Characters:

• Tilly
• James
• Marlowe
• Boy

J: Quick Marlowe, we’ve got to hide ‘er.

M: In the shed, James, it’s dark in the shed!

J: How many bullets did she get again?

M: She’s got two in ‘er left arm, an’ one stuck right there in ‘er left hip.

J: Oh man… You’re not gonna believe this, but it looks like a bunch o’ spiders been crawling ’round those holes.

M: What? You mean the bullet holes?

J: ‘Course I do. Hey, turn on the lights, Marlowe.

M: No way! James, You getting mean on me? You want the other ladies to see?

J: Right, can’t risk that. We should get ‘er to the shed.

-In The Shed-

J: Ok let’s set ‘er on that heap o’ rags over there.

M: Isn’t it kind of rough for a young lady?

J: She’ll be all right once she gets used to it. Say, look at that barrel in the other corner.

M: Well, well, there’s a BOY in there!

J: Is that what it is? Are you sure?

M: Positive. See its eyes poking out? You can tell those are a boy’s eyes.

J: Yeah, guess you’re right. What do you wanna do about it?

M: Well see, I think its already seen her.

J: Maybe we should leave it then… I mean she’s already in the corner there, you know, on the… [stops abruptly because Marlowe has interrupted]

M: Yeah, fine James, let’s go all right? [with a sense of urgency]

-Still In The Shed, But J & M Have Now Left-

[boy slowly climbs out of the barrel. He walks toward her, bent over as if approaching a possibly dangerous animal.]

B: Hey don’t be afraid, I never wear a blue shirt. Nothing new. What’s your name? [talking in the innocent voice of an early 1970s disney child actor]

T: [silent, does not move or acknowledge anything]

B: Don’t want to answer? Ok I’ll call you Tilly–might be one anyway, I dunno but I like that name. Tilly, looks like you got a few spiders crawling ’round those bullet wounds of yours. How’s ’bout if I just brush them off? Ok then, don’t be too upset.

[Boy who's been lying next to Tilly (on his right, her left) uses his left hand to brush off the bullet wounds. His fingers are lanky, they are gnarled wine glasses. On occasion a finger slips inside a wound... when this happens his whole body trembles a little - this is noticeable but not extremely obvious, it doesn't seem to displease him but he never takes advantage of the fact that he could easily do it a lot more. She remains silent and still. Rolling back to her side he finishes.]

B: ‘K, Tilly, they’re gone. Uh, Tilly, your skin’s really soft. Are you Ok Tilly?

T: [remains silent and unaffected]

[Boy holds her left hand with his right. He feels an almost imperceptible tremble from her hand. He reaches over with his left hand and gently runs a finger across the lower portion of the skin below her left eye.]

Tears form in Tilly’s eyes but that is the only noticeable change in her state. She will not look at him–if they were to make eye-contact, she’d have to commit to the reality of the moment. The rags beneath him smell a like the wax of the green race car he colored in a beloved book at the age of eleven (long time ago it seemed, and this happening only four years later). The car was probably a late ’30s model. The boy stares at Tilly for a while. He takes a quick nasal breath then rubs his nose a bit–just as quickly with his left hand. Still holding Tilly’s hand with his right, he reaches over with his left and gently places a finger on her hip wound. Taking it off again he uses the same hand to unbutton his fly and then places his hand back on the wound. We hear a very, very faint sigh escape Tilly’s lips; she is noncommittal about the entire situation. The boy looks forward and sees Marlowe and James standing in the doorway silently watching him (they’d just returned). Boy looks up at the ceiling, closes his eyes and falls asleep.

This was published here on Monday, 31 July 1995 at 23:49 and is filed under Prose. You may leave a response, or trackback from your own site.