(CARYN
and LAURIE survey each other in CARYN’s living room.)
CARYN: You’re not
her.
LAURIE: I’m offended.
CARYN: I don’t give a
shit.
LAURIE: Swearing in
front of your daughter. Lovely.
CARYN: You’re not my
daughter.
LAURIE: I think I
know my mother, Mother.
CARYN: My daughter
died in India. In Bombay to be exact.
LAURIE: Mumbai.
CARYN: What?
LAURIE: It’s not
Bombay anymore.
CARYN: I refer to it
as the 8th Circle of Hell, but sure, call it whatever you want.
LAURIE: I’m your
daughter.
CARYN: Okay, I’ll
play along.
LAURIE: This isn’t a—
CARYN: Where have you
been the last four years?
LAURIE: What do you
mean?
CARYN: For the first
year, you called. You were studying over
there. You said you even met this nice
married man who you were a little too interested in—
LAURIE: All true.
CARYN: And then you
stopped calling. I became
concerned. I went over there—to Bom—to India—and
I met the nice married man, who, by the way, was not up to par with the boys
you usually date—
LAURIE: You always
have an opinion about—
CARYN: --I met
him. I even met his wife. I suspected foul play. But she seemed nice. Soft.
Kind.
LAURIE: When was
this?
CARYN: Four years ago
now.
LAURIE: I talked to
you last week.
CARYN: Don’t be
ridiculous. They didn’t start letting
the exiles back in until yesterday.
LAURIE: Mother, what
day do you think it is?
CARYN: Don’t play
that game with me, Laurie. This isn’t
rock, paper, scissors. Mommy’s good at
figuring out when someone’s lying to her.
LAURIE: India.
CARYN: What about it?
LAURIE: When did you
leave?
CARYN: Six months
later.
(A
beat.)
Without you.
(A
beat.)
LAURIE: I spoke to
you.
CARYN: I haven’t
heard from my daughter in four years.
How dare you. How dare you come
here pretending to be someone you’re not, pretending to be her—
LAURIE: I’m her,
Mom. I’m Laurie.
CARYN: You’re a liar.
LAURIE: How can you
not know your own daughter?
CARYN: You don’t look
anything like her.
LAURIE: People change.
CARYN: Not that much.
LAURIE: Isn’t your
motherly instinct kicking in?
CARYN: No. That’s how I know you’re not her.
LAURIE: Or you’re
just a really lousy mother.
(A
beat.)
CARYN: Get out.
LAURIE: This is my
house too.
CARYN: I said get
out.
LAURIE: You’ve been
looking for me all this time and now you want me to leave?
CARYN: It’s too bad
she didn’t have any birthmarks.
Otherwise we could end this right now.
LAURIE: I have scars.
CARYN: She didn’t
have any scars.
LAURIE: She does now.
(A
beat.)
CARYN: So where were
you?
LAURIE: You don’t
want to know.
CARYN: Cop-out.
LAURIE: I’ll tell
you, but you don’t want to know.
CARYN: I’ve been
through…You have no idea what I’ve been through.
LAURIE: I know this
isn’t going to go over well with you, but…there are people who’ve been through
worse than what you’ve been through.
CARYN: You?
LAURIE: Me, yes. And other people. Sometimes, uncertainty is a comfort, whether you
realize it or not.
CARYN: If you were
her, and you let me go four years worrying myself sick—thinking you were dead—I
wouldn’t want you back anyway.
LAURIE: Are you sure
about that?
CARYN: Yes.
LAURIE: Well.
(A
beat.)
CARYN: Are you?
(A
moment.)
LAURIE: No.
(A
beat.)
It’s a scam. I’m here
for money. It’s a—we’re running a scam
on the families of missing exiles.
CARYN: Oh.
LAURIE: I’m
sorry. I’m a terrible person.
CARYN: How much?
LAURIE: What?
CARYN: How much do
you want?
LAURIE: I—
CARYN: How much were
you trying to get out of me?
LAURIE: Well—
CARYN: I have money.
LAURIE: I know.
CARYN: How could you
know?
LAURIE: I…We do our
homework.
CARYN: We? A little syndicate, huh?
LAURIE: Something
like that.
CARYN: So how much?
LAURIE: I—
CARYN: Ten thousand? Will that do?
LAURIE: Uh…
CARYN: I can go now.
LAURIE: Go?
CARYN: To the
bank. I don’t have that kind of cash at
the house.
LAURIE: This isn’t
really—
CARYN: You need the
money, don’t you? You must.
LAURIE: But—
CARYN: It’ll only
take me five minutes. The bank is right
down the road.
LAURIE: You—
CARYN: I’m not going
to get the police if that’s what you’re thinking.
LAURIE: No.
CARYN: So I’ll go get
it. The money. And then you’ll have it. And then you won’t have to do this
anymore. Hurt people. Scam them, I mean. Because—I mean, ten thousand—that has to be
enough, right? Enough to quit. To do something else? Set up a life for yourself where you don’t
have to—That’ll be enough, right?
LAURIE: I—sure.
(A
beat.)
CARYN: India’s a
lovely place, you know. Under different
circumstances I’m sure I would have…I wanted to stay longer. There just didn’t seem to be…
LAURIE: I under—I mean,
I know, I—I’m sorry.
CARYN: What are you
sorry for?
LAURIE: I don’t
know. I guess—we’re all sorry for something.
CARYN: Aren’t we
though?
(A
short pause.)
Aren’t we all?
(Lights.)
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