Leaving Rhode Island: Detroit

(NATE and LIZ in a motel room.  NATE is in his boxers and gets dressed as the scene progresses.  LIZ is counting money.  A moment or two passes before the scene begins.)

NATE:  So…how was that?

LIZ:  How was--?

NATE:  Well…that.

LIZ:  Oh.  That was…did you have a nice time?

NATE:  I did.

LIZ:  Good.  I’m glad you did.

NATE:  But did you—

LIZ:  You sure you had a good time?

NATE:  Yeah.

LIZ:  Good.  That’s good.

                (She goes back to counting money.)

NATE:  I’ve never done it with an Exile before.

                (A beat.)

LIZ:  That seems to be my main draw.

NATE:  Huh?

LIZ:  That I’m an Exile.

NATE:  Yeah.

LIZ:  You could just go to Rhode Island and sleep with somebody there.  We’re all the same.  All the parts and—

NATE:  I don’t know, something about…like, the oppression of your people?

LIZ:  My people?

NATE:  You know, getting—expelled from your state and—

LIZ:  I think I liked it better when we weren’t talking.

NATE:  I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to—

LIZ:  It’s okay.  I have to head to the airport anyway.  I have a client in Vegas to see.

NATE:  You’re going all the way to Vegas?

LIZ:  I go wherever I’m needed.  Just like Mary Poppins.

NATE:  Couldn’t find anybody closer to Detroit who wants to…you know?

LIZ:  Believe it or not, you’re my first Detroit client.  I have a few in Vegas just like you though.  Nice guys with a savior complex.

NATE:  I don’t have a—

LIZ:  That’s the only reason you’re attracted to me.  Sorry, but—Yeah, sorry.

NATE:  I just—find it interesting.

LIZ:  What else do you find interesting?  Vegetable gardens?  Antique furniture?  Taxidermy?

NATE:  Look, don’t make me feel weird, okay?  That’s why I—

LIZ:  --Paid me.  That’s why you paid me.  Because you probably went on one of those online websites for guys who are into Exiles, and you couldn’t get anywhere, or maybe you just couldn’t convince a girl in her right mind to get on a plane and go to Detroit just to satisfy your little anthropological fetish, and any girl you did talk to probably said some nasty stuff to you and made you feel bad, so you hired me, and my job—aside from the four and a half minutes we just experienced—is to not make you feel weird.  Am I right?

NATE:  Um…yeah.

LIZ:  Well, don’t feel weird.  Not because you’re not weird, because you are.  I’m not going to lie to you.  I don’t like liars.  But because you’re not nearly as weird as almost everyone else is.  Does that make you feel better?

NATE:  Sort of.

LIZ:  ‘Sort of’ will have to do.

                (She starts to leave.)

NATE:  Are you going back?

                (She stops.)

                To Rhode Island?

LIZ:  Believe it or not, I haven’t gotten any requests yet so—

NATE:  I mean, just like, for yourself?  Did you used to do this before…?

LIZ:  No, I was actually a kindergarten teacher before I was exiled.

NATE:  Really?

LIZ:  No, I was a tattoo artist.

NATE:  Really?

LIZ:  Yes.

NATE:  Really?

LIZ:  I said ‘Yes.’

NATE:  Yeah, but the first one was a joke.

LIZ:  I was a tattoo artist.  I was a really good tattoo artist.

NATE:  Why didn’t you keep doing that after you left?

LIZ:  Well, one day I was on the computer, looking for work, and I saw an ad looking for exile girls who want to make some extra money.  At first I laughed, but then I thought—Well, it’s not really me, is it?  Doing this stuff.  I mean, it’s not the me who lived in Rhode Island.  It’s some Other Me.  Someone who doesn’t really exist.  Some badass girl who does what she wants, and travels, and makes great money, and doesn’t miss Rhode Island at all.

NATE:  And now that you can go back?  What happens to that girl?

LIZ:  Good question.  It’s a little like Harry Potter and Voldemort.  I’m not sure I can go back.  I’m not sure this girl and the Rhode Island girl from five years ago can coexist peacefully in the world.

NATE:  Will there be an epic battle?

LIZ:  Oh yes, with elves and trolls and probably a dragon named Elliott.  I expect many casualties.

NATE:  Just so you know, it was longer than four and a half minutes.

LIZ:  Hey, you can say it was three hours, but then you’re going to have to pay me extra.

NATE:  You know, I’m originally from Rhode Island.

                (A beat.)

LIZ:  Why do I sense some sort of confession coming on?

NATE:  My girlfriend was one of the exiles.  She took off.  I got a postcard from her a month after she left, and then—That was it.  Nothing else.

                (A beat.)

I don’t know if that makes me more weird or…You’re the only one I’ve done this with, if that…I thought…When I saw that the exile was gone, that you could all go back, I thought…Maybe I’d get another postcard, but…No luck.

LIZ:  How’d you end up in Detroit?

NATE:  A city in trouble.  In need of saving.  You were right about me.  I do have a complex.  Plus, the last postcard was from Detroit.

LIZ:  She must have been some girl.

NATE:  She was…there were a lot of problems…she had…But she was a good person.  If they hadn’t made her leave, she could have…gotten things together, I think, I…I had faith in her, you know?

LIZ:  I’m sorry.

NATE:  Sometimes you get so much thrown at you, that you start to wonder if maybe—maybe the odds are just against you, you know?  Or against—a certain situation or—relationship.  At best, things with us—with me and her—they were…tenuous, I guess, is the word.  We’d get on solid ground, and then, she’d lose a job, or get into a fight at a bar, get thrown in jail late at night, and…but the exile—I think that was the last, uh…uh…

                (He seems unable to speak.  LIZ puts his head in her lap.)

LIZ:  I really can’t stay too much longer.

                (He doesn’t say anything.)

It’s not that I don’t want to or that I need the money from the guy in Vegas, it’s just…This is…This is the sort of thing I try to avoid, and…I mean, I hate to be the stereotype, like—the hooker with the heart of gold, but…the truth is, I don’t really feel anything.  Even right now, like, you’re really upset, and I want to feel bad for you, but…I just don’t.  I just don’t feel anything, and that’s…that’s scary to me.  That’s what makes me think I can’t go back.  I mean, I can—I can, physically, go back, but I don’t know if—if the rest of me can.

                (He lifts up his head.)

NATE:  Can you, uh, can we pretend?

LIZ:  Pretend what?

NATE:  That…can we pretend you’re her?

LIZ:  Look, I told you, lying—

NATE:  Not lying.  Just pretending.  Lying’s something you do to somebody, pretending’s something you do with them.

LIZ:  Okay, but—

NATE:  Just tell me you’re here, and…tell me you’re coming back.

                (A moment.)

LIZ:  I don’t…

NATE:  Please.

                (A beat.)

LIZ:  What was her name?

NATE:  Emma.

LIZ:  I don’t look like an Emma.

NATE:  Pretend.

                (A beat.)

LIZ:  What’s my name?

NATE:  Uh, I don’t—you didn’t—

LIZ:  Hey, look at me.  What’s my name?

                (A beat.)

NATE:  Emma.

LIZ:  Right.

NATE:  Emma.

LIZ:  Hey—I’m coming back.

NATE:  Yeah?

LIZ:  Yeah.

NATE:  You promise?

LIZ:  I promise.

NATE:  Okay.

                (A beat.)

Now you can go.

                (Lights.)