Where We Live

(LAURA enters her apartment.  IVAN is sitting on her couch in his underwear.  She is startled, obviously.)

LAURA:  Are you a looter?  Is this looting?  Am I being looted?

IVAN:  What?  Sorry?  Hello?

LAURA:  Hello, who are you?

IVAN:  I’m Ivan.

LAURA:  I’m Laura.  Do I need to—is calling the cops even a thing anymore?  I mean, I realize the world is going to hell but is there still law and order of any kind?

IVAN:  I’m not a rapist.

LAURA:  Good.

IVAN:  So don’t be scared.

LAURA:  No, I meant good for you.  I’m a black belt.  If you were a rapist, I’d be breaking your arm bone in half sometime in the next few minutes.  As of right now, you’re just a burgler, which means I’m only going to break a few of your fingers.

         (IVAN jumps up.)

IVAN:  I’m not a burglar either.

LAURA:  Then who are you?

IVAN:  I used to live here.

         (A beat.)

LAURA:  Okay…?

IVAN:  My name is Ivan and I used to live here and…I moved.  I move back in with my parents when I lost my job and my girlfriend left me.  She was pregnant at the time.  I’m assuming she assuming she did, and uh…we were happy here—when we were happy.  But that was before I started drinking, so…

LAURA:  You’re like—five years old.

IVAN:  I’m not, actually.  I’m older than I look.  I mean, I’m not old, but…anyway it wasn’t that long ago.  It was—two years, maybe.

LAURA:  I moved in a few months ago.

IVAN:  Well, there you go.

         (He sits back down.)

LAURA:  So this is what—you reliving some…glory days?

IVAN:  I wouldn’t say they were glorious.  We weren’t rich.  We were pretty naïve.  And I wore flip flops all the time, even in the winter, but…we were okay.  We were way better than—well, than I am now.  Now, I’m very much—

LAURA:  You’re sitting in your underwear in the living room you used to—live in.

IVAN:  I preferred the kitchen but there’s a draft—

LAURA:  It’s the roof, I have to—Were you usually in your underwear when you lived here?

IVAN:  I just—you know—you get to the point where you’re like—why clothes?

LAURA:  Wow, civilization really is ending.

         (She sits next to him.)

IVAN:  I’m lethargic, I’m—please don’t make me go back to my parent’s house.  I don’t want to die there.

LAURA:  Well, you can’t die here.  I want to die alone.

IVAN:  There’s something you don’t hear often.

LAURA:  I just got back from my ex-boyfriend’s house.  I’m only telling you this because, well, you’re here.  And you’re cute.  You are cute.  That helps.  I mean, you look old enough to be a millennium baby, but you’re apparently old enough to have already ruined your life once, so maybe I’ll just throw this on you—I went to my ex-boyfriend’s house today to ask if he wanted to, ugh, I can’t believe I said this, but—Hang out or something—since everything’s, you know, and he was already there with someone.

IVAN:  A girl?

LAURA:  A guy.

IVAN:  A—huh?

LAURA:  He’s gay.  He’s been gay forever.  But he was always scared to come out because…because his family’s religious, he’s religious, blah blah blah bullshit, but now, the world’s ending, so he said ‘to hell with it’ and now he’s got a guy over and he’s making up for years and years of suppressed sexuality.  I walked into my ex-boyfriend’s sexual liberation and it was—something.

IVAN:  Wow.

LAURA:  So, not to make you feel any less special, but you’re actually the third semi-naked guy I’ve seen today.  That’s probably why I didn’t kick you in the face immediately upon walking in here.

IVAN:  People are…everyone’s going crazy.

LAURA:  Everyone’s doing what they’ve always wanted to do.  I don’t know if that makes them crazy or if we’ve all been acting crazy by not doing what we’ve wanted to do.  I just know that I would rather be here, in an empty apartment, because even though it’s sad and I should want people and parties and big farewell celebrations to the planet, right now?  I just want silence.

         (A beat.)

IVAN:  Me too.

LAURA:  What would you have done if the person who lived here wasn’t as nice as me?

IVAN:  I think, right about now, everybody’s much nicer than they would be normally.  At least, I hope so.

LAURA:  You sort of look like…the guy who was with my ex-boyfriend a little while ago.

IVAN:  You…and my daughter have the same name.

LAURA:  Really?

IVAN:  No, her name’s Shelly, but we really should have named her Laura.

LAURA:  Are you still…drinking?

IVAN:  I should.  I should just drink.  It’s what I want to do.  Why be sober now, right?

LAURA:  I have some liquor in my cupboard.

IVAN:  Oh, I know.  I took it out and looked at it for an hour.

LAURA:  And?

IVAN:  I don’t want to die a screw-up.  I want to die having conquered what I thought I couldn’t conquer.  The same way your ex-boyfriend conquered what he was afraid of.  Sorry, you probably don’t want to hear me compliment him right now.

LAURA:  No, it’s fine.  It’s true.  We should all die better people than we are.

IVAN:  So what about you?  What do you need to conquer?  Aside from kicking me out so you can have your silence.

LAURA:  Actually, this is nice.  Talking is nice.  Maybe it’s because I feel comfortable with you.  Maybe it’s because it’s impossible to feel threatened by a mostly naked man, but…either way, it feels good to have somebody here.

IVAN:  I live in my parent’s basement.  Basements are bad for lonely people.  Really bad.  I forgot how nice it is to have windows.

LAURA:  It’s a nice apartment, isn’t it?

IVAN:  Yeah, it is.

         (He puts his hand over hers.  It’s a nice gesture.)

It really is.