drag me back to life! You've got no right! It's my business! I can close it out if I want to. Nobody asked you! You come worming your slimy way into my death! Damn you, damn you damn you!
(Lili thrusts herself off of the table, and lurches toward the audience as though they're waiting for her on the street outside. Joan resumes her place as a statue)
Lili: Hypocrites!! By what right can they refuse my right to off myself. What law says I can't...and they can? Let me go, for Christ's sake! If somebody elects to end her claim on the nation's health care system by checking out early, it should be a felony to stop her. Look at how much I was going to save the taxpayer. It's heroic. I outta get a medal! Posthumously. We ought to set up a Hillary Rodham committee for the recruitment of suicides. Now, there's an economic strategy.
We are such frauds. We say we're a “pragmatic” society. That's the excuse we give for hating art, for building mile upon mile of esthetic vomit called suburban sprawl, fast-food strip, the mall. Well, what could be more pragmatic, scientific, empirically observable...than death? Everybody knows it's our birthright, a guaranteed Coming Attraction. And who has a better right than an American. I mean, Death is the democratic way of life!
But "No, no you can't do it that way." Ever notice how a suicide sends a tremor through everybody? Why is that? "If she can do it, then who?" Are we afraid "we" might be tempted? That an epidemic will start? The news that somebody's “done it” is like a mute condemnation of every one of us, the judgment, somehow, that we couldn't keep them happy here. Well, I say Bullroar – you didn't keep me happy here!
"No, no, no, it's a sin, stupid!" You pop a lethal dose of pills, then zip down to St what's her name's to confess and get yourself quick forgiven...for suicide?! Talk about double indemnity! What nerve!
So why is it a sin? "Because it's God's business!" He makes the plan. He decides when you die. Oh. You think God planned to hook a cadaver to a breathing, eating, defecating machine for decades on end, running up the tab by how many millions on the national health?
Did God "plan" babies should come from test tubes? And how about the non-God-made parts industry. Aren't we in a sort of challenge-the-deity sweepstakes to see how many God made parts we can do without? Start adding up the spare legs, knees, arteries, hips, heart-valves, fingers, voice boxes, faces, what's your guess? What do you guess is the maximum percentage of non-God-made parts an individual can walk around with, and still get to vote.
And "God made me in his image?" Well. God never got a clear look at this face. But there's one life principle you can't shake God loose from: that first it is, and then– (Makes the flat-line noise) Beeeeeeeeep...it isn't.
So, where does that twerp of a priest get off?! Just because I was imposing my death-throes onto his life? So what if it was cowardly of me. Selfish. I can usually find that element lurking under my finest moments – selfishness. Cause I was scared dripless if I checked out without clearing my slate sin-wise, I'd wind up someplace even worse than this. So I admit to scared, but I was not indecisive. There's nothing worse than an indecisive suicide. I mean, jump already. If you've decided it's your turn, take it, don't clog up the platform, a lot of us are still rushing to work.
But the twerp tripped me. With Joan of Arc. Talk about spectacular suicides. I used to fantasize I was her. During mass. It wasn't exactly a holy practice, but there was nothing dirty about it. Honest. I kept my hands in plain sight. I could do it all in my head.
But, I knew I'd never be Joan. We weren't anything alike. (Tries to strike the statue's pose) I mean, she, like, believed things. And I was always doubting. Doubting Lili. Maybe what we had in common was we were both always in trouble. Isolated. (Kneels before the statue) I guess what I wanted was a friend. A friend I could respect. Trust, maybe. Cause, I figured, you were so busy with your voices and all, you'd probably just let me be...who I really was.
Tomas: (Approaching, pleased) Lili! I'm glad you're here.
Lili: (Dry) Oh? Charming. That's one of us, then.
Tomas: Yes. I'm glad to see you.
Lili: You probably think I should be grateful...
Tomas: (Simply, sincerely) I wouldn't presume.
Lili: (Sharp, suspicious) Presume what?
Tomas: (Tenderly, quiet) How are you?
Lili: (Flustered) Look. I know you meant well, so...I'm sorry I caused you the trouble, but I wish you hadn't...
Tomas: Did you know you kept on talking to Joan the whole time?
Lili: Bet I called you some filthy names.
Tomas: (Enigmatically) Yes. Well...
Lili: What?
Tomas: You weren't all wrong.
Lili: (Confused) All right, I'm sorry.
Tomas: You shouldn't think you're evil, Lili.
Lili: (Quivering) I...
Tomas: You only hate yourself.
Lili: (In pain) Don't....
Tomas: It's all right, Lili.
(She begins weeping)
Tomas: It's all right.
(He reaches for her to hold her, but she avoids him)
Lili: No, it's not all right.
Tomas: You're a smart woman, Lili. And whatever your troubles are...
Lili: You'll absolve them?
Tomas: ...you aren't alone anymore.
Lili: (Startled, pause, then-- ) No thanks. I'll get my business done without you.
Tomas: But I owe you. You did me a favor.
Lili: Croaking myself in your arms? Come off it.
(Flustered, honest, Tomas opens to her)
Tomas: You had my number. I'm so stupidly...young. And you're so raw, like you've no skin at all. I let you sucker me into rage. Then I felt pure terror. I need to know these things are in me.
Lili: (Staring at him, shy) Oh. (Beat) I was useful?
Tomas: There's some reason you're alive, Lili.
Lili: Yeah. You butted in.
Tomas: You have desires. There's something you wanted to be.
Lili: Yeah. (He's touched her) Funny...when I'd almost offed myself...when I was going under, I thought I was inside Joan's vision – in a vision of Joan's.
Tomas: Ah. (Relieved at being able to joke) Maybe you were.
Lili: You're laughing at me.
Tomas: Priests don't laugh.
Lili: (Laughs, then, deciding to trust him- ) You asked me why I left the church...
Tomas: Yes.
Lili: And I said...
Tomas: (Pause) You said "I could see her white legs..."
Lili: Yes.
Tomas: "...against the red carpet."
(Pause looking at each other, then Lili speaks, both admitting and asking help– )
Lili: I don't know where that came from.
Tomas: (Pause) It's troubling you.
(Lili nods, but it’s Joan that answers Tomas)
Joan: (The statue) How did you know?
Lili: (Spinning, trying to locate the voice) Who's there?
Tomas: (To Joan) I can tell, Joan. I know you're not a bad girl.
Joan: No, Father.
Tomas: Why did you try to join the soldiers?
Lili: (Amazed, realizing what's happening) My god.
(Joan is moving out of her statue spot to join Tomas. Lili watches, breathless)
Tomas: Haven't you more to confess?
Joan: I...don't think so.
Tomas: Joan. I have a responsibility.
Joan: To my parents.
Tomas: To the whole parish, Joan. You know what's expected of you.
Joan: I've tried to be good.
Tomas: It isn't easy...growing, passing out of your girl-hood. You're becoming a woman. New responsibilities will be...
Joan: I have my own responsibilities.
Tomas: Marriage, motherhood... What we expect of you becomes more serious.
Joan: I know.
Tomas:
But I sense defiance, Joan.
Joan: It's not that. You don't understand.
Tomas: I can try.
Joan: There's something important I...have to do.
Tomas: Not with soldiers, Joan.
Joan: (Nausea) But I...
Tomas: How will your mother recover from this?
Joan: (Begins weeping) I'm sorry.
Tomas: Let me help you.
Joan: Father...remember I asked you about being a nun?
Tomas: I don't think your parents would...
Joan: It would be a wonderful life.
Tomas: Are you sure?
Joan: But too easy for me.
Tomas: Easy.
Joan: I was meant for more difficult things.
Tomas: Joan. Be careful of pride.
Joan: Our enemies are killing us, burning our fields!
Tomas: All the more reason for a young woman to...
Joan: But no one is leading! Someone has to stop this massacre!
Tomas: Joan...
Joan: God didn't give us this beautiful life, just to let it be...
Tomas: You're out of control, Joan.
Lili: (Eagerly) Yes. Tell him what you're going to do.
Joan: (Startled, hearing Lili as a voice) No.
Lili: Why not?
Joan: Because....
Lili: He'd stop you.
Joan: He doesn't need to know!
Lili: Aha.
Joan: This is between me and God.
Lili: You and God.
Joan: That's right.
Lili: Well. You're certainly not afraid of pride.
Joan: Maybe not.
Lili: But if it's God who's giving the orders...
Joan: It is.
Lili: What's to decide?
(Joan turns her head, holds for an instant, as though at last hearing something clear, then spins up and out of the confessional box)
Tomas: Joan. Joan!
(Joan has decided. She moves deliberately now, beginning the "change" dance)
Lili: You can't stop her.
Tomas: What? (Confused) Lili...
Lili: I can't stay.
Tomas: ...I...
Lili: (Drawn toward Joan) You did help me...touch something.
Tomas: Lili...
Lili: I wanted to see Joan again.
Tomas: There's so much I don't understand...
Lili: She's like a dim memory...(Taking position behind Joan) ...of a me I didn't hate.
(Tomas stays, watching the women, wide-eyed. Joan is still, in a beatified attitude, serene and lit-up with the joy of having decided to accept God's mission)
Lili: (Softly) I never thought I'd actually...get to see you.
(Joan's eyes become “present,” as though she might be hearing Lili, but she is in her own meditation, and rises happily, serenely, beginning to sway, slowly feeling the strength seep from the earth into her body, gradually, from toes on and on upwards)
Lili: I didn't know how...beautiful...being sure can be.
Joan: (Quiet, becoming full) With God in me, I can do...anything.
(Joan stands, feeling her full power, and accepting it, begins to dance, but stops suddenly, focusing on a voice she hears)
Joan: (To the voice) Yes! Of course I will.
(Happy at the idea, Joan calmly reaches to undo her dress)
Lili: (Uneasy) What are you...? Wait. What are you...doing?
(Joan stops, looks up, seems to welcome “the voice” of Lili above and in front of her, without acknowledging the flesh Lili behind her. She undresses and moves to put on a rough shirt and pants)
Lili: You don't have to do that. Don't...
Joan: It's a lot freer.
Lili: Listen, I once had this beautiful silk dress...
Joan: I can do anything in britches. Look!
Lili: It had a creamy ruffle that draped across my breast.
(Joan cavorts lightly, exploring her new physicality)
Joan: Anything. All the things that tangled me. Like climbing a tree. Or clambering over a fence. Or leaping a brook, Or chasing sheep through the woods...
Lili: This dress made me feel like a million bucks, like I couldn't be stopped, knock 'em dead every time out. And I did!
(Lili's dress, white and twirl-y, drops in on a hanger, beside them)
Joan: (Coming to rest, beginning to stroke her long hair) Or riding a horse. Before I could never, not really, not ever...really...ride a horse.
Lili: Are you listening to me?
(Joan is stroking her hair, fond of it, scared of taking the plunge, but will finally begin to cut it. Lili, aware of what's coming, and wanting to stop Joan, desperately goes on telling "the silk dress," and simultaneously yanking off her "tough"