Belleville Page 4

  AMINA: I understand.

  ZACK: Oh. We’ve always spoken French before.

  AMINA: Because you needed to practice.

  (Zack laughs, but she wasn’t joking.)

  ZACK (Lightly): Guys, seriously, get out of here, I feel like an asshole, it’s three in the / morning—

  ALIOUNE: What were you doing in our apartment, man?

  ZACK: Uhhhhhhh, right. Yes, I do owe you an apology about that.

  That . . . was . . . totally my bad . . .

  ALIOUNE: Please, no lies.

  ZACK: I’m telling you, man, I was, it’s embarrassing. I’m humiliated. I was looking for weed. I’m out. So.

  AMINA: C’est quoi?

  ALIOUNE: / Rien.

  ZACK (French accent): Marijuana.

  (Alioune shoots Zack a frantic look.)

  AMINA: What?

  ALIOUNE: You know I do not do that.

  ZACK (Backtracking): No, I know, which was another reason it was so incredibly stupid.

  AMINA (Seeing through this): Je vais te tuer. Et tu le garde à la maison? Avec les enfants?

  ALIOUNE: C’est pas vrai!

  AMINA: Oh, ouais . . .

  ZACK: No, he’s—I’m—that was. Shit.

  AMINA: Yes. Shit.

  ALIOUNE: You have a problem. You think you deserve whatever you want, when you want it.

  ZACK: No, I—

  ALIOUNE: You think you can just take from others.

  ZACK: I don’t think that. I realize I have totally fucked up with you, with both of you, on a number of / counts—

  AMINA: Yes, I think this is a fair, euh—

  ZACK: Assessment, right, and you’re furious at me, and I get that, but I swear to you that I have total respect for / you—

  ALIOUNE: Ha!

  ZACK: No, come on, man, I do, and I know I haven’t deserved your patience, or your kindness—

  AMINA: You could have hurt my children.

  ZACK: I would never hurt your children.

  AMINA: You come inside our home, it’s the middle of the night, you are crazy.

  ZACK: I would never, ever, in a million years hurt your children.

  ALIOUNE: The problem, it’s we don’t know you. I thought I knew you.

  ZACK: You do know me, let’s not be melodramatic.

  AMINA: Melodramatic? You break into our house to find drugs, we come upstairs, your wife is covered in blood, she has fallen in her, euh, her sick, you owe four months rent and you lied to us about where you work, sorry we are so melodramatic.

  ALIOUNE: Okay, Amina.

  AMINA: Okay what Amina, somebody has to say. The number you gave as a reference, at Médecins Sans Frontières, it does not exist, so what else have / you lied about?

  ZACK: What number—what?

  ALIOUNE: Don’t pretend.

  ZACK: Did I—make a mistake on one of the forms? I’ll get you the right number, I’ll get it / right now.

  ALIOUNE: Bullshit.

  AMINA: Maybe, maybe you made a mistake, but the point is, with everything else, we don’t know. It can’t work like this, where we can’t trust you, so you have to go.

  ZACK: I’m working on getting you all the money I owe. Alioune said I have until Friday.

  ALIOUNE: Yes, by tomorrow you have to pay.

  AMINA: And then you have to leave.

  (Zack looks at Alioune in disbelief.)

  Or maybe you would like to explain to the police why you broke into our apartment. If you prefer, we can call them in the morning. What do you think, Alioune?

  ALIOUNE: If Zack prefers, we can call them right now.

  AMINA: Okay. So you will let us know.

  (Through the monitor, we hear a baby fuss slightly—a few cries, then he is quiet again.)

  ALIOUNE: Tu veux déscendre?

  (Amina listens a few more beats.)

  AMINA: Non, il dort, ça va.

  (Zack has finished cleaning the floor. He picks up the bloody knife. Amina flinches.)

  ALIOUNE: Hey, what are you—

  ZACK: I’m just gonna—whoa, I’m going to the kitchen. To clean it. Okay with you guys? Jesus, I’m behind on the rent, because you people fucking gouged me for this place, I’m not a psychopath.

  (He exits. Alioune and Amina speak quietly.)

  AMINA: Qu’est-ce que tu penses?

  ALIOUNE: Merde, je suis fatigué.

  AMINA: Ouais, moi aussi, mais . . .

  ALIOUNE: Allons-y, nous pouvons décider demain.

  AMINA: Mais . . .

  ALIOUNE: Quoi?

  AMINA: Abigail. J’ai peur de la laisser avec lui.

  ALIOUNE: Non non, il n’est pas dangereux. Il est stupide, il est menteur, mais il n’est pas dangereux.

  AMINA: Tu es sur?

  ALIOUNE: Il l’adore. Allons-y.

  (Zack reenters.)

  ZACK: So . . . I was gonna go to bed. If I may have permission.

  Got a lot to do tomorrow.

  ALIOUNE: Listen, I don’t . . . I don’t want to call the police—

  ZACK: I hope you won’t, man, I’m doing my best. And I really thought we were friends.

  AMINA: Well that’s what Alioune thinks, he think so too, you have no idea, he is so / upset—

  ALIOUNE: Amina, ça va.

  AMINA: You have embarrassed him, it is a shame.

  (Amina exits. Alioune begins to follow.)

  ZACK: Alioune. (Alioune stops) I’m sorry. We’ll be gone tomorrow. We won’t be a problem for you anymore. (Alioune looks at him) I need to talk to Abby. I need to . . . I need to talk to my wife.

  (Alioune exits. Zack doesn’t move for quite a few seconds. He goes into the bedroom, opening the door very quietly. After a few moments he emerges, closing the door softly behind him. He gets his coat and keys and leaves through the front door.

  Several moments pass. Through the monitor—which Alioune and Amina have forgotten—we hear the baby begin to cry. The cries are relatively quiet and sparse at first, but soon it grows into full-blown wailing. Abby stumbles in from the bedroom, disoriented, ill. She can’t place the sound of the infant crying.)

  ABBY: Homey?

  (On the monitor, we hear Amina’s voice.)

  AMINA (Offstage, through the monitor): Shhhhhhh, nous sommes là. Ça va, ça va, Maman est là.

  (The baby continues to wail.)

  Scene Five

  The next morning. Abby is lying on the couch with a pillow over her head. The sound of a key in the lock. Zack enters with coffee and pastries and a shopping bag.

  ZACK: Bon matin, chérie!

  ABBY (Groggy, disoriented): Oh, God.

  ZACK: Don’t try to talk yet, drink this.

  (He gives her the coffee. She drinks it. She squints up at him.)

  More.

  (She obeys.)

  A little better?

  ABBY: Not yet.

  ZACK: You have not been so drunk since college, my little buddy.

  ABBY: I fucked up.

  ZACK: You feel nauseous?

  ABBY: Yeah.

  ZACK: You gonna puke again?

  ABBY: I don’t think s—did I puke?

  ZACK: Twice. Once out, once here.

  ABBY: Oh no.

  ZACK: You don’t remember?

  (She shakes her head.)

  So you don’t remember . . . anything?

  (She shakes her head again.)

  ABBY: Oh wait. I remember a baby.

  ZACK: A baby?

  ABBY: I dreamed there was a baby here. I was confused, I thought it was my sister’s. I thought my sister’s baby had died and that way it made sense that it was in here screaming. Oh fuck!

  ZACK: What?

  ABBY: What time is it? Has she had the baby?

  ZACK: I talked to your dad about an hour ago, he said her contractions were about five minutes apart, it’s still gonna be a little while.

  ABBY: I should call him.

  ZACK: You should keep drinking that coffee until you’re a little clearer in the old noggin.


  ABBY: Did he say how Meg’s doing?

  ZACK: Her blood pressure’s down a little, everything’s looking good.

  ABBY: Oh good. I’m so glad that wasn’t her ghost baby.

  ZACK: That must have been somebody else’s ghost baby.

  (Brief pause.)

  ABBY: Did I dance on a table last night?

  ZACK: You did.

  ABBY: In that busted old hoodie?

  ZACK: Yup.

  ABBY: Classy.

  ZACK: It was adorable. You had many admirers.

  ABBY: Why did you let me drink so much?

  ZACK: I tried to stop you. You were not happy about it.

  ABBY: No?

  ZACK: You said I was controlling and that your identity had been totally subsumed by me and that you don’t know who you are anymore.

  (Pause.)

  ABBY: Yikes. Sorry.

  ZACK: I tried not to take it personally.

  ABBY: Good. That was super shitty, sorry.

  (He smiles at her: “it hurts, but it’s okay.” He lifts a very small Christmas tree out of a shopping bag and places it on the table. Abby is delighted.)

  Homey! Look what you did!

  ZACK: You like it?

  ABBY: Because we won’t be at my family’s, it’s our first grown-up Christmas, with our own teeny tiny Christmas tree!

  ZACK: I was raised to believe it’s not the size of the tree that matters.

  ABBY: It’s perfect, it’s the right size, for our first tree. It’s a starter tree. When I feel better I’ll go out and get little baby miniature ornaments.

  ZACK: Now I’m actually starting to feel self-conscious about the size of / this tree.

  ABBY: No, I love it. I love it. (A warm moment) We just have to find very small presents to put und—I’m kidding! I’m kidding!

  Oh, homey, I just got excited for Christmas.

  ZACK: Good.

  (He smiles, uneasily, but with a lot of love.)

  ABBY: What time is it?

  ZACK (Getting the pastries out): Um . . . almost ten?

  ABBY: Almost—why aren’t you at work?

  ZACK: Eat this.

  ABBY: I can’t eat that. I can’t eat that there’s chocolate in it I’m gonna yak get it away from me.

  ZACK: O-kay.

  ABBY: Don’t you have a staff meeting?

  ZACK: I couldn’t leave you alone with your hangover.

  ABBY: Did you call in sick?

  ZACK: It’s the holidays, everyone’s taking it easy.

  ABBY: Zack. Did you call Brigitte?

  ZACK: Yes! I just, I wanted to spend the day with you. Okay?

  (He kisses her.)

  ABBY: Do I have puke breath?

  ZACK: Little bit.

  (He kisses her again.)

  I love you.

  ABBY: You too. Hey, you okay?

  (A knock at the door. Zack puts a finger to his lips.)

  What?

  ZACK: Shh.

  (He shakes his head.)

  ABBY: Why are you—?

  (There is another knock.)

  Homey, I’m gonna get it.

  ZACK: N-n-n-n-n-no.

  AMINA (Offstage): Excuse me, I hear you, can you please open the door?

  (Abby breaks free of Zack’s grasp and goes for the door.)

  ABBY (Having forgotten about her toe): Ow! Fuck.

  (Another knock.)

  I’m coming!

  (She hobbles to the door. Zack stays where he is, frozen.)

  Hi! Uh, bonjour, hi!

  (Pause.)

  AMINA: I just come for . . . I leave my, I don’t know the English word. The . . . l’interphone?

  ABBY: The . . .?

  AMINA (With an exaggerated American accent): The interphone?

  The, euh, speaker, I can hear the baby.

  ABBY: Oh . . . the (Something dawns on her) Oh. Oh oh oh oh oh.

  Hang on. Come in.

  (She thinks, hard.)

  I think . . .

  (She limps off to the bathroom. Amina and Zack don’t look at each other.)

  (Offstage) Uh-oh.

  (Abby reenters, bearing the baby monitor in several pieces.)

  I’m so sorry. I remember taking it into the bathroom so that I wouldn’t hear it, and then I could still hear it . . .

  AMINA: I see.

  ABBY: I was just trying to take the battery out, I didn’t mean / to—

  AMINA: Never mind.

  (She begins to exit.)

  ABBY: Amina—

  (She stops.)

  I’m so sorry. Of course we’ll replace it.

  (Something like a snort/laugh escapes Amina. Abby looks at Zack, who doesn’t look at her.)

  You know, the crying went on for a really long time.

  AMINA: Yes, well, the baby is sick. He has a big fever.

  ABBY: Oh no. Is he okay?

  AMINA: No, I just tell you, he is sick.

  (Pause.)

  ABBY: I’m really sorry. I don’t know what else to say.

  (Amina exits.)

  What the fuck was that?

  ZACK: I don’t know.

  ABBY: She hates me, why does she / hate me?

  ZACK: Nah, she’s worried about the baby.

  ABBY: I’m gonna feel horrible about that for so long. I’m gonna be like, what’s that horrible feeling in the pit of my—oh, right, Amina despises me.

  ZACK: She’s just in a shitty mood.

  ABBY: I’m sure there was an off button on that thing. I was so wasted, I guess I couldn’t / find it.

  ZACK: Hey.

  ABBY: She’s right, it’s totally inexcusable behavior, I’m so embarrassed.

  ZACK: She’s the one who left it here, she should be apologizing to you.

  (Pause.)

  ABBY: She was here last night?

  ZACK: Oh. You don’t remember?

  ABBY: No.

  ZACK: They came up for a nightcap.

  ABBY: We must’ve gotten home really late.

  ZACK: Yeah, but they were up, because of the baby, so they came up for a drink.

  ABBY: They left their sick baby downstairs and came up for a drink?

  ZACK: No you’re right, the baby wasn’t sick yet, I’m not sure why they were up, but they heard us coming in . . . I was a little tipsy myself.

  (Brief pause.)

  ABBY: But they don’t drink.

  (Brief pause.)

  ZACK: I was just using that expression, they didn’t actually drink.

  (Pause.)

  ABBY: What’s going on?

  ZACK: What do you mean?

  ABBY: I don’t know, what do I mean?

  (Pause.)

  ZACK: I don’t know.

  (Long pause.)

  ABBY: Homey? What’s happening?

  ZACK: I want to have a really good day with you today. Can we do that?

  ABBY: I’m not sure.

  ZACK: I need that from you, I need a few hours.

  ABBY: And then what’s gonna happen?

  ZACK: Can we not talk about that yet?

  ABBY: Really? You’re really asking me that?

  ZACK: Yeah.

  ABBY: Uhhhhhh—

  ZACK: Please.

  ABBY: Oh, man. You look so scared.

  (He tries to smile but the result is grotesque. Abby backs away from him. A long pause as it becomes increasingly impossible to deny what’s about to happen. He takes a step toward her, she takes a step back.)

  I’m gonna take a bath. I think I’d feel better if I took a bath, I’m so hungover I don’t know what’s what.

  ZACK: Okay.

  (She limps to the bathroom. She stops at the door.)

  ABBY: Can I have my phone?

  ZACK: You’re gonna make phone calls from the bath?

  ABBY: In case my dad calls.

  ZACK: If he calls I’ll bring it to you.

  (Pause. Abby goes into the bathroom and closes the door. The water runs.

  Zack takes a small bag of pot out
of his pocket. He packs a bowl, opens the window, and smokes.

  About a minute passes. The running water stops. Zack puts the pipe and pot away. He closes the window gingerly, as quietly as possible. He walks quietly to the bathroom door and listens.

  Pause.)

  You okay in there?

  (He knocks gently.)

  Abby? You okay?

  ABBY (Offstage, faintly): I’m fine.

  (He lingers by the door.)

  ZACK: Can I come in and look at that toe?

  (She doesn’t answer. He tries the door.)

  Homey, you locked the door.

  (Pause. He knocks again.)

  Can you open the door for me?

  ABBY (Offstage, tearfully): I need a few minutes to myself.

  (Pause.)

  ZACK: I was walking around this morning, I was thinking about when you proposed to me.

  I was scared out of my mind, I was . . . twenty-two? I wasn’t ready to get married.

  But I was also like, don’t be an idiot, Zack, you’re winning the lottery here, this is not gonna happen twice.

  (Pause.)

  Sometimes I worry that you wish I had said no, or said not yet, at least. Because I knew it was just because of your mom, and maybe you wanted me to be the mature one, to put on the brakes. Maybe if I was less selfish I would have done that.

  (Pause.)

  Is that what you think?

  (Pause.)

  Homey, now I’m getting really worried, can you please open the door? Or at least tell me you’re okay?

  (No sound from inside. He tries the door again. He jiggles it. He thrusts his shoulder against it.)

  Fuck.

  (He takes a few steps back and charges the door, which gives. He goes into the bathroom. He yells in alarm. The sound of frantic splashing and struggle goes on for several seconds, then Abby gasping.)

  ABBY (Offstage): No!

  (The sound of slipping and falling. The sound of glass shattering. A loud “thunk.”)

  ZACK (Offstage): Fuck!

  (Zack enters carrying Abby, naked and dripping. They both have significant amounts of blood on them.)

  Okay, baby. Okay, okay, baby.

  (She is still catching her breath. He wraps her in blankets. He holds her.)

  Shhhhhh. Shhhhhhhhh.

  You can’t do that to me.

  ABBY (Shivering): I’m fine, I was just holding my breath underwater because I didn’t want to hear what you were saying.

  (Using whatever is handy, he attempts to clean the blood off both of them.)

  ZACK: You’re okay. It’s a lot of blood, but these are just little cuts. Do you feel dizzy?

  ABBY: No.

  ZACK: You’re okay.

  ABBY: You’re . . .

  ZACK: What?