Uninvited (A Play in One Scene)

 

Characters

 

 

The Woman -- a mature woman, in formal dress

 

The Visitor -- a much younger woman, much less formally clad

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Scene

 

 

At the end of a social gathering.

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

The sounds of party guests leaving:

voices offstage saying goodbyes.

 

As lights rise, the WOMAN stands facing offstage, saying goodbye.

 

The VISITOR sits, near center stage.

 

         WOMAN

(to herself)

They’re gone.  At last.

(sighs)

I’m so glad when they come --

but so tired,

so glad when they go!

 

 

VISITOR

(rises, surprised)

Oh. Hello?

 

 

WOMAN

(turns, sees VISITOR)

Oh.

Hello.

(not recognizing her)

You ... are?

 

 

VISITOR

You don’t know me.

 

 

WOMAN

I’m sorry.

So many people ...

 

 

VISITOR 

I, uh, wasn’t invited.

 

 

 

 

 

WOMAN

Oh.

Well, no matter.

Did you come with ..?

 

 

VISITOR

No.

 

 

WOMAN

I’m sorry…?

I don’t quite understand.

 

 

VISITOR

Neither do I. 

But here I am ... it seems ...

 

 

WOMAN

How can I --?

 

 

VISITOR 

(continues over WOMAN)

  I have the oddest memories.

And I’m not sure they’re mine.

 

 

WOMAN

Can I get you --?

 

 

VISITOR

(continuing)

… Smoke from a fireplace ...

snow outside the window …

oranges on a cracked plate …

 

 

WOMAN

(sits, stunned)

Oh … my.  

 

 

VISITOR

(continuing)

… laughing, under a thick comforter ...

 

 

WOMAN

Oh, my.

 

 

VISITOR 

What?

 

 

WOMAN

My ...

Those are my memories ...

 

Oh, my.

 

 

VISITOR 

Good. 

Then I am supposed to be here.

 

 

WOMAN

But how ...?

 

 

VISITOR

Because you remember.

 

 

WOMAN

Yes, I do.

Though I had forgotten.

 

I -- I was so young.

But you -- how do you --?

 

 

 

VISITOR

I don’t know.

 

 

WOMAN

Did he tell …

after all these ...

 

 

VISITOR 

What? No.

 

 

WOMAN

But he must have ...

 

 

VISITOR

No.

 

 

WOMAN

But look, no one else, no one ...

 

 

VISITOR 

 

I don’t know who “he” is …

 

Or who I am, for that matter …

I … I just have these memories.

 

 

WOMAN

But they’re not yours,

they’re ... mine.

 

 

VISITOR

As am  I,

I believe.

 

 

 

WOMAN

You … are what?

 

 

VISITOR

Yours.

 

 

WOMAN

(crumpling)

Oh, my god.

Please, I …  I don’t …

 

You … are … mine?

 

 

VISITOR

Yes.

 

 

WOMAN

(near tears)

But you --

you were never …

 

The -- operation,

that horrid...

 

Yes, I’ve wondered, of course,

I’ve dreamed...

I’ve imagined, so many times --

(reaches to touch her)

But real?  Grown?  Here?

How can you …?

 

 

VISITOR

I don’t know. I just am.

 

 

WOMAN

Oh my god, I didn’t ...

 

 

VISITOR

Didn’t?

 

 

WOMAN

Didn’t realize. 

Didn’t want ...

 

 

VISITOR

(interrupts

Me?

 

 

WOMAN

No, no - it wasn’t that...

 

 

VISITOR

What was it, then?

 

 

WOMAN

I was so young ...

It was just ...

 

 

VISITOR

Just”?

(a sharp laugh)

Nothing is just.

I do know that.

 

 

WOMAN

No, I mean --

 

 

VISITOR 

What do you mean?

 

 

 

WOMAN

By the time I knew,

he and I -- we weren’t ...

 

 

 

VISITOR

Weren’t?

 

 

WOMAN

Together.

I was alone.

 

 

VISITOR

The little apartment,

with the sound of the river,

and the corridas at night …

 

 

WOMAN

Oh my god, you --

 

 

VISITOR

(interrupting)

Memories.

I just --

 

 

WOMAN

You just have them.

Yes, I see that.

 

Anyway, I was alone.

 

 

VISITOR

Not quite.

 

 

WOMAN

Well, yes …

but I thought I was…

And as far as making decisions,

taking care …

 

 

VISITOR

Yes?

 

WOMAN

I… I just couldn’t ...

I couldn’t see a way …

 

But why are you here?

What … what do you want?

 

 

VISITOR 

I want?

Nobody’s asked me that before.

Hmm ... I don’t know ...

 

 

WOMAN

Nobody asked me, either.

But I know.

 

 

VISITOR

(continuing over her)

I guess ... I want ...

 

 

WOMAN

(continuing over her)

I want ...

 

 

VISITOR

… my life.

 

 

WOMAN

… forgiveness.

 

 

VISITOR 

I can’t give you that.

 

 

WOMAN

I can’t give you that.

 

 

VISITOR

I know.

 

 

WOMAN

I know.

 

 

 

They take each other by the hand, and sit.

Lights fade.

 

 

 

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My life in theatre began
when I was 12, but I didn't try writing a play until I was 30. Since then, I've written them as they've arrived (which isn't terribly often)...
I like telling everyone (actors, director, audience) only as much as they need
to start their own imagining - and then being surprised by the results.