The Normal Heart and The Destiny of Me: Two Plays (6 page)

FELIX:
Bad timing. (
Looking up.
) “Mister”?

NED:
My name is Ned Weeks.

FELIX:
You caught me at a rough moment. I have a deadline.

NED:
I’ve been told you’re gay and might be able to help get vital information in the
Times
about—

FELIX:
You’ve been told? Who told you?

NED:
The grapevine.

FELIX:
Here I thought everyone saw me as the Burt Reynolds of West Forty-third Street. Please don’t stop by and say hello to Mr. Sulzberger or Abe Rosenthal. What kind of vital information?

NED:
You read the article about this new disease?

FELIX:
Yes, I read it. I wondered how long before I’d hear from somebody. Why does everyone gay always think I run the
New York Times?
I can’t help you . . . with this.

NED:
I’m sorry to hear that. What would you suggest I do?

FELIX:
Take your pick. I’ve got twenty-three parties, fourteen gallery openings, thirty-seven new restaurants, twelve new discos, one hundred and five spring collections . . . Anything sound interesting?

NED:
No one here wants to write another article. I’ve talked to half a dozen reporters and editors and the guy who wrote the first piece.

FELIX:
That’s true. They won’t want to write about it. And I can’t. We’re very departmentalized. You wouldn’t want science to write about sweaters, would you?

NED:
It is a very peculiar feeling having to go out and seek support from the straight world for something gay.

FELIX:
I wouldn’t know about that. I just write about gay designers and gay discos and gay chefs and gay rock stars and gay photographers and gay models and gay celebrities and gay everything. I just don’t call them gay. Isn’t that enough for doing my bit?

NED:
No—I don’t think it’s going to be.

FELIX:
I really do have a deadline and you wouldn’t like me to get fired; who would write about us at all?

NED:
Guys like you give me a pain in the ass. (
He starts out.
)

FELIX:
Are you in the book?

NED:
Yes.

The law office of
BEN WEEKS, NED’
s older brother.
BEN
always dresses in a suit and tie, which
NED
never does. The brothers love each other a great deal;
BEN’
s approval is essential to
NED. BEN
is busy with some papers as
NED
,
sitting on the opposite side of the desk, waits for him.

BEN:
Isn’t it a bit early to get so worked up?

NED:
Don’t you be like that, too?

BEN:
What have I done now?

NED:
My friend Bruce and I went out to Fire Island and over the whole Labor Day weekend we collected the grand sum of $124.

BEN:
You can read that as either an indication that it’s a beginning and will improve, or as a portent that heads will stay in the sand. My advice is heads are going to stay in the sand.

NED:
Because so many gay people are still in the closet?

BEN:
Because people don’t like to be frightened. When they get scared they don’t behave well. It’s called denial. (
Giving
NED
some papers to sign.
)

NED:
(
Signs them automatically.
) What are these for?

BEN:
Your account needs some more money. You never seem to do anything twice. One movie, one novel, one play. . . You know you are now living on your capital. I miss your being in the movie business. I like movies. (
Unrolls some blueprints.
)

NED:
What are those?

BEN:
I’ve decided to build a house.

NED:
But the one you’re in is terrific.

BEN:
I just want to build me a dream house, so now I’m going to.

NED:
It looks like a fortress. Does it have a moat? How much is it going to cost?

BEN:
I suspect it’ll wind up over a million bucks. But you’re not to tell that to anyone. Not even Sara. I’ve found some land in Greenwich, by a little river, completely protected by trees. Ned, it’s going to be beautiful.

NED:
Doesn’t spending a million dollars on a house frighten you? It would scare the shit out of me. Even if I had it.

BEN:
You can have a house anytime you want one. You haven’t done badly.

NED:
Do I detect a tinge of approval—from the big brother who always called me lemon?

BEN:
Well, you were a lemon.

NED:
I don’t want a house.

BEN:
Then why have you been searching for one in the country for so many years?

NED:
It’s no fun living in one alone.

BEN:
There’s certainly no law requiring you to do that. Is this . . . Bruce someone you’re seeing?

NED:
Why thank you for asking. Don’t I wish. I see him. He just doesn’t see me. Everyone’s afraid of me anyway. I frighten them away. It’s called the lemon complex.

BEN:
I think you’re the one who’s scared.

NED:
You’ve never said that before.

BEN:
Yes, I have. You just didn’t hear me. What’s the worst thing that could happen to you.

NED:
I’d spend a million bucks on a house. Look, Ben—please! (
He takes the blueprints from him.
) I’ve—we’ve started an organization to raise money and spread information and fight any way we can.

BEN:
Fight who and what?

NED:
I told you. There’s this strange new disease. . .

BEN:
You’re not going to do that full-time?

NED:
I just want to help it get started and I’ll worry about how much time later on.

BEN:
It sounds to me like another excuse to keep from writing.

NED:
I knew you would say that. I was wondering . . . could your law firm incorporate us and get us tax-exempt status and take us on for free, what’s it called,
pro bono?

BEN:
Pro bono
for what? What are you going to do?

NED:
I just told you—raise money and fight.

BEN:
You have to be more specific than that. You have to have a plan.

NED:
How about if we say we’re going to become a cross between the League of Women Voters and the United States Marines? Is that a good-enough plan?

BEN:
Well, we have a committee that decides this sort of thing. I’ll have to put it to the committee.

NED:
Why can’t you just say yes?

BEN:
Because we have a committee.

NED:
But you’re the senior partner and I’m your brother.

BEN:
I fail to see what bearing that has on the matter. You’re asking me to ask my partners to give up income that would ordinarily come into their pocket.

NED:
I thought every law firm did a certain amount of this sort of thing—charity, worthy causes.

BEN:
It’s not up to me, however, to select just what these worthy causes might be.

NED:
Well, that’s a pity. What did you start the firm for?

BEN:
That’s one of our rules. It’s a democratic firm.

NED:
I think I like elitism better. When will you know?

BEN:
Know what?

NED:
Whether or not your committee wants to help dying faggots?

BEN:
I’ll put it to them at the next meeting.

NED:
When is that?

BEN:
When it is!

NED:
When is it? Because if you’re not going to help, I have to find somebody else.

BEN:
You’re more than free to do that.

NED:
I don’t want to do that! I want my big brother’s fancy famous big-deal straight law firm to be the first major New York law firm to do
pro bono
work for a gay cause. That would give me a great deal of pride. I’m sorry you can’t see that. I’m sorry I’m still putting you in a position where you’re ashamed of me. I thought we’d worked all that out years ago.

BEN:
I am not ashamed of you! I told you I’m simply not free to take this on without asking my partners’ approval at the next meeting.

NED:
Why don’t I believe that. When is the next meeting?

BEN:
Next Monday. Can you wait until next Monday?

NED:
Who else is on the committee?

BEN:
What difference does that make?

NED:
I’ll lobby them. You don’t seem like a very sure vote. Is Nelson on the committee? Norman Ivey? Harvey?

BEN:
Norman and Harvey are.

NED:
Good.

BEN:
Okay? Lemon, where do you want to have lunch today? It’s your turn to pay.

NED:
It is not. I paid last week.

BEN:
That’s simply not true.

NED:
Last week was . . . French. You’re right. Do you know you’re the only person in the world I can’t get mad at and stay mad at. I think my world would come to an end without you. And then who would Ben talk to? (
He embraces
BEN.
)

BEN:
(
Embracing back, a bit.
) That’s true.

NED:
You’re getting better at it.

NED’
s apartment. It is stark, modern, all black and white.
FELIX
comes walking in from another room with a beer, and
NED
follows, carrying one, too.

FELIX:
That’s quite a library in there. You read all those books?

NED:
Why does everybody ask that?

FELIX:
You have a whole room of ’em, you must want to get asked.

NED:
I never thought of it that way. Maybe I do. Thank you. But no, of course I haven’t. They go out of print and then you can’t find them, so I buy them right away.

FELIX:
I think you’re going to have to face the fact you won’t be able to read them all before you die.

NED:
I think you’re right.

FELIX:
You know, I really used to like high tech, hut I’m tired of it now. I think I want chintz back again. Don’t be insulted.

NED:
I’m not. I want chintz back again, too.

FELIX:
So here we are—two fellows who want chintz back again. Excuse me for saying so, but you are stiff as starch.

NED:
It’s been a long time since I’ve had a date. This is a date, isn’t it? (
FELIX
nods.
) And on the rare occasion, I was usually the asker.

FELIX:
That’s what’s thrown you off your style: I called and asked.

NED:
Some style. Before any second date I usually receive a phone call that starts with “Now I don’t know what you had in mind, but can’t we just be friends?”

FELIX:
No. Are you glad I’m here?

NED:
Oh, I’m pleased as punch you’re here. You’re very good-looking. What are you doing here?

FELIX:
I’ll let that tiny bit of self-pity pass for the moment.

NED:
It’s not self-pity, it’s nervousness.

FELIX:
It’s definitely self-pity. Do you think you’re bad-looking?

NED:
Where are you from?

FELIX:
I’m from Oklahoma. I left home at eighteen and put myself through college. My folks are dead. My dad worked at the refinery in West Tulsa and my mom was a waitress at a luncheonette in Walgreen’s.

NED:
Isn’t it amazing how a kid can come out of all that and wind up on the
Times
dictating taste and style and fashion to the entire world?

FELIX:
And we were talking so nicely.

NED:
Talking is not my problem. Shutting up is my problem. And keeping my hands off you.

FELIX:
You don’t have to keep your hands off me. You have very nice hands. Do you have any awkward sexual tendencies you want to tell me about, too? That I’m not already familiar with?

NED:
What are you familiar with?

FELIX:
I have found myself pursuing men who hurt me. Before minor therapy. You’re not one of those?

NED:
No, I’m the runner. I
was
the runner. Until major therapy. After people who didn’t want me and away from people who do.

FELIX:
Isn’t it amazing how a kid can come out of all that analyzing everything incessantly down to the most infinitesimal neurosis and still be all alone?

NED:
I’m sorry you don’t like my Dr. Freud. Another agingJew who couldn’t get laid.

FELIX:
Just relax. You’ll get laid.

NED:
I try being laid-back, assertive, funny, butch . . . What’s the point? I don’t think there are many gay relationships that work out anyway.

FELIX:
It’s difficult to imagine you being laid-back. I know a lot of gay relationships that are working out very well.