Libra
Act I
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Characters in order of appearance:
Note: Community names will be used to designate the speaker for those characters who have community names.
Nathan Philip Cadeau, 28 in Act I, scene 1, 30 in Act II
Natalie Fieldstone (community name, Renata), 50 in Act I, scene 1, 52 as a new member of Libra, an intentional community in Prairieville, Iowa
Axel Reinhart (community name, Ox),51, a member of Capricorn, rural intentional community about ten miles from Libra.
Vince Domingo (community name, Bee),38, a member of Libra
Ginger Pilkenton, 18, a visitor at Libra
Phyllis Cadeau (community name, Juno), 60, Nathan's adoptive mother, visitor at Capricorn
Grace Ostler, 68, a founder of Capricorn

Set:
The permanent part of the set is a wrap-around porch with a sidewalk downstage leading to the exit stage left and enough space to park a bicycle beside the walk. It should have wide steps leading up to a front door, a porch swing to stage right of the door, and enough space at the corner of the house, stage right, for a person to push a wheel barrow. There should be a flexible area screened by net that is visible only when lighted. It can be changed into various rooms by changing a few pieces of furniture and by hanging different backdrops. This area will serve in turn as Renata's kitchen, an empty bedroom with cracks on its wall and a scaffold, the same room with a makeshift massage table, Capricorn's living room with a couch and coffee table, Capricorn's kitchen with a table and chairs, a double scene with two people talking to each other on the telephone, Bee's bedroom, Renata's bedroom, and Libra's dining room. None of these scenes requires elaborate furnishings or whole rooms, just a suggestion of a room will do.

 

Prologue to Act 1

NATHAN
Alone in a spotlight, speaks directly to audience.
Secrets and silences. The things you really want to know that they won't tell you. I was a kid with three mothers: an adoptive mother,
Holds up one finger.
her lesbian partner,
Puts up a second finger.
. . . who was never acknowledged as such . . . that was the secret we three kept from the world.
And a birth mother
Puts up a third finger.
the other two refused to tell me anything about. They did tell me part of my story: It had been a private adoption through a lawyer-not the kind with an agency where they wouldn't have known the birth mother. They even told me it was she who named me Nathan. But they would never tell me anything else. All through high school I pestered them to tell me what she looked like, what her name was, whether she was still alive. No deal. I made up my mind to find her someday and uncover all the secrets they were keeping from me.

But then after college, I got so totally focused on making money and investing it to make more money that I didn't think about my birth mother at all any more. Until one day it just crashed in on me that my life had no meaning at all. Every bit of my time and energy was being given to a game of making my bank accounts grow-just numbers on a bank's computer. From that moment, my life tasted like dead champagne. I was a blank. A silence.

I quit my job and set out to find myself. I started by finding my birth mother.

Act 1
Scene 1 Renata's kitchenette in a studio apartment in Des Moines, Iowa,
an evening of late December, 1998.

Renata and Nathan are sitting at a folding table drinking coffee. A plate of crackers is between them.

RENATA
How did you find me? Did Rev. Cadeau give you my name?

NATHAN
No. Mom wouldn't tell me anything except that it was a private adoption and that my birth mother had asked her to name me Nathan.

RENATA
I suppose you want to know why I abandoned you?

NATHAN
You didn't abandon me; you found an excellent mother for me . . . two excellent mothers, actually. They are . . . were . . . a lesbian couple. They broke up the year I graduated from high school and left for college.

RENATA
I didn't know Rev. Cadeau was lesbian. I thought she was single. She said that was why she wanted to arrange a private adoption. Agencies prefer two parents.

NATHAN
They prefer two parents of different genders. But why did you give me up? You were a widow; my father died before I was born. Why didn't you want me?

RENATA
How do you know about your father? How did you find out my name? She must have told you!

NATHAN
She didn't. I've wanted to know about my birth parents since I was a teenager. But both of my mothers got uncomfortable and changed the subject whenever I tried to talk to them about it.

Renata has been very tense, drinking her coffee, maybe refilling her cup or his, but not making eye contact. There is an awkward silence at this point.

Now that I've found you, I really want to get to know you. I want to know why you don't want to know me. There's no way I can be a disgrace to you. You were married to my father almost two years before I was born.

RENATA
You haven't told me how you found me.

NATHAN
My birth certificate had the city of my birth. I had a hunch that either my father was named Nathan or that your name was something like Nathan. It's kind of eerie, but something told me to go to the library and read newspapers on microfiche starting the year before my birth. I found the stories about Natalie Fieldstone and I knew--deep down in my gut--that you were my mother.

RENATA
You know about . . . ?

NATHAN
About my father? Yes. And the other man. And the year you spent in the county jail. Was I born in jail?

RENATA
Passionately.
I didn't want you to know that your mother killed two men. That's why I let Rev. Cadeau adopt you!
Pause as she regains control of herself. More calmly now.
She was the chaplain at the jail. . . . . No, you weren't born there. Once a month they took me to the gynecologist, in the bright orange jumpsuit of an inmate, in handcuffs and leg shackles. The intention must have been humiliation; I could hardly have outrun the officer in my condition. The other women in the waiting room gawked at the spectacle I made! And that's how they took me to the hospital when I was in labor. I was handcuffed to the delivery table. I heard your first cry, and they laid you across my belly for a few minutes. With my free hand, I touched your velvety, wrinkled skin.
She reaches out to touch his face, but realizes what she's doing and pulls her hand back.
But I couldn't let myself see you again after that, because I didn't want to get attached to you. I wanted you to have a mother you could be proud of!
She is crying silently now. Nathan gets up, goes to her, and puts his arms around her.

NATHAN
Mother! Don't ever give me up again. Promise you'll stay in touch, no matter what happens.

RENATA
I killed your father!

NATHAN
It's all right; I understand.

RENATA
It's not all right. It can never be all right. You don't understand.
Nathan continues to hold her, stroking her hair.

Scene 2 The big, wrap-around porch of a large, old house owned by Libra, an intentional community in Prairieville, Iowa. Tuesday morning, mid-September, 2000.

Renata enters stage right, on ground level, carrying a box of apples she has harvested from an apple tree in the back yard, just as Ox arrives stage left with the weekly CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) delivery from Capricorn Community. He is carrying a picnic cooler.

RENATA
Hi, Ox. Can I help you carry in the produce?

OX
Hi, Renata. This here's the milk and cheese and tofu. There's taters in the van. And other fall veggies.
Bee enters from the front door, takes the box from Ox.
Hi, Bee.

BEE
Hi, Ox. I'll put this stuff in the 'frig.
He goes back into the house with the cooler.

RENATA
How's everyone at Capricorn?
She sets down her apples at one end of the wide porch steps and exits left with Ox to help carry boxes. They may talk off stage for a few seconds until they re-enter, each carrying a grocery-store box filled with things like kale, carrots, potatoes.

OX
Oh, purty good. Leah's almost eight-eight, you know, but she's spry as ever. Her son Jim says she'll probably be his pall bearer some day. Doris tells him if he got more exercise, he'd stay as healthy as his mother.

GINGER
Enters stage left on a bike. Gets off and parks it by the porch.
Hi. Have you guys seen Bee?
Bee comes to the porch to get the next box. Renata and Ox have set their boxes by the door for Bee to carry inside and are sitting on the wide steps to talk.
Oh, there you are. Shall we get started on the painting?

BEE
Passes to the side of Ox and Renata as he comes down off porch to speak privately to Ginger, but Ox and Renata can't help but overhear them. Ox and Renata exchange glances when Ginger and Bee get into it. Bee speaks quietly, not wanting to embarrass Ginger. There is no malice in his tone; he is trying to be honest with her, to let her know where she stands with him so she won't make a fool of herself.
I'd rather you worked in the café, Ginger. Talk to Helen about when they might need you to wait tables or bus.

GINGER
Not at all restrained in volume; she doesn't care who hears.
Why can't I work with you? What the hell did I do?

BEE
Still speaking quietly, trying to spare her feelings.
Nothing wrong, Ginger. It's just that you . . . well, . . . you seem to be more interested in me than I am in you. And I just don't want to lead you on.

GINGER
Her volume rising as her annoyance increases.
So what's wrong with me? Am I some kind of ugly freak? Or are you one of those guys who can't stand it if the woman comes on to them? You want to be the one who chooses?

BEE
No, I'm not like that, Ginger. But you and I have very different values. I'm just not attracted to a woman who is into consumerism as much as you are. You're too mainstream for me.

GINGER
I don't know what the fuck you're talking about!

BEE
I'm talking about your passion for shopping, for buying things, for poring over all the advertisements in the paper and watching commercial TV and . . .

GINGER
So if I'm so mainstream, why would I want to live in a fucking commune with furniture from the Salvation Army and raggy -looking towels and rules about not watching much TV? What the hell kind of commune is that? Why would I come here?

BEE
I've wondered that myself. Maybe because you thought there'd be a lot of fucking?

GINGER
Well, if I thought that, I sure was a damn fool! You're a bunch of monks! Don't worry about me trying to join. I wouldn't even finish my visiting period except I want to go from here to Wild Wind and their visitor period doesn't start for another two weeks.
Goes to her bike, gets on and gives Bee the finger as she rides off stage left. Bee doesn't react; he goes up the steps and into the house with another box.

RENATA
After a short, awkward pause, trying to resume her conversation with Ox as if nothing had occurred.
Well, uh, how's Grace?

OX
The arthritis in her hands bothers her quite a bit some days. But she still manages to keep up with canning tomatoes. She dehydrates or cans just about all the produce we can't eat fresh or sell. She's got a new lover, you know.

RENATA
No! How did that come about? I thought you said she was still grieving Joan's death.

OX
It's been more than two years since Joan died. I was beginning to think Grace would never get over losing her. But I guess she was finally ready to go on with her life. So without saying anything to the rest of us about it, she began looking on the Internet for a woman who'd be willing to live in a rural, intentional community. It's not easy to find someone like that. It took me ten years of going to gay retreats to find my partner Hank.

RENATA
Have you met this woman?

OX
Yeh, she came just after your visit with us. She really got into the spirit of living in community, even chose a community name-Juno. I think she means to stay; she and Grace seem to be real good for each other.

RENATA
That's wonderful! I can relate to her choosing a community name. I did, too, you know, when I first went to Wild Wind Community. Renata, means "reborn." I felt as if I were giving myself birth and starting a new life.

OX
My real name is Axel,
He pronounces it in German: Ox'l
so I just shortened it to Ox. I always admired the gentle ol' hard-working oxen.

RENATA
And how are Juanita and Jorge? I hear they have a new grand-daughter.

OX
Yeh, that's why we've got two of their grand-kids visiting this week while their daughter recovers a little from giving birth. It's good to have kids around again. Seems like community kids always move away when they grow up.

RENATA
That's true. I lived at Wild Wind for about ten years. Most of the members were young people like Ginger who want to try the community lifestyle for a few months or maybe two or three years and then move on to something else. By the time I left, only about three people of the sixty members had been there when I first arrived.

OX
Our experience has been different at Capricorn. We're a family-size community and we've all come to stay.

RENATA
Libra has a stable population, too. That's why I decided to join. I'm a provisional member now; my visitor period ended last Thursday.

OX
Hey, that's great! Welcome! We enjoyed your visit with us last month. You really know your way around a farm. We were hoping you'd want to join us instead of these city slickers here.

RENATA
Thanks; it's nice to be wanted. I liked Capricorn a lot, but I decided to try community town life since I've already done the rural community thing.

OX
Well, I hope you'll like it here and stick around for a long time.
Bee has continued coming out to the porch to take their boxes, including Renata's box of apples, going back into the house with each one. He glances at them each time he comes out to the porch, as if hoping they will finish their conversation, so he can talk to Renata. He enters again by the front door, carrying a bucket, two mops, and other cleaning supplies.

RENATA
I hope so, too. I'm looking for a place where I can put down my roots and grow old with people I love, as Leah has at Capricorn.

OX
Well, it looks as if Bee could use some help, so I better get back to Capricorn before he enlists me!
Exits stage left, waving. Bee and Renata wave back and call a goodbye.

BEE
We've got an empty apartment in our rental house next door, Renata. I want to clean it up and repaint the bathroom before we get someone else in it. Would you be into helping me?

RENATA
Sure, Bee.
Teasing.
And I'll be real careful not to "come on to you" while we work.
He grins, embarrassed. She takes some of the cleaning supplies and they descend the porch steps, go around the house stage right and enter the flexible area from behind as the lights come on behind the screen. The bucket now has some water in it; Bee adds a little detergent and they set about scrubbing the walls with sponges which they rinse out now and then in the bucket. There is a cassette player on the floor; Bee puts a tape into it and plays jazz music softly.

BEE
Tell me again about working in the ranch branch at Wild Wind. The cows had to be milked twice a day, right?

RENATA
Yes, at six in the morning and six in the evening. So there I'd be before the sun came up, with a heavy fog from the creek covering the valley, and I couldn't find those cows for love nor money. Whichever end of the government land I'd start from, looking along the creek, they'd be at the other end half a mile away! I'd call and call and they'd just keep quiet until they got good and ready to show themselves.

BEE
But you said you were raised a city girl. Why did you want to work with cows?

RENATA
I thought it would be interesting, so I researched it. Read everything I could lay my hands on about dairy cows and pigs and chickens and sheep. It's hard, physical work. And early hours. But I liked it a lot. Especially being there when a calf or lamb was being born. I'd never witnessed birth before that.
Short pause as they continue scrubbing.
Bee, I couldn't help overhearing what you said to Ginger. What made you decide to live in a commune?

BEE
I worked in the state hospital as a lab technician when I got out of college. It bothered me that someone like me, whose parents paid for my good education, could earn so much. The people we served would have to overcome huge obstacles to get what had come fairly easily to me. Finally I just decided I wanted to be a part of the communities movement so I could live what I believe.
They scrub in silence for awhile. Then as if suddenly deciding to speak his mind, he tosses his sponge into the bucket, turns off the music, and turns toward Renata.
Uh, . . . Renata, . . . is it all right if I say something personal to you?

RENATA
With anxiety, expecting something negative.
Yes, of course.

BEE
I'm attracted to you.

RENATA
Shocked.
But I'm an old woman!

BEE
Yes, but do you know how old I am?
He squeezes out his sponge again and continues scrubbing the wall.

RENATA
About twenty-five?

BEE
Almost thirty-eight!

RENATA
Looks at him more closely to search for wrinkles, using a joking manner to cover her feelings of uncertainty.
Oh yeh, there's a li'l wrinkle here and another there and (gasp) is that a gray hair there or is it just my imagination? . . . But, Bee, I look my age! I'm fifty-two, you know.

BEE
I like the way you look. But more than that, I'm attracted to all that you are and all you know because of your experiences in life. I admire your working in ranch at Wild Wind Community. And I heard you tell Lightning about how you've made a living since leaving Wild Wind a couple of years ago--drawing charcoal portraits at craft fairs. I'd love to watch you do someone's portrait sometime. I admire you for all the skills and knowledge you have. I admire your maturity.

RENATA
Well, I don't know what to say. I thought you were going to say that you'd found out . . . something you didn't like about me . . . or something. But it sounds like it's my resume you're attracted to!

BEE
It's not just what you've done with your life. You have a kind of "presence," a self-assurance, a calm manner that makes you seem very different from most people I know.

RENATA
You have that, too, you know. There's something very deliberate about you, . . . very conscious, . . . aware.

BEE
I'd like for us to become closer friends. Much closer. I wanted you to know how I feel about you. But we don't have to act on it. Sexually, I mean.

RENATA
Oh no, let's not even consider a sexual relationship. I had a lover at Wild Wind once who was quite a bit younger. It wasn't a good experience. I felt down-power, the unattractive one. He thought he was doing me a favor. It made me feel older than I was just because of the contrast.

BEE
I just told you, you are attractive to me. But I don't think we should be lovers. Not right away, I mean. I believe in taking a long time to become friends first. A year spent getting to know each other very deeply. That's what Nhat Hahn suggests. Have you read anything of his?

RENATA
Yes, I think so. He's that Vietnamese Buddhist monk, right?

BEE
Yes. So, would you be willing to spend some time with me?
Renata nods.
Do you keep a journal?

RENATA
Yes, I've used journal-writing to keep myself sane since I was in college.

BEE
My idea of ultimate intimacy is to reach the point of mutual trust where we could allow each other to read our journals.

RENATA
Distressed.
Oh no! I could never do that! What I write there is for no one else to see. Ever! I burn each journal in a kind of ritual as soon as I fill a notebook and start another.

BEE
You've burned them? The truest record of your inner life is gone forever?

RENATA
Of course I burn them. My journal has served its purpose when it's helped me to clarify what I understand about my life. I don't need to re-read it later. And I sure don't want it around for anyone else to read.

BEE
I use my journal to look as objectively as I can at myself. What I see isn't always pretty. So the idea of someone reading what I say about myself terrifies me, too, but that's why it's the very best thing to share because that would be sharing the deepest, most honest part of ourselves. It would be like dropping the last veil, standing on each other's sacred ground. But, of course, it will take a lot of hard work before we would be ready for that level of sharing. We'll need to slowly build a structure of trust first. And then work our way up to total honesty with each other. . . . OK, so forget about sharing journals for now. Maybe we could begin by each of us making a personal time line for the other, a kind of overview of our lives up to this point, year by year. That way, we could fill each other in on what has made us what we are.

RENATA
With concern.
You want me to write down what happened to me in every year of my life?

BEE
And I'll do the same for you. There's community meeting tomorrow night, but we could sit on the porch swing Thursday evening after supper and share our time lines. Is that enough time for you to get it written?

RENATA
Reluctantly.
I guess so. I may not be able to remember what happened in every year. My life may not have been as interesting as you think. You might be bored at a complete list.

BEE
I promise not to be bored. Don't leave anything out. I want to know everything about you! Your letter of introduction only talked about the last fifteen years. I want to know about your childhood, and your young adulthood, and . . . I don't even know if you were ever married or had any children. I want us to get to know everything about each other. I believe in micro-honesty. And I'll do the same for you. It will be a strong foundation for us to build a lifetime friendship on. That's what community is all about, isn't it? Didn't I hear you tell Ox that you want to grow old among people you love? Deep knowledge of each other is how we can build that kind of enduring love.
He bends down to turn on the cassette player, louder this time, then keeps time with the jazz music as he scrubbs vigorously, feeling very pleased at the outcome of his venture. Renata--sponge in hand--stares at him, feeling dread, wondering how she will go about camouflaging her year in jail when she writes the time line.

Scene 3 Thursday evening, on the big wrap-around porch.

Bee and Renata are seated on the porch swing, each with a sheet of paper which they are reading silently.

BEE
You forgot the year 1970.

RENATA
Oh. . . . That was the year I was widowed. It's like a blank. I don't think about it at all. I don't want to think about it. Ever.

BEE
It's not good to seal off a part of your life that way. That's the very year we should delve into. It sounds as if you still have a lot of healing to do there. I can be of some help, I think. I lost my father a year ago. We were very close at the end, but we had had a lot of unfinished business to work through during his final illness. I was able to take a leave from Libra here to live with my parents and help my mother care for my father that last five months. It was a major benefit of being in community to take that time off and then be able to return and take up my life where I left off without having the additional stress of trying to find a new job and housing.

RENATA
Deliberately diverting him from her own story.
I notice that you began your time line with your parents' birth dates and that you included the most important dates of their lives. You say here that they met in Uganda where your mother was a missionary nun and your father was a native Ugandan Catholic priest. They had to withdraw from their orders to marry, I guess.

BEE
Yes; it was a traumatic decision for them, but they didn't have any other good option. My mother was pregnant with me, so they had already violated their vow of chastity. They moved to the States where I was born.

RENATA
Did you get your strong feelings about materialism from your parents? I'm sorry; I feel like an eavesdropper having heard what you said to Ginger, but I really couldn't help it.

BEE
It's OK. I wasn't trying to hide anything; I did what I needed to do to keep my relationship with Ginger clean. I didn't want her to have any expectations at all.

RENATA
What do you mean by "clean"? No sex?

BEE
No, that's not it at all. I mean having a perfectly clear understanding, so no one has any illusions. I'm not a prude, for godssake. But it's extremely important to have everything on the table. Nothing withheld. Nothing secret that's not talked about. Creating a relationship takes hard work. I don't have any energy to waste on a silly fling with a shallow person like Ginger!

RENATA
Changing the subject again.
Have you and your mother always been close?

BEE
What, you think this is an Oedipal thing?

RENATA
Well, it's crossed my mind. Have you seen Harold and Maude?

BEE
Five times. But what's the big deal about a younger man preferring a woman who has done some living, who knows a lot, who's very capable and experienced? Lots of young women prefer older men for those reasons. What's so attractive about naiveté?

RENATA
But a thirty-eight-year-old woman would hardly be an innocent child.

BEE
That's true; I have nothing against women my age. But you happen to be fifty-two, and I happen to be attracted to you. You don't look anything like my mother, by the way. And your personality is different, too. My mother is very extroverted and open.

RENATA
Like you.

BEE
Yes. And you're kind of folded up into yourself. As if the most beautiful mysteries inside are far too precious to share.

RENATA
Cautiously.
Maybe the mysteries aren't so beautiful.

BEE
They must be. Because I can feel your depth. I want to prove myself worthy of your trust so you will feel free to take me into your inner sanctuary.
Renata recoils a bit.
Some day. I'm not trying to push you faster than you want to go. Oh, and to answer your earlier question, it's true that my parents were not at all materialistic. We had what we needed always, but never anything in excess. Except the gorgeous quilts my grandmother made. And the music we made and the dancing we did together as a family.

RENATA
What would your mother think of your hanging out with a woman her age?

BEE
You're not the first older woman I've been attracted to.

RENATA
You always choose women your mother's age?

BEE
I didn't say that. I've never had a partner younger than I, but . . .
He counts silently on his fingers, (no more than ten) looking up into space. Then looks back at Renata.
. . . about half have been close to my age and the other half maybe ten years older.

RENATA
So I'm the oldest.

BEE
I can't help when you were born! It isn't your age that attracts me; it's you. You seem to want to believe there's something wrong with that. I think that's just a symptom of your distress, not mine. You keep too much of your pain to yourself, maybe. You're a strong woman; trust your own strength if you can't trust me yet. Are you afraid?

RENATA
Yes, I am. But I don't want to live my life as a coward. I want to take risks and not be content with safe choices always. I want beauty in my life . . . like your grandmother's quilts and your dancing and music. Those really aren't luxuries, you know. The soul needs beauty. . . . But I've been burned . . . badly . . . and it's hard not to try to protect myself.

BEE
It's always hard to risk exposing our deepest selves. It's scary for me, too. But it's like a spiritual discipline for me. I don't want to live my life on the surface. I want us to reach the sacred ground of deeply knowing each other.

RENATA
That's terrifying, Bee.

BEE
Well, let's not back off before we've even begun. Do you like massage? Let's exchange massages.

RENATA
Surprised.
Right now? On the front porch?

BEE
Let's go to my room. Don't worry about my making a move on you. I'll be strictly professional.

RENATA
I think it's a wonderful idea.
Bee and Renata go into the house, appearing in the flexible area as the lights go on there. Bee puts a tape in his cassette player and starts the music playing. It is a Kitaro tape, perhaps "Silk Road." Bee gestures for Renata to lie down on the twin size bed that has no headboard or footboard; she pulls off her shirt and jeans and lies on his bed face up. Bee (at the head of the bed) begins to massage her shoulders and neck.

RENATA
After a minute or so, in a completely relaxed tone.
You're very good, Bee.

BEE
Moving to her feet, he massages first one, then the other, speaking as he works.
I enjoy giving a massage. It seems to me the essence of service, using touch to smooth away all the stress of living.

RENATA
Yes, it's a beautiful rite. No church service I ever attended made me feel as serene and whole and fully connected to the Universe as giving and receiving a massage makes me feel.
For the next few moments, the only sound is the New Age music as Renata turns over, face down and Bee massages her back. When he has finished, he strips off his jeans and shirt, and they trade places with Bee face up. She begins with his feet.

BEE
As Renata kneads the tension out of his calves and thighs.
Maybe we should re-think this business of waiting for a whole year before we make love.

RENATA
With humor, continuing the kneading of his thigh muscles.
Yeh. Whose idea was that, anyway? Nhat Hahn's? What does a Buddhist monk know about making love?

BEE
Do you think it would keep us from building a sound friendship if we didn't finish the foundation first?

RENATA
Working on his shoulders and neck now, having moved to a position behind his head.
Well, if you put it that way, I guess it's always a good idea to put the foundation in before you start construction on that sky-scraper you want to build.

BEE
I wish I hadn't put it that way, damn it. Do you think it would hurt if we just kissed?

RENATA
Let's risk it.
She moves to his side, bends over him and they kiss, at first tenderly, then with a rush of passion. Bee pulls her over on him and holds her very tightly as they continue the kiss. Then he suddenly rolls her off. She was close to the down stage edge and falls to the floor. She sits up, surprised, looks at him for explanation.

BEE
I'm sorry.
Sits up, reaches a hand to help her up as he speaks. She sits on the bed beside him.
I'm really sorry. That wasn't such a good idea, after all. I can't think at all when we're kissing. I want this to be the most perfect relationship either of us has ever had, without making any of the stupid mistakes I've made before that led to breakup later. Let's just lie here together and talk, OK?
They lie side by side on the bed. She, up stage, bends an elbow to prop her head on her hand so she can look at his face as he lies on his back.

RENATA
So maybe the Buddhist monk knows more than we thought? Or are we trying to achieve something that isn't possible for humans? Maybe we should be content with loving each other as well as we can each moment and not try to control the future.

BEE
I believe humans are capable of far more complete love than we usually give each other. It takes spiritual discipline, though. It isn't a matter of just doing whatever feels good at the moment and abandoning the effort as soon as it gets tough. I want to be there for you whatever happens. And I want the same from you.

RENATA
I wonder if that will truly be possible. I'm sorry to be a doubter, but I had a very bad experience with my second husband when I trusted him too much.

BEE
What happened?

RENATA
Rising and pulling on her clothes.
I showed him all my "dirty laundry," so to speak. Just as you want me to do for you. Every time he got irritated with me, he threw it in my face. I wished a thousand times that I'd never told him anything! I vowed to myself that I would never make that mistake again.

BEE
Still lying on the bed watching her.
Oh. So that's why you seem so secretive about parts of your life. What a bastard he was! How can I prove to you that I'm not that kind of a jerk?

RENATA
How do you know you can accept everything in my past? You have such high standards. And your own life seems so innocent to me.
Dressed now, she sits on the edge of the bed.

BEE
How can you say that? I've never been able to make a commitment to a woman really work. And it's something that I want to do, not something that I'm trying to avoid. Every time after a break-up, I analyze everything I did from the beginning to the end to try to figure out all the mistakes I made. Then the next time, I avoid those mistakes and make new ones. But I'm not going to give it up. This time I want us to create a structure of love that will stand through the greatest storm.

RENATA
Are you certain that the very passion for perfection isn't the problem?

BEE
You want us to settle for something ordinary? Not give it our very best?

RENATA
No, I want us to give it our best. But maybe our best means accepting less than the best from each other. I can't be a perfect person for you. And I certainly fall short of having been one.

BEE
I promise to accept you as you are. And whatever you have been.

RENATA
Almost to herself.
I wonder if you really can do that.
To Bee again.
It's strange. Sometimes you seem to me to have the mind of a child . . . I don't mean to be insulting . . . . I'm thinking of that magical child from another planet in Saint-Exupery's "Little Prince." Unspoiled by negative experience, pure, able to see what the adult world has become blind to. . . . Other times you seem very old, having looked long and hard at life from every angle. I wonder who you are, really. I wonder how far I can trust you.

Act 2