MALE IDENTIFYING
HELLO, FROM THE CHILDREN OF PLANET EARTH – WILLIAM (M)
Comedy
After many failed attempts, William urges his friend Betsy to try one more IVF attempt. This monologue appeared in a previous version of my full length play Hello, From the Children of Planet Earth.
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WILLIAM
Betsy. Listen… (beat)
I know when people try to comfort others, they always say “it’ll be okay.” But it won’t be okay. It will probably never be okay. And I can only imagine there will be days where you want to scream or punch someone. There will be times of epic pain, the kind that forces you to your knees. Again, I can only imagine so. Which means I’m not a hundred percent sure of anything. But what I am sure about is that through all your moments of not being okay, I will be here for you.
We tried to have a child and it didn’t work. And I know you and Shoshanah talked about adopting if this didn’t work out. And it would be SO easy for me to walk away right now. I could go on with my life with no attachments, which is what I’m used to I guess.
But I’m a glutton for punishment. And you know that, from the first time we met, in the third grade. I asked if you wanted to be friends and you kicked me in the shins and ran off. And the next day I came back and asked again and you kicked me in the shins and it kept happening until…it didn’t.
So as your friend with very bad shins, I want to tell you something. Last night at work, I was staring up at the sky, imagining Voyager out there somewhere. Hoping it would tell us it’s still alive. Hoping against hope that I don’t go down in history as the engineer who managed to lose NASA’s thirty-five year old space probe.
And up in the sky I traced the big dipper like I used to as a kid. It was always my constant in the sky. But then I grew up and learned that in a hundred thousand years from now, the stars that form the big dipper will have completely rearranged itself. And the big dipper as we know it, will be gone.
So I can gaze at the night sky and I pretend it is peaceful and in order. But what’s also up there is a fiery sun and all these celestial bodies formed out of a giant explosion. And from this chaotic fireball came stars and planets and our Earth. Which proves there is order in chaos, and all of it can be explained through equations and quantum theory. But what also came out of that mathematically proven chaos was us.
What I’m trying to say is, mathematically speaking, nothing is impossible. We only say that because it extends the reaches of our lives, right? But if you just remove that limit of time, then the math is possible.
The math says we can ultimately achieve the unachievable as long as we…well, live forever. Okay, I know that’s not realistic. No one’s gonna live forever.
So to make up for our finite lives, we have to lessen the odds…by trying again. And I know you said you didn’t want to, but we simply must. As much as humanly possible again and again, failing until we don’t. Until the math becomes possible. Because, you see, each and everyone one of us…
We are perfect math.
And we will make that baby. Together, we’ll make that baby. I know we will. And hopefully in time, we’ll realize this pain…for us…is not the end of the universe. It’s just a kick in the shins. So what do you say?
End of Monologue
THE WORLD IS NOT SILENT – DAU (M)
Trilingual Comedy/Drama
Don, an astrophotographer, returns home to reconnect with his estranged Vietnamese father Dau…
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Dau sits in front of a shrine. He lights a joss stick and sets it down in front of a photo of his wife.
DAU
Remember that day on the Saigon river? You said it was longest day of our lives. Our boat runs aground. I swear I could hear the North marching into the city as we sit dead in the water. After four hours a rescue boat finally comes. But there’s no gangway. Only ropes to walk across. Some people do. Some fall between the boats. Crushed. You could barely stand from the burns on your legs. I put you on my back. I hold our son tight against my chest.
I take small steps.
Now I’m halfway across. People yell “Hurry! Faster!” I don’t listen. I am carrying everything I have in my life. I can’t be distracted. The crashing waves. The ship horns. The screaming.
I turn the world silent. Now I can only hear myself.
I say “Dau, use the currents to time your steps. Now go.” We move. Step after step. But then we’re caught in a cross current. I lose my balance. Our son slips away from me. I look down and he is suspended in front of me. Held up by nothing…or something. We lock eyes. I am scared. He is scared. But he doesn’t move.
Is it possible our fears grabbed each other, held him in the air long enough for me to grab him? No time to question. I grab him. Suddenly we’re on the other side. And the world fills with noise.
I haven’t thought about this for a long time. Until today when I lost my balance. That familiar fear rushed back to me so quickly. Had it been waiting by my side all these years? That same fear is on our son’s face. I don’t know how to help him. You always knew how to talk to our son. Only you.
Dau puts out the joss stick as Don watches him.
End of Monologue
THE WORLD IS NOT SILENT – DON (M)
Trilingual Comedy/Drama
Don, an astrophotographer, returns home to reconnect with his estranged Vietnamese father Dau…
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DON
When I was seven I wanted to be Mormon. I was invited to a sleepover at my friend Troy Mormon’s house. And yes, his last name is Mormon and he is in fact a Mormon.
Troy’s parents were the nicest, sweetest people I’d ever met. An incredible weekend packed with fishing and movies and staying up late and eating popcorn.
For every meal, we’re holdings hands and praying. Well, they’re praying. I’m pretending to pray. Troy’s parents look him in the eyes and say…I love you. And they look me in the eyes, ME, and say I love you.
I’m completely blown away. I didn’t know – remember, I was seven – I didn’t know parents actually said that to their kids. I mean, yeah on tv, sure. But in real life? My parents never did that. Unfortunately real life is waiting for me back home. The weekend’s over and I go back to my meager non-Mormon existence. Back to being Vietnamese.
But here’s the thing. I’m now changed and I know what I want. It’s now or never.
I’m home. I go straight to my parents, who are already having dinner. And if there’s one thing you don’t do in an Asian household is bug your parents at dinner.
But this is important to me. I say “Mom. Dad. I want to be Mormon.”
You know how Asian parents have that look? Like “whose child is this?” I got that look. So now I think I should back down. But I don’t.
Instead, I look my dad straight in the eyes and I say “Troy and his parents are Mormon and they say I love you to each other.”
You know how Asian parents have that OTHER look? The “you can’t out-guilt Asian parents” look? That look that says “we sacrificed everything for you and we don’t have to say I love you because it’s implied you asshole.”
Yeah, I’m given that look. I go straight to my room and we never talk about it again.
Needless to say, I stopped wanting to be Mormon. But it still bugged me, you know? Like, why can other parents say I love you to their kids but my parents can’t? Or won’t?
So now I’m older and I realize something. Maybe I have to say it first? To break down whatever emotional wall is standing between us, you know?
I try, many times. It’s hard. Not because I’m embarrassed. I think I was afraid…I’d embarrass them.
Anyway, I try it on my mom first. Out of both parents she’d be less embarrassed about it. At this point I’m thirteen and I’m heading out the door and instead of my usual “bye mom” I say non-chalantly “love you mom” and wait. No response. Nothing. Then…a burst of laughter. I’m mortified.
So my mom laughs for like an eternity. Then it dies down. She says to me kinda sing-songy but with a soft tenderness: “I love youuuuuuu.”
And now I say bye to my mom for the last time. I tell her I love her and it’s so easy. No embarrassment. And she can’t really speak, but I can hear her sing-songy voice say “I love youuuuuu.” Sure, I’m sad but also really…grateful. Because we have a common language. Even without speaking. You know?
My Dad was a different story. Once and only once did I say it to him. At dinner. I say “love you” and he kinda grunts “harghhh” as he shovels rice into his mouth.
I think with my dad, it’s not about saying I love you to each other, although that would be nice. I think it’s about finding our common language, like I did with my mom. For me and him I guess that common language is VSL. But before that, I think it’s Vietnamese for me.
End of Monologue