It’s Gavin who needs rehearsal, hear? Not me.

  [GAVIN sits on the stage, quiet]

  HARVEY

  You have matinee this afternoon, madam. You too, Gavin!

  MARYLIN

  I’ll be here. I’ll always be here.

  [She tears up the newspaper]

  If you so good, Harvey, what you doing here?

  [Exits]

  HARVEY

  She should play Medea. She’d butcher her own kids.

  The stage would be her altar.

  SHEILA

  I never read Medea.

  She’ll come back.

  HARVEY

  Think I don’t know. You too.

  SHEILA

  God, you people, eh? Why it must be so, eh, Gavin?

  [Silence]

  Gavin?

  GAVIN

  How’s Chris?

  SHEILA

  I don’t know.

  GAVIN

  Still in Barbados?

  SHEILA

  I guess.

  GAVIN

  I hear he opened a business there. A branch.

  A branch of the Nile. Yuk-yuk. That true?

  SHEILA

  You know more than me.

  [To HARVEY]

  Today, of all days. Today’s my Sabbath, you know that?

  That’s what I get for violating my Sabbath.

  GAVIN

  Violating your Sabbath? You an Adventist now?

  HARVEY

  You disappeared. I thought you were dead.

  You took leave from the office. You live

  with the Adventists? Is it the Adventists?

  SHEILA

  No, it’s a branch of the Adventists, a different sect.

  Talk about opening branches.

  GAVIN

  I miss Chris. I miss

  him beating the shit out of me at tennis.

  I shall be here on the half hour, sir.

  [Exits]

  HARVEY

  There goes the salt of the earth.

  [He picks up the torn newspaper]

  Know why I can’t leave? I couldn’t do him that.

  SHEILA

  Why did you come and disturb us, Harvey? We were

  happy. Happy and ignorant, and close.

  HARVEY

  I’m sorry I had to.

  SHEILA

  I used to have nightmares that you visited me.

  What’s all that nonsense about changing her name?

  HARVEY

  It was laughable at first, Mary LaLune.

  Oh, come on, Sheila.

  SHEILA

  God, though. She does shine.

  HARVEY

  It’s fake silver. It will fool people for a while.

  So you gone and join some crazy religious sect?

  That why you look so pale? Where are they?

  SHEILA

  It’s a pale-cream concrete church in Barataria.

  HARVEY

  You’re a sects maniac. Look, you don’t even smile.

  I just don’t get it. You suddenly disappeared.

  Why can’t you be an actress and religious?

  SHEILA

  Because I’m not young, because young people

  take time for granted; I have to save myself.

  HARVEY

  Sheila, a gift like yours should be seen by the world.

  SHEILA

  Why? Isn’t it just the opposite of what you preached?

  Didn’t you and Gavin get tired of the world,

  he with London, you with New York?

  HARVEY

  The other way around.

  Why didn’t you call us? Why didn’t you phone me

  and tell me you’d quit. In the middle of the show?

  SHEILA

  From the day you all applauded me at rehearsal,

  when the praise went, I began to hear a whispering worm.

  HARVEY

  A worm? What did it whisper?

  SHEILA

  No. It’s too vicious to repeat. Anyway,

  the worm grew wings and left me. I got thin,

  I couldn’t sleep, and you know what cured me?

  HARVEY

  What, Sheila?

  SHEILA

  One day I kept very still.

  I stayed away from work, from people. I stayed

  for hours in my bedroom with the drapes drawn,

  and listened to it whispering, on and off,

  on and off. I knew stillness might stop it.

  Then, Harvey, I knew exactly what it was.

  It was the devil. He could enter a house lizard,

  a mirror, a cat’s eyes, a horned snail on the window,

  or my own madness in a mirror; and once I knew that,

  and saw that he was Satan, that was it.

  HARVEY

  Then, Sheila, I’m the devil, because he’s right.

  SHEILA

  I’m going, Harvey. I don’t know what pulled me in here.

  HARVEY

  The devil can talk like an angel, Sheila.

  SHEILA

  I’m sure. But on the day I was called,

  I stayed there quiet, that Saturday afternoon,

  watching the wall; then from somewhere, next door,

  I heard this evangelical meeting—the voice

  wasn’t shouting, but lulling, like a river,

  as if the Nile herself had changed her voice.

  It wasn’t the Nile anymore but the river Jordan.

  The voice was Brother John’s, and the voice said,

  “Come now, come as you are; leave things exactly

  as you see them, and by whatever means you can,

  come to the Church, it’s here in Barataria,”

  and I began to cry. It wasn’t my radio,

  so the voice went on, relentlessly, like a river

  nothing could turn off. When I wept myself dry,

  I moved to the mirror, I removed my makeup,

  I made myself as plain as possible, and

  I took a taxi and went towards the voice.

  I came back home in silence and slept like death.

  But when I got up, I saw like a child again.

  Everything had mystery, love, forgiveness.

  To change our voices, that’s idolatry;

  to be someone else for money is harlotry.

  How can we be another till we find ourselves?

  And once we find ourselves, we don’t need others.

  HARVEY

  That’s the most selfish shit I ever heard.

  [SHEILA places her hand over his mouth, gently]

  SHEILA

  No, Harvey. I swear to you it isn’t.

  HARVEY

  Dress up. Get up. Let me hear that voice.

  SHEILA

  No, Harvey. I can’t go into His temple like a whore.

  HARVEY

  Does He forgive you for giving up your gift?

  I’ll close the theatre. It’ll just be the two of us.

  SHEILA

  Are you gay? Despite the ashes of Sodom,

  God forgives everything. You know that?

  HARVEY

  To hide your talent, that’s death.

  The man who hid his light under a bushel?

  SHEILA

  Maybe, but it wasn’t a spotlight.

  [HARVEY rises, goes for the costume, puts on the Cleopatra wig and crown]

  HARVEY

  You stood there. Right here. Do I look like a queen?

  Granted you didn’t have a beard.

  And you remember what happened?

  Or is it past? You forgotten?

  Boys played your part, you know.

  SHEILA

  Forgotten? I thank Him every day.

  [HARVEY removes wig and crown, puts them and the gown at her feet, then withdraws]

  HARVEY

  For me, then. For me.

  SHEILA

  No man can serve two masters.

&nbsp
; HARVEY

  [Raging] You’re not a man! But no man should have two mistresses, either, and whatever you feel now about Chris, or Christ, whatever revenge you’re taking on yourself because some damned man you screwed is married, I don’t see any reason, neither would God, why you should turn yourself into a church mouse when you could make this place a temple! You were damned right to give it up to Marylin, or Mary La-Lune, or whatever her bloody name is. Because you were not worthy!

  SHEILA

  Don’t play director with me, Harvey. You’ve done better at rehearsals. You’re so conceited you think I’m dead inside. You think I’m a zombie. I’m neither God’s zombie nor your puppet. I shouldn’t have come here.

  HARVEY

  Cock-teaser! Slut! Spiritual stripper! You came here to gloat, to see if you were still loved. You’re available, Sheila, your soul is for rent. You’re now a pietistic, egotistical shit to say “I was chosen!”

  [Silence]

  SHEILA

  Let Marylin play it. She’s passable, but she’ll pass.

  I wanted to please Shakespeare as much as Jesus.

  Besides, there’s something else you knew

  but never told me. She wasn’t black,

  she was like Marylin, Mediterranean.

  The theatre is okay for you, Harvey. You’re white.

  HARVEY

  Sheila, don’t come with that again. Oh, God.

  SHEILA

  But they were right, the stage isn’t my place.

  I stepped from it down to the congregation

  because that is what this world expects of us;

  that’s where an ambitious black woman belongs,

  either grinning and dancing and screaming how she has

  soul, or clapping and preaching and going gaga for Jesus.

  Here, or in the gospel according to Motown,

  and not up there contending with the great queens,

  ’cause the Caroni isn’t a branch of the river Nile,

  and Trinidad isn’t Egypt, except at Carnival,

  so the world sniggers when I speak her lines,

  but not in a concrete church in Barataria.

  What do you think? You think that I don’t miss her,

  the way a jug needs water? That my tongue feels parched

  sometimes, just to repeat her lines? How do you think

  it feels to carry her corpse inside my body

  the way a woman can carry a stillborn child

  inside her and still know it? Know how young she was?

  She slept inside me, my own flesh encased her

  like—what do they call it?—a sarcophagus.

  [She picks up the costume, hurls it]

  HARVEY

  Sheila, you are her now, she’s talking through you.

  SHEILA

  [Weeping]

  No, no, she’s dead. I killed her. She was killing me.

  My body was invaded by that queen.

  Her gaze made everywhere a desert.

  When I got up in the morning, when I walked to work,

  I found myself walking in pentameter;

  once, I was at a bus stop and I looked up and saw

  vultures far up, as usual, but all the hawks of Egypt

  were beating in my head. I heard my blood

  whispering like the Nile, its branches,

  instead of traffic. Harvey, I was the river,

  I saw the bird-beaked priests there, I held court

  with the hawk-headed gods, and every sunset

  was like the brass gong of twilight sending out rings

  up to the wharves of Alexandria, but I remembered

  the amber and waxed corpses, and girls who bite

  the nut of the palm and die. Egypt was my death.

  Now I’ve found a faith where I’m not important,

  and what I saw in the mirror wasn’t her,

  wasn’t even Sheila Harris, but the bride of Christ,

  so now I’m a happily married single woman.

  [Silence]

  I came here to wish you well. To congratulate you. To tell

  you not to worry about the review. I know you. I remember

  that the people who saw Him on His way to Calvary

  thought He gave a poor performance. I know how He felt.

  I’m not a Jesus freak; don’t stare at me. The easiest thing

  for them to say is, She went crazy, she took up religion. I’ve

  simply changed religions, that’s all. But take your gown and

  your crown, Harvey. Take care of the costumes, don’t fling

  them about.

  [BROTHER JOHN enters the theatre with Bible and an umbrella]

  BROTHER JOHN

  Excuse me, Sister?

  SHEILA

  I’m ready, Brother John. God bless you, Harvey, and your work.

  BROTHER JOHN

  Sister.

  SHEILA

  Yes. Harvey, bless me.

  HARVEY

  With what? For what?

  [He finds the scissors, picks them up. Enraged, he clears the stage himself]

  SCENE 4

  The church. BROTHER JOHN picks up his Bible and umbrella. SHEILA removes the flowers from the altar.

  BROTHER JOHN

  Well. Another strong testimony, Sister Sheila.

  I know how much you enjoy testimony, and

  I been observing your modesty in this church,

  but how can your humility perform for Him?

  Among good people none can be the best.

  Tha’ is natural in the theatre, but, Sister, here

  the congregation is not an audience,

  and the devout aren’t actors. Tell me,

  didn’t you hear some damned fool clap and shout “Bravo!”?

  Didn’t you?

  SHEILA

  I know, Brother.

  BROTHER JOHN

  You are a great asset to us, but ask yourself,

  has this lay church done anything for you? Do you

  observe our ceremonies out of fear, not faith,

  the fear that you won’t be any good at faith,

  as though it was another part you had to act?

  These things trouble the Elders, you understand?

  SHEILA

  Brother John, allow me to apologize.

  BROTHER JOHN

  All right,

  Brother Roberts ain’t have the car this afternoon.

  Have to walk out to the bus in this hot sun.

  [CHRIS enters, in shirt, tie, jacket]

  Yes, sir?

  CHRIS

  Excuse me, Brother. I could see Sister Sheila, please?

  BROTHER JOHN

  Is this church business? You was the fool who clap, nuh?

  CHRIS

  Yes, is church business, sort of. I was in the audience, I mean, oh, shit—excuse me—the congregation.

  [Looks heavenwards, crosses himself]

  BROTHER JOHN

  May I ask what business?

  CHRIS

  No, you may not. Excuse me, Brother. Outside too hot.

  [BROTHER JOHN exits]

  You put passion in everything and they can’t stand it.

  Marylin? I saw her. She got breasts like apples, but her

  acting is green figs. She like she should play Egypt in a

  head tie. She ain’t ripe yet. I can imagine her, not on the

  bank of the Nile, but in Chase Manhattan. But, boy, she

  floating on waves of applause. And every night her bow gets

  deeper and deeper, her nose nearly touching the stage,

  showing them the cleavage.

  SHEILA

  The woman is my friend. Leave her alone.

  CHRIS

  That wasn’t why I came here. I wrote this play.

  SHEILA

  In Barbados. Is it good?

  CHRIS

  Yes.

  SHEILA

  And how is it there?

  CHRIS
br />   Good. I blight. Everything I touch turn to gold. I opened a branch there, from sheer boredom. It’s doing well.

  SHEILA

  And your wife?

  CHRIS

  Well.

  SHEILA

  Not so withdrawn?

  CHRIS

  No.

  [Silence]

  SHEILA

  I don’t see the congregation. It’s like the theatre.

  The difference is it’s day. No spotlight moon.

  CHRIS

  I was at the back. I had to clap you. Habit, nuh?

  SHEILA

  So you’re home for good? Are you back for good?

  CHRIS

  For a while. She’s coming later. We’re sending the children

  to school there; she’ll travel back and forth. She’s very fit.

  Tanned. Lots of English people there.

  [Silence]

  I won’t come back. To disturb your peace, I mean.

  SHEILA

  Good. I’m not a freak. I don’t like being stared at.

  CHRIS

  I stare ’cause I can’t recognize you, Sheila.

  You’re like one of those girls who come to your gate

  when you’re asleep on a Saturday afternoon,

  generally accompanied by some Sister.

  Pale women, drained of any contradiction.

  You look at them and think, Christ, what a waste!

  What slavery! This is you now, Sheila? You?

  SHEILA

  Your quarrel isn’t with me. It’s with Him.

  There’s a big difference between panic and love.

  CHRIS

  Why have you emptied your life?

  SHEILA

  [Reading the title page]

  Why call it that?

  “A Branch of the Blue Nile”?

  CHRIS

  Because it ain’t mainstream, okay?

  SHEILA

  But why “Blue”?

  CHRIS

  Because white is too obvious.

  Besides, the Nile gave you the blues, Egypt.

  But it’s my act of contrition.

  I’ve put in everything that happened.

  But it’s up to you to finish it.

  I don’t know the end. It’s up to you.

  SHEILA

  You aren’t here to seduce me, are you?

  CHRIS

  [Swears]

  To God!

  [To ceiling]

  Sorry. I can read one part to you? It won’t take long. No sacrilege.

  [Reads]

  “It have a bird here…”

  [Stops]

  This is a fellow talking to some tourist out on the Caroni

  bird sanctuary, and I might take out the scene, too much of

  bush. Anyway, he explaining the natural marvels of the

  country and so on. He says: “It have a bird here…”

  [Looks up, reads again]

  “It have a bird here, mister, call the ibis. The colour is

  pure flame. Like fire, self. And from what I hear, it have

  the same bird in Egypt, a sacred bird, with long legs, by the