Work Text:
MONOLOGUE - ONLY SCENE
[Interior of Shiv Roy and Tom Wambsgans’s House. Tailgail Party.]
[Kitchen.]
CONNOR ROY
[He is pacing around. He is not excited. He is not exactly nervous either. He is second-guessing, as he sometimes does.]
WILLA
[She sits on an armchair. She is waiting for Connor to stop second-guessing himself and decides to speak, as she often does.]
(Notes: There's a glass of wine in front of her. It’s almost untouched. We -the public- don't know if it's because she doesn’t like red wine or because Tom’s wine really tastes like wet dog. It's unimportant.)
CONNOR
[Suddenly, decided, he turns around. Then slowly, doubtful, softly, he speaks.]
"Do you think I should keep trying to be president?"
WILLA
[She opens her mouth but no words come out, just a handful of sounds that make us -the public- understand that she doesn't want to answer that, even if she has a strong opinion about it.]
"Well…"
[She puts her hands over her lap. Makes vague gestures that don't convey anything at all.]
CONNOR ROY
[He rushes to kneel in front of her. We –the public– are surprised that he does it easily, with no pain in his joints or knees difficulting the movement.]
WILLA
[She suddenly looks terrified; (Notes: She looks like she thinks Connor is going to propose to her. She, then, remembers that she is already married to him.) Then, her expression relaxes, but only a little bit.]
CONNOR ROY
"Willa, Mackens’ team offered me to be an ambassador, with Oman."
WILLA
"That’s… uh… good?"
CONNOR ROY
[He makes a gesture like he would prefer somewhere else. Somewhere else with the possibility of looking at a real nuke up close. Probably. Or at least a button that shoots nukes.]
"They’re desperate because of that little 1% that everybody kept laughing about. My little Con-stream is taking away that flux of water that can turn Mackens’ river into an ocean."
WILLA
[She makes a face like she wants to point out that rivers don’t turn into oceans. After a second of consideration, she drops the idea. It’s Connor. It’s kind of cute when he says those things. She doesn’t have the heart to correct him.]
"So…?"
CONNOR ROY
"Well… I could take that, drop out from the election, we would move to Oman. I would be officially into politics and I could later, I don’t know, climb my way up. Try again in four years."
WILLA
[She again looks like she wants to correct him and tell him ‘I don’t think that’s how it works’. ]
CONNOR ROY
[He has this over-excited expression he often wears; like a child watching a rocket launching. Hopeful. Excited. Starry-eyed.]
WILLA
[She nods. Makes a non-committal hum. Gives the attempt of a smile.]
CONNOR ROY
"Or... I could not drop. See where this goes. How it goes. Who knows. Maybe the polling is wrong. Maybe I win, and next week I’m president, and you’re my first lady."
WILLA
[Her smile isn’t bright, nor it is happy. But is soft. There’s a kind of warmth in the way she looks at him. Certain fondness. She chirps the word when she speaks.]
"Perhaps."
CONNOR ROY
[He nods. Looks to the floor. Then looks back at his wife.]
"What do you think? Because, Willa…"
[He takes her hands into his. Looks her straight in the eyes. We –the public– cannot see it so closely, but CONNOR ROY drags his thumbs over WILLA's hands, stroking them lightly; squeezes them softly. He looks at her looking for a reassuring voice.]
"Because if you tell me ‘I don’t want to go to Oman’, or you tell me ‘I don’t want you to be president, would be better for you to become an ambassador’ or ‘I think you deserve better than to Oman if you accept the offer.’ –and believe me, I think the same as you there. I asked for both Koreas– Or, if you tell me, you know, ‘I don’t know Con, I prefer somewhere… –I don’t know, something sunnier– I don’t know… ARGENTINA!"
[He says it clapping his hands like he just had an epiphany.]
"You would like Argentina, don’t you, Willa? Buenos Aires. It’s like, it’s like New York. But… uh, but-but, cheaper. You could be a play-writer there. They speak Portuguese there, right?"
[He doubts himself for a moment. Looks at the floor in consideration. He murmurs to himself.]
"I don’t speak Portuguese."
WILLA
"I think they speak Spanish."
CONNOR ROY
[He looks up just as excited as he was a moment ago. More excited. Less starry-eyed. A kid celebrating when the rocket launched and it’s currently flying up in the sky.]
"OH! Well, easier then. Hola! Adiós! Cómo está? Uhh… I took Spanish when I was in high school. Is like riding a bike, it will come back."
WILLA
[She nods with a smile that looks like the love child between a smile and a frown.]
"Sure. I’m sure it will."
CONNOR ROY
"Or… Willa… if you were to tell me, right now, ‘Don’t drop out. See where this goes.’ I will listen to you."
[He takes a deep breath. His hands shake ever so slightly. He brings Willa’s hands to his face and kisses her fingers. He keeps them there, close to his face as he releases that shaky breath, and he speaks, lower, softer, all kind and whispery]
And… Willa, if you were, right now, to say, ‘I don’t want you to be president. Just drop out.’ I’ll do it. No matter what you say. I will do it.
WILLA
[She opens her mouth in a big ‘O’ shape. She makes choked sounds. She straightens her back, and makes abortive noises and equally aborted movements that neither ends up conveying anything at all.]
"Con… Shouldn’t you… I–I don’t know, ask anybody else? Your campaign manager? Con, I don’t–"
CONNOR ROY
[He shakes his head, keeps insisting.]
"Oh! Willa! Forget that old, bloodsucker scarecrow. No. I don’t care. I’m asking you."
[He looks at her. He smiles. He squeezes her hands again. He has the look in his eyes, not of a man in love, but the one of a man that loves.]
"Willa, there’s not a single opinion in this house – in this country – that matters more to me, than yours. You say Oman, you say Buenos Aires. All in, all out. Anything, and I’ll do it. Willa, even, even if you tell me to go fuck myself right now, and throw the campaign away, I won’t, I swear, I won’t ever resent you for it."
(NOTES: The performance is stellar. CONNOR ROY has a glistening coat of moisture covering his eyes, making them shine. We –the public– believe his words.)
WILLA
[She lowers her shoulders in increments as the words settle. She knows he means it. She purses her lips, looks at their hands. She thinks. She does her best as to not cry, but tears pool in her eyes.]
(NOTES: Find a good brand of mascara that won’t smudge if she cries.)
[Suddenly, she stands up.]
"Sit down."
CONNOR ROY
[He looks perplexed at her, eyebrows high, eyes curious. He stands up carefully and slowly. His left knee pops. He sits in the recently vacated armchair. He looks up at his young wife with curious-like-a-puppy, amazed-as-a-child eyes.]
WILLA
"Do you know what a monologue is, right? Uh-uh, don’t talk."
[She says, deliberately shutting her husband when he tries to answer out loud. CONNOR ROY looks at her in amazement. Then, he nods. Then, WILLA nods.]
"Well, I’m going to give you a full monologue. So, don’t speak until I finish. Okay?"
[CONNOR ROY nods enthusiastically.]
"Alright."
[LIGHTS OUT. THE REFLECTOR TURNS ON AND SHINES EXCLUSIVELY ON WILLA.]
WILLA CONT'D
[She picks up the glass of wine. Instead of drinking, she drags her fingers up and down the stem of the glass a couple of times as she passes around the room. Then she comes to a stop in front of CONNOR ROY and takes a nervous gulp of the wine. She puts the half-filled glass of wine back on the table.]
"I wish you would have said this to me this months ago, because, if you would I would have told you: ‘Con, this is a terrible idea and you’ll be a laughing stock, I don’t think you can be president. I don’t think you will win.’ And honestly, Con, you neither. You never had a real intention to win. You knew you wouldn’t –I mean– do you even want to be president?"
[She holds her index finger in the air. Again, she stops CONNOR ROY from speaking out loud. This is her moment, she reminds him. Monologue.]
WILLA CONT’D
"If you have asked my opinion months back, I would have told you ‘You know Con, I think, instead of using this much money on this…
[She says ‘this’ making a vague gesture with her hands towards CONNOR ROY. She opens her eyes wide and makes a face like she is listening to a terrible, super controversial joke.]
… Perhaps it would be better to… take that same amount of money and invest it in something that will give you money back. Or something that at least doesn’t blow up in your face.’ "
[She furrows her brows. Looks sadly at the glass of wine. Resumes her monologue.]
"But honestly, even if you told me this, and even if I told you that. It’s us. We don’t know how to invest money in something that works. You would find a way to think of the worst investment decision in the world, and I would tell you ‘sure honey.’ I mean… Con, look at us. My play is a fiasco. Your campaign is something of a fiasco. Anything we could choose to do will probably be a fiasco.
And I know, fuck, I know they didn’t offer you Oman first. They probably offered you some shitty country that’s even shittier than Oman. Which one was it? Don’t answer. "
CONNOR ROY
[We –the public– don’t get to see him, but he smiles. It's a sad smile.]
WILLA, CONT’D
"But Con, they offered you Oman because you don’t have any shame and you kept asking for more because you’re so– you’re so–"
[She gestures widely with her arms in the air. She covers her eyes with her hands. Then combs her fingers through her hair.]
"You know they think you’re a joke, and you take yourself seriously in a joke-y way and that turns the joke on them, and now, and now–"
[THE LIGHT TURNS WARMER, A SOFT SEPIA FROM A COLD WHITE.]
WILLA CONT'D
[She smiles softly. Only a light twitch up from the corners of her mouth that starts spreading through her. She looks happy. Not like utterly happy, but more like I’m having a decent time and I can enjoy myself. She keeps talking. Her voice gets louder, her movements more frantic. She gets happier and more excited the more she speaks.]
"Now, Connor you’re not a joke. You’re here, with a fiasco of a campaign having a great time watching how they want to pluck their eyes because you’re a real threat. You saw something that you wanted and you just–you just did it! Like that! And yeah, sure, you won’t win–or… or… or perhaps you will win! Perhaps tomorrow people will think ‘Oh, Connor Roy, you know what? This election is a joke. So why not vote for him? You know, for the anecdote!’ And all the country thinks yeah, same, and all of them vote for you, and for the next four years we got to have breakfast in the White House, and–and, and I can tell you ‘Good morning Mr. President of the United States’ and you can tell me ‘Good morning Mrs. First Lady of the United States’. Of course, it’s not going to happen though – but it could!"
[WILLA sighs. She keeps speaking, but it's softer. And kinder. And sweet. And she smiles like she is twisting a knife or setting fire to the old letters of an old boyfriend that broke her heart. When she smiles she scrunches her nose.]
"But Con, when that doesn’t happen… When your stupid brother comes to you and tells you ‘You lose because you’re a fucking joke’ you can look at him in the eyes and tell him ‘Yeah Rome? If I’m such a fucking joke, and Mackens was soooo great, then why did I make him lose?’
"Fuck them, Con. Fuck them all. Fuck them. Go ahead, keep going. All in. What do I want? I don’t want Oman, and I don’t want Buenos Aires, and I don’t want you to drop out. Tomorrow I want to go and vote for my husband. Fuck them.
And you won’t win. So what? You can write a book, you know? A book about how it was to be a candidate for president. We can write a play together like you wanted! Or, I don’t know, I can write a play about you. You can write an autobiographic book, and I can write a biographic play about it. And both will be a fiasco like my play and your campaign, but it won’t matter, because you will keep having money, and we can laugh at them and we can laugh at this and keep being a fiasco together. Yes, you’re a fiasco, but you’re a fiasco that got to run for president. So who’s really the fiasco? The ones that knew they were going to lose and decided to do it anyway just for the fun of it and to chase the in-chasable dreams, or the ones that could have won but the fiascos made them lose? Fuck them Connor. Don’t drop out."
[LIGHTS RETURN TO NORMAL]
WILLA CONT'D
[Shyness returns to her in increments; the sudden burst of adrenaline starts to wear off in time with the lights. She picks up the wine glass. She doesn’t drink from it, instead, she uses it to hide her face and the cheerful but timid smile she wears.]
You can speak again.
CONNOR ROY
[He nods a couple of times. Stands up from the armchair after a moment. He grabs his wife’s arms to look at her for long moments without saying a word. Then, he hugs her.]
(NOTES: We –the public– don’t hear him CONNOR ROY when he speaks against her hair. But it doesn’t matter.]
CONNOR ROY
Thank you.
WILLA
[She moves her arms tentatively to hug him. Drops her head on his shoulder. She relaxes and hugs him back.]
Sure, Mr. President.
[CURTAINS CLOSE]