CHAPTER 1
ACT I
SCENE 1
The setting for the following dialogue is a prison cell. Thecell is barely furnished with a bed which resembles an armycot, one wooden straight-backed chair, and a simple woodentable measuring three-by-four feet. On the table is a metalcontainer about the size of a fishing tackle box providedfor the inmate's valuables. A bare light bulb hangs fromthe center of the ceiling. This is the only light in the cell.A commode and an adjacent sink protrude from the backstone wall of the cell. High up in this wall, nearly abuttingon the ceiling, is a window about a foot long and six incheswide. The two sides of this fifteen-feet-or-so deep cell arecement walls extending about waist high topped by a rowof black iron bars set about three inches apart. On the rightside of this cell as one faces it is a similar cell. The frontof each of these twin cells is a barred wall about seven oreight feet wide containing a door which opens on a long,bare corridor. Both of the men speaking are middle-aged.Thomas, the inmate, is dressed in a gray jumpsuit with awhite t-shirt, the regulation prison garb, and the priest iswearing a black suit with black shirt and a white clericalcollar.
THOMAS: No, not even now, Father. Though I may have to spendthe next fifteen years, for all I know the rest of my life,in this pen, I've no regrets for what I've done, for while Idid it I was alive, alive as most men never are, can't evenunderstand.
PRIEST: But Thomas, what about the life to come? The life afterdeath? Should this not be a concern?
THOMAS: Oh give me a break, Father! What do you really knowabout what happens to us when we die? How do youknow anything happens at all? And in the mean timewe're living now, in a world we can see, feel and touch!
PRIEST: My faith assures me our souls don't die, Thomas. Theylive eternally, either with the Lord, in Paradise, or inHell, without him.
THOMAS: Yes, yes. So I've heard. With all due respect, Father, tome your faith is nothing but a fairy tale.
PRIEST: But isn't it wise to be prudent? In the possibility thatwhat you call a fairy tale is fact, indeed, is the truth?
THOMAS: So that I don't find myself in hellfire and brimstone, inagony, forever, you mean?
PRIEST: Well, yes, to put it crudely. I'd say there is no greaterpunishment than that of being condemned to eternalseparation from the Almighty Creator, our loving Father,the author of all life. Such separation would be agony,for me.
THOMAS: You mean the same "loving Father" who created death?
PRIEST: After a moment's hesitation, during which time he isobviously flustered, the priest responds. But he also createdlife, your life, Thomas. And as creatures born to sin,death is our natural, our fitting and proper end. Death isnot evil.
THOMAS: Oh really? You really believe that? Forgive me onceagain, Father, but I think you're missing something bighere. Do you think for one minute that with no deathyou'd have a job?
PRIEST: Flustered yet again, the priest nevertheless composes himselfsufficiently to ask, What do you mean?
THOMAS: I mean that the only reason people go to church anddrop their offerings in the basket, and ask you to forgivetheir sins, and cry at funerals is because people knowthey're going to die; they know death is real. And peoplegenerally don't want to admit that, for all we reallyknow, death is final. The end. Kaput!
As he speaks this last statement, Thomas makes a motionwith his right hand and forefinger as if to slit his throat.Then, under the influence of his strong emotion, Thomasstands, turns around so that his back is now facing thepriest, and leans his forehead against the cement rear wallof his cell.
PRIEST: But, Thomas, my son, as you yourself say, "for all weknow." Is there not, at least, the possibility of life eternal?
THOMAS: Thomas speaks without turning around. Have you everbeen to Disneyland, Father? Or to Orlando?
PRIEST: Why, yes. I've taken several youth groups to Disneylandin past years. Just this past summer, I led a group ofmiddle school children on a weekend trip. But why?Why do you ask?
THOMAS: Oh, I don't know. Thomas rocks his foreheadback-and-forth on the wall as he remains slouched overand not looking at his auditor. It just struck me. What if,let's just say, all the power along the Pacific coast, fromSeattle to San Diego, suddenly went out. For days. Sothat even the back-up generators eventually quit. Withno end to the power failure in sight. What wouldhappen to Disneyland then?
PRIEST: I don't see the relevance, Thomas. I don't see howDisneyland and eternity with the Lord are related.
THOMAS: With this, Thomas straightens abruptly and, standing erect,turns around to face the priest. Oh, come on, Peter! Youmean to tell me you don't have imagination sufficientto wonder whether your Heaven is nothing but aDisneyland in the sky?
PRIEST: The priest grows suddenly stern, even hostile, in manner.While we knew each other as high school kids, Thomas,I don't think your familiarity is appropriate. And sin is aserious matter. Especially the kind of sin of which youare guilty. Profiting from the exploitation of young men!Engaging in a sexual relationship with a minor!
THOMAS: He was fucking seventeen, your highness! He wantedme. And I was fond of him. I still am. Very fond, as Ihope he understands. And all these so-called exploitedyoung men knew what they were doing and werewilling, even happy to be doing it. You may call that sin.I, for one, don't see it that way. And though you werea senior in high school when I was a sophomore someforty years ago, that hardly makes me your son or youmy father.
PRIEST: Ignoring what he considers an insult, he continues, Manywould agree with me that your actions were obscene. Asyour language is. Your obscene actions are, after all, thereason you're occupying this cell in the first place.
THOMAS: Nothing is more obscene than death, your highness.And death is not of man's devising. Certainly, I had nosay in the matter. What, then, does that make of thisgod in whom you profess to have such faith? You, andbillions of other scared and brain-washed sheep. And,for that matter, of this god's laws? Am I supposed totremble in fear of these laws which attempt to stifle thevery life you say this god created? Is this god of yoursa sadist? Does he enjoy setting humanity up? Trickingmen into breaking his laws so he can have the pleasureof watching them burn in Hell for all eternity?
PRIEST: Obviously shaken by Thomas' harangue, the priest saysquietly, looking through the bars at the front of the cell intothe quiet corridor beyond, God expects us to love oneanother, as he loves us.
THOMAS: You know, you make me almost want to puke. I canalmost feel sorry for you, Peter. No loving father I knowof would condemn his son—or his daughter—to aneternity of agony for breaking any law, let alone the lawsI'm accused of having broken.
PRIEST: Even in school, Thomas, I was a senior when you were asophomore. And at this time I am your spiritual advisor.I think it would be appropriate of you to address meaccordingly.
THOMAS: You mean out of love? I should call you "Father" out oflove? Because I love you? Or is it you who love me? You,the spiritual advisor advising me on the love of the greatgod who created death?
PRIEST: The priest now rises. It appears my visit today is over.There is nothing more to discuss.
THOMAS: The guard hasn't come to tell us your time with me isup. You mean, in other words, that you don't want todiscuss my sins and the love of your great god. You don'tgive a damn how I feel, whether I want to continuediscussing sin, and love.
PRIEST: You're a very angry man, Thomas. I think you shouldbe left alone awhile. Maybe after being alone awhile,you'll reconsider your self-righteousness, your pride,your anger. Then, turning toward the door to the cell andstaring down the hall, he calls, Guard!
THOMAS: What you mean, of course, is that maybe alone I willdespair, and in my despair, and my loneliness, and mysorrow, I'll see what you might call "the light."
Guard #1 arrives and unlocks the door to the cell, allowingthe priest to exit. He does so without ever turning tolook at Thomas, and the guard locks the door again anddisappears. Thomas collapses on the side of the bed. Withhis elbows resting on his legs and his chin cupped in hishand, he stares disconsolately at the bars separating his cellfrom the currently unoccupied cell adjacent to it, seeingnothing.
SCENE 2
As this scene opens, a boy of about seventeen is sitting inthe chair in the cell adjacent to that in which Thomas isincarcerated. He is good-looking and physically fit, ofmedium build. Thomas has fallen asleep when he suddenlywakes as if startled. He sits up quickly, shaking his head.
THOMAS: I must have been dreaming ...
KYLE: No, you weren't dreaming.
THOMAS: Kyle! What are you doing here? How did you get in? I'mnot allowed any visitors but for my spiritual advisor andmy lawyer.
KYLE: Oh, they don't know I'm here.
THOMAS: But what if the guard sees you? You'll be in trouble.
KYLE: He won't see me! Relax! Besides, I'm already in trouble. Ican handle it.
THOMAS: What kind of trouble? You mean, over me?
KYLE: Well, yeah. I guess over you. Not that you're to blame oranything, the boy adds hurriedly. I mean, I made it clearto my mother, to the cops, to anyone who asked thatyou didn't force me to do anything I didn't want to do. Itold them, you know, that I love you.
THOMAS: Hearing this, the convict rises from his bed, walks over tothe bars between himself and Kyle, and asks, "Can I have akiss?"
KYLE: Without speaking, Kyle approaches the barred wall. Heinserts his head into the narrow space between two of theblack iron rods making up the barrier, and Thomas doesthe same. They manage to touch lips. Then Kyle steps backand says, I'd ask for a hug. Then, with an impish grin onhis handsome, intelligent features, he adds, but it looks likethat's impossible just now.
THOMAS: My boy, I don't know whether to laugh or cry!
KYLE: You can do either, but wouldn't it be better to talk whilewe can? We can at least hold hands while we talk, right?
THOMAS: The convict grasps the boy's hands in his and declares,Always so sensible, even now!
KYLE: You know, in some ways "now" isn't so much differentfrom "before," is it? I mean, of course, you're literallyin a cage as you weren't before the authorities did theirdirty work, but even before, even now, aren't we bothin a cage, metaphorically I mean? Isn't everyone, exceptmost men are too stupid to realize it.
THOMAS: I'm the one who is supposed to be philosophical, youngman. Not you. And I admit, it's sometimes hard to bephilosophical. Now is one of those times.
KYLE: But now is when you most have to be philosophical,Tom! And remember, the truth is always the truth,whether times are good—or bad, like they are now.
THOMAS: The man feels the boys suddenly clutch and squeeze hishands. You're right, you're right, Kyle. Of course Iunderstand. It's just that, since death is the truth andthe world is a cage and we all have only so much timeanyway, well, I enjoyed spending time as a relatively freeman, with you.
KYLE: The boy looks earnestly into the man's eyes, and says quietly,You know, I'm almost eighteen. I'll be eighteen in lessthan a month.
THOMAS: Yeah, and then what?
KYLE: I mean, I won't be what the law calls "a minor" anylonger.
THOMAS: Yes? And just how is this relevant to me, now?
KYLE: Well, for one, I won't have to visit you like this. Youknow, imaginatively. I can visit you like an adult.During the prison's regular visiting hours.
THOMAS: But those visits don't occur privately. There'll be a glasswindow between us and we'll be sitting in a communalarea.
KYLE: So what are you saying, Tom? the boy asks, his voicebeginning to rise. Should I not visit you? Don't you wantto see me?
THOMAS: Oh, no, no, no, no! That's not it at all, dear boy. Tearsbegin to well-up in the man's eyes and his grip on the boy'shands grows tighter. I guess I was just regretting the lossof my freedom, of our freedom. Of course I want you tovisit! But at least now, here, we have some privacy ... aslong as the guard minds his own business.
KYLE: Golly, Tom! Sometimes you are so silly! The guard won'tbother us because he can't see me, and I can visit you asI am now any time you really want me to. I'm alwaysready, always willing. You oughta know that by thistime. I didn't cooperate with the idiots and goons whodid this to you, who consigned you to this hole, did I?
THOMAS: No, you didn't. You were an inspiration to me, youknow that, right?
KYLE: Ah, come on! Me? A kid? I was just being honest.I was just being true to me, to who I am. And toyou, of course, because I love you. Kyle speaks withself-deprecation, but he is moved nonetheless by the man'sdeclaration.
THOMAS: You may not realize it, good man, but you're someamazing kid. And I worry about you some, even now,mired though I am in my own misery.
KYLE: What do you worry about me, for? Ain't I always takencare of myself? Some of the guys accused me of playingyou for some sort of sugar daddy, but you know Iwasn't ... not that I wasn't grateful for your generosity.He smiles, an impish grin lighting up his features.
THOMAS: No, not that. That was one of the qualities about youthat made it possible for me to take you seriously, tolove you. Your independent spirit, I mean. But if you'regoing to be able to take care of yourself you have to havea job. You're going to have bills to pay, especially if yourmother kicks you out of the house, which I'm sure shewill if she finds you visiting me in prison. And whatabout your education? Are you going to graduate fromhigh school?
KYLE: Nah, I won't be graduating with my class.
THOMAS: In concern, the man asks, Why not?
KYLE: It's no big deal, Tom! Don't go gettin' all worried. It'sjust that, well, you know how kids can be, how peoplecan be.
THOMAS: Yeah, I know, but tell me anyway. Does this havesomething to do with me, with us?
KYLE: Well, yeah. People read the newspapers, and man, youwere big time news there for a while ... I can still seethe headlines: "Local Entrepreneur Charged withAssaulting Minors"; "Thomas Wright's Web Site CalledObscene"; "Local Boy Admits to Love Affair with SexOffender."
THOMAS: But your name was never mentioned in thosereports because you were a minor. And I'm sure yourmother didn't let the neighbors know her son was the"anonymous boy"!
KYLE: Inquiring minds have a way of figuring things out,Tom, and even school kids have inquiring minds whenit comes to matters sexual. Besides, we'd been spottedtogether a few times, and some kids put two and twotogether. And I'm not a liar. Nor was I apologizing foranything.
THOMAS: I see ... so walking the halls and sitting in theclassrooms of Hall High became intolerable.
KYLE: Yeah, that's a nice way to sum it up. It's kind of hard tostudy, to concentrate, when people openly call you "fagboy" and "fudge-packer" and "queer bird." Or simplyturn away from you, or stare at you and snicker. Or leantheir heads together in the cafeteria, or the classroom,whispering, staring at you and laughing.
THOMAS: I'm sorry. And, of course, I'm proud of you.
KYLE: Ah, it's nothing, the boy says, shrugging his shoulders.What are you going to do? Human nature is humannature.
THOMAS: And it's pretty damn ugly sometimes.
KYLE: But that's just the way it is. Some people love. Mostpeople hate.
THOMAS: In their ignorance and fear. So what are you doing now?Does your mother know? he asks, returning abruptly tothe original subject of discussion.
KYLE: Yeah, she knows. But she's not too upset, as long as Ikeep myself occupied, as she says, "in a productive way."My mom's really big on productivity, the boy commentsin a mildly sarcastic tone.
THOMAS: That's not such a bad trait, son.
KYLE: I know.
THOMAS: So you are productive? Are you still working at themarket?
KYLE: Yes, only now I'm working pretty much full time.And I've just gotten a raise, my third since I startedworking there when I was sixteen. My management hasnow trained me to work the registers, but my primaryresponsibility is still the produce. I like that better thandealing with the public at the checkout counter.
THOMAS: Do you ever get any grief about, you know, being the"anonymous boy"?
KYLE: No, not much. Every once in a while I'll see someonewhispering and pointing at me, usually some schoolchick with a friend, or her mother, but I just ignore that.It's easy when you're working.
