from The Cave

“The old will die, and the young will forget.”

CHARACTERS:

BONNIE: Mom. American woman.

JAMIL: Dad. Middle Eastern man.

DEMA: Daughter. Half. Thirteen years old.

NOOR: Daughter. Half. Ten years old.

GAIL: Next-door neighbor.

MARK: Gail’s husband.

ACTOR: A man, a prophet. Supernatural, unrelenting, paranormal, transcendent, and psychic.

Note:

/ indicates an overlap with the next line of dialogue

This play was developed and premiered at A Red Orchid Theatre in Chicago, Illinois.

Act One

Ohio, July 27, 1990

(We see a house filled with moving boxes and one naked light bulb on the ceiling. We hear the last moments of rain. A small shadow moves quickly across the wall.

JAMIL comes in first and sets down a heavy box. He takes off his outside sandals and puts on his indoor ones. He opens the box and takes out a light fixture and places it over the naked bulb. He then takes out his prayer rug and faces it east and starts to pray. NOOR enters next, holding a comic book and shoebox.)

NOOR: Dad, I’m gonna go read my comic book. In case you were wondering.

JAMIL: Allah Akbar sub/

BONNIE: (enters the doorway holding heavy boxes) Jamil?!!

            Shit! Sorry, I forgot. Noor, can you help with the rest of the small stuff? Dema needs some help.

            Noor?

(She gives up and goes to the kitchen. Small passage of time.)

DEMA: (kicks the front door open while holding a box) Remember me? So, you’re all inside now? Awesome, because I was just waiting outside, like an idiot— (looking at the boxes) And my stuff is at the bottom.

BONNIE: Whatdaya need?

DEMA: The only thing I have in my room is a mattress—

BONNIE: Okay, I’ll bring you your things. What’s in your hair?

DEMA: Spiderwebs.

JAMIL: (finishes praying) What’s wrong, habibti?

DEMA: (stomps upstairs) I probably have spider eggs in my hair!

(Door slam.)

BONNIE: Someone’s in a bad mood.

JAMIL: It’s okay. Let her have space/

BONNIE: Fuck, where’s the medicine box?

JAMIL: I put it in the basement. She won’t find it.

BONNIE: I have to go down and take any pills out—

JAMIL: Hayati, this is a good thing.

BONNIE: I know.

            . . .

            I already miss them.

JAMIL: They’ll come visit. (He unpacks a photo.) Here, now they can watch us unpack. And your mom can ask me, “Jamil, do you have forks in your country?”

(JAMIL takes another photo out of the box. He hesitates.)

BONNIE: Is it Jay? It’s okay, let’s hang it up.

(The doorbell rings.)

            Oh, shit. No, no. Is that neighbors?

(Jamil’s beeper goes off.)

            Jamil,/ you come back here—

JAMIL: (laughing) It’s work! (runs to the kitchen)

BONNIE: You bastard.

(He picks up the phone and dials. We hear him talk in Arabic. BONNIE looks out the peephole.)  

           Hello!

GAIL: Oh, good, /good.

(We hear DEMA offstage singing “I Don’t Know How to Love Him” from Jesus Christ Superstar.)

BONNIE: (yelling upstairs) Dema? Sweetie? Can you sing a little softer? Sounds great, though! Sorry, we’re dealing with a lot of feelings/ today.

GAIL: We don’t wanna bother you—just wanted to say hi. This is my husband.

MARK: That’s my cue to talk. I’m/ ​Mark.

GAIL: Thank God the rain stopped.

BONNIE: I know! Please, come in.

GAIL: No, no. Moving is so stressful. We just wanted to drop off a “welcome to the neighborhood” meal.

MARK: It’s meatloaf.

GAIL: AND, me and my son, Gideon, made some lemon sugar cookies.

BONNIE: That is so sweet of you guys. Jamil!

(JAMIL walks to the door. He nods to GAIL and shakes MARK’s hand.)

JAMIL: Hello! Very nice to meet you.

GAIL: Hi! I’m Gail.

MARK: Mark—sorry, I’m Mark.

BONNIE: This is my husband, Jamil.

GAIL: Did I see you have kids?

BONNIE: Two girls.

GAIL: Oh darn it, I thought I saw a little boy.

BONNIE: That’s our youngest girl wearing a baseball hat. She’s a bit of a tomboy.

GAIL: How old is your youngest?

BONNIE: Noor is ten and Dema is thirteen.

GAIL: Jamil, Noor, Dema, and Bonnie?

BONNIE: One of these is not like the others. My gosh, look at all those birds!

GAIL: Yeah, they like to sit on the telephone lines. Bird poop just—everywhere. It’s awful.

BONNIE: My dad calls that “church.” When birds sit on a telephone line all at once. Those birds are going to church!

GAIL: Your oldest is only thirteen? Huh, I saw her out the window and thought she was sixteen or seventeen.

MARK: At least.

BONNIE: Yeah, I guess she looks a little older.

MARK: Ohhh—I don’t envy you, Jamil. I’m glad I have a boy. I couldn’t deal with all of that.

JAMIL: With what?

GAIL: Oh, he just means you’ll have to deal with boys and the “talk.”

BONNIE: I think we still have time/ ​before . . .

GAIL: Where are you all from?

BONNIE: Vegas. Las Vegas.

GAIL: Sin City.

JAMIL: That is why we moved.

GAIL: I’m here if you have any questions about the area and some of the HOA rules . . .

BONNIE: I was gonna ask—I’ve never lived in a gated community.

MARK: Everyone here is great. You’re gonna love/​ it.

GAIL: Couple things:

            If you have guests coming in, they just need to give a heads-up to Rakesh. He’s the guard.

            Huh, he might actually speak—

            He has an accent like you.

BONNIE: Jamil is Arabic—or he speaks Arabic.

GAIL: Oh! Okay, I wasn’t sure—

            I could hear a—

            That’s great!

            Where from?

JAMIL: Palestine.

            West Bank.

            Middle East.

GAIL: Oh my god! The Middle East is so—just so many terrible things happening over there. I wish they would all stop fighting and just share.

MARK: You said to remind you about the grass/

GAIL: The lawn. Thank you, sweetie. Yes, we just try and mow on Tuesdays and Wednesdays. After 11 a.m. and before 6 p.m.

MARK: We have a great landscaper if you guys don’t have the time.

BONNIE: That’s okay. We don’t mind gettin’ our hands a li’l dirty.

GAIL: We just ask that you don’t put up any lawn sculptures, and if you want to garden, you just need approval on a plant palette.

(MARK goes to hand BONNIE the meatloaf. JAMIL takes it.)

JAMIL: Thank you.

GAIL: That’s a pancetta-wrapped meatloaf with a maple ketchup glaze.

BONNIE: I’m so sorry, we don’t eat pig. We’re Muslim.

GAIL: It’s pancetta.

BONNIE: Which is actually pig.

GAIL: So what’s pork?

JAMIL: Pig.

GAIL: Ham?

JAMIL: Pig.

MARK: Salami?

JAMIL: Not pig.

MARK: Really?

JAMIL: No, Mark. It’s pig.

GAIL: I’m/ ​just—

JAMIL: Thank you for the offer. We appreciate you.

(JAMIL hands the tray back to MARK.)

BONNIE: That was so sweet of you guys. We CANNOT WAIT to try these cookies! They look delicious.

JAMIL: Thank you again. Inshallah we’ll see you very soon.

GAIL: Yes—Inshabala—

BONNIE: (shuts the door) They were trying to be nice.

JAMIL: They seem like a . . . nosey. I don’t like them talking about Dema like that.

BONNIE: Like what?

JAMIL: She’s little/

BONNIE: He didn’t mean anything, I’m sure. They wanted to welcome us.

JAMIL: They wanted to tell us to mow the damn lawn.

(BONNIE laughs.)

BONNIE: What did your uncles want?

JAMIL: They reminded me to order straws.

BONNIE: Feels like something that they could have told you tomorrow.

(She takes a cookie and starts to eat it. JAMIL takes the plate of cookies and smells them.)

JAMIL: I think she put lard in them.

BONNIE: (spits out the cookie and goes to rise her mouth out) You can’t smell lard—just throw them/ away

JAMIL: Bismillahir Rahmanir Raheem! (throws the cookies in the trash)

BONNIE: Give me the plate. I’ll wash it and return it.

JAMIL: Don’t use our sponge! The lard will get into it and you’ll end up spreading it to every dish.

BONNIE: I’ll use a paper towel to wash it.

(He goes to kiss her lips and remembers. He kisses her on the cheek.)

            What happens if I did eat lard? Divorce?

JAMIL: You wish.

(JAMIL leaves and BONNIE picks up one of the cookies from the trash and eats it as fast as possible.)

August 20

(Some of the boxes were covered with sheets are now being used as temporary furniture.

The other boxes become TVs. We see a news clip announcing that about one hundred thousand Iraqi troops are invading Kuwait and have overrun the country in a matter of hours. NOOR is standing, looking at the picture of Jay. A piece of mail is slipped through the mailbox slot. BONNIE comes and picks it up.)

BONNIE: What shape do you want your pancakes in? Noor? NOOR!

NOOR: What?

BONNIE: Shape? What shape for your pancakes?

NOOR: Batman, please.

            I miss Jay.

BONNIE: I know, sweetie. He loved you so much— (opens the mail) Jesus, they already gave us a warning?!

NOOR: It’s strange that I’m going to school and he’ll never have school again.

BONNIE: That’s hard to think about . . . We’re still getting used to Jay being gone.

NOOR: What did he look like at the funeral?

BONNIE: . . . He was in a bluish suit. The one he wore at the Christmas party.

NOOR: He’s probably so uncomfortable.

(DEMA walks downstairs.)

DEMA: Does this have to be right here?

BONNIE: What?

DEMA: Jay. Can you put him somewhere else.

NOOR: I like that he’s right here.

DEMA: Nobody asked you. Seriously, Mom? It’s depressing. Every day I have to look at my dead cousin/ as I

BONNIE: Dema, please.

DEMA: Just forget it. I have a headache. Can I have some aspirin, Mom?

BONNIE: I’m making pancakes. What shape/ do—

DEMA: Please. My head is pounding today.

BONNIE:. . . . Okay. Close your eyes—

DEMA: Seriously?

BONNIE: . . .

(BONNIE goes around the room humming “Everything’s Alright” from Jesus Christ Superstar and making as much noise as she can. She goes to the cabinet and pulls out a drawer. She reaches to the very back and takes out one aspirin.)

            You can open.

DEMA: Thanks.

BONNIE: How about a D-shaped pancake for my Dema?

DEMA: (goes to get OJ) None of my teachers can even pronounce my name.

BONNIE: Really? Bunch of assholes. It’s DEE as in decode and MA as in . . . I’m ya MA. It’s beautiful.

DEMA: (swallows the pills) It’s fine. Eww . . . this OJ tastes metallic.

BONNIE: Then don’t drink it. Did I tell you—this one time I was sick, and my parents couldn’t stay home with me. I put a thermometer in my mouth, because that’s what I thought you did when you were sick, and it fell on the floor and broke—all this mercury came out in little balls and I played with it for hours. I don’t remember ever cleaning it up . . .

DEMA: God, you probably have mercury poisoning.

BONNIE: I wouldn’t laugh. If I have it, so do you.

(JAMIL walks in and goes to the kitchen sink. He pulls out an old bowl of cereal and begins eating it.)

NOOR: Oh, gross! That’s from yesterday.

DEMA: Truly disgusting.

JAMIL: It’s not disgusting. Think of the people in the world who would give anything to eat this. Why does it smell of burning in here?

BONNIE: I don’t smell anything? I don’t think I burned any/ pancakes.

NOOR: (taking out a notepad and starting to write) I only smell syrup.

DEMA: A girl in my class is having a sleepover this weekend.

BONNIE: That sounds like fun.

DEMA: It would be this Saturday/ ​night.

JAMIL: Does she have a brother?

DEMA: Yes, but/

JAMIL: No.

BONNIE: Let’s talk about it later.

JAMIL: No, you’re not staying the night. I don’t know who these people are here.

DEMA: Dad, please!

JAMIL: You don’t smell burning? Like a sulfur?

DEMA: Dad, her brother’s a lot older than me.

JAMIL: That’s worse.

DEMA: What do you think is gonna happen? You think her brother is gonna RAPE me?

BONNIE: It’s a little early for/ the . . .

JAMIL: Listen, Dema, we have no idea who these people are and if they have like a . . . morals.

BONNIE: Okay, time for school!

DEMA: Seriously?

BONNIE: Or walk to school.

DEMA: Walk two miles? Yeah, right. I’ll call social services.

BONNIE: I hope you like your new family.

DEMA: (under her breath) I bet I would.

BONNIE: What’s that?

DEMA: I SAID fine.

(DEMA goes to leave.)

JAMIL: Habibti, finish your pancake, please.

DEMA: (takes the small pancake and puts the entire thing in her mouth, then says with her mouth full:) Happy now?!

(DEMA goes upstairs.)

BONNIE: You’re right, I’m sorry. We don’t know any/​ of these parents.

JAMIL: You can’t trust anyone.

BONNIE: Sweetie, whatcha writing?

NOOR: A poem for a contest.

JAMIL: What do you win? A million dollars?

NOOR: It’s for a Columbus Zoo pass.

BONNIE: Oh! That would be nice. Is this for your class?

NOOR: No, it’s a contest that I saw in Highlights magazine.

JAMIL: Let’s hear it.

NOOR: “The year’s 2028”—Oh, it had to be about the future.

             “The year’s 2028. I have two breakfast pills on my plate.

            One is eggs, the other toast. I don’t know which I like the most.

            My teacher is a computer screen. She isn’t nice, she isn’t mean.”

            And that’s all I have so far.

BONNIE: “My teacher is a computer screen” . . . “Oh no, I’ve eaten Soylent Green!!”

(Silence.)

            “Soylent Green is people! It’s PEOPLE!!!” . . . The movie?

(Both JAMIL and NOOR are confused.)

            Jamil, seriously? You don’t know that one?

JAMIL: I like your poem. It’s very nice.

NOOR: When can I go overseas?

JAMIL: Inshallah, whenever you want. Subhan Allah.

BONNIE: We should send your family some of the JCPenney pictures. They haven’t seen how much the kids have grown.

NOOR: What’s it like?

BONNIE: What?

NOOR: Palestine.

BONNIE: You’ve seen the pictures.

JAMIL: There is no crime at all.

NOOR: No crime?

JAMIL: If you so much as take an orange, they cut your hand off.

(He makes a hacking sound. NOOR looks at BONNIE.)

BONNIE: He’s kidding. They don’t cut people’s hands off. Do they?

JAMIL: (taking out a cig) Only the thieves.

NOOR: . . .

JAMIL: It is the most wonderful place in the world.

NOOR: So, why did you leave? Why did Dema get to go with you last time?

BONNIE: What is with all of these questions?

NOOR: This is the most I’ve seen Dad.

JAMIL: (Taxi Driver impression) Who, me? You are talking to me?

NOOR: (Raging Bull impression) You never got me down.

BONNIE: Hey, De Niros, eat your breakfast.

JAMIL: Khalas, eat your breakfast.

BONNIE: Dema got to go because she was older. You were still little.

JAMIL: The next time I have to renew my visa, I’ll take you with me.

NOOR: Just me? Dema won’t go?

BONNIE: I don’t think Dema wants to go back.

JAMIL: When we got off the plane from visiting/

BONNIE: Don’t tell her/ that

JAMIL: Your sister went up to your mom and slapped her in the face.

NOOR: She slapped you!?

BONNIE: She was little. I think it was too much for her.

JAMIL: She lost so much weight. I felt so bad. I told my sister, Dema likes a cereal for breakfast. We spent a day trying to find cornflakes, and they were so expensive. You can’t imagine how expensive this little cereal box was. We find them, and I tell my sister, PLEASE do not boil the milk. In America they put cold milk on the cereal. We come downstairs and Dema takes one bite and she makes a face like this (makes a face) and she starts to cry. Nobody listened to me. Remember when we came back, she had like a . . . dark circles under her eyes—

BONNIE: Cause she only ate fruit for two months.

JAMIL: She was so stubborn after that. She didn’t trust anyone to make her food.

BONNIE: She didn’t trust anyone for anything. Noor, you need to finish up and get your shoes on.

JAMIL: (motions NOOR to get closer) You really want to know why I moved to America?

BONNIE: Jamil!

JAMIL: I was engaged to a woman I didn’t want to marry.

NOOR: Before Mom?

JAMIL: Many years before.

NOOR: Why didn’t you marry her?

JAMIL: (tsk sound) She was ugly.

(NOOR and JAMIL laugh.)

BONNIE: So mean—

JAMIL: I don’t want someone meek. I like strong woman, like your mom.

BONNIE: Jamil, seriously, they need to get to school.

JAMIL: See, she tells me what to do. I like that. Yalla, Noor, go and get your sister.

(NOOR runs to get DEMA.)

NOOR: (offstage) Dema, you slapped Mom?!

BONNIE: I’m so glad you shared that with her. Take out the trash before you go. We also got a warning about the lawn. Next time it’s a fine.

JAMIL: Let me have another wife—I’ll get her to do all the chores.

BONNIE: Oh, sure. You go right ahead,/ honey.

JAMIL: The Quran says I’m/ allowed to have more than one wife.

BONNIE: I said/ okay. Who’s stopping you? I say go for it!

JAMIL: (tsk sound)) No no no. I have the most wonderful wife in the world—

BONNIE: Who knows, I might want a second husband.

(JAMIL holds BONNIE around the waist, pressing his face into her back.)

JAMIL: Qamari, my moon, don’t leave me, okay?

(She turns around and kisses JAMIL. It goes from sweet to passionate.)

BONNIE: You got feelings today? (They kiss.) I wanna visit Palestine someday. Is it really the most wonderful place in the world?

(JAMIL laughs.)

            What?

JAMIL: (beeper goes off) I don’t want to spoil your mind.

BONNIE: You think I can’t handle it?

JAMIL: You still think you’re the good guys. (He laughs and kisses her.)

(Shift of lights into night.

Even more of the house is put together. We see pictures hanging up. A light in the living room is flickering and then stops. Some toys have been left in front of Jay’s picture, like a small memorial.

Another moving box becomes a TV. A news clip—Israeli delegation flies to Washington to stress likelihood of Iraqi attack on Israel.

BONNIE is working out to Richard Simmons’s Sweatin’ to the Oldies. JAMIL is sitting in a chair, reading the newspaper. The kids enter the front door.)

BONNIE: Hey! How was school?

NOOR: It was okay.

JAMIL: Just okay?

NOOR: Everyone already has a best friend. (She walks over to Jay’s memorial and plays with a small toy.)

BONNIE: You’ll make friends, sweetie.

NOOR: I know.

BONNIE: Did you guys thank Gail for the ride?

NOOR: Mark drove us.

JAMIL: (to BONNIE) You told me Gail was giving them a ride.

DEMA: She was sick.

NOOR: I got a B on my spelling test.

JAMIL: Good. Good. A’s and B’s are good—did he say anything to you?

DEMA: Who?

(Beat.)

JAMIL: Did Mark say anything?

DEMA: Ohh—you mean did he TRY anything?

BONNIE: That’s not/ funny.

JAMIL: Dema. Jesus.

DEMA: No. Gideon sat up front, and Noor and I sat in the back of the car. Okay?

JAMIL: No more rides, okay? One of us will pick you guys up.

NOOR: Someone stole my fruit roll-up from my lunch.

BONNIE: Seriously?! (She stops the tape.) That pisses me off! This entire neighborhood is full of loaded families. Bunch of rich pricks.

NOOR: So, does that mean we’re rich?!

BONNIE: HA! Are you new? It means that we rent. Tomorrow I’m gonna put hot sauce inside that fruit roll-up. Let’s see how the little shit likes it.

JAMIL: Or we cut his hand off! (puts his hand in the air)

            Yalla, it was funny.

DEMA: (reluctantly gives him a high five) Dad, can we get McDonald’s tonight?

JAMIL: Inshallah.

DEMA: Can you please just say yes or no?

JAMIL: If Allah wills it.

DEMA: Do you think Allah is gonna “will it” in the next fifteen minutes? I’m really hungry.

            UGH. Just forget it.

JAMIL: Dema?

DEMA: What??

JAMIL: How was your day?

DEMA: Nobody sat with me at lunch.

BONNIE: They’re just jealous.

DEMA: Sure. I did come to a conclusion today. Guys, look at me for a second. When I die, I want you and Dad to donate everything. Organs, eyes—even skin! Did you know they can skin your entire body? They can.

NOOR: I don’t want anyone else to have your eyes.

BONNIE: Are you happy now?

DEMA: I just need you to sign/​ here.

BONNIE: You wrote up a will? On a legal pad?

DEMA: I need you and Dad to authorize it.

            What? Any one of us could die at any time.

NOOR: Like Jay!

DEMA: Exactly like Jay. Do you and Dad have a will? Like, who is gonna take us if you guys die? Mom, have you thought about that?

NOOR: Wait, did Jay donate his eyes?

BONNIE: Noor, why don’t you go get a game for us to play?

NOOR: Can we play Trouble?

BONNIE: Yeah, go find it and set it up.

(NOOR looks through some of the boxes.)

DEMA: Dad, sign here.

JAMIL: Not now, habibti.

BONNIE: What would you like for dinner?

JAMIL: (goes to the window) I’m not hungry. You guys eat what you want.

(NOOR comes to the middle of the room and falls to the floor.)

DEMA: Not again.

JAMIL: Oh no, what happened?!

NOOR: I’m lost.

JAMIL: Dema, quick, get our friend a blanket.

(DEMA throws a blanket from the back of a chair.)

            Where did you come from?

NOOR: Outside. I’m so hungry.

BONNIE: Poor monkey. Where’s your family?

NOOR: I’m all alone.

JAMIL: Bonnie, please make her some food before she passes out.

(NOOR coughs and wears the blanket as a cape. She climbs into BONNIE’s lap.)

BONNIE: Aww, it looks sickly. What would you like, monkey?

NOOR: (just above a whisper) Ice cream.

BONNIE: Ice cream? Oh no, you went to the wrong house. We’re all out of ice cream. Our daughter Noor ate all of it.

NOOR: Losing strength . . .

JAMIL: We have a cookie. Would that help?

NOOR: It’s worth a try.

JAMIL: Dema, quick, this little monkey needs a cookie.

DEMA: (rolls her eyes) If she gets a cookie, so do I.

JAMIL: Dema, yalla, we’re running out of time.

DEMA: This is dumb. (She goes to get a cookie.)

BONNIE: This monkey needs a bath.

DEMA: (handing the cookie to NOOR) Here.

NOOR: (looking at DEMA) Feed me.

(DEMA goes to feed NOOR and then quickly puts the cookie in her own mouth.)

            MOM!

BONNIE: Dema, why would you do/ that?

DEMA: Calm down, I have two.

JAMIL: (beeper goes off) I have to make a call. Bonnie, where is the shor/ sho

BONNIE: The what?

JAMIL: Shorevay. Shovewave. (beeper sound) FUCK! The radio?

BONNIE: Shortwave? I think it’s upstairs.

JAMIL: I’ll look.

BONNIE: What does your uncle want?

JAMIL: (hears a sound and goes to the window) . . . I’ll call him in a second.

BONNIE: Hey, what’s out there?

JAMIL: Nothing. Inshallah . . .

August 28

(Everyone is in the living room. The family is watching TV. The kitchen light is flickering and then stops. We see a news clip pop up on a different moving box announcing that Kuwait has been formally annexed by Iraq.)

BONNIE: Don’t sit so close to the TV.

NOOR: I can’t see if I sit on the chair.

DEMA: That’s because you need glasses, dummy.

NOOR: Do I?

BONNIE: Thank you, Doctor Dema.

DEMA: It doesn’t take a brain surgeon. Noor, how many fingers am I holding up? (She’s giving her the middle finger.)

NOOR: Two?

DEMA: Yep, 20/20—

NOOR: Mom?

BONNIE: She’s joking!

(NOOR sticks her tongue out at DEMA.)

DEMA: When are we gonna get real furniture?

BONNIE: When your dad starts getting paid, we can start to look.

DEMA: You wanna know the family secret, Noor?

BONNIE: Dema . . . Dema—/ Stop.

DEMA: In a few years you’ll be completely blind.

NOOR: Nuh-uh!

DEMA: Mom already bought you a cane. It’s in the closet if you don’t believe me. No, seriously, go look.

NOOR: . . . Shut up. (She throws a toy at DEMA.)

DEMA: Ow!!! Mom!

BONNIE: Dema, shut up.

NOOR: Shhh—commercial’s over!

(JAMIL walks in.)

BONNIE: What’s the legal pad for? You writing your will?

JAMIL: My thoughts.

BONNIE: About me?

JAMIL: . . . I keep forgetting—

NOOR: Shh!

(Jay Leno says something and they laugh.)

BONNIE: Why do they keep asking Leno to guest-host?

(We hear Jay Leno’s voice and then it morphs into something else. Something distorted. We start to hear the whispers. JAMIL looks up from his writing. We hear whispers of his name.)

JAMIL: What?

NOOR: Shhh!

(He goes back to writing. Another whisper of “Jamil.”)

JAMIL: Why does he keep saying my name? Did you just hear that? He said my name!

BONNIE: Who, Leno?

NOOR: Guys! David Brenner! Please!

JAMIL: You really don’t hear it?

DEMA: Are you joking?

JAMIL: I’m just tired.

(He goes to leave, and we see a shadow go across the wall and run upstairs.)

BONNIE: Go get some rest.

(JAMIL nods and goes to kiss BONNIE.)

DEMA: Get a room. (picks up the TV Guide)

NOOR: See ya soon, Raccoon.

JAMIL: For a while, Crocodile.

DEMA: Can we stay up late? I wanna see who the musical guest is.

JAMIL: You need rest.

DEMA: I don’t sleep anyways.

(JAMIL goes to the window and closes the curtains.)

BONNIE: Is everything alright?

JAMIL: (touching her face) Tuqburni.

BONNIE: What does that mean? Is that the divorce one!?

JAMIL: Talaq?

DEMA: Talaq? What does talaq mean?

BONNIE: Don’t say it! It’s the Bloody Mary of words. Like Beetlejuice. It’s how people divorce.

DEMA: TalaqTalaqTalaq!

BONNIE: Dema! I just told/ you.

DEMA: What? I’m not married/

NOOR: You wanna divorce from your skin!

DEMA: That’s actually pretty funny. Did you hear that? Noor said I’m gonna divorce my skin.

BONNIE: What does Taqburni mean?

JAMIL: I can’t live without you. May you bury me first.

September 1

(The same boxes are starting to gather dust. Lights flicker. We see a news clip project on moving boxes. Iraq allows seven hundred Westerners, held hostage since the invasion, to leave Iraq.

GAIL has come over to spend time with BONNIE. They drink Crystal Light in the kitchen and eat pie that GAIL made.)

BONNIE: What would you have done instead?

GAIL: You’re going to laugh..

BONNIE: Try me.

GAIL: I wish I had—slept . . . had sex with—

            I’ve only done it with two guys. Which is kinda sad.

BONNIE: (choking on her pie) . . . I was not expecting that.

GAIL: Why, because I go to church?

BONNIE: Exactly! I’m the same. I lost it early but have only been with a handful . . . of people. This pie is delicious!

GAIL: I went for a long walk today, so I can have a little slice.

BONNIE: Oh, see, I think any diet drink cancels out calories.

GAIL: Like skim milk and Oreos.

BONNIE: I miss Oreos. They have lard so we never/

GAIL: STOP! Stop eating the pie! The crust has lard! Shit, I’m so sorry—is that pig??

BONNIE: Gail, it’s fine. Really. Please don’t/ worry.

GAIL: I’m so sorry. Please, throw it out—

BONNIE: (takes a big bite) No way! Just don’t tell.

(Beat)

GAIL: What’s it like with . . .

BONNIE: Jamil? Like in what . . . ?

GAIL: I always heard Arabs were.

BONNIE: . . .

GAIL: I’m sorry—

BONNIE: Just say it.

GAIL:  Rough?

BONNIE: Oh, no. Not unless that’s what I want.

GAIL: I’m too tired for sex. Kids are exhausting.

BONNIE: With Dema, I don’t know if I wanna hug her or slap her.

GAIL: I’ve always heard boys are for their mothers. I hope Gideon doesn’t turn out to be like his dad.

BONNIE: Mark seems/

GAIL: He’s a big flirt. He’d never do anything, he just likes the attention.

BONNIE: I didn’t notice that—

GAIL: You’re not his type. Sorry, I mean you’re very pretty—

            Mark likes women that look like gymnasts. No jiggle.

BONNIE: Oh, well, I have jiggle.

GAIL: Sorry, I just mean, like, firm. He likes firm. All of his ex-girlfriends were sporty, flat chested, and . . . firm.

BONNIE: What made you wanna marry him?

GAIL: MONEY! Nah, I’m kidding. My family has A LOT more money than his. We’re from the same pedigree. Both graduated from Notre Dame. He was the professor and I was his TA. Don’t judge me.

BONNIE: If anything, I like you more.

GAIL: Mark’s older/

BONNIE: Is he?

GAIL:  . . .

BONNIE: I couldn’t tell.

GAIL: You should, he’s a lot older. He was married before—or, during. His wife was crazy,though. Mark taught me a lot. But, stuff changes. At least it did for us. For me.

BONNIE: Same. I mean, neither of us finished college, but I think it changes for everyone. I love your cross. That’s so pretty.

GAIL: Thank you! I got this years ago.

BONNIE: My parents gave me one like it when I was baptized. You know, I almost married my first love.

GAIL: Why didn’t you?

BONNIE: He was wearing monkey socks on the day he proposed. I would have been Mrs. Borr. Bonnie Borr. If I married Randy, I knew EXACTLY what my life would be like.

GAIL: And Jamil?

BONNIE: I love Jamil. He’s everything I ever wanted. It’s just not easy marrying someone who is so different.

GAIL: I can understand that.

BONNIE: We moved from Vegas—wasn’t safe anymore. My nephew Jay—

            My brother’s son was—was stabbed. He was a sweet kid. Just starting to hang out with . . .

            Jay and the kids were close.

GAIL: Oh Bonnie. God, I’m so sorry/

BONNIE: Yeah. Thanks. It’s okay.

GAIL: I don’t wanna pry/

BONNIE: Lots of gang violence in Vegas. He went to a party and some kid—I guess there was a fight, and this kid, this random kid, stabbed him. We had to move. Jamil has a few uncles here who agreed to help us. They loaned us the money to rent this house. Jamil is working for them now. We still have so much debt.

GAIL: Could we pray?

BONNIE: . . .

GAIL: I’m sorry, I shouldn’t/

BONNIE: It’s okay. Yeah.

(GAIL takes BONNIE’s hand.)

GAIL: Dear Heavenly Father, we come before you today lifting up Bonnie and her family, who are currently facing difficult times. We ask that you surround them with your love and strength, providing them with the comfort and peace they need during this challenging time. Guide them through Jay’s death and all the stuggles that come with it. Grant them wisdom and clarity, and remind them of your unwavering presence. In Jesus’ name, Amen.

BONNIE: Amen.

(They let go of each other’s hands.)

            Noor doesn’t know. We told her Jay was in a car accident. How do you tell a little kid her cousin was murdered?

            We had to tell Dema. Nothing gets past her. She was asking a lot of questions. She didn’t take it well. Tried to swallow a bunch of pills one night. Just allergy medicine, but—

            It’s changed us all. After Jay was—

            Jamil started having horrible nightmares. He started praying—

            He was never serious about religion. He’s worried about the girls constantly.

GAIL:  . . . That has to be so hard.

BONNIE: (laughing) Sorry, I’m babbling on about my troubles . . .

GAIL: Not at all! It’s good to feel like you’re not alone. Especially as a mom. It’s lonely sometimes.

BONNIE: Right? God, when Dema was a baby, she had a blockage in her stomach. She’d scream all day because she was hungry, but the moment I fed her, she’d throw it up. Projectile throwing up. One night Jamil was at work and Dema had been up for ten hours and I hadn’t slept. Puke was—

(GAIL takes BONNIE’s hand again.)

            At the time, we lived on the third floor of an apartment building. I looked at her and I thought I could throw her out the window and be free. I took her in my arms and walked to the window and just—stood there. Holding her, waiting for a sign . . .

(BONNIE and GAIL look at each other. There is an intensity.

Beat.)

GAIL: I should go.

BONNIE: Did I say/ something

GAIL: No, no, Gideon needs a trim tonight. His hair is so/ ​long.

BONNIE: I’m sorry if/ I—

GAIL: You didn’t. I mean—heck, even Moses’ mom put her baby in a casket. Basket—basket. A basket. And put him in the river not knowing if he was going to live or die.

BONNIE: I’ll call you.

GAIL: Okie dokie.

(Door shuts. BONNIE walks over to the table and sees a pair of sunglasses that Gail forgot. She picks them up and breaks them in half.

JAMIL comes in from the  kitchen door.)

BONNIE: Oh my god!!

JAMIL: What??!

BONNIE: Jesus, you scared me!

JAMIL: Sorry—

BONNIE: What are you doing home?

JAMIL: It was slow. They let me go early.

(BONNIE puts the broken glasses in her robe pocket.)

BONNIE: Do you still get paid for the whole day?

JAMIL: I left early, so—

BONNIE: When are they planning on paying you?

JAMIL: Soon. They loaned us money.

BONNIE: I know. I just wish you were getting a regular paycheck.

JAMIL: When they pay me cash, the taxes don’t come out. We have more money.

BONNIE: Yes, it’s more money, but I never know when I can buy groceries.

JAMIL: How was your day?

BONNIE: . . . Fine. I’m trying to get stuff done around the house. Gail stopped by. She’s crazy. You were right about them. I don’t want the kids over there.

            I love you so much! Do you know that?

JAMIL: No, you have to tell me.

BONNIE: To the moon and back.

November 8

(The house has fewer boxes and looks more put together. The call to prayer echoes around the house. It is warm and familiar. We see the TV turn on and scan the inside of a mosque.

The words “He appoints you Guardians of Light to watch over you. 13.11” appear on-screen. The TV changes channels abruptly and we hear the news: US sends more troops to the Persian Gulf region. 

DEMA walks in singing “Heaven on Their Minds” from Jesus Christ Superstar, picks up the mail, and looks through it. She sees JAMIL at the end of his prayer.)

DEMA: Sorry!

(JAMIL is holding prayer beads. He gestures for her to join him.)

            Dad, I’m tired.

(JAMIL keeps gesturing.)

            I don’t know how. I just copy what you do.

JAMIL: Allah doesn’t care. He told me.

(DEMA gives JAMIL a look. He’s joking. She sits on the rug beside him. He hands her a book.)

            Read this. It made me think of you.

DEMA: It’s in Arabic—

JAMIL: Habibti, on the side here, it’s translated.

DEMA: Oh, “Whosoever takes a life— unless as a punishment for murder or mischief in the land—it is as though he has killed all mankind. And whoever saves a life, it is as though he has saved all mankind.”

(The phone rings. DEMA jumps up.)

            Hello? Yeah, just a second. NOOR! IT’S FOR YOU!

NOOR: (entering) Who is it?!

(DEMA makes a sound like a vocal shrug.)

            Hey! (Dana Carvey’s Church Lady impression) Isn’t that special! What kind did he get?

            Okay, I’ll ask. Dad, can I go over to Leah’s house?

(Dad shakes his head no. NOOR makes a sound of frustration.)

            My dad said no.

            Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye.

(NOOR runs upstairs. DEMA walks to the fridge. We hear a car.)

DEMA: Mom’s home.

(BONNIE comes in through the sliding door by the kitchen. Her eyes are red from crying.)

            Your hair!

JAMIL: Where did your hair go?

BONNIE: She cut it off. She cut it all off.

JAMIL: I like it. Yeah, it’s nice.

BONNIE: Really?

JAMIL: Inshallah, it will grow back soon.

BONNIE: Thanks. Maybe I just need to style it a bit. I have a headache. I’m gonna go lay down for a bit. (starts to walk upstairs) Mother. Fucker.

DEMA: What?! What is it?

BONNIE: I have to bake brownies for Noor’s class tomorrow. Fucking PTA.

DEMA: Mom, don’t worry about/ it.

BONNIE: These moms already talk shit about me.

DEMA: I can help/ if

BONNIE: It’s okay. Really.

DEMA: You look pretty.

BONNIE: Thank you, sweetie. I was going for a Dorothy Hamill.

DEMA: I don’t know what that is.

(The phone rings. DEMA answers it.)

            Hello?

            Guys, stop!

BONNIE: Who is it?

(DEMA hangs up.)

DEMA: Wrong number.

BONNIE: Did you finish your homework?

DEMA: It’s not something I can finish tonight.

BONNIE: Well, you need to start on it. I don’t want you waiting until the last minute.

DEMA: I have to write a paper about war. Like, I have to interview someone who was either in war or who lived through it.

BONNIE: You could ask your Grandpa.

DEMA: EVERYONE is asking their Grandpa.

(Phone rings. DEMA picks it up and slams it back down.)

BONNIE: What about your dad? You could interview him/

DEMA: No, I’ll just interview Grandpa. What about Uncle Neil—

BONNIE: Let’s not bother him—

(Phone rings. BONNIE runs to pick it up.)

            You fuckers call here again, I swear to God—

            Little pricks hung up.

            If you go up to my room, there’s a box of Grandpa’s letters to Grandma and a couple war medals.

DEMA: Okay.

(Dema leaves.)

JAMIL: What would you like for dinner?

BONNIE: Anything is fine. (goes to the cupboard and takes out a brownie box mix) I have to make these for the PTA.

JAMIL: I’ll make them. Here, sit down and relax.

BONNIE: You don’t know how to make brownies.

JAMIL: Right, American food is so complicated. It asks for three eggs—those are the white rounds, right? Okay, and oil—my people know about that—

(They kiss.)

BONNIE: Are you done?

(JAMIL puts his hand on her face.)

            You think I’m hideous now?

JAMIL: You’re so beautiful.

BONNIE: I think Dema is getting bullied. Some kids just called here.

JAMIL: Why would she get bullied?

BONNIE: Because she’s . . . you know, she’s different.

JAMIL: Maybe we should do schooling at home.

BONNIE: You mean I should homeschool them. Listen, if it gets really bad, we’ll look into it. As of now, I look forward to them being at school. (takes Jamil’s yellow legal pad) What does this say?

JAMIL: If you had learned Arabic—

BONNIE: Okay—

JAMIL: You were trying to impress me when we dated.

BONNIE: You weren’t impressed?

JAMIL: I picked up a hitchhiker today.

BONNIE: Were they nice?

            Jamil?

JAMIL: What?

BONNIE: The hitchhiker—

JAMIL: He was CIA.

BONNIE: The hitchhiker told you that?

JAMIL: I could just tell.

BONNIE: How’s work?

JAMIL: Good. At the mosque, they were talking about a movie. It’s a racist against/

BONNIE: What’s the name of it?

JAMIL: Mmm . . . Not Go Without My Daughter? They make Muslims look so bad.

BONNIE: Pisses me off. I’m sorry.

JAMIL: What can you do?

            My uncles invited us to Friday prayer this week.

BONNIE: Jamil, I can’t.

JAMIL: They don’t ask a lot of us.

BONNIE: It’s always so uncomfortable trying to have a conversation with them.

JAMIL: What more do you want, Bonnie?

BONNIE: You and the kids should go.

JAMIL: You don’t understand how hard it is to learn English and no longer have your personality. Your sense of humor. You told me you wanted to learn Arabic and that our kids/​ would be able to speak it fluently.

BONNIE: Forget it, I’ll go.

JAMIL: This is why they say . . .

BONNIE: What? What do they say? Jamil, what do they say?

JAMIL: . . . Not to marry outside of your culture.

BONNIE: Marry outside of—

            Jamil, I was raising two kids. And one of them threw up every ten minutes. When was I supposed to learn an entire new language?

JAMIL: Okay. Okay. You’ll need a head covering at the mosque.

BONNIE: Do the girls need them?

JAMIL: Only if—has Dema . . . did she have?

BONNIE: Her period? I don’t think so . . .

JAMIL: I want the kids to take Arabic classes. Please, it’s important to me. I want them to be able to have a real relationship with my family. Like they do with your mom and dad. Before it’s too late.

            I can’t—I can’t imagine anything happening to them. Or to you. It would break me. I love you so much. I love/

BONNIE: Love you.

January 17

(The lights shine bright.

Some boxes have been camouflaged with blankets. They look like bodies covered in shrouds.

We see a news clip. Operation Desert Storm is launched.

We hear faint whispers. The sounds grow louder and louder.

BONNIE is sitting in a chair, reading. JAMIL opens the door quickly and slams it behind him. He’s having trouble catching his breath.)

BONNIE: Hi! What? What’s wrong?

JAMIL: A car was—

BONNIE: What?

JAMIL: A car was following me.

BONNIE: Like a—

JAMIL: It’s outside.

BONNIE: The car?

(She runs to the window. JAMIL goes to stop her.)

JAMIL: Don’t let them see you.

(BONNIE runs to the phone.)

            Please no!

BONNIE: Jamil?

JAMIL: Don’t call.

BONNIE: You’re—we have kids upstairs and it sounds like they want to/ hurt you.

JAMIL: Just—okay. Okay. Give me a second.

BONNIE: How would they get through the gate? There’s no way they/ could

JAMIL: No, they turned off right before/

BONNIE: What kind of car was it?

JAMIL: I don’t know. Like a dark van. Black van. He was watching me.

BONNIE: Who?

JAMIL: Every time I would speed up, he was right there.

BONNIE: A guy you’ve seen before? Fuck, is this the/ hitchhiker?

JAMIL: Shh . . . It’s okay. It’s okay. I’ll take care of this.

BONNIE: This is really fucking scary!

JAMIL: We’re okay. I’m here. Turn off the lights. (looking around) They might have tapped the lights.

BONNIE: I’m gonna check on the kids. (goes upstairs)

JAMIL: (to himself) They’ll be coming back. We need to keep them off.

(The TV turns on by itself. An ACTOR is walking back and forth across the screen. He’s dressed like a news reporter. He turns to JAMIL and speaks.)

ACTOR: You never should have come to this country. They’ll never let you be.

JAMIL: I should have never come to this country. They’ll never let me be.

(JAMIL goes into the downstairs bathroom.

The TV turns off by itself. BONNIE comes back into the living room. She doesn’t know what to do. She goes to the phone.)

BONNIE: Did I wake you?

(All the lights in the house turn off one by one.

End of Act 1.)

Read more from Issue 22.1.