Leaving Rhode Island: Red Robin

            (ANYA and JON looking at the moon.  Both are slightly drunk.)

ANYA:  A giraffe approaches the Taj Mahal.

JON:  Is this a joke?

ANYA:  I think it was at one point, but I’m not sure if it is anymore.

JON:  I’ve seen the Taj Mahal.

ANYA:  Have you?

JON:  I stayed for five minutes.  Then I was like—what am I supposed to do here?

ANYA:  Ha.  I was the same way at Niagra Falls.

JON:  You get to these great works these—you know—towers of wonder?  And you sort of go—Okay, so that’s that.  That’s what it is.  Then you just…go home.

ANYA:  You’re not present.  That’s the problem.  You’re always…onto the next thing.

JON:  I’m also drunk.

ANYA:  And drunk.  Yes, drunk.  I’m drunk too though, so—

JON:  I don’t want you going back to Rhode Island.

ANYA:  I have to go back.

JON:  Why?

ANYA:  Owen needs me.

JON:  Tell me about his penis.

ANYA:  It looked just like yours.

JON:  Anya—

ANYA:  Virtually identical.  I can’t imagine there’s any difference—

JON:  C’mon.

ANYA:  I’d say ‘to the trained eye’ but then that would imply that I have a trained eye, and I’m not sure I’m comfortable saying that—

JON:  You don’t even love him.

ANYA:  I don’t have to love him, Jon.  He’s not the one I’m having an affair with.

JON:  But you’re really going to marry him?

ANYA:  He’s a very nice boy.

JON:  It’s small, isn’t it?

ANYA:  Oh God, it’s microscopic.

JON:  Don’t.  Go.  Back.

ANYA:  You don’t understand.  He’s a good guy.  And he bought us this really nice little house in Warwick.

JON:  Is that supposed to mean something to me?  Warwick?

ANYA:  It’s like—it’s very charming.  All of it—Well, not so much the airport, I guess airports aren’t really charming, but—

JON:  I could kill him.

ANYA:  You could.

JON:  Would that—solve anything?

ANYA:  I mean…Not really.  Besides, he doesn’t deserve it.  I deserve it.  I should be killed.  Kill me.  I’m a harlot.

JON:  Harlots are—I don’t think there are harlots anymore.

ANYA:  I’m a slut.

JON:  For following your heart?

ANYA:  For letting you seduce me.

JON:  Letting me—SEDUCE you?

ANYA:  It’s that stupid unassuming smirk you have.  You’re very unassuming.  Somebody looks at you and thinks—Oh, he’s okay looking.  Then the next thing you know, you’re going at it in a bathroom stall like two people out of an 80’s music video.

JON:  I am the Venus flytrap of douchebags.

ANYA:  Don’t get the wrong idea.

JON:  I’m not even sure what the right idea would be.

ANYA:  I do like you.  I love you.  I mean, I really love you. It’s so inconvenient.

JON:  I’m sorry.

ANYA:  You should be sorry.  People should say they’re sorry as soon as they’re done saying ‘I love you.’  ‘I love you.  I’m sorry.’  Or  ‘I’m sorry but I love you.’

JON:  I love you.

            (A moment.)

You’re forgiven.

            (She laughs.  He laughs.  They stop.)

ANYA:  What’s it been like loving me?

JON:  It’s been like watching porn.

ANYA:  I see that poetry class is really paying off.

JON:  Loving you is like having a nice afternoon to yourself.  Where you fire up the laptop, draw the blinds, eat some sherbet, and watch a little…And I know I shouldn’t do it, but it makes me so, so happy.  That’s what loving you is like.

ANYA:  A man just told me that his love for me is equal to his love for pornography.  Wow.  Now that I think about it, that’s really impressive.

JON:  You should be very impressed with yourself.

ANYA:  I am.

JON:  Let’s make love.

ANYA:  Here?

JON:  Why not?

ANYA:  We’re in a Red Robin parking lot somewhere in Massachusetts.

JON:  I’m sorry—is there a romantic place than here?  Because if there is—

ANYA:  I have to get home.

JON:  No, you don’t.

ANYA:  Yes, I do.  But I appreciate the ride.  Really, I do.

JON:  Really, really, really.  Everything with you is really, really, really.

ANYA:  Are you going to hate me forever?

JON:  For a really, really, really long time.

ANYA:  What are you going to do after you drop me off in Warwick?

JON:  Well, first I have to figure out where the hell Warwick is.

ANYA:  And then?

JON:  I don’t know.  Keep going?  Maybe head to DisneyWorld?

ANYA:  Don’t go to DisneyWorld without me.

JON:  Screw you.  Go with Owen.

ANYA:  Owen throws up on rides.

JON:  All rides?

ANYA:  All the rides.  I’ve seen him projectile vomit on Gokarts.

JON:  Leave him.

ANYA:  Jon, what would become of him?

JON:  You’re so Victorian sometimes.

ANYA:  It’s all the Masterpiece Theater.  It’s rubbing off on me.

JON:  I’d love to rub—

ANYA:  Jon.

JON:  Sorry.

ANYA:  It’s been…really something.  Really, really, really something.

JON:  Can I look at you for a second?

ANYA:  What do you think you’re going to see?

JON:  I don’t know.  I’d just hate to think I looked away before I really got a chance to appreciate what was there.

            (A beat.)

ANYA:  Present.  It’s all about—

JON:  --Being present.  Exactly.

            (He looks at her.  She looks away.  Lights.)