only collect old stamps, and those who’d only collect old cars, old pocket watches, snuff-boxes and so on. Girl, this is called “to each his own.”

Prostitute:

That’s because they’ve got money to burn. Your no-good tickets, can you sell them off for money?

Tramp:

Of all the wishes people have made, tell me, how many of them have actually come true? But people still make them anyway. It’s difficult enough to live from hand to mouth and from day to day. For me, my life is sustained by my wishes, or by wine. Girl, what kind of wish have you made for yourself?

Prostitute:

Old man, I bet you don’t even know how to make a wish.

Tramp:

That’s true. Actually there’s nothing to wish for. I live by the empty wishes made by other people. That’s why I’ve been picking these waste papers for a living.

Prostitute:

Don’t preach to me like you’re God Almighty himself. I wouldn’t trust your funny business! (
Casually throws away a bundle of tickets.
)

Sleepwalker:

You say bravo! Well done! Check out his bag and see if there’s any other stuff. Go on, turn it upside down, shake them all out!

(
Bundle by bundle, Prostitute takes out the tickets from the bag and scatters them in the air.
)

Tramp:

Have you two gone nuts or something? (
Picks up the tickets hurriedly.
) I’ve spent days, even months gathering these tickets one by one, hunting for them everywhere…

Sleepwalker:

Throw them away! All of them! You shout.

Tramp:

You’ve ruined them all! (
Looks helplessly at the tickets, which have been strewn all over the ground.
)

Prostitute:

Old man, don’t you get tuckered out carrying this bag fulla crap around? (
Throws the bag away. Laughs.
)

Tramp:

That’s right, mess them up, mess them all up. You’ve both gone out of whack, haven’t you? (
Picks up the wine bottle.
)

(
Sleepwalker looks towards the doorway. Tramp picks up the bag and exits slowly
.

The wind blows harder and harder.
)

Prostitute:

(
Quietly approaches Sleepwalker.
) Shall we go too?

Sleepwalker:

Where? You say.

Prostitute:

(
Tenderly embraces him from behind. Whispers in his ear
.) How about your place?

(
Sleepwalker still has his eyes on the shadowy doorway
.

Somewhere a window slams again and again in the wind.
)

Prostitute:

(
Loudly
) What are you doing?

Sleepwalker:

Nothing, you say.

(Prostitute moves towards the doorway. She turns her head and sees that he is still staring at it.
)

Prostitute:

(
Loudly.
) What are you looking at?

Sleepwalker:

I’m not looking at anything, you say. (
Still looking at the doorway.
)

(
Prostitute approaches the door gingerly.
)

Sleepwalker:

You want to say something, but you have nothing to say. You didn’t stop her, you let her walk in there, getting closer and closer with each step. You hope that something will happen…but then again you also hope that nothing will…

(
Prostitute goes to the doorway and peeps in. Suddenly she retreats and screams. Bang! It sounds like a monotonous gunshot, or a window slammed shut by a sudden gust of wind. At the same time it appears that she trips on something, and she slowly bends down and falls into the shadow of the doorway. Immediately all lights are out
.

The sound of a tooting train rushes across the stage
.

On left stage, a soft light gradually brightens up the coach on the train. Traveller is dozing on his original seat, his head lowered, and his face not in clear view. All the other passengers have left, except for Young Woman. Wrapped in her overcoat and with her face to the wall, she is resting on the opposite side, occupying the whole bench. One of her high heels is lying on the floor. The slight vibration of a moving train is heard.
)

Act II

(
The stage gradually becomes brighter with a bluish grey light. A strong wind is blowing, scattering waste paper around. It is an extremely desolate scene. A high heel shoe is found where the woman fell
.

Sleepwalker stands motionless in front of the shoe
.)

Sleepwalker:

A shoe, (
Picking it up.
) only a shoe.

Each woman’s shoe represents a story.

A discarded shoe. When it is discarded, it is discarded, nothing more.

There has to be something fishy about a discarded woman’s shoe.

Women discard their shoes like garbage,

But a discarded woman’s shoe naturally invokes many associations,

About the woman who wore this shoe, about the shoe that the woman wore,

About the many unimaginable speculations on the woman who wore the shoe,

About the men behind the woman, who usually number more than one,

About how a certain man involved with the woman used her, manipulated her, and buried her alive.

Was it murder, or was it extortion? Suddenly you are a bit frightened—(
Immediately he puts the shoe down where it was. He walks away, but he can’t help looking back at the shoe.
) If you called the police, you’d be causing trouble for everybody, to say the least. And if you didn’t, well, you wouldn’t exactly feel right either, as if you’re guilty like the others. You were just walking on the street, you could have ignored this discarded shoe and what happened to the woman wouldn’t have concerned you at all. But you chose to pick it up and put it down, so no matter how you look at it, you are involved one way or the other. That little whore has caused you worries to no end…(
Hesitates.
)

(
Sleepwalker lifts his head. Thug appears in the doorway, holding a box.
)

Sleepwalker:

You ask, can you go now? You’ve finished what you’ve been told to do.

(
The two look at each other face to face. Thug puts the box down, his hand still tucked inside the pocket of his wind breaker.
)

Thug:

Nobody told you to kill her.

Sleepwalker:

No way you killed anybody! You say if she was killed, it was you who killed her! Your hands are clean. (
Opens his hands.
) Why would you kill her for no reason?

Thug:

It was you who pushed her in front of the gun.

Sleepwalker:

Don’t wag your tongue. What are you shifting your weight for? You say you didn’t touch her at all!

Thug:

Everybody saw you picking up her shoe!

Sleepwalker:

You picked it up, but you also put it down. You say, how could this prove anything?

Thug:

Why did you pick up her shoe?

Sleepwalker:

Just curious. It’s purely accidental. You say, there could be many, many other explanations, and they all clear you of any involvement with her.

Thug:

Why’d you have to take only her shoe and not anyone else’s?

Sleepwalker:

Anyone else? You say you’re not interested in anyone else!

Thug:

That’s it, isn’t it?

Sleepwalker:

What is it?

Thug:

The fact is: you killed her.

Sleepwalker:

Yeah? But for what reason, you ask?

Thug:

You’ve gotta ask the killer, and the killer is you!

Sleepwalker:

You say you had absolutely nothing to do with her, you didn’t even know her! You only heard something like a gunshot and she tripped and fell down.

Thug:

Who fell down?

Sleepwalker:

That whore!

Thug:

If you were not her customer, how’d you know she was a whore?

Sleepwalker:

You—who are you? Are you the police?

Thug:

(
Laughs
.) Buddy, you’re a real prick, y’know!

Sleepwalker:

You say you’re not your buddy, and you’re not anybody’s slave!

Thug:

Let’s say you’re a friend of hers. What happened was that when you were finished with her, you killed her.

Sleepwalker:

That’s only your hypothesis. Unfortunately, it’s not a fact.

Thug:

What is fact?

Sleepwalker:

A fact is something that’s real, something that’s irrefutable evidence!

Thug:

Evidence? (
Takes out a handkerchief from his shirt pocket and wraps the shoe in it
.) The shoe is evidence, complete with fingerprints. (
Stuffs the shoe into his wind breaker pocket.
)

Sleepwalker:

Don’t try laying it on others. You’re the killer! You say, accuse all you want, but you’re not the least bit scared. You won’t take this blackmailing shit!

Thug:

How come your fingers are trembling like hell, huh? Which means, my friend, you’re scared shitless, aren’t you?