We Might Not Be Heroes: That's the Truth

(JESSICA and SHANNON are standing with their bags at the airport.)

JESSICA:  So I’ll pick you up on Thursday.

SHANNON:  Right.  Unless they keep me there.

JESSICA:  They said even if they choose you, you get sent home first to see your loved ones.

SHANNON:  You just buy everything they’re saying, I—

JESSICA:  Shannon, please.  I don’t want to fight.

SHANNON:  Then stop siding with the government over your own sister.

JESSICA:  I’m not siding with—Why would they lie about something like that?

SHANNON:  Why does anybody lie about anything?

(A beat.)

JESSICA:  Are they lying?

(A beat.)

SHANNON:  No.  They’re not.  Not about that.

JESSICA:  Okay.  (A beat.)  Are they lying about…anything else?

SHANNON:  It’s hard to tell.

JESSICA:  But isn’t that, like—your thing?

SHANNON:  It’s not like I can tell if the government as a whole is lying.  I can only go from person-to-person.  Some of the people on tv representing the government are lying and some aren’t.

JESSICA:  But aren’t they all saying the same thing?

SHANNON:  Yes, but that just means some of them believe they’re telling the truth.

JESSICA:  So if someone believes they’re telling the truth, you can’t tell that they’re lying?

SHANNON:  No, because at that point, they’re not lying.  At least, they don’t know they’re lying.  And some of the people who are lying might just think that they’re lying when they’re not really lying at all.

JESSICA:  So they could think that they’re telling the truth and really be lying, in which case, you wouldn’t know that they’re lying, or they could think they’re lying, but they’re actually telling the truth, in which case, you would think they’re lying but you’d be wrong?

SHANNON:  Exactly.

JESSICA:  Your power is worthless.

SHANNON:  Jessica!

JESSICA:  Anybody can do what you do.  They have people at the FBI and the CIA who can tell when somebody’s lying.

SHANNON:  But they’ve trained to do that.  I never trained—and I’m always right.  I was right about—

JESSICA:  Mitchell.  I know.

SHANNON:  And he talked to people from the FBI, and they said he was fine.  And then—

JESSICA:  I still don’t see how this is going to help with fighting aliens.

SHANNON:  They didn’t say only register if you want to fight aliens.  They said anyone with enhanced abilities.

JESSICA:  So what are you going to tell them?  I knew my brother was a terrorist.  That’s my superpower.  I figured it out when nobody else did.

SHANNON:  He wasn’t a terrorist.

JESSICA:  Shannon—

SHANNON:  He was confused.  He was brainwashed.

JESSICA:  He was plotting to blow up—

SHANNON:  (On ‘plotting.’)  Oh my God, ‘plotting.’  Listen to you.

JESSICA:  --A school for godsakes!

(A beat.)

JESSICA:  And yes, if not for you, he probably would have done it.  So yes, you deserve some—whatever, for that.  Something.

SHANNON:  I don’t want anything.  I just want to register then come home.

JESSICA:  You know, nobody’s forcing you to do this.  If you don’t trust the government, that’s fine, but you’re the one volunteering.

SHANNON:  Because otherwise I’d be lying.

JESSICA:  You wouldn’t be lying.  You just wouldn’t be offering up the truth.

SHANNON:  That’s lying.

JESSICA:  No, it’s not.

SHANNON:  Well, I can see how you would think that.

(A beat.)

JESSICA:  What the hell is that supposed to mean?

SHANNON:  Nothing.  You don’t want to fight.

JESSICA:  Because I didn’t tell anybody about Mitchell?

SHANNON:  Jess—

JESSICA:  I didn’t know.

SHANNON:  You say that, but—

JESSICA:  I didn’t know what he was doing.  (A beat.)  What?  You think I’m lying?

SHANNON:  First of all, it wouldn’t be me thinking that.  It would be me knowing that.

JESSICA:  Okay, so was I lying back then?

SHANNON:  You didn’t think you were lying.

JESSICA:   That sounds so passive aggressive.

SHANNON:  I’m sorry, but passive aggressive happens to be my resting tone.

JESSICA:  Just tell me something—all bullshit and nobility aside—are you doing this because of Mitch?

SHANNON:  Maybe.  A little.  I don’t know.  I honestly don’t.

JESSICA:  You know, we don’t talk about it, but…You had to have known for awhile.  I mean, if you really can do what you say you can do, that means you had to have known for awhile before you…

SHANNON:  Before I turned him in?

JESSICA:  Yes.

SHANNON:  I went to him.  I asked him to stop.  To get help.

JESSICA:  You never told me that.

SHANNON:  Well, it’s a good thing not ‘offering up the truth’ isn’t the same as lying then.

JESSICA:  What did he say?

SHANNON:  He said he would.  He said he was just going through a lot of stuff, but that he’d never hurt anybody.  That he was just lost.  I understood that.  We hugged.  I waited.  Two months later I found the e-mails on his computer.  I asked him if he was ever really going to change.  He said ‘Yes.’  I knew he was lying.  I called the police.

JESSICA:  We could have helped him.

SHANNON:  How?

JESSICA:  We could have gotten him to the right people.

SHANNON :  That’s what I did!

JESSICA:  You don’t even trust the government!

SHANNON:  So who else was I going to give him to?  Doctors?  You think he wouldn’t have fooled doctors?  Hell, Mom’s a doctor.

JESSICA:  She’s not a psychologist.

SHANNON:  What difference does it make?  When the FBI showed up, even they believed him at first.  Then they saw what was on his computer.  I did the right thing.

JESSICA:  It shouldn’t have just been your decision.

SHANNON:  I was the only one who was going to make the right decision.

JESSICA:  You don’t know that.

SHANNON:  Please, I saw you and Mom sticking your heads in the sand.  And Dad going golfing everyday just so he could pretend his son wasn’t turning into a crazy person.  While all of you were trying not to do something, I was watching my brother morph into this supervillain.

JESSICA:  He wasn’t a supervillain.  He was just a confused kid.

SHANNON:  You think it would have mattered to the people he hurt?  Or killed?

(A beat.)

JESSICA:  If they’re lying about letting you come back, then I could be losing you now too.

SHANNON:  That’s…a possibility.

JESSICA:  And for what?

SHANNON:  (Shrugs.)  The Greater Good?

JESSICA:  Am I bad a person for not caring about the Greater Good?  Am I bad for caring about my sister and my brother more than I care about other people’s sisters and brothers?  It’s all well and good to talk about doing the right thing until you’re actually faced with the sacrifice of it.  Then everything gets so…tribal.  You realize you can only protect so many people in this world.  Maybe only a few.  And if you happen to love more than a few, well…

SHANNON:  Dad forgave me before I left.

JESSICA:  He did?

SHANNON:  Yeah.  He said ‘I forgive you.’  He gave me a hug.  Then he threw his clubs in the backseat of his car and drove away.

JESSICA:  That sounds about right.

SHANNON:  Mom’s never going to forgive me.

JESSICA:  She might.

SHANNON:  I doubt it.  (A beat.)  Do you forgive me?

JESSICA:  I…Yes.

SHANNON:  You’re lying.

JESSICA:  I—I can’t.  I just—I want to, but I can’t.

SHANNON:  Oh.

JESSICA:  And if it’s any consolation, I can’t forgive myself either.

SHANNON:  Well…that’s the truth.

                (Lights.)

We Might Be Heroes: The Painter

Well Martha, I’m dream-adjacent now

That’s the new term they’re using

People, people like me

People who are next to their dreams

The things they once envisioned achieving

But now feel satisfied in just the, the—

The glow of the original

You know?

Dream-adjacent

I wanted to be an artist

And now I own a gallery

It’s close—it’s close enough

Closer than a lot of other people get, right?

So this idea—this scheme

The idea that somehow my painting

Could help in some way is just…

They weren’t that good

The paintings

Did people like them?

Sure—but what does that mean?

Nothing

Not if nobody’s buying them

I burned everything I ever made

Every painting

Every scrap

Every scribble I ever did

Gone, all gone

A man from the government came to see me

He brought up things

Things from my past

He asked about my old work

He said he heard I used to be inspirational

Revolutionary, even

I said, Unfortunately, I lost my touch a long time ago

But I wanted to be polite

So I invited him into my apartment for a cup of coffee

He saw the easel in my living room

The empty canvas

The lone brush just sitting there

Some dried black paint

Stuck to the bristles

It might as well have been a loaded gun

But he didn’t even glance at it

They must not have given him the whole story

If you don’t paint anymore, he said

What’s with this?

And he motioned to the easel

And the canvas

I walked over to it

Picked up the brush

And brought it up to the cool, white surface

Where there could be all sorts of things

Rivers and cold stares and open wounds

I drew a circle

Then colored it in

A black hole

When I stepped back from the canvas

The man from the government

Was shaking

Now he knew

Now he knew why they’d sent him

But they thought that I was out of practice

When the truth is making art

Is like making love

It’s all in your body

And it never truly goes away

The black circle sucked the man in

Leaving nothing but his shoes in my living room

It’s not the first time I’ve had to bury a man’s shoes in my backyard

I suppose I could just keep them in a box somewhere

But burying them seems more poetic

I’m sure they’ll send someone else to get me, Martha

I’m not naïve

I know I’m desirable

Now that aliens are approaching

And I’d like to help, really I would, but—

For so many years they didn’t want me

And now they want what I can do, but—

They still don’t want me

So I’m keeping what I have

I’m keeping it close to my chest

Just like I have all these years

I’ll keep standing next to my dream

And marvel at how tall it is

And if they send anybody else, well—

There’s always something to paint on

There’s a whole world out there

And I can paint over

All of it

We Might Be Heroes: The Dollhouse

I made myself as small as I possibly could

But not to fight

To hide

I locked myself away in a doll house

In the basement of a house in the woods

With a slice of bread

And a dog dish full of water

According to my calculations

That should last me

Until after the aliens wipe out the earth

Or until the humans fight back and win

Or until the humans fight back, and sort of win

But send the entire planet

Into a state of chaos

Where hordes of maniacs

Will have to scavenge for food and supplies

At which point, maybe they’ll find this secluded cabin in the woods

But odds are, they won’t think to look in the little dollhouse in the basement

To see if there’s a tiny woman in there

Chewing on stale bread

And sitting on a plastic couch

Feeling ashamed of herself

When I was little

Well—younger

I used to tell my mom I was going outside

Then I’d shrink down

And sit in my dollhouse

With my inanimate friends

Pouring tea for them

Sitting in front of an imaginary fireplace

Trying to get warm

Downstairs I’d hear my parents fighting

Doors slamming

‘And another thing’

‘And another thing’

Until the other things gave birth

To other things

That created new things to fight about

And the tea would pour

And the invisible fire would burn

And I’d pull a sheet of Kleenex up to my chin

And try to fall asleep

On the plastic bed

They asked for people with superpowers

But what I have isn’t a superpower

It’s a defense mechanism

And I can’t teach others how to do it

I don’t even know how I do it

Plus, there’s only so much room

In the dollhouse

In the basement, it’s always dark

Because the windows are covered in grime

So I keep a candle burning

Next to the dollhouse

And I tell myself it’s a streetlamp

And that I’ve just come home from a party

With my loving husband

Who adores me

And I’ve just kissed my perfect daughter on her head

And told her to go right to sleep

Even though I know she was just waiting up for me

I smile and wink at her

So she knows I’m not all that cross

And then I close the door to her room

And get ready to take off my make-up

And join my husband in bed

But my daughter is a paper doll

And my make-up is made up melted crayons

And my perfect husband is a photo I found in a magazine

Of a boy who looks sad and inviting

All at the same time

When the candle burns out

I’ll grow myself up

Take another one from the box I brought with me

Light it

And shrink down again

Retreating into a night that could be daytime

And a house that could be anybody’s

And memories that fit like hand-me-down clothes

And a special power

That isn’t so special at all

Unless you like hiding

Unless you want to spend your life

Out of sight

We Might Be Heroes: Take the Sword

My aunt Sara taught me how to use a blade

She had me stand out in the yard at midnight

Two hours after my parents were murdered

Cheeks still stained with denial

Remorse making my hands sweaty

Bare feet, wet grass

The nightgown I slept in splotched

With the blood of my father and mother

Sara handed me the sword

Tonight, she said, you have a choice

I sniveled

I shook my head

I wanted to crawl into the earth

And become the dirt

I wanted to wait for my parents

To be buried with them

Why wasn’t I dead?

Because the man they hired to kill my father and mother

Didn’t get the memo about a bedroom in the attic

Or the little girl who slept up there

My father made a few bad business deals

With a few bad people

And so there I was

With Sara, my mother’s sister

The one who would become my guardian

Not only because she could protect me

But because she could teach me to protect myself

You have a choice, she said

Right now

You either become a victim of something

Or a survivor of it

The way she said it, I knew there wasn’t really a choice

Aunt Sara wasn’t going to take care of anybody

She would house you and feed you

And tolerate your presence

But she wasn’t going to be my new mother

She wasn’t going to hold me and kiss me goodnight

And assure me that the world was a sunny happy place

That wasn’t her way

That wasn’t who she was

So I wiped away the remorse

And I took the sword

Years later, a man is lying on a bed in a hotel room

A stack of hundreds next to him on the nightstand

He’s old

Much older than I am

And I look even younger

With my short blonde wig

And my white lingerie

He’s already tied up

But he thinks it’s part of the game

The Naughty Businessman

And the College Girl Who Needs to Pay Her Tuition

He licks the sweat from his upper lip

The blindfold slipping down just enough

So that I can see his eyebrows

Grey and bushy

Just like the hair on his chest

And back

He left his holster in the chair

By the window

Maybe it’s the same gun that killed my parents

Who knows?

Men are sentimental about their guns

When he’s tied up nice and tight

I go into the adjoining room

And roll in my suitcase

It only has one thing in it

I take out the sword

He can’t see it

But he can hear the blade

Sliding out

Like an eel

Like an omen

Like something from the past

I take off my wig

And his blindfold

But before he can say anything

I put my finger on his lips

And he goes silent

Tonight, I say, you have a choice

He looks at me

His right eye twitches

And I say—

Which part of your body

Do you want me to cut off first?

We Might Be Heroes: The Curse

                (KERRY is sitting at a table.  TIM enters the room.)

TIM:  Hi Miss Gold.  Sorry to keep you waiting.

KERRY:  That’s not my last name.

TIM:  We call everyone Mr. or Miss Gold.  It simplifies things.

KERRY:  Why not just refrain from using last names?

TIM:  I don’t know.  Government, right?  Go figure.  You’re pretty.

KERRY:  Thank you.

TIM:  Don’t worry.  I’m not attracted to you.

KERRY:  Well, that’s a relief.

TIM:  But I do think you’re pretty.

KERRY:  That’s a contradiction.

TIM:  Not really.  I’m only attracted to bald women.

KERRY:  Bald women?

TIM:  Yes, you know—like Sinead O’Connor or Annie Lennox.

KERRY:  You’re into BALD women?

TIM:  Yes.  I’m sure if you shaved your head, I’d be into you.

KERRY:  Well, I’m not going to do that.

TIM:  Okay, well, that’s your choice.  So—you have a superpower?

KERRY:  I think I might, yes.

TIM:  Great.  Can you tell me what it is?

KERRY:  If I don’t like someone, they drop dead.

                (A beat.  TIM slowly moves his chair away from her.)

TIM:  Uh, how did you—

KERRY:  I disliked my kindergarten teacher.  She used to make me sit in the corner, because I was chatty.  That was her word for it—‘chatty.’  She died of a heart attack on the last day of school.  Two other teachers I disliked died suddenly even though they were both in perfect health.    A mean uncle died suddenly.  My mean grandfather on my mother’s side.  A mean woman in the supermarket who got mad at me for eating a grape when nobody was looking.  Oh, and all my ex-boyfriends have died.  Four of them.  Each one the day they broke up with me.

TIM:  I’m sorry, but how do I know you’re not a serial killer?

KERRY:  I faint at the sight of blood.

TIM:  You could be poisoning them.

KERRY:  I could be, but then I doubt I’d be here confessing to a government agent.

TIM:  Oh, I’m not an agent.  I’m an associate.

KERRY:  What’s the—What’s an associate?

TIM:  I—go over forms with people.

KERRY:  I think I’d like to speak to an agent.

TIM:  The agents are training for when the aliens land and we have to engage them in hand-to-hand combat.

KERRY:  Why aren’t you an agent?

TIM:  I also faint at the sight of blood.

KERRY:  Listen, I’m willing to take care of this whole alien problem.  You just have to get the aliens to make me angry.

TIM:  How would we do that?

KERRY:  I don’t know.  Get them to say mean things about me.  Tell them to say they don’t like my hair.  Ooooh if they say that—

TIM:  Can’t you just be mad about the fact that they’re going to destroy the planet?

KERRY:  Mmmmmmm I feel like that’s not going to do it.  I mean, there are days I want to destroy the planet, so how could I judge them?

TIM:  Can you destroy the planet?

KERRY:  I don’t think so.  I feel like I can bring about death in people on an individual basis, but one time, these two twin girls at my high school made fun of me, and I was only able to bring about the death of one of them.  But then the other twin kept talking in half-sentences waiting for her sister to finish them for her, people stopped inviting her places, and she had to get a job at the Container Store.  And if you ask me, that’s its own kind of death.

TIM:  Okay, well, I’m glad you can’t blow up the Earth, but how are we going to get aliens to speak to you in a way that’ll get you angry so you can blow them up?

KERRY:  Are the aliens prettier than me?  Because that might be enough to do it.

TIM:  We have reason to believe they look like bowls of jell-o with a horn sticking out of it.

KERRY:  Oh, that sounds adorable!

TIM:  Miss—

KERRY:  Like a jell-o unicorn!

TIM:  Well—

KERRY:  Oh, I’d like to—Uh oh.

TIM:  What?

KERRY:  It’s just that—When I’m fond of someone—or something—the reverse tends to happen.

TIM:  The reverse of what?  Dying?

KERRY:  Well, sort of.

TIM:  What’s the reverse of dying?  Do they live forever?

KERRY:  No!  Oh God, no.  They just—get luckier?

TIM:  Luckier?

KERRY:  Those aliens sound so cute.

TIM:  No!  No, they’re not!  They’re killing machines!  They’re murderous bowls of unicorn jell-o with these little feet that resemble a chicken’s—

KERRY:  Ohhh they have chicken feet?

TIM:  Stop it!  Please, stop it.

KERRY:  Ew, don’t tell me to stop.  I can think the invaders are cute if I want to.

TIM:  I’m just—

KERRY:  You’re so bossy.

TIM:  Please.

KERRY:  Ugh, just drop dead already.

                (A beat.)

KERRY:  Uh…oh.

TIM:  Why did you just say that?

KERRY:  I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry!  I just get angry sometimes!

TIM:  Can you take it back?

KERRY:  I don’t know!  I don’t think so.  I’ve never been able to before.

TIM:  Before?  You’ve tried to take it back before?

KERRY:  Yes.

TIM:  When?

KERRY:  This one time when my I thought my boyfriend wanted to break up with me, because he seemed distant, but it turned out he was just getting ready to propose to me, but by then, I was already really angry with him and then—

TIM:  Oh my God.

KERRY:  Okay, I think I know a way to fix this.

TIM:  How?

KERRY:  Kiss me.

TIM:  Kiss you?

KERRY:  If you kiss me, it’ll make me really happy, and then you’ll be really lucky, and it should cancel out me wanting you dead.

TIM:  But you’re not bald.

KERRY:  Are you kidding me?

TIM:  Is there any way you could shave your head before I kiss you?

KERRY:  Okay, now you’re making me angry again.

TIM:  Fine, fine!

                (He kisses her.)

TIM:  So?

KERRY:  I mean, I’m not thrilled, but you probably won’t die.

TIM:  Excellent.  I’m going to mark you down on my form as ‘Total Failure.’

KERRY:  So you don’t want me to help with the aliens?

TIM:  Noooo, I think you’re better off just hanging out on the sidelines.

KERRY:  Are you sure?  I mean, as much as I’d hate to kill those adorable-sounding extra-terrestrials—

TIM:  Please, don’t think about them anymore, okay?

                (He stands up.)

KERRY:  Is there anybody else you might want me to think about?  Terrorists?  Dictators?  People who say ‘moist’ a lot?

TIM:  Just—try and stay calm.

                (He exits.)

KERRY:  Where’s the fun in that?

                (Lights.)