THE BUS
Some years ago, the Old Opera House fo Charles Town, West Virginia held its annual New Playwright Contest, a regional and well-respected contest to recognize new play writers. They would receive submissions from throughout the U.S. In 2008, I submitted the following entry and took the Honorable Mention award.
THE BUS
A two character play in one act
by Clifford Kurt
CHARACTERS:
Norah: In her mid-20’s, attractive. She had hoped her boyfriend would be on this bus trip with her, but he didn’t show. She is dressed casually in jeans, a sporty tee-shirt and sneakers. Her hair is in a ponytail pulled through a baseball cap.
Tom: Mid- to late- 30’s. He’s escaping trouble back home. He is wearing khakis, an open-collared dress shirt and a sport jacket. In the front lapel pocket of his jacket is a piece of paper, tri-folded.
We open on a bare stage. There are two chairs, side-by-side, representing two seats on a Greyhound bus, slightly stage left. Tom sits in the chair at stage right, a hard-case briefcase is under his seat. Hands folded on his lap, he appears slightly nervous and ill-at-ease. Norah arrives from down stage left, and walks up the “aisle” to the two chairs.
NORAH: Excuse me, but this seems to be the next to last seat. May I?
TOM: (glances at Norah, rises, says nothing. Intent on keeping the aisle seat.)
NORAH: You’re very kind. (places backpack underneath her chair. In an affected southern drawl..,)Where-ever I go, I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.
TOM: (clears throat slightly. Smiles politely. His discomfort level has risen some.)
NORAH: So, you’re not much of a talker. Okay. (pause) How far are you going?
TOM: (Thinks, then curiously pulls a ticket from his inside jacket pocket and looks at it. To himself somewhat distractedly…) Hmm. I guess I’m going to Concord (prounounces it like the grape) New Hampshire. (returns ticket to inside jacket)
NORAH: It’s Concord (pronounces it like conquered).
TOM: (No longer distracted) What?
NORAH: You said you were going to Concord. It’s not Concord, like the grape, it’s Concord, like conquered.
TOM: Concord. Concord. Okay then, I’m going to Concord, I guess.
NORAH: (waits slightly for Tom to ask where she’s going) Well, I am going to New York. Not Yawk, as in gawk, but York, as in fork. I’m going to New York.
(long pause)
NORAH: So, why do you “guess” you’re going to Concord?
TOM: What do you mean?
NORAH: I’d guess that at least half of all travelers on any given day know where they’re going. Maybe even 60%. When I asked you where you were going, you had to look at your ticket.
TOM: (pulls out his ticket again, looks at it absently) When I bought my ticket, I told the clerk to send me wherever $273.50 would get me. I guess she chose Concord. I mean Conquered.
NORAH: So, you didn’t care where you ended up? I’ve had a few boyfriends who approached life that way, but you’re my first bus-mate to…
TOM: I already know where I’m going to end up. Where this bus takes me, it doesn’t matter.
NORAH: Ah, a Calvinist. That makes sense. You don’t look the type who would chase fate. As the good Calvinist said when he fell down the stairs – I’m glad that’s over.
TOM: I don’t know what a Calvinist is….
NORAH: Hmmm – a Calvinist. One who believes in God-ordained pre-destination. Nothing is by chance. It’s all by God’s design and plan. I’d could go on boring you with what I learned in the History of Religion correspondence course I took last summer. Become a Theologian, the matchbook cover said. Whoever brained up that idea was no Calvinist, I promise you this.
TOM: Well, I only know you can’t change destiny. I could be traveling to Conquered, New Hampshire or the Concord Winery in Napa Valley. It doesn’t really matter. I’ll still make my ultimate destination.
NORAH: So despite what Mom probably told you, you never COULD become president?
TOM: President.
NORAH: (adjusts her make-up, only slightly interested now) And what is that ultimate destination?
TOM: (snaps) How would I know? (apologetically) I mean, I’m not really sure. But I do know it’s fate accomplished.
NORAH: Fait accompli.
TOM: Pardon me?
NORAH: Never mind. I don’t know that I share your thoughts on pre-destination. I’m of the belief that you can lose your salvation. Very helpful when the plane’s taking off and landing. You should try it. Nope – no pre-destination for me. But I do know this - I’m destined to become a star. Well, maybe not destined. Determined is more like it.
TOM: (curious and amused) Is that right? A star? I guess that explains New York.
NORAH: You got it. I just got tired of living in small-town Ohio – a dirt poor town, nothing happening. So, I’m off to make something of myself. What’s the worst that could happen?
TOM: (finally relaxing) You could end up conquered in Concord?
NORAH: Or stabbed with a fork in New York.
(both laugh)
TOM: Are you an actress?
NORAH: Oh, I’m a triple threat. I act, I tell jokes…
TOM: And you philosophize.
NORAH: And…. I sing.
TOM: Really? Let’s hear it.
NORAH: (singing, brass and loudly) Start spreading the news, I’m leaving today.
TOM: I meant, tell me some jokes.
NORAH: I was trying to be funny.
TOM: (politely) Oh, I get it. (smiles)
NORAH: (sarcastically, but nicely) Just what I need - a humorless Calvinist. I’d rather have another atheist.
TOM: Another atheist?
NORAH: See that empty seat in row 6 up there? (pulls out a full ticket) That was supposed to be Rick’s seat. Do you see anyone named Rick sitting there?
TOM: Let me guess. Rick is your talent scout?
NORAH: (to herself, referring to Tom) Maybe he does have a sense of humor. No, that wouldn’t be possible.
TOM: So, why isn’t this Rick on the bus?
NORAH: I have no idea. I should really, and maybe the fact that I have no idea IS the answer.
TOM: Husband? Boyfriend?
NORAH: Boy, was he a friend all right. My boyfriend. Of 9 years. We’ve been engaged for 8 years. It took me that long to figure out he just wasn’t the marrying type. If there was ever hope for me being a Calvinist, that dashed ‘em. So one day I gave him an ultimatum. I said either we set the date or elope by August 1st, or I was leaving to pursue my dreams. Today’s August 2nd. Yesterday he said he still needed more time, so I gave him one more chance. Asked him to come to New York with me. I told him I’d buy the ticket, and meet him at the bus station. He never answered. (in an affected British accent) So, here I am, a confirmed old bachelor, and likely to remain so.
TOM: You’re not going to start singing again, are you?
NORAH: (sings a few bars from any My Fair Lady song)
TOM: I’m glad that’s over.
(long pause)
NORAH: So, what about you? Are you married?
TOM: (distantly) I was once. For three years. Then she died. A car accident. Hit by a drunk driver.
NORAH: How horrible.
TOM: She was two months pregnant. We’d just found out. We didn’t even have a chance to build a nursery. I didn’t know whether it was a boy or girl. I didn’t want to know. But sometimes now I wish I knew.
NORAH: I bet she was beautiful.
TOM: (pulls out a worn picture from his wallet) You could be standing in the Louvre, and if Mary Lou walked by, you wouldn’t know the Mona Lisa was hanging on the wall.
NORAH: Mary Lou.
TOM: She was beautiful, but her outer beauty paled in comparison to her beauty within. She was really something – one of a kind, you know? (stares at picture a while longer, puts it back into wallet and puts wallet away) I’ll see her again some day. Destiny, remember?
NORAH: To destiny.
TOM: To destiny. (they high five each other)
NORAH: To unrequited love.
TOM: To unrequited love. (another high five)
NORAH: So a man doesn’t just hop a bus to anywhere for no reason at all. Are you escaping something from within or without?
TOM: Can I tell you a secret?
NORAH: Next stop, New York. Do you think anyone there will care about your secret?
TOM: I guess it’s no big secret anyway. They already know.
NORAH: (slightly suspicious) Who are they, and what do they already know?
TOM: I was – am – a partner in a small accounting firm in Toledo. I was the sole guy for years, until things got too busy, and I brought in a new guy. A fella by the name of Dolan Shale. I eventually made him partner. He was a good accountant. Too good.
NORAH: Too good?
TOM: He got himself appointed treasurer of the Toledo chapter of People Helping Kids – it’s an organization designed to help disadvantaged kids, they do things like take needy kids to the circus or the college football games, that kind of stuff. Anyway, Dolan was on the board of directors, and as their treasurer, he asked me if our firm would handle their books gratis. I said of course. So, he would bring me their paperwork each month, and I’d prepare their financials. I didn’t look as closely as I should have. I trusted Dolan.
NORAH: Uh oh.
TOM: Uh oh is putting it mildly. Turns out Dolan was stealing lots of money from People Helping Kids. And tickets – to games, Cedar Point, water parks. To cover his tracks, he deposited stolen funds into an account with my name on it. So you see, because I was signing off on their monthly financials, and the stolen funds were going into an account in my name, I was implicated in the theft. Not Dolan, me.
NORAH: But if you’re innocent, they can’t really pin anything on you, can they?
TOM: My only hope is if Dolan comes clean. But he’s feigning ignorance. What a scam.
NORAH: So you’re left holding the bag.
TOM: So to speak. So here I go, off to New Hampshire. Hah. Conquered. How fitting.
NORAH: Just like that? You’re giving up?
TOM: I needed a clean break anyway. This was just the final straw. The job was no longer interesting or challenging. Everywhere I went in Toledo, it just reminded me of Mary Lou. My life was going nowhere. Dolan was the proverbial last straw.
NORAH: But aren’t you afraid they’ll catch you?
TOM: Oh, they probably would eventually. My destiny. Prison for several years? What a rosy future.
NORAH: Wow.
TOM: So whose grass is greener – yours or mine?
NORAH: Mmm. Well, I’ve made my decision, and I’m sticking to it. The Big Apple beckons. Still, though, I just don’t understand why Rick didn’t want to join me.
TOM: I can’t understand that, either. You have that inner quality - that unspoken appeal that men find irresistible. Just like Mary Lou.
NORAH: Irresistible? Me? Yeah, right.
TOM: And that’s what makes you most attractive – the fact that you don’t know how appealing you really are. I can sense that.
NORAH (singing): She don’t know she’s beautiful….
TOM: It’s not just about beauty. Although that clearly is there. But you’ve got a way about you that makes you instantly likeable. I hope you don’t mind my saying so, but if I were in a better frame of mind, you woulda taken my breath away.
NORAH: Oh, go on.
TOM: I think Rick is a fool to let you go to New York, eventually into the arms of another man…
NORAH: My destiny
TOM: Your destiny. Into the arms of another man who will know how to appreciate the gift that you are.
NORAH: My, how kind of you.
TOM: Why did Rick stay behind?
NORAH: That’s just it. I haven’t a clue. I really thought we had something. He was my muse. I thought we were soul mates.
TOM: Your muse?
NORAH: He inspired my poetry. Did I mention that I write poetry?
TOM: That would make you a quad threat then, right?
NORAH: Here – I wrote this poem for him just yesterday, when I asked him to come with me to New York (fishes paper out of backpack, hands it to Tom).
TOM: (reads) Come Away With Me. Hmm.
NORAH: Write what you know, I’ve been told.
TOM: (still reading)
Let’s leave tonight, just you and me
Let’s put our past behind us
A new existence, start a fresh history
We’ll free our souls by motor bus.
That’s beautiful. That’s really beautiful. How could any right-thinking man say no to this?
NORAH: I guess he was left-thinking. Or wrong-thinking. We already discussed religion. We best not broach politics.
(TOM continues to gaze at poem.)
NORAH: And that would be my stomach introducing itself. Would you care to join me for lunch? (pulls bag out of knapsack, pulls sandwich and a drink out of her bag.)
(TOM opens briefcase, pulls various items out and puts them back in as he searches. One of the items is a handgun. Finally pulls out a pack of crackers. Norah does not notice the gun.)
NORAH: (sees crackers) That’s all you have? That won’t do. (pulls another sandwich , a bag of cookies and a drink out of her backpack.) Here. Eat!
TOM: (smiling) Mmm – a three course meal. Beats a row of Ritz any day.
(together, they eat their lunches)
TOM: You know, that poem of yours – that would make a great song. Have you ever thought about putting it to music?
NORAH: The best I can do is sing. I tried to write a song once, but songwriting – that’s just not for me.
TOM: Let me have a go at it. I’ll have to think on this a bit.
(Their lunches finished, Tom reads the poem, and hums. Soon, he falls asleep. Norah spots a tri-folded piece of paper in Tom’s jacket pocket, opens it up and reads aloud)
NORAH: (Reads to herself. Her pre-recorded voice reads) To whoever finds this letter. I apologize for the work I’ve left for you. My name is Tom Rogers, from Toledo, Ohio. Please tell the Lucas County prosecutors that I am innocent of the theft of funds from People Helping Children, but since the evidence overwhelmingly implicates me, I have decided to end my life and spare the trouble of an investigation, trial and incarceration. But I go to my grave declaring once, and finally, that I am 100% innocent. Oh no!
SHE quietly pulls out his briefcase, and opens it. She finds a well-worn newspaper article. Aloud, she reads excerpts: Indictments Against Local Accountant are Latest in String of Family Troubles… Charges against Tom Markson …series of personal and legal troubles for the Markson family…. Father was stripped of his license to practice medicine, the result of misuse of prescription medicines…. Divorce….. Once one of Toledo’s most prominent families….
(She replaces the newspaper article and continues rummaging through the briefcase. She removes the revolver. She finds one bullet in a chamber, unloads it, and pockets the bullet. She quickly puts the gun back into the case, and puts the case back under the chair.)
NORAH: (Stares at Tom)
TOM: (wakes, sees Norah staring at him) Was I snoring? How long was I out?
NORAH: A good twenty minutes. And no, you didn’t snore. Your sleep seemed very restful. The sleep of a man at peace with himself?
TOM: I guess you could say I’m at peace with myself. I was never one to run away from my problems, but it seemed – I mean seems – the right thing to do. There’s a, um a calm, I guess, knowing that a lifetime of worries, fears and anxieties will soon be laid to rest. I didn’t think I’d feel so okay with just quitting like this.
NORAH: Some would say you’re quitting, others would say you’re brave to carry on amidst a sea of trouble.
TOM: Brave? Hardly. There’s no courage left in me anymore. And what for? When I was a kid, I learned to be responsible for my own happiness. It was always that way for me. So I poured myself into my marriage. Then after she died, all my energy went into my business. It gave me my sense of self. That worked for a while. Until I boarded this bus today. Talk about cowardly. But I don’t think you’d blame me if you knew what I’ve been through.
NORAH: We’ve all had our rough patches, some worse than others. But I’ve always felt a man’s true character is revealed in how he barrels through the worst of them.
TOM: Yes, but at what point can I conclude I’ve pushed hard enough and long enough against insurmountable foes? Can one man be expected to fight so much?
NORAH: I don’t think any man is allowed to decide that. I think that’s for his creator to decide. But leaving the spiritual aspect out of it, consider this. You had struggles as a child, right? I mean, we all have.
TOM: I suppose I had my share.
NORAH: I would guess you had well more than your share. But did you quit? No, you fought through them. You found the love of a fine woman and you had a wonderful marriage, cut short by tragedy, but successful.
TOM: Those years, oh those blessed beautiful few years.
NORAH: And when that ended, did you quit? No. You faced the pain and suffering and you survived. You immersed yourself in your business and became a respected, successful accountant. Your peers admired you. You won back the respect of your community, given your family’s past history. How significant was that?
TOM: Yeah, but now this – these false charges. Norah, I just don’t think I have any more fight left in me.
NORAH: Maybe you’re just tired. Tired, but not out. I see it in your eyes. I can hear it in your voice – you want to fight. There’s part of you that would never run – the idea of quitting is so foreign to that part of your soul.
TOM: I just don’t know.
NORAH: The fight won’t last forever. Look at how strong you became through your past struggles. Imagine the Tom that will come out the other side of this one.
TOM: But prison? PRISON? I can’t go to jail. That’s a battle I’m not willing to take on.
NORAH: First, consider this. You are innocent. And even if you’re wrongly convicted, you’ll just be going where God wants you to go. He won’t put anything before you that you can’t handle. Do you believe that?
TOM: I used to believe that, but I’m starting to wonder.
NORAH: A lot of men have been sent to prison for crimes they didn’t commit. They worked it out. And so can you – IF you’re convicted, and there’s no guarantee of that.
(long pause)
NORAH: Tom, if you can’t fight for yourself, fight for someone else. Maybe your Dad, maybe your Mom? Wouldn’t your Mom want you to fight for your good name? She knows you’re a good and decent man. Would she want you to run from this or stay and prove your innocence?
(long pause)
NORAH: If you run, you may never find the love of another woman. Someone very special to you – someone like your Mary Lou, who aches to share her heart with you. Whoever she is, would she want you to run? Or go to battle? Tom, that woman is a fine, decent woman, too. She wants you to fight.
(they look into each other’s eyes)
NORAH: Can you help me complete my poem?
TOM nods
NORAH: Let’s see. (Norah and Tom lean into each other. Norah writes on the back side of the suicide note) We can chase new worlds….
TOM: We’ll make new stands?
NORAH: (looks back to paper) We can chase new worlds, we’ll make new stands, (looking again into Tom’s eyes) Just dare the fates to stop us.
TOM: Life is better when shared walking hand in hand. Let’s join up our souls on a motor bus.
(Norah and Tom kiss. Tom sees the suicide note in Norah’s hands. Takes it from her and turns it over to the original writing, pulls out a pen, and marks out the suicide letter. Perhaps a tear or two falls down his face. He composes himself.)
TOM: Thank you, Norah. Thank you.
Tom turns the suicide letter over, returns to the additional lyrics, studies them a bit. He begins to hum a tune accompanying the poetry. As the two work on the tune, lights fade to black.