LAVINIA

Good morning, Mr. Collins. I adjourned the depositions on Resnick - it's in your calendar, you see it? Oh, your wife called, she forgot to say bring home an extension cord, catfood, Pampers and a loaf of bread -No. No, "extension cord, catfood, Pampers, loaf of bread"—excuse me, I have a little emergency I have to —Pampers - catfood - cord – bread I'm just going to the rest room— No, I'm fine. Fine.

No, I’m not fine - my arm hurts and frankly, I could use a Pamper myself, Mr. Caca, that's all - our troubled history aside, has it ever crossed your mind that African blood doesn’t automatically guarantee a stalwart, sturdy and inexhaustible body and soul? Because frankly, even as we speak my glands are secreting follicle stimulating hormone into my veins and instructing my ovaries to deposit my entire uterine lining onto my underwear.

Right - right - exactly - extension cord - catfood - Pampers - severed head.

That week you listened to the second movement of Wolfgang Gottlieb Amadeus Gift-of-God Mozart's number 4, Daddy. The second movement, remember? The Andante Cantabile. In D major. In the key of weeping.

(SHE brings HER chair to the bed, grabs some flowers, sits)

Hey.

Here, let me help you take those earphones off – what're you listening to? You were sleeping. Not long. I didn't want to disturb you. But you need to sleep. No, no–no, don't get all angry, Daddy - it’s nothing. Excited, I meant don’t get excited. Okay, then nervous– just—just stay calm, I'll wake you up next time - I promise, I promise. Okay. Okay?

Me? I’m fine. I’m fine. Daddy, the doctor said you're not always taking medication, when they come in - that true? Okay, so it makes you sleepy, you still got to take it, Daddy - what you think you can just stop when you feel like, they're trying to help you. So it makes you tired, you sleep a little bit. Okay, a lot, but you gotta take it cause they know what you need and why aren't you eating? I don't call that eating. Eating, you pick your fork up and you put it in your mouth and you swallow your food, you don't pick little crumbs off with your fingers. That's right. Sure, Jesus takes care of you, but you gotta help. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to nag, I’m just—I know. I know. I’ll shut up. Okay?

Tell you what though. You get better - you take your medication and everything and I'll get us tickets for the Philharmonic New Year's Eve, okay? What, you don’t believe me? I will. Sure, you bet I will. That a deal?

Daddy, stop it, will you – I don’t like hearing you talk that way. You'll get better, you just got to rest, you got to do what you're supposed to do.

Hey. Hey, you're not gonna do this, are you? You and me made a deal, remember? We're gonna die in Vienna. Thousands of people will crowd the streets to pay homage like Beethoven. Remember? Hold on, Daddy. For me? I’ll get us to Vienna. Just hold on.

Goodnight, Daddy. I will. Hey. New Year's Eve.

(SHE rises, crosses down center, addresses someone off left)

Did you see him? You see how weak he is? Look, Veronica, I don't have time for this. You and Elizabeth, you figure it out, but one of you's got to take him, he can't live by himself. Elizabeth and Randy? Fine, that's fine, then you tell him. I don't care. I don't care he’s not gonna like it, he doesn't have a choice, that's what you say. I can't. Cause you know how him and me are—any little thing and he starts on me, I can't. I can't. Ronnie, look....

(Pause. SHE drops HER eyes, defeated) I'm sorry, I only have a small apartment, otherwise I'd take him.

Alright. Alright, alright, I'll tell him. Elizabeth and Randy.

Or if he doesn't go for that, Kevin and Keisha, we'll let him decide, okay? Okay.

(SHE turns away, takes a few deep breaths, turns back, smiles)

No, Jason, I didn't get the part. Children? Vinnie did not get the part. Who did? I don't know - that's a good question. Some African gal. Vinnie wasn't African enough - do you know what that means, my little charges? It means I wasn't real. Vinnie reads the Times Book Review and understands abstract concepts so the casting lady thought Vinnie was a fake black person. Tiffany? Do you know what that means? Well, there you go. We have our lesson for today.

HOW TO BE REAL

I will demonstrate. Ubiquitous? Tell us what you had for breakfast this morning - was it real food? Ubiquitous? I'm talking to you.

(Pause. SHE seems bewildered)

I'm sorry, Jennifer. I forgot your name for a second. I'm sorry - don't cry, Jennifer, please? I apologize. Of course I know your name, honey, there's nothing wrong with your name, nothing at all.

Yes, there is something wrong with your name. It no longer represents anything - it's become a faux name spawned by some movie about a dying college girl that persuaded your mother you might evoke the glamour and distinction she lacked – a notion shared by a gazillion other American mothers – so there is now such an epidemic of your name that you and countless others are, ironically, straddled with an entirely unoriginal designation. Your name doesn't do it's job. It's job is to set you apart.

Your parents must have families - a host of souls with names to call upon or if not at least a modicum of imagination - surely it's not asking so much. A moment of vision at the birth of a girl? You carry that all your life.