The Aunties

To my chosen Family

Characters:

CAN: An actor comfortable playing masc. Twenties/early thirties. He is naive but a survivor. He learns on the job and is eager to please. A young person you want to care for. He sounds very American.

MANJU: An actor comfortable playing femme. A very young fifty. Manju is a mother hen and a comedian. She can make the most reticent person talk and will learn your favorite color, food, and horoscope in the first conver-sation. She is a middle child who flourishes as Switzerland.

AMBIKA: An actor comfortable playing femme. Fifties. Ambika is a matriarch, which is different from a mother hen. She controls what she can and often thinks she has purview over more than she should. She feels with her whole body, as mothers do. She is the oldest sister of a group of girls whose father died when they were very young.

MEERA: An actor comfortable playing femme. Twenties. She’s a dreamer who’s lived a touched life. She’s been cared for so preciously that life can be immobilizing when too much of it comes at once. She’s clearly been raised by all these women. She sounds very American.

NINA: An actor comfortable playing femme. Forty. Nina is a swan. She preens and poses while deeply caring a lot. If she can get you to like her, she’ll love you forever. Her wit is her armor. She is the youngest child.

SHAHNAAZ: An actor comfortable playing femme. Forties/fifties. She lives in a man’s world and has learned how to speak directly. She believes in asking the world for what she wants and keeping her mouth shut about the rest. She doesn’t need to speak as much as the rest.

Manju, Ambika, and Nina are sisters, and Meera is Ambika’s daughter.

Notes:

An ellipsis ( . . . ) indicates trailing off or briefly pausing.

An em dash at the end of a line (—) indicates an interruption.

A slash (/) indicates an overlap with the previous line of dialogue.

A commission for the Goodman Theatre’s Writer’s Room, 2022. Please note that anyone seeking further publication or performance of this play needs to contact the playwright.

See an accompanying playlist:

Scene One

(Lights up on a strip-mall beauty salon. There are three beauty stations and one massage chair. It’s empty except for two people, but it doesn’t feel empty. There are framed posters of hairstyles from the early 2000s on the walls, framed photographs of an Indian family, photos of deities, and a small altar on a table in the corner. Incense burns from one of many incense burners. They are listening to “Woh Ladki Hai Kahan.”

MANJU sits in one of the salon chairs, and her feet tap to the music. CAN nervously taps his foot while carefully threading MANJU’s eyebrows. He has two threads held taut between his fingers and lips at all times.)

MANJU: I never hired “a man” before but you came in and looked sad and your resume is so good. I thought, “Be a modern woman, Manju!” (ow) Why should hiring you make anyone uncomfortable? (ow) Boy, girl, man, woman, no-genders. Do you know? (ow) My neighbor is one of those. She says the Harry Potter lady is bad. Have you heard of no-genders?

CAN: Nonbinary.

MANJU: Yes! Naan-binary. And so here you come (ow) and I think, “If Amanda can have no gender, so can this salon.” We’re finally in 2018. (ow) Are you from here? (doesn’t wait for a response) This is an interesting place. We have Indians, Arabs, Jews, Christians. Ow. Lots of whites. OW. You need to hold the threads tighter. Like that. Feel the difference?

CAN: Yes, ma’am.

MANJU: Call me Auntie. Where did you move from?

CAN: New York.

MANJU: You know people here?

CAN: Not yet, Auntie.

MANJU: Good answer. I’ll introduce you. Why did you move?

CAN: I wanted a change. I just packed up and drove.

MANJU: And you landed here? Much safer. Does your mother live in New York too?

CAN: No. My family’s in Baltimore.

MANJU: Oh good. No mother should live in New York. People spit on you in the street. Say your name to me again.

CAN: Can.

MANJU: And this is Turkish too?

CAN: Yes, Auntie.

MANJUA: J-A-A-N?

CAN: C-A-N.

MANJU: The way our mother tongues know each other. Do you know what Jaan means in Sanskrit?

(CAN shakes his head “no.”)

Ow. Not with the strings in your mouth. It means “life.” You make people live brighter. I’m a face reader—I see things! You know this about yourself, yes? Yesss, you do. You must have all the . . . girls? Do you like . . . “girls” . . . ? You can tell me.

(CAN is about to shake his head. He takes the threads from his mouth first.)

CAN: No, Auntie. Is that okay?

MANJU: You’re more than okay. Your mother must be proud.

CAN: Uhh. There. We’re done.

(CAN spins MANJU around so she can see herself. She responds with facts.)

MANJU: You stole my eyebrows. They’re very thin.

CAN: I’m sorry.

MANJU: The Arabs will love it. You’ll see when you meet Shahnaaz. She has eyebrows like Edith Pilaf. Do you know how to do mehndi? It’s wedding season, and I will not paint all the hands of Skokie by myself.

CAN: Yes. I have some pictures on my Insta.

MANJU: Insta?

CAN: Gram.

MANJU: Ohhhh. You are young. Show me, show me!

(CAN pulls out his iPhone and hands it over. MANJU takes it without concern for electronics.)

CAN: Hold it like—um—I did these for my friend’s wedding. I can do Afghani and Palestinian styles too. See? And these are for the kids.

MANJU: Now. Look. At. That. You cover the wet mehndi with glitter??

CAN: And I do a gradient.

MANJU: You’re a magician. If you get glitter all over my floor, I will kill you.

CAN: I’m sorry. Thank you.

MANJU: I’m a comedian! Breathe, my child. I have a life philosophy: If you don’t stop to laugh, everything will make you cry. You’ll get used to me.

(MANJU tosses his phone back.)

Okay. You work here now. Will you make me an Insta?

(CAN hugs MANJU.)

Oooo. You feel strong.

CAN: Oh, thank god. No one will even look at my rental applications without a job.

MANJU: Rental?

CAN: I’ve been looking for two weeks.

MANJU: But you don’t know anyone . . . Where are you staying . . . ?

CAN: It’s not a big deal. My car is really big.

MANJU: Your car?? Where do you go to the bathroom?

CAN: There’s a Chipotle.

MANJU: Chipotle?? Where do you shower?

CAN: I go to the gym in the morning.

MANJU: But what if you have to pee at night??

CAN: . . .

MANJU: How do you have a gym but not a house?

CAN: If I get it tight enough, maybe someone will give me a house.

MANJU: What??

CAN: No one will rent to me. They want a cosigner. I don’t have one.

MANJU: This town keeps people out. (She considers him.) Do you have sisters?

CAN: Three.

MANJU: Okay. You will live here with me.

CAN: Wait, what . . . ?

MANJU: I trust a man with sisters. I own the whole building. Not my husband. Me. You can live in #2, we live in #3, above you, and my son, Khalil, lives downstairs in the basement. You’ll meet him and you won’t like him. I tried to understand him his whole life but I’ve given up. How much should I charge? $500?

CAN: For a one-bedroom??

MANJU: You’re right, we’ll do it for free. It’s just sitting there.

CAN: I don’t know what to say.

MANJU: Then let me talk. No need for a lease. I’ll lock you out when it’s time to leave.

CAN: Haha . . . ?

MANJU: Good! Laugh with me! Hahahahahahaha!

(MANJU takes CAN by the shoulders.)

Sometimes we just need someone to help us. We’re going to be sisters in no time.

(The tinkle of bells as MEERA and AMBIKA enter. They are both dressed for court. MANJU kisses and hugs MEERA.)

Helloooooo, my lovely girl! How are you more beautiful every day?

(MEERA kisses MANJU’s cheek.)

MEERA: Namaste, masi.

AMBIKA: Your eyebrows! Who did this to you?

(AMBIKA kisses MANJU’s cheek.)

MANJU: Meet Can! He’s my new employee.

CAN: I was nervous.

MEERA: It looks awesome. The ’90s are back.

(MEERA sits in a salon chair. She is very cool.)

I’m Meera. She’s my actual auntie.

AMBIKA: (In Hindi: A man?) Ek Aadmi?

MANJU: Shush . . .

CAN: I haven’t threaded in forever. I’m sorry.

MANJU: Don’t be. I look like Cher. My husband will love it.

AMBIKA: So, are you new in Skokie?

CAN: Yeah. I moved from New York. I was apprenticing at Fekkai.

MANJU: Is this a name? It sounds like a swear.

AMBIKA: I’m Ambika. I’m Meera’s mother.

MANJU: He’s moving into the apartment upstairs. Hey! I have some furniture in storage that was too nice to give Khalil. He doesn’t wear pants when he sits down. You want?

AMBIKA: In here with you? (switches to Hindi: How? What do you know about this boy? He could rape you and kill you while you sleep and no one will know?) Kaise? Tum iss aadmi ke baare me jaanti hi kya ho? Woh tumhe neend me maar sakta hai, aur kisi ko pataa bhi nahi chalega?

MANJU: (Hindi: Look at his face. I like him. A good boy smiles like that.) Iski shakal toh dekho. Mujhe pasand hai. Sirf achhe ladke hi aise smile karte hain.

(MEERA starts a convo with CAN while AMBIKA and MANJU talk. There are convos in English and Hindi going on simultaneously.)

AMBIKA: (You can’t just invite random men into your house. This is the city. People die every day for doing nothing more than stepping outside their house. This man can murder Vivek, he’ll murder Khalil. He’ll steal all your mother’s gold and disappear into the night. How can you let him live with you?) Tum apne ghar me kisi aire-ghaire ko nahi bula sakti. Yahaan toh. Log roz, bematlab ke, ghar se nikalte hi marte hain. Ye aadmi Vivek ka khoon kar sakta hai, Khalil ko bhi maar dega. Mummy ka sara sona churaake ghayab ho gaya toh? Tum ise apne saath kaise rehne de sakte ho?

MANJU: (What if he understands?) Use samajh aa gaya toh?

MEERA: /Fekkai is so dope. How long were you there?

CAN: Three years. It was dumb. But your suit, I love.

MEERA: It’s vintage Isaac Mizrahi. We had court.

CAN: Together?

MEERA: We’re lawyers. We work together.

CAN: Badass lawyer girl, yas.

AMBIKA: (Look at him. He’s an Arab.) Kaise samjhega? Woh Arab (se) hai.

MANJU: (A Turk.) Turkish Hai.

(A pause. CAN and MEERA try to pretend they don’t know CAN’s being scrutinized.)

CAN: This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.

MANJU: Shhh. No need for that. Don’t ask him too many questions. I’m get-ting more towels.

(CAN stands to go to the back for her but MANJU pushes him back down.) 

Sit! You don’t know where the towels are. You’re not psychic.

(She exits into the back of the salon.)

MEERA: Do you have an Insta?

CAN: Yeah. @dakotacanson . . . But it’s spelled C-A-N-SON.

MEERA: You’re so stupid. Oh my god. Mom, look at this balayage.

(AMBIKA looks at MEERA’s phone. She’s impressed. She takes out her read-ing glasses and phone.)

AMBIKA: Okay then! Spell the name for me.

CAN: D.

AMBIKA: Okay.

CAN: A . . .

AMBIKA: Okay.

CAN: K.

AMBIKA: Okay.

CAN: O.

AMBIKA: Okay.

CAN: T.

AMBIKA: Yes.

CAN: A.

(The bells tinkle as NINA enters. She’s gorg.)

MEERA: I sent it to you. Look in your DMs.

AMBIKA: Huh?

NINA: The messages. You should see a red number in the top corner.

AMBIKA: I see 35 in the red.

NINA: That means you have 35 DMs. Are you getting dick pics from the neighborhood boys?

(MANJU reentering.)

AMBIKA: Don’t start with me.

MANJU: Who’s getting dick pics? Did I tell you Khalil accidentally sent me one? What’s wrong with that child? I told him no woman wants to see that and he got mad at me. Is this why the remote is always in the bathroom?

NINA: They like to use it for comparison. Who is this man where I sit?

MANJU: Can. My first boy employee.

NINA: Wowwwww, Juju! A modern woman! This is much better than the girl who did tarot readings during the chee-chee waxes. She only gave bad news.

(NINA gives MANJU a high five and sits in the third salon chair.)

It’s good to meet you. I’m Nina, the baby sister. Where are you from?

CAN: New York.

NINA: Shame on you. Where are you really from?

CAN: Turkey.

NINA: I fell in love with a Turkish man once.

MANJU: You fall in love with every man.

MEERA: Nina masi’s on her third husband.

NINA: Third and final. He’s your neighbor. He’s from Jordan. Do you know a “Mohammad Khoury”?

CAN: I—

AMBIKA: Are your parents in Turkey?

CAN: Baltimore.

NINA: Don’t interrogate the poor boy. How come they moved to Baltimore from Turkey?

CAN: They didn’t. They moved from Texas.

NINA: Turks in Texas. We really will immigrate anywhere. Aren’t you going to greet me?

(MEERA goes to kiss NINA on both cheeks.)

You’re so beautiful you could stop a plane in the sky. (to AMBIKA) Has she ever done that?

AMBIKA: Don’t start. And she’s driving me crazy. She wants to cut off all her hair.

(A shocked gasp from EVERYONE in the room. MANJU grabs a bowl full of salt from her station. She takes a handful and makes circular motions over MEERA’s head while whispering to herself to ward off the evil eye.)

SEE??

MANJU: (takes a break to say) Why would you break my heart like that? (She goes back to it.)

NINA: How much will she cut?? HOW MUCH??

MEERA: Can we chill? I was just looking at a photo in a magazine—

NINA: Take all magazines away from her. You lost the right.

AMBIKA: I give you a home. A life. I gave you an education. I even gave you a job. Don’t give me an ulcer on today of all days. Let me enjoy my perimenopause.

(AMBIKA, NINA, and MANJU giggle. MANJU takes a break from warding off evil. MEERA rolls her eyes.)

MEERA: Can I get a blowout?

CAN: Absolutely. I could play with your hair all day.

(CAN brushes her hair.)

AMBIKA: People wanted to buy it when she was little. We thought someone would steal her for her hair.

(MANJU grabs another handful of salt for more evil-eye warding off.)

MEERA: Stop.

CAN: What’s “today of all days”?

MEERA: Nothing.

MANJU: It’s not nothing.

MEERA: You’re right.

NINA: It’s the anniversary of the day her father died.

MANJU: Eleven years.

MEERA: I’m treating Mama to a couple’s massage.

MANJU: Good girl.

NINA: Your mom is lucky to have you. Mo said they installed his gazebo last week. I haven’t seen it yet. We’ll take a visit.

CAN: Gazebo?

MEERA: Auntie Nina’s husband donates a lot of money to Northwestern.

NINA: Like, a lot a lot. He’s on the board.

MEERA: They built a gazebo on campus for Dad. He was a law professor there. Mom went there. I went there. We have no imagination.

NINA: And your Auntie Nina choreographed when Meera was on the dance team.

CAN: No way.

AMBIKA/MEERA/MANJU: Way.

(The tinkle of the bell as SHAHNAAZ enters.)

NINA: They still belly dance because of me.

SHAHNAAZ: Just because you married my brother does not mean you can colonize our culture.

MANJU: And this is Shahnaaz.

CAN: The eyebrows.

NINA: My evil in-law. You have to like me more than her.

(NINA slips a fifty into CAN’s pocket. Not in a creepy way—just unnecessary.)

CAN: Nice to meet you.

SHAHNAAZ: Who are you?

CAN: /Can.

MANJU: /This is Can.

SHAHNAAZ: That means nothing. Who are you?

CAN: /I work here.

MANJU: /He works here now.

SHAHNAAZ: What’s this? Abbott and Costello?

CAN: /What?

MANJU: /Who??

SHAHNAAZ: I am done with both of you.

(SHAHNAAZ sits in the last chair. To NINA in Arabic: There’s going to be a man in here?)

Limadha yujad rajul huna?

NINA: You zip it.

(SHAHNAAZ kisses MEERA’s cheek.)

SHAHNAAZ: What is he doing to you?

MEERA: I have dinner with Bryden’s parents tonight. I’d like to look less like shit.

AMBIKA: Language.

SHAHNAAZ: I should have known. You always straighten your hair for dinner with the white boyfriend’s fancy parents.

NINA: Anything for Mr. and Mrs. Dickens. Would you take their name?

AMBIKA: Don’t joke. She’s too young. She just started working.

MANJU: She’s modern too. She would keep both.

NINA: Meera Vishnukumar Dickens. How gorgeous?

(They all laugh.)

AMBIKA: Meera Dickens Vishnukumar, I think.

NINA: Oh yes. Much better. Stronger.

SHAHNAAZ: It sounds like Stockholm syndrome.

NINA: (to CAN) She thinks she’s smart.

SHAHNAAZ: I’m a professor, you clown. Of course I’m smart.

NINA: In botany. You teach about watermelons.

CAN: Your boyfriend’s name is . . . Bryden Dickens . . . ?

(They all laugh again.)

AMBIKA: At least it’s not Bryden Kipling. Or Windsor. There are worse co-lonialists.

MANJU: Our poor Diana.

MEERA: You’re the one who calls me “Meera Bagheera.”

AMBIKA: Your dad called you that. It’s cute.

NINA: And we can say it.

MEERA: Cut it out, please. He’s so nice to all of you.

AMBIKA: Sorry, my love.

NINA: Sorry.

MANJU: I get carried away.

SHAHNAAZ: I’m sorry, honey.

MANJU: So, what are we having today, ladies?

AMBIKA: Manicure.

SHAHNAAZ: Facial—but I don’t want him touching me yet.

NINA: Did he do your eyebrows?

MANJU: He did.

NINA: I’ll order those.

MANJU: (to MEERA while holding wax and a strip) Can I? Please? I’ll be fast like lightning.

MEERA: No! My sideburns are just fine.

MANJU: But you shouldn’t have any! I just need two wax strips and you’ll be smooth like marble.

SHAHNAAZ: No means no, Manju. Let her be hairy. Why did you hire a boy?

MANJU: This is my salon. I choose. And Can has three sisters. Tell them.

CAN: I do.

MANJU: See?

SHAHNAAZ: I was just asking a question.

MANJU: Ask better ones.

SHAHNAAZ: Are you a friend of Dorothy’s?

(A weird look from CAN: What??)

Are you gay?

(An inhale from everyone else.)

CAN: Yes. Very . . .

SHAHNAAZ: Okay. He can touch my face.

Scene Two

(“Lovefool” by the Cardigans plays in the shop. CAN is setting NINA’s hair in curlers. He sings along softly while NINA keeps tempo with her foot. CAN has his own station now. There is a mini disco ball, Trader Joe’s chocolates, a gold electric razor set, and a barbershop glass jar for cleaning razors.)

NINA: I’m getting a boob job. Are you shocked?

CAN: . . .

NINA: I want boobs big enough that I float. I met with my Reiki healer to see how big I can go without realigning my chakras.

(CAN grimaces.)

What’s wrong? You don’t think I should have nice boobs?

CAN: Please stop saying boobs.

NINA: Okay. Breasts. Shouldn’t I have *fantastic* breasts? What is this face?

CAN: You sound just like my mom. When you talk about your . . . *ahem* . . . breasts . . . I hear her, you know . . .

NINA: When I talk about my beautiful . . . expensive . . . prosperous future breasts, you see your mom’s breasts?

CAN: Stop it.

NINA: Thank you for saying I sound like your mama. I have a consultation with my favorite surgeon next week. We’ll see what he says.

(NINA shimmies and then slips a fifty into CAN’s pocket. SHAHNAAZ enters. She turns off the music and tosses her keys to CAN.)

SHAHNAAZ: I borrowed some serving platters from Manju. They’re in the back seat.

NINA: He’s not your maid.

(SHAHNAAZ holds out a fifty.)

CAN: I don’t mind.

SHAHNAAZ: It’s the black Jaguar right out front. Scratch anything and I’ll scratch you.

NINA: I bet her social security number is on something in the glove compartment. Don’t steal her life now.

(He exits out the front. SHAHNAAZ crosses to the chair one down from NINA and sits.)

SHAHNAAZ: (in Arabic: I’ll slap that smile off your face) Ana dhahib lisafeiki! (in English) That gay boy is clearly running away from something. All the children know how to hack into bank accounts now! They post it on the YouTV.

NINA: I’m going to cancel you.

SHAHNAAZ: Did you buy him that gold razor? Isn’t it soon for gifts?

NINA: It’s fabulous and he deserves it.

(SHAHNAAZ gets a call and stands up.)

SHAHNAAZ: (Hindi: Eat shit.) Meri tutty kha.

NINA: (Arabic: Only if you eat mine!) ‘Akl al’algham! Where are you going?

SHAHNAAZ: Maryam’s calling.

NINA: Ooooooooooh! Tell her I miss her.

SHAHNAAZ: I hope you die.

(They kiss cheeks. SHAHNAAZ exits out the front door in a huff. NINA laughs and spins around in the chair. After a few moments, CAN comes in with a stack of fancy and mismatched serving platters.)

CAN: Why doesn’t she like me?

NINA: You’re more similar than she wants to admit. She likes you fine. I love your nail polish.

CAN: It’s left over from my drag show last night.

NINA: Drag? Queens?? Like RooRooPaul???

CAN: No one is like RooRooPaul. My girl is called Mama Ghanouj and she’s a Grand Vizier from the Fertile Crescent. I wear a big hoop skirt and whirl like a dervish to “Spinning” by Charli XCX.

NINA: I’ve never heard of Charlie Sex. Send me some songs. Are you making friends with the drag girls?

CAN: I’m trying.

NINA: Meeting people is hard. Just be yourself. You’re handsome and smart. You’re warm like the sun. Anyone would be lucky to visit your fertile crescent.

CAN: . . .

NINA: Am I making you nervous?

CAN: Very.

NINA: Want to talk about something else?

CAN: Yes, please.

NINA: What about your mother? Why aren’t you talking? I wish I could talk to mine every day.

CAN: We don’t talk much in general.

NINA: That’s not right. You need her. I know she must need you.

CAN: She has my number. She can call me anytime.

NINA: How long has it been?

CAN: A while. Like, ten years.

NINA: A decade too long. Don’t be too proud. A child needs their mother. It’s biology. Where do you do this whirling?

CAN: You wanna come?

NINA: Why not? I’m a queen too.

CAN: A place called Girth. I’m there on Fridays and Sundays.

NINA: I’ll bring Shahnaaz. We’ll be your moms for the night. I’m beaming already.

(CAN struggles to hold it together. The door tinkles and MEERA enters, dressed for work.)

MEERA: Hi, masi. Hi, Can. Wait, are you okay?

CAN: Yes, just . . . I’m going to put these trays away before Manju gets back. Sit. Watch her hood for smoke.

(CAN exits with the bags. MEERA sits next to NINA.)

MEERA: What did you do to him?

NINA: Nothing. You’re always blaming me.

MEERA: Nothing? Really?

NINA: I asked about his mother.

MEERA: We agreed. He’ll tell us about her when he’s ready.

NINA: I barely brought it up. He said they haven’t talked in years.

MEERA: Oh. Poor Can.

NINA: I think he’s better off without her. He has us. Do you know Girth?

MEERA: Uhhh . . . ?

NINA: It’s a drag queen’s bar.

MEERA: Thank god. Yes. It’s in Andersonville.

NINA: Ahhh, where the lesbians live. That makes sense.

MEERA: Why . . . ?

NINA: Can performs as a woman. I want to go. Maybe you can bring your fancy man with all of his hair? I bet the gays will eat him up.

MEERA: Don’t say “gays.” And don’t make fun of him to his face. He’s getting really sensitive about it.

NINA: Him or you?

MEERA: Stop.

NINA: I don’t speak in front of white men. I tried it once and ended up in Guantanamo.

MEERA: Not today. I’m not in the mood.

NINA: We’re sparring. You make fun of my man, I make fun of yours?

MEERA: Fine. Bryden loves me and Mohammad doesn’t care if you’re there or not. Sucks to be you.

(A silence. And then a tiny self-indulgent whimper. MEERA rushes over and hugs NINA.)

I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I said that. That was terrible.

NINA: I didn’t marry him to talk to him. I wanted a driver.

MEERA: I’m sorry, masi. I really am. That was so fucking shitty.

NINA: Call me Nina, please. People should confuse us for sisters.

(MEERA sits with her. NINA pulls the beauty hood down over her head.)

Do you think I’m happy?

MEERA: . . . Can I help?

NINA: Child, what are you going to do? Force my husband to respect me? Making a man obsess over me was easier when I was twenty. There’s nothing to do now. I’ll just hold it in and wait for it to feel like something else.

(SHAHNAAZ enters, a little out of breath. NINA sniffs—her eyes are obscured by the hood.)

You’re back?

SHAHNAAZ: You can smell me??

NINA: Of course. You’re wearing the perfume I got you in Paris.

(She pulls the hood up.)

No Maryam?

SHAHNAAZ: She’s in the lab longer.

(SHAHNAAZ pulls a tub of hummus from her purse. It’s the kind made fresh and in a to-go container. She takes out two pitas from a bag of pita bread and starts tearing them into bite-size pieces with her hands. NINA pulls an empty Tupperware container from her bag and hands it over as a serving plate. They both root through their purses. NINA comes up for air with a wedge of lemon in a ziplock bag. She tosses it to SHAHNAAZ. SHAHNAAZ squeezes it on the hummus. They eat.)

SHAHNAAZ: How are you, angel? I love when it’s just you and us.

NINA: Me too. Tell us something your mom doesn’t know.

SHAHNAAZ: Try some, behti. It’s fresh from the Lebanese bakery. He makes the tahini in the back and it’s like velvet.

(SHAHNAAZ kisses MEERA and sits in the chair on the other side. CAN reenters.)

CAN: You’re back. With appetizers.

(MEERA puts her face in her hands and starts to cry.)

NINA: What’s this? Why tears?

MEERA: (wiping her eyes) Mom is going to be so mad at me.

SHAHNAAZ: What did Can do?

MEERA: Don’t. He’s fine. I’m an idiot and I’m pregnant. Please don’t lecture me. This day is kicking my ass.

NINA: Is it Bryden’s?

MEERA: Of course.

SHAHNAAZ: What’s wrong with you?

NINA: What? She’s young and her skin is like butter.

SHAHNAAZ: You’ll get married—if you want. She can’t be too mad.

NINA: How far along are you?

MEERA: Ten weeks or so.

NINA: She’s going to beat poor sweet Bryden up.

(MANJU enters the shop with a tinkle, carrying two big paper grocery bags that obscure her view.)

MANJU: My financial planner talks forever. Why do the most boring people do that? I stopped by Mr. Trader Joe’s, and I met the most handsome man there. I showed him your picture. There’s a Graham waiting for you at the one on Fifty-Fifth Street. Who wants to try a chocolate? Why does it smell like garlic?

(She sets down the bags and looks up to see MEERA.)

What did they do to you?

(MANJU is cradling MEERA.) 

You know I cry whenever you cry.

(MEERA cries into MANJU’s bosom. MANJU starts to cry too.)

What’s wrong, my girl? Do you want me to call Bika?

MEERA: No.

(MEERA and MANJU share a look.)

MANJU: Ah. I see. Look at me. A child from you would be a blessing from the stars.

(MEERA sobs.)

NINA: You’re a witch.

SHAHNAAZ: How did you just know??

MANJU: I know her like she came from me. Shhh, behti.

NINA: I do too . . .

MEERA: I skipped work instead of researching her case. She’s already going to be pissed.

(MEERA wipes her tears and looks in the mirror.) 

I look like a mess.

MANJU: A beautiful mess. Like an unmade fancy hotel bed.

(MANJU grabs another handful of salt. NINA asks for one too. They both work on MEERA.)

MEERA: Could I get a blowout?

MANJU: Take our girl. I’ll finish Neener.

(CAN takes out a brush and goes to MEERA.)

CAN: You’re gonna walk out of here with hair three feet high.

MEERA: She feels things so much. After I tell her, I’ll only be able to feel what she feels.

NINA: We know, honey.

(The tinkle of bells and AMBIKA enters. NINA and MANJU stop, and AMBIKA almoooost catches them. CAN starts brushing MEERA’s hair with long and slow strokes to distract.)

AMBIKA: Don’t cut her beautiful hair. I’ll cut you.

NINA: Everyone stop threatening the boy. It’s homophobic.

MEERA: I’m just getting a blow-dry.

AMBIKA: Don’t heat her hair too much. It breaks.

MEERA: Mom.

AMBIKA: Shouldn’t you be at work? I knew I should have assigned the case to Kelly. She shows up every day and never leaves early. We’ll actually make her junior partner.

(AMBIKA kisses MANJU’s cheek. Then NINA’s and SHAHNAAZ’s. She goes to MEERA to feel her forehead for a fever, then kisses it.)

You feel fine. I put my name on the line for you.

NINA: I’m abruptly changing the subject. Mohammad and I are seeing Janet Jackson tonight so I bought some leather pants. Who wants to help me put them on?

SHAHNAAZ: What an offer?

(NINA holds out a fifty to both CAN and MEERA. Both resign themselves to helping with the pants.)

CAN: Oh my god, I love Janet. I’m so fucking jealous!

AMBIKA: Language.

SHAHNAAZ: Mohammad is going? He doesn’t like music. Or people. Or joy. Or dancing. Or—

NINA: He’ll take calls in the parking lot. It’s our date night.

AMBIKA: Who is this?

MEERA: Michael Jackson’s sister.

AMBIKA: Oh yes. You love “The Velvet Ropes.”

(MANJU sings the hook from Janet Jackson’s “All for You” in English, and it sounds kinda Bollywood.)

MEERA: I always forget how incredibly you sing.

MANJU: How? I could make Placebo Domingo see again.

AMBIKA: More, please.

MANJU: Only for my biggest fan.

(MANJU takes a breath and closes her eyes as she sings the beginning of “Zaroori Tha” by Rahat Fateh Ali Khan. When she’s done, AMBIKA hugs and kisses her. They all clap.)

CAN: Are you kidding me??

MANJU: Our ami wanted us all to be artists. But practicality matters more in a country like this.

AMBIKA: Why are these groceries out?

MANJU: Leave them.

(AMBIKA takes the bags back. They all look at MEERA while AMBIKA is out.)

CAN: I know every dance move to “Rhythm Nation.” My sister had it on VHS. I would sneak to the basement to watch it.

NINA: Show and tell!

SHAHNAAZ: We don’t need a whole talent show.

MEERA: Who’s “we”?? Come on. For me?

CAN: I need music.

MANJU: I got you, habibti.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1

(MANJU and NINA sing the intro beats of “Rhythm Nation” before going into the vocals as a shaky duet. CAN doesn’t miss a beat and moves to the center and does the fucking incredible “Rhythm Nation” choreography. It starts as a dance but very quickly goes into full drag lip-synching. He flips a brush into the air and catches it as a microphone. AMBIKA comes back in the middle. At the end, CAN is sweaty and bows. He kisses MANJU’s cheek.)

CAN: We should do a number together.

MANJU: In my dreams. I’d make us matching dresses.

NINA: Make me one too.

MEERA: Okay, Nina. We’re definitely meeting him out.

NINA: See?

CAN: What?

MEERA: Nina told me about Girth.

AMBIKA: Meera . . .

MEERA: It’s the name of a bar. Chill out.

CAN: You’re gonna come??

SHAHNAAZ: What’s girth? I mean, I know what it is. What’s happening?

MEERA: Can does drag.

SHAHNAAZ: Ahhhhh. “Good luck and don’t fuck it up.”

CAN: You watch Drag Race??

SHAHNAAZ: I have a TV and eyes, don’t I?

CAN: You’re a goddamn mystery.

NINA: (tugging on CAN’s apron) When are you off work tonight?

CAN: 7:00.

NINA: Can he get off at 6:00, Manju?

MANJU: Sure.

NINA: I’ll pick you up at 6:30 and we’ll go to dinner first.

CAN: What’s happening?

NINA: I’ll leave MoMo at home. He doesn’t give a shit about the concert. I need a younger date.

CAN: No way??

NINA: Why would I lie to you?

(CAN kisses NINA.)

CAN: Thank you! I just. AHHHHHH! FUCKING SURPRISE JANET JACKSON?? This is the best surprise out of all the surprises in the world!!

(He brushes faster but then immediately slows to stop.)

NINA: Don’t worry, my stars. I have a ticket for you too. We’ll just hold our coats instead. Meet here at 6:30?

MEERA: No way. Thank you, masi!

NINA: Don’t thank me. Just tell people we’re sisters. I don’t care if they don’t ask.

AMBIKA: You have work tomorrow.

MEERA: I’ll drink a Red Bull. Relax.

AMBIKA: You raise your children. And they tell you to relax.

MEERA: I’ll be here at 6:30.

NINA: It’ll get your mind off things.

AMBIKA: What things?

MEERA: Just work.

AMBIKA: What work? I’m about to fire you.

NINA: Don’t you remember being that young? Let me take her out.

AMBIKA: She skips every week. They need to see her in the office.

MEERA: You can’t turn this down for me. I’m not fifteen.

AMBIKA: Who am I? Just your mother. Fine. Don’t be home too late.

(AMBIKA gathers her things.)

MANJU: Stay here with me and I’ll give you a private concert.

SHAHNAAZ: Stay.

AMBIKA: Don’t give her any drugs.

CAN: I won’t.

MEERA: I’ll call you later.

AMBIKA: Bye, ladies. I love you. Even when you’re ungrateful.

(AMBIKA kisses MEERA and waves and leaves. MANJU pulls NINA’s hood down again. SHAHNAAZ gets a text.)

MANJU: Why do you antagonize her?

SHAHNAAZ: I should go too before this gets worse. Make smart choices.

NINA: Kiss Maryam for us!

(SHAHNAAZ flicks NINA off and exits.)

NINA: How much longer am I in the microwave?

MANJU: I don’t know. Twenty more minutes?

NINA: I need to pee then.

(NINA pulls the hood up and exits out back in a shuffle.)

CAN: (very quietly) Something’s happening. I can’t brush anymore.

MANJU: What’s wrong with your comb? Take mine.

MEERA: How bad is it?

(CAN pulls a handful of MEERA’s hair that has fallen out as he brushed it. MANJU gasps and sits in a chair.)

CAN: I can cover it.

MEERA: Okay.

CAN: It’ll . . . We can do something.

MEERA: Can you?

MANJU: I don’t understand.

CAN: What’s wrong?

MEERA: I have . . . I’m . . . I started chemotherapy. It’s been falling out since Monday. My doctor said that I shouldn’t be pregnant.

MANJU: (Oh, my child.) Hai meri bachchi . . .

MEERA: I have an appointment at Planned Parenthood next week. She’s going to kill me.

(The distant sound of a toilet flush.)

I can’t tell Nina yet. She blabs everything.

CAN: I’m getting you so fucking high and you’re sleeping over.

MANJU: I have snacks . . . and good marijuana. Can I come?

Scene Three

(CAN gently massages MEERA’s face. Her eyes are closed and her head is back. There is no music. She holds a heating pad to her midsection. There are quite a few evil eyes around the space.)

CAN: Your mom called this morning.

MEERA: Of course she did.

CAN: She said you’re not answering?

MEERA: . . .

CAN: She wouldn’t hang up until I told her your next appointment. She’s on her way.

MEERA: Siggggghhhh. I don’t know what to say to her. This is her literal worst nightmare and I can’t fix anything.

(Beat.)

Do you think I should do it?

CAN: Why not? You love him, right?

MEERA: Will you come? It’ll be easy, at City Hall.

CAN: Of course. Are you telling them?

MEERA: She would kill me if I did it without her. I don’t know if I can do all of them. Maybe Manju. But then Nina will cry and Shahnaaz will think it’s because of her. Yes. I’ll tell them.

CAN: I’ll buffer the fuck out of the day.

MEERA: Thanks. I can’t imagine dying without you.

CAN: You’re not dying.

MEERA: I might be. And you being here is my miracle. You don’t have to say anything—they’ll keep asking why until you tell them something, but I don’t care. You showed up at the exact right time. I know it and I want you to know it.

CAN: I was trying to be someone new.

MEERA: I’d love to be anyone new.

CAN: I thought I was dating this guy for, like, six years. But he would just dig chunks out of me, shit in the hole, then watch me struggle to turn his shit into parts of myself and call that love. And then he broke up with me.

MEERA: Why?

CAN: He said my feelings were too big.

MEERA: White dudes love saying that.

CAN: Chicago felt like a big enough city where I could forget faster.

MEERA: But you live in Skokie?

CAN: I can’t do anything right.

MEERA: What should I wear? Nothing cheesy.

CAN: Wear sweats. Who gives a shit?

(Tinkle of bells. AMBIKA enters. She has Tupperware.)

AMBIKA: I brought you dinner.

MEERA: Food is literally the last thing I want right now.

AMBIKA: I know, he told me. It’s for you, Can.

(CAN takes the container. How nice?)

CAN: Thank you.

AMBIKA: It’s what I made for myself tonight.

CAN: I’m gonna . . .

(CAN goes into the back. There are faint microwave sounds.)

AMBIKA: How are you?

MEERA: Alive.

AMBIKA: Good. Can I do anything?

(MEERA leans forward. AMBIKA automatically goes to scratch her back. Before she does, she slips an evil-eye bracelet onto MEERA’s wrist. MEERA accepts it without argument.)

AMBIKA: You moved out?

MEERA: Bryden’s place is closer to chemo.

AMBIKA: Right. Your room is waiting if you change your mind. I bought new cooling sheets. And I talked to the partners. You can take as much time as you need.

MEERA: I’m not coming back.

AMBIKA: Take your time—

MEERA: Bryden asked me to marry him today.

AMBIKA: Oh?

MEERA: I had another scan. It’s not going away.

(Beat.)

AMBIKA: Oh.

MEERA: I want to know what more feels like.

AMBIKA: Yes.

MEERA: And he loves me.

AMBIKA: I know he does.

MEERA: I like him.

AMBIKA: Okay.

MEERA: I don’t want to not know what it feels like.

AMBIKA: You should have everything.

(MEERA sits up.)

I’ll start planning. What will you wear?

MEERA: A sari?

AMBIKA: I’ll order you a new one. Nina knows where to get the fake designer ones.

MEERA: Not again. Don’t you remember the fake Gucci one. The G’s were 69s. All the boys at temple called you “69-auntie.”

AMBIKA: I had to google that.

(They laugh.)

May I please come to your next doctor’s appointment? Please? Don’t shut me out. I can’t think about anything else. Just you and Nina.

MEERA: How is she doing?

AMBIKA: Oh. You know. The same. But things will find a way to be okay again. I believe in tomorrow.

MEERA: I don’t want to be the reason you stop.

(AMBIKA might say something but MEERA takes her car keys.) 

We’re leaving, Can!

(MEERA exits. CAN comes out.)

CAN: It’s delicious. Thank you.

(AMBIKA hugs CAN. She sobs once. CAN is more than surprised.) 

They’ll get through this. I know it.

(AMBIKA pulls away. She gathers herself and leaves. CAN sits.)

Scene Four

(SHAHNAAZ sits in a chair while MANJU does her nails. They are alone. Incense is burning, there are soft lights and candles, and they are listening to Edith Piaf. The room is a haven. The music plays throughout, so in the moments of silence, we still hear Edith. There are some Halloween decorations up and an orange bucket of candy on one of the counters. There are even more evil eyes. MANJU flips SHAHNAAZ’s palm over and starts reading it.)

SHAHNAAZ: No palm reading.

MANJU: But—

SHAHNAAZ: If this is what life is like—surprise me. When is your next Nina day?

MANJU: Tomorrow.

SHAHNAAZ: She’s even skinnier. How can God allow this? Both of them at the same time?

MANJU: I’m going to feed Nina until I can roll her around the house. I made gulab jamun. I have ways to make her hungry.

SHAHNAAZ: Ohhhhhh . . . speaking of which, can we . . . ?

(MANJU pulls a joint from behind her ear and puts it in SHAHNAAZ’s mouth. MANJU lights it with a barbecue lighter. SHAHNAAZ mostly smokes it but passes to MANJU every once in a while. She holds it off the side of her mouth and lifts her chin whenever it’s time to share, and MANJU takes it before returning it to SHAHNAAZ’s mouth. MANJU deftly moves it from hand to mouth to hand as she does SHAHNAAZ’s nails.)

Where’s Can?

MANJU: He’s Nina’s chemo partner today.

SHAHNAAZ: She always wants him.

MANJU: Jealousy, Naaz?

SHAHNAAZ: Don’t be annoying. Of course I’m jealous. I’d die for that leech.

MANJU: Thank god she wanted the new boobs. The doctor said it was like a golf ball. How did she not feel it?

SHAHNAAZ: Please, she never touches herself like that. And Mohammad doesn’t touch her breasts. He barely touches the food she makes.

(MANJU gasps.)

Oh no. Honesty. Is this an indica?

MANJU: Okay, I have a secret.

SHAHNAAZ: Yessssssss.

MANJU: But you don’t keep secrets well.

SHAHNAAZ: So what? Tell me anyway! I react really well!

MANJU: I saw Can coming out of Khalil’s apartment.

SHAHNAAZ: Your Khalil??

MANJU: No. Khalil Swartzenneger. What other Khalil?

SHAHNAAZ: When??

MANJU: Monday. And Wednesday. And yesterday.

SHAHNAAZ: Maybe they’re friends? Does Khalil have friends?

MANJU: Can would be his first. It was really early, though. I . . . I listened at the door. They were doing . . . sexy things.

SHAHNAAZ: Wooooow. Is Khalil . . . (gay)?

MANJU: No. I don’t know.

SHAHNAAZ: Are you mad?

MANJU: No. Of course not . . . I don’t like being lied to. I’m his mother. He should tell me these things.

SHAHNAAZ: You sound mad.

MANJU: I’m shocked. Were my eyes closed his whole life? Or is this Can?

SHAHNAAZ: Can can’t turn anyone gay. He’s only a six.

MANJU: But Khalil didn’t do this before. I don’t want him to live downstairs forever.

SHAHNAAZ: We don’t all end up alone.

(SHAHNAAZ pulls her hands away.)

MANJU: The wrong words are slipping out. He can be gay all day. I love them both. But . . .

SHAHNAAZ: But it’s harder when it’s in your own house.

MANJU: I’m sorry, Naaz. I didn’t mean it. I’m just an old woman. Give me your hands.

(SHAHNAAZ lets MANJU take her hands again. AMBIKA knocks on the window of the door. It’s locked.)

Use your key!

(AMBIKA enters and puts her keys away.)

AMBIKA: Ahhhh, smoking already like a couple of delinquents.

SHAHNAAZ: Subhanallah, good thing we have a lawyer.

(AMBIKA looks at the smoke still lingering in the air. She looks back at SHAHNAAZ.)

AMBIKA: I couldn’t stay home

MANJU: What’s wrong, jaanu?

AMBIKA: I was unscrewing the kitchen cabinet doors to repaint them. I think I’ll have to hire someone to put them back in . . .

SHAHNAAZ: Let me. I have my drill in the car. (offering the joint) There’s still a little left. Sounds like you need it.

MANJU: You barely gave me any.

SHAHNAAZ: Didn’t I? I’m sorry. It’s like a cigarette. I just talk and smoke and talk and all of a sudden I’m on Mars.

(AMBIKA sits in the beauty chair closest to the two of them.)

AMBIKA: No. I’m anxious enough. I dropped Nina off at chemo. I can fit her wrist between my fingers.

(AMBIKA makes an “o” with her thumb and pointer finger.)

MANJU: I rolled another one for her with my good shit.

SHAHNAAZ: Did you give me the bad shit?

MANJU: You’d be on Neptune with this, baby.

(MANJU takes a small plastic joint tube out from her cleavage and gives it to AMBIKA.)

SHAHNAAZ: Why were you taking apart your kitchen?

AMBIKA: I hate living alone.

MANJU: She’s married now. It was going to happen.

AMBIKA: It’s all happening so fast. I feel alone with every bone in my body. I’ve never lived without anyone before. I want to be thinking about my daughter, but all I think about is Nina.

SHAHNAAZ: She’s invincible. Like a cockroach.

AMBIKA: I’m not worried about her dying. I mean, of course I am. I love her like she’s me. But . . . Meera is taking her to chemo? How is this right? That woman has a tornado of people around her and yet here we all are. At her beck and call.

MANJU: None of this is right.

SHAHNAAZ: How is Meera today?

AMBIKA: This is why I’m a monster. She’s perfect. She takes herself to the doctor. On Monday, she invited me over for homemade pasta. How? She says she’s happy that she’s not working, but I know she thinks Nina needs us right now, so she’s waiting, and that makes me want to scream. I want my child to have all of us. Shit. I’m trying to take love away from my dying baby sister—

SHAHNAAZ: She won’t die.

AMBIKA: —And I’m thinking all of this while destroying my kitchen. I love Nina. Please believe me, I do. Shahnaaz, you understand me, right?

SHAHNAAZ: (girl is hiiiiiigh but she’s speaking facts) Nina’s my sister because I chose her. Mohammad never needed a sister like me. But Nina? She scooped me up. She can ask for anything, and if my hands or brain can fathom how,

I’m doing it. And Nina’s more than more. I know. You know. She knows. Salon? (listens to the salon) Salon knows. But we all have more and more to give. (She starts absentmindedly clicking the barbecue lighter.) I don’t think any of us get to decide when we run dry. Not when you’re an immigrant woman in this country. Your people need more, so you find more. I have more than more for Meera. And Nina. Manju is a waterfall of more for any of us. Even strangers. I chose Nina, I chose Meera, I chose both of you. That’s a lifetime commitment. What am I saying?

MANJU: What are you saying . . . ?

SHAHNAAZ: You can want more love for Meera all day. That’s a mom. I’ve been her auntie for fifteen years now. I have fifty more years of love for her in every second. How much love do you have for our girl right now, Manj’?

MANJU: I could fill this whole solar system with my love. I could drown the universe.

AMBIKA: I know. I know . . .

SHAHNAAZ: Good. Vent, bitch. But know what’s real.

AMBIKA: I do. Just . . . couldn’t she . . . ?

SHAHNAAZ: Let Meera have this one? Oh yes. But that’s not our Nina. She steals everyone’s attention. Remember when I got the job at Northwestern?

MANJU: Oh yesss, the cruise to the Caribbean!

SHAHNAAZ: When you bought the new house?

MANJU: The dolphin jumping over the moon tattoo.

AMBIKA: I forgot about that. What was the boob job for?

MANJU: I hired the boy.

(A derisive chuckle.)

SHAHNAAZ: She loves Meera so much, she got cancer too. Wow, I’m baked. I need to walk myself.

(SHAHNAAZ exits out the back. We can faintly hear her talking to herself in Arabic. MANJU and AMBIKA laugh, and MANJU lights the last of the joint. MANJU discreetly offers it to AMBIKA, who discreetly takes a hit and passes it back. The door tinkles, and CAN enters through the front. He holds the door open for NINA, who enters in a floor-length white caftan and delicate leather sandals. She walks with an equally delicate gold cane and a large shopping bag. She’s the definition of EXTRA.)

NINA: Yummmm. It smells like a frat house in here. I remember youth . . .

(AMBIKA and MANJU watch CAN lead NINA to a chair. He kisses her cheek. He walks to MANJU and gives her a big hug and kisses her too. He leans with his arm around her waist and his head on her shoulder.)

MANJU: Take a break before you start. And finish this.

(She hands him the joint.)

I saved some chicken marsala in the back. Get the laundry too!

CAN: Thank you, Auntie.

(CAN goes in the back with the joint.)

MANJU: Look at your hair! You look like a fashion model.

NINA: It’s a wig. One of Can’s queen friends got it for me.

MANJU: You met one of his friends?

NINA: She was very sweet. And almost prettier than me! Damzel Washington. She did my makeup and then I watched them eat lunch.

(SHAHNAAZ reenters with her cup of water. She sees NINA, screams, drops the cup, and tries to catch it. If she does, amazing, if not, it’s plastic and just spills whatever little is left on the ground.)

What’s wrong with you?

(Everyone looks to SHAHNAAZ.)

SHAHNAAZ: Sorry. I was just thinking about you and then boom, you’re here. I missed you.

MANJU: She’s high. How was chemo today?

NINA: Never-ending. I still can’t eat anything.

AMBIKA: Juju made this for you. Maybe it will help.

(AMBIKA fishes out the joint.)

NINA: You’re an angel.

SHAHNAAZ: Is that a wig?

NINA: Rude. And yes.

SHAHNAAZ: I thought so. It’s so thick. You look very pretty.

NINA: I don’t like when you’re high. It’s like giving a tranquilizer to a pit bull.

(SHAHNAAZ kisses NINA’s hand.)

You’re going to miss me when I’m gone.

SHAHNAAZ: Shush! Astaghfirullah!

NINA: Is Meera coming?

AMBIKA: I don’t know. She’s at yoga.

NINA: Her strength astounds me.

(No one says anything.)

We haven’t all been together for a while. I want to thank you all. I know taking care of me is work. I have Mohammad. I should be taken care of.

MANJU: We’re blood.

NINA: But this is more than family. This is burden. You sit with me at chemo, and you should be with Meera. She shouldn’t be with me. I’m bad for her. I’m just a reminder of what’s to come.

SHAHNAAZ: Don’t talk like that.

NINA: I asked Mohammad to hire me a nurse. A strong one.

MANJU: It will be nice to have extra help.

SHAHNAAZ: Yes. I’m very strong too. I’ll carry you from room to room.

NINA: I’m serious. I know I like attention. I know I want your love all the time. But I can’t handle it right now. Give it to our girl who still has some hope.

AMBIKA: My daughter is not dying.

NINA: What?

AMBIKA: She has lots of hope. She’s not dying.

NINA: I know. I am.

AMBIKA: You imagined it so easily.

NINA: Nothing about this is easy. Least of all what I’m imagining. But I save the best of my dreams for her. She’s getting better. Look at her.

(CAN reenters eating a bowl of food. He stops in his tracks.)

AMBIKA: I’m . . . so . . . mad all the time. I—I feel it bubbling under my skin and I don’t know where to put it.

We’re waiting on new test results and I’m pulling my hair out. I just want five minutes when I’m not trying not to cry. I can’t do it. Why did she have to get married so fast? Like she didn’t have the time to wait? Or plan. Or hope together. FedEx still has her sari. And she moved out immediately to be with him. He has her time now. I get what’s left. What about me?

(SHAHNAAZ takes NINA’s and AMBIKA’s hands.)

SHAHNAAZ: I choose you, my sisters.

MANJU: Me too. Every day. Even if I could choose from all the other sisters in the world.

SHAHNAAZ: I’m going to do something that will make my skin burn.

NINA: Oh jeez. What?

SHAHNAAZ: Everyone shut your eyes. Open your palms. Don’t watch me.

(Everyone closes their eyes. SHAHNAAZ recites the Surah Ya-Seen from the Quran with really beautiful tajweed.)

Bismillaahir Rahmaanir Raheem Yaa-Seeen

Wal-Qur-aanil-Hakeem Innaka laminal mursaleen ‘Alaa Siraatim Mustaqeem Tanzeelal ‘Azeezir Raheem

Litunzira qawmam maaa unzira aabaaa’uhum fahum ghaafiloon Laqad haqqal qawlu ‘alaaa aksarihim fahum laa yu’minoon

Innaa ja’alnaa feee a’naaqihim aghlaalan fahiya ilal azqaani fahum muqmahoon

Wa ja’alnaa min baini aydeehim saddanw-wa min khalfihim saddan fa aghshai naahum fahum laa yubsiroon

Wa sawaaa’un ‘alaihim ‘a-anzartahum am lam tunzirhum laa yu’minoon

CAN: Wow.

NINA: You’re still full of surprises.

SHAHNAAZ: It’s for the sick. I read it every day.

AMBIKA: Thank you.

MANJU: Anything else you have inside we want to let out?

AMBIKA: I love you, you miserable cow. And you don’t need the breasts of a child.

NINA: I love you too. Give me some Halloween candy. Fighting made me hungry.

SHAHNAAZ: Fighting always makes me horny. Okay. I need to go home.

AMBIKA: I’m sorry.

NINA: Don’t be. That girl is mine too.

AMBIKA: I miss Mummy.

NINA: Me too.

(The door tinkles and MEERA enters. Her head is wrapped in a scarf. She’s dressed for yoga.)

MEERA: Oh my god, it smells so good in here. Who has the weed?

AMBIKA: Meera . . .

MEERA: Come on. If not now, then when?

AMBIKA: You’re right. Enjoy.

(MANJU lights a joint for MEERA. No one takes it from her. She smokes it like a pro.)

MEERA: It feels intense in here. What’s happening?

MANJU: Did you know Shahnaaz can recite the Quran?

MEERA: Yeah. She reads to me sometimes. I told you they’d like it.

SHAHNAAZ: Shush.

CAN: She’s also horny, apparently.

AMBIKA: Don’t be fresh, boy . . .

MEERA: Oh yeah? French music does it for me too.

AMBIKA: Stop it, children.

SHAHNAAZ: It’s the weed for me. And all the Halloween decorations. Okay, I really need to go now.

MEERA: Not yet. I like when it’s just us in here. I want to bottle it up.

(They look at each other.)

MEERA: How do you look so incredible?

(MEERA kisses NINA.)

NINA: It’s a wig.

MEERA: No way. It looks so real.

(MEERA touches NINA’s wig.)

NINA: I got one for you too.

(NINA reaches into the shopping bag and pulls out a mannequin head with long Kim Kardashian straight black hair wrapped in a net. They’re all quiet as MEERA releases the hair.)

MEERA: Masiiiiiiiii! Oh my god!

(MEERA pulls off her scarf to reveal a clean bald head. The room is quiet but MEERA doesn’t notice. She goes to a mirror to put the wig on and turns around. Everyone stares at her.)

Fuck, I look good.

(They stare.)

Don’t just stare at me. Compliment me.

AMBIKA: (breathless) You look . . . wow.

SHAHNAAZ: Is that human hair?

NINA: Yes.

AMBIKA: (Hindi: Take it off.) Utaro isko.

NINA: It might be Egyptian. But isn’t it beautiful?

(MEERA starts running her hands through the length of the hair.)

MEERA: I miss this. I miss having something to do with my hands. This is the best I’ve felt all day.

MANJU: You look like you are in high school again.

(MEERA sits in a chair to admire herself.)

CAN: Want me to brush it?

(MEERA nods. CAN starts to carefully brush.)

MEERA: Does someone die for this or do they sell it?

AMBIKA: Both. Karishma sold her hair when she was alive and they sold Rupa’s after she died.

MANJU: If you call it selling. It’s mostly stealing. Nickels for years and years of cultivation and care.

MEERA: That’s how I feel. Years and years of cultivating me—stolen.

MANJU: You still have years and years to go.

AMBIKA: There will be other children. Chin up, my love.

MEERA: Do you remember Dad’s funeral?

AMBIKA: What kind of a question is that?

NINA: Like it was yesterday.

MANJU: We all do.

SHAHNAAZ: Except for Can.

MEERA: I asked you if I could die from Dad’s cancer one day. And you said, “We’re all going to die one way or another. Sometimes we die together. Sometimes we die apart.”

AMBIKA: Sometimes we do.

MEERA: Nothing prepared me for this. I feel . . . incredible right now. I could walk to Indiana and back. And I look at myself in this and. I dunno. I remember what it’s like . . . to imagine what I want. Bryden doesn’t have to look so worried. We can have more babies. We both make partner at our firms. A lake house. Our children growing to resent us, my hair going gray. I look at you, Can. I see you at my house every Thanksgiving until you go away somewhere ridiculous for an even more ridiculous man. Nina masi. You have to beat this because who else will teach my kids how to play poker and the good Hindi swears? They will beg to swim in your pool.

NINA: I have the basement movie theater too.

MEERA: And Naaz, auntie. You’re going to finally tell us that Maryam is your girlfriend so she can come hang out instead of you always sneaking away.

CAN: Oh my god, NO!?!

SHAHNAAZ: What are you talking about? She’s my /research partner.

MEERA/MANJU/AMBIKA: /Research partner.

MANJU: Sure, honey. We all believe that.

MEERA: And you research the insides of flowers.

CAN: Wow. That’s gay . . .

MEERA: Manju masi’s going to sell this place and travel and start singing at open-mic nights and open her own dispensary because you can do anything. You really can. And Mama.

(MEERA takes the brush from CAN and motions for AMBIKA. CAN and AMBIKA switch, and she starts brushing MEERA’s wig instead.)

You’re going to name my first son and daughter. You’re going to crochet baby hats and make them mashed banana and mango. You’re going to teach me how to stop picking fights with Bryden when I’m bored, and I’m going to take you to Rome when you retire.

AMBIKA: I can’t wait.

MEERA: Me neither. I just came from the doctor. It spread to my lungs and kidneys. I won’t be here long enough for any of that to happen.

(AMBIKA drops the brush.)

I feel like I could live forever. But I can’t.

(AMBIKA leans against the back of the salon chair.)

I just . . . I just wanted a lifetime of what everyone else has. Nothing special. I’m so sorry everyone.

Scene Five

(The shop is closed, empty, and dark. There is a vase full of peacock feathers and more evil eyes in the space.

A figure appears behind the glass and unlocks the door. She steps into the salon, and we see the snow that dusts her before we see her face. AMBIKA brushes the snow off her coat and carries a FedEx box and a paper grocery bag. She takes off her coat.

AMBIKA lights incense. She picks something on her phone, and it plays through the speakers. It’s an NPR interview with a psychologist on the grief of losing her husband to brain cancer. AMBIKA finds a knife without having to search and cuts open her box. She pulls out a beautiful and just slightly off Burberry tartan sari. She first examines it with scrutiny and then with joy.

AMBIKA locks the front door and retreats into the back with the sari. The incense burns.

AMBIKA emerges wearing the sari and slippers. She admires herself in the mirror. She unpacks her grocery bag. It’s flowers and lights for the altar, new chocolates for Can’s station, and some new hand towels.

MANJU enters from upstairs.)

MANJU: It finally came.

AMBIKA: Yes. Four months too late. FedEx lost Tom Hanks and my sari.

MANJU: You look like Mummy.

(MANJU stops the podcast.)

Are you going to return it?

AMBIKA: I like it. It’s not too British, is it? I’m Burberry Auntie.

MANJU: More like William Wallace Auntie.

(AMBIKA swats MANJU. She takes the towels into the back. MANJU notices the new bag of chocolates. She changes the music to “Get Happy” by Judy Garland. AMBIKA emerges wearing a cardigan.)

AMBIKA: I love this movie.

MANJU/AMBIKA: (dreamily) Gene Kelly . . .

AMBIKA: He’s so smooth.

MANJU: That butt.

AMBIKA: They don’t make them like that anymore.

MANJU: Sit, my moon. Want some daal makhani? I made a big pot to take to Nina.

(AMBIKA shakes her head but sits.)

Can I do something for you?

AMBIKA: Maybe a trim.

(MANJU lets loose AMBIKA’s hair. She starts to run her fingers through it and massage AMBIKA’s scalp.)

MANJU: (Hindi: So, how were Meera’s “tests” today?) Toh, Meera ke tests kaise gaye?

AMBIKA: The results are still bad.

MANJU: Oh.

AMBIKA: Yes. And time is just . . . going by.

(AMBIKA closes her eyes. MANJU kisses AMBIKA’s hand.) 

Show me your contract. Put my mind to work. It’s spinning.

(MANJU gets a folder. AMBIKA starts to read intently. MANJU starts brushing her hair. AMBIKA takes MANJU’s hand.)

This all feels so familiar. I can’t believe I brought this on us again. The people I love are not safe.

(MANJU stops.)

MANJU: This is the most terrible thing that has happened in our lives. But none of it is your fault. Meera or Shouvick. Or Nina.

AMBIKA: (A siiiiiiiigh. Hindi: Just cut my hair.) Bas mere baal kato tum.

(MANJU brushes. There is a knock on the door. It’s NINA; she’s eating from a bowl. MANJU lets her in.)

NINA: Vivek told me you were down here. This is delicious.

(MANJU helps her to a seat. AMBIKA takes her hand.)

AMBIKA: (Hindi: How’s your stomach today?) Aaj pet kaisa hai?

NINA: Awful until I smelled this. Mummy always used too much lemon.

MANJU: It’s medicinal, if you know what I mean. (Hindi: So eat slowly.) Dheere-dheere khao.

(NINA starts eating a little faster.)

NINA: Special daal?? You’re winning the big sister contest.

AMBIKA: It’s no contest.

NINA: I need you to promise me something.

MANJU: (Hindi:I promise.) Vaada karti hoon.

AMBIKA: Stop giving in to her. Tell us what you want first.

MANJU: But she has cancer.

NINA: You get it.

AMBIKA: (Hindi: You’re so annoying!) Kitna pareshaan karti ho tum! Will you just tell us what you want so we can see how much it will cost?

NINA: Promise to take care of Shahnaaz. You have to invite her to things. And text her and call her.

AMBIKA: I will not have this conversation.

NINA: Well, you have to. (Hindi: Promise me.) Vaada karo.

MANJU: Shahnaaz will always be one of us. Why are you worried?

NINA: And Maryam. Make her bring her around.

AMBIKA: But Maryam is so boring.

NINA: Because you’re such a fucking thrill?

AMBIKA: (in Hindi: Don’t swear!) Gaali mat do!

(NINA takes off her hat to reveal her bald head.)

Okay. Swear all you want.

NINA: I fucking will. You promise?

(They nod.)

Can I sleep over?

(MANJU fishes a joint from her bosom and grabs the barbeque lighter. She lights NINA up. NINA says in Hindi: Will you stay too?)

Tum bhi rukogi?

(NINA passes the joint to AMBIKA. She takes a hit. MANJU hums.) 

I love when it’s just the three of us.

Scene Six

(CAN filing AMBIKA’s nails. They are in the salon alone. Nothing plays on the radio.)

AMBIKA: Your mother called here again?

CAN: Manju told you?

AMBIKA: We’re worried about you.

CAN: I don’t know how she found out where I’m working. I didn’t tell anyone.

AMBIKA: Why did she call?

CAN: You don’t want to hear about this.

AMBIKA: Please. I asked, didn’t I?

CAN: She’s leaving my dad. She doesn’t know where to go, so she found me.

AMBIKA: What about your sisters? They live with her, no?

CAN: They stopped talking to her.

AMBIKA: How can they? She needs them.

CAN: They’re terrible. And super conservative. And endlessly spiteful. Their husbands don’t like divorced in-laws.

AMBIKA: Who cares?

CAN: Not me.

AMBIKA: What does she want?

CAN: Money. A place to stay.

AMBIKA: But she kicked you out?

(CAN sighs.)

She has no money?

CAN: She’s had a job her whole life. But she asked me for money anyway.

AMBIKA: Do what you can to protect her.

CAN: (the truest confession that makes CAN absolutely tiny) But she never protected me from him.

(A pause.)

She could have. I think she should have. But she didn’t. There was maybe three seconds after I told them that I thought she might be on my side. But . . . no.

AMBIKA: If your mom made you, if she raised you, and if she kicked you out of her house to make her life easier, she doesn’t deserve a son like you.

CAN: Thank you.

(He works in silence for a little bit.)

Should I check on her?

AMBIKA: She’ll let us know if she needs us.

CAN: It’s been twenty minutes.

AMBIKA: It’s okay. So are you going to call her back?

CAN: I already did.

AMBIKA: Did you give her money?

CAN: Yes.

AMBIKA: How much?

CAN: Three thousand dollars.

AMBIKA: That’s too much. Can you afford that?

CAN: (very quietly) Manju lent me half.

(A silence.)

She made me take it.

AMBIKA: I’m sure. She can be very persuasive.

CAN: I’m going to pay her back.

AMBIKA: I know you will, honey. You’re a good boy.

(She hesitates for a second before reaching into her pocket.)

I brought you a bracelet. It’s an evil eye. It will protect you when we’re not nearby.

(CAN is quietly in shock as AMBIKA puts it on his wrist. Before he can react, MEERA comes out of the bathroom. She is bald, she has no eyebrows, she’s wearing layers, and she looks haggard. CAN stops threading.)

AMBIKA: Come sit, my love.

(AMBIKA walks MEERA to one of the stations. She then gets back into her seat as if nothing happened.)

Can has a surprise for you.

CAN: Mama Ghanouj’s salon is open.

(MEERA hesitates.)

I’m gonna do your eyebrows.

MEERA: I don’t have any.

CAN: Exactly, bitch. Sit.

(MEERA sits. CAN starts drawing eyebrows on MEERA. He does it slowly and in the mirror so she can see how. She allows it to happen.)

AMBIKA: Where is your mom going to go?

CAN: I don’t know.

MEERA: Leave him alone.

CAN: I sent her the money. She can figure it out.

MEERA: I’m positive he doesn’t want to talk about this.

CAN: It’s okay. I brought it up.

AMBIKA: She’s been stuck in her house all week. She asked me to bring her here.

(Silence.)

Her nurse said she’s breathing better. Bryden moved their bed to the living room so she doesn’t have to climb the stairs—that’s good, but she has all those windows that look out into the neighbor’s yard. Anyone can be watching. I told her about your mom. That’s why she wanted to come.

MEERA: I didn’t want to come. I wanted to sleep.

AMBIKA: You can sleep more later, honey. Sit with us.

MEERA: Just stop lying about me.

(Silence.)

AMBIKA: Can you be a little nicer, please?

MEERA: I’ll be nice when I’m dead.

CAN: Cool it.

(Silence.)

AMBIKA: I brought some pictures of a new hairstyle. I want to go shorter. And maybe a lighter color. What do you think?

CAN: Sounds great.

AMBIKA: I want it to be easier. Run my fingers through it and be done. And lighter will hide the grays. That’s what I want. To make things easier.

(Silence. CAN is finished. They all observe.)

MEERA: I look like Izma.

(SHAHNAAZ comes in.)

SHAHNAAZ: Hello, everyone. Wooowwwww, habibti. Like Queen Noor.

Where is Manju?

CAN: At a meeting.

(MEERA gets out a yellow legal pad and pen from her bag. She closes her eyes and holds them. Sometimes she writes.)

SHAHNAAZ: What? Like an alcoholic?

CAN: Don’t start rumors now.

SHAHNAAZ: Don’t draw her eyebrows too thin now.

(SHAHNAAZ kisses CAN on the cheek.)

So, did you tell your mom to leave you alone?

CAN: How did you know?

SHAHNAAZ: We have a group text.

AMBIKA: She wants money.

SHAHNAAZ: She’s taking it from you?? Did you give it to her?

CAN: Yes . . .

SHAHNAAZ: But she kicked you out?

AMBIKA: He knows. I’m proud of your heart. It burns your soul when someone who’s supposed to love you mistreats you. Some things you can’t take back.

SHAHNAAZ: And some things break the bonds of family. He shouldn’t have to do this for a parent like her. I would never have sent my mother money.

AMBIKA: We all want our children to be better than us.

(Silence. He’s upset.)

CAN: I’ll be right back.

(CAN walks quickly into the back.)

MEERA: Stop talking.

AMBIKA: I didn’t mean to upset him.

SHAHNAAZ: He knows. You didn’t.

MEERA: You did. Stop talking about his mom.

(AMBIKA gets up.)

Sit. We’ll tell you when we need you.

(AMBIKA sits.)

SHAHNAAZ: So. How are you feeling today?

MEERA: The same. Like I’ve been trampled.

SHAHNAAZ: What are you writing?

MEERA: Lists. Writing feels permanent. And better.

AMBIKA: I got something new to help.

MEERA: . . .

AMBIKA: Look in my purse.

(SHAHNAAZ hands MEERA Ambika’s purse. MEERA pulls out a prescription bottle and shakes it.)

Only take one. Can will help you to the car.

(Almost before AMBIKA is done, MEERA’s opening the bottle and taking two.) 

Don’t take them dry.

(MEERA ignores her and swallows them dry. She coughs.) 

There’s orange juice in my purse.

(MEERA ignores her and continues to cough.) 

Meera, the juice.

(MEERA continues to cough. It’s wracking her whole body.)

FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DRINK THE FUCKING JUICE, MEERA.

(Silence. Suppressed coughing. She drinks the juice.) 

What do you need me to say? Let me help you. Please.

(Can reenters.)

I’m sorry. I had no right. I’m an asshole.

CAN: Language! It’s okay.

MEERA: It’s not. You can tell her she’s being too much.

CAN: Can you stop, please? What’s being mean to her going to do?

AMBIKA: I meddle because I care.

CAN: I love you too.

(Silence. MEERA goes back to writing. The front door tinkles as MANJU brings in NINA. NINA has a head wrap. She looks more haggard too.)

MANJU: You’re handling all three of them? Very, very brave.

(MANJU helps NINA to the other empty chair.)

Why is everybody mad?

AMBIKA: We’re not mad. Everyone is fine.

(MANJU looks to SHAHNAAZ.) 

SHAHNAAZ: She’s right. We’re fine.

(MANJU looks at MEERA.)

MANJU: How are you, my girl?

MEERA: Fine.

MANJU: Good, because I have a surprise.

MEERA: Stop! I don’t need all these surprises. Give it to Can. He’s the new baby.

MANJU: Okay, behti.

(MANJU goes to NINA. She has a bottle of tincture and pours a little into one of NINA’s cupped hands. She then starts to firmly but slowly rub the oil from NINA’s palm up to her shoulder. NINA submits to the joy of it.)

NINA: You have such healing hands.

MANJU: My surprise is for everyone. I have an announcement. I wanted to make sure it was real first. I’m renting out the shop.

SHAHNAAZ: Like one of the booths? I don’t want anyone new in here.

MANJU: No. The whole shop.

NINA: So all the booths?

MANJU: No. I’m going to close the salon and I’m going to rent the space to new people to do whatever with.

SHAHNAAZ: But . . . where will you live? You can’t move.

MANJU: I’m keeping the apartments. But I have more to do than your hair. I want to sit back and make money like a man. I‘m going to travel with Vivek. And I want to help take care of you, my jellybean.

NINA: But . . . where will we go to talk?

MANJU: Come upstairs! I have a new leather sectional picked for the first month’s rent.

NINA: Where will Can go?

CAN: I’m interviewing at other salons. It’s okay.

AMBIKA: This is good!

MANJU: We’ve been figuring it out for a while. Ambika’s helping me. There’s more to try.

(Pause.)

NINA: You told ’Bika but not me?

MEERA: You’re going to have such an exciting life.

(MEERA gets a text.)

Bryden’s outside. All this talking is giving me a migraine.

MANJU: Tell him to come inside. I just bought white chocolates.

(MEERA gets up and CAN helps.)

AMBIKA: I’ll see you in the morning. Tomorrow will be better. I’ll make sure of it.

(MEERA stoops to kiss NINA, who doesn’t move much. CAN and MEERA move to the front door.)

SHAHNAAZ: Goodbye, my love.

AMBIKA: Go right to sleep.

MEERA: (before leaving) I’m sorry I’m being a bitch. Watching you be terrified for me is so sad. This is taking so long.

(MEERA and CAN exit. AMBIKA deflates.)

MANJU: She wasn’t talking just to you. She was talking to all of us.

AMBIKA: She’s tearing my heart out.

SHAHNAAZ: What do you think we should do?

(NINA shrugs. SHAHNAAZ takes NINA’s other hand and massages it. AMBIKA watches.

The salon phone rings. Everyone looks at it, frozen. Was it there the whole time? It goes to voicemail.)

A WOMAN THAT SOUNDS A LOT LIKE NINA: Can? Are you there? It’s Mama.

(CAN returns. They all are frozen.)

I got the money. Thank you, honey. But I want to talk to you. I try your cell but you send me to voicemail. How can you ignore me, Can? Haram.

I know. I’m sorry . . . that . . . he did what he did . . . before you left. I couldn’t do anything. I just. . . .

(They are all still frozen.)

You know what your father’s like. I don’t have anything. I can’t go anywhere. I just need a little more—

(MANJU picks up the receiver.)

MANJU: Hello, sister. Yes, it’s Manju again. No, he’s still not here. I will give him your message. Again.

(CAN motions for her to hang up.)

That’s up to him, sister. I will not answer that. I’m sorry. I’m sorry—

(CAN crosses quickly to the phone and takes it from MANJU.)

CAN: I didn’t leave. You threw me out. Both of you. And all of you watched him . . . do that to me and you still kicked me out. I don’t want to help you. Or fucking talk to you. Take the fucking hint. Don’t call me again. Forget my name. Take the money and drive off a cliff. You . . . bitch.

(CAN hangs up the phone.) 

I’m sorry.

MANJU: Why, honey?

CAN: I’m sorry you heard me say that to her.

SHAHNAAZ: She needed that. Any mother who throws away their child doesn’t deserve to have one.

MANJU: I’m proud of you.

NINA: Me too.

CAN: I’m going upstairs. Sorry. I’ll be back to close.

(CAN doesn’t make eye contact as he leaves. The four women are left in more silence. NINA reaches for the bowl at the station and pukes a little into it. She wipes her mouth with the towel.)

NINA: She wanted to live here?

MANJU: Yes.

SHAHNAAZ: This is why I didn’t have children. You need more than one mother to make sure they don’t break.

AMBIKA: Even then, they still might. She hasn’t eaten in days. She just takes the pain pills and sleeps. I can’t watch that woman toss him out the window.

SHAHNAAZ: Or is he going to Khalil’s?

NINA: Why would he?

MANJU: . . . They play video games together . . .

(A pause for contemplation.)

NINA: Odd. Okay. I have some news.

(Blackout.)

Scene Seven

(Lights up on the salon. All the stations are clear now. The art is down and the radio is packed. There are a few moving boxes stacked by the front door. Otherwise, the space is empty and peaceful.

Then, a strange man in a suit abruptly walks through the front doors. No tinkle. He’s on his cell phone.)

STRANGE MAN: Uh huh. Uh huh. Uh huh.

(He walks around briskly. He knocks on a wall. He looks in a cabinet.) 

Uh huh. Uh huh. Uh huh.

(He pulls out a tape measure. He stretches it across a wall. He locks the front door.)

Uh huh. Uh huh.

(He walks into the back. We can still hear him.) 

Uh huh. Uh huh.

(He noisily exits out a back door. We hear that door lock too.

Silence and calm return.

MANJU unlocks the front door from the outside. CAN and MANJU walk in. They are dressed in white. CAN goes into the back and MANJU sits in a chair. CAN comes back out with two mugs and gives one to MANJU. He sits with her.)

MANJU: Why do some children turn out perfect like her while mine end up like Khalil.

CAN: Juju!

MANJU: What? I can say it. I pushed him out.

CAN: Way harsh. He looked great today!

MANJU: Mmmhmm. How was your last interview?

CAN: I told you this morning. I got the job.

MANJU: Oh yes. My mind is gone.

CAN: I didn’t see Ambika say a word. Did you?

MANJU: She was like that at her husband’s funeral too. She turned off like a lawnmower. Meera stayed here with me for a few weeks, and then me and Nina stayed with them for a month.

(MANJU pulls a previously obscured duffel bag out from under one of the stations.)

I’m packed.

. . .

Can I ask you something? What are you doing with Khalil?

CAN: What?

MANJU: I saw you coming out of his apartment. This morning. And a few other times. How come?

CAN: I. Uhhhh . . .

MANJU: I’m not angry. But why didn’t you tell me?

CAN: I couldn’t without . . . giving him up.

MANJU: So? Aren’t I your Juju?

CAN: I promised. He should tell you. When he’s ready.

MANJU: I didn’t like seeing you sneaking. It felt like lying.

CAN: It felt like lying to me too. I’m sorry. Do I have to leave?

MANJU: Of course not.

(She kisses his cheek.)

Not while you owe me money. Don’t let him hurt you.

CAN: I like him . . .

MANJU: Oh no . . . but you should have love and excitement. Fill your hands and pockets with it. Hey. Forget about Khalil for a second. Okay?

CAN: Okay?

MANJU: You’re the son we all prayed for. Thank you.

CAN: Shut up. Senile bitches.

(MANJU playfully slaps CAN. She takes a handful of salt and wards off the evil eye around CAN. He enjoys it.)

Do you think Ambika will come in? I have something for her.

MANJU: We’ll be here if she does. How will we survive this day?

(SHAHNAAZ and NINA enter through the front. NINA looks much better. She wears a chic head wrap, and her cane is back. Both are also dressed in white.)

NINA: I don’t like seeing Salon empty like this. We’re betraying her.

SHAHNAAZ: Can we turn on some music?

(CAN grabs his phone and plays “Georgia on My Mind” by Annie Lennox.)

NINA: How long did you have this place?

MANJU: Twenty-seven years. I bought it two weeks before I married Vivek. He was so shocked when I brought him back here. I guess I’ve always been a modern woman. So modern, I’m almost the naan-binary. Sit, my love.

(NINA sits. MANJU unwraps her head and stars massaging NINA’s scalp. CAN gets two more mugs.)

Vivek didn’t understand how I bought it without a man. They needed a cosigner back then.

SHAHNAAZ: How did you?

MANJU: Shouvick. He was my first investor.

NINA: And I was the second.

MANJU: But I didn’t tell Vivek that.

SHAHNAAZ: Sho. I miss him.

CAN: Who’s Shouvick?

MANJU: Huh?

NINA: What do you mean? You’ve been here a year.

CAN: I dunno. Who is he?

NINA: Shouvick was Meera’s father. Ambika’s husband.

MANJU: He was the kindest man. I was some emotional Indian lady he was required to love, and he always made me a seat at their table. And then he changed America for me. I was so proud. I finally owned a piece of it like everyone else, more than them even. I have four floors.

NINA: And now you can sit back and make money like a true American.

CAN: Hear, hear.

MANJU: I’m going to make more in rent in a year than I paid for this whole unit. I’m learning that being American is all about having something that someone else doesn’t.

(They air toast.)

SHAHNAAZ: Shouvick would eat with me in the faculty cafeteria when no one else would.

NINA: Remember when he cussed out Mohammad for calling me fat?

MANJU: To Sho.

(Another air toast.)

MANJU: He would have liked that I’m taking Vivek on the cruise. I’m a girl’s boss.

SHAHNAAZ: He’d want gifts.

NINA: Where are you stopping again?

MANJU: Rome, Milan, and Venice first.

SHAHNAAZ: All the pasta.

MANJU: And then we fly to Jordan.

NINA: Make sure to call that number as soon as you land. Our driver will be waiting for you.

MANJU: And we’ll end in Istanbul. Can will meet us there. He can see some homeland.

SHAHNAAZ: I can’t wait to hear about all the people you made uncomfortable along the way.

NINA: Who’s renting this place?

MANJU: Some awful man. He’s going to put in a theater. I left him keys this morning.

NINA: Like a movie theater?

MANJU: No. A theater for plays.

SHAHNAAZ: A Panda Express would be better.

MANJU: They paid three months deposit.

SHAHNAAZ: Never mind. Take their money.

NINA: Meera would be proud.

(Another air toast.

AMBIKA comes in the front, also dressed in white. They all stop. There is a large heavy object in her closed purse. She sets it down with a clunk.)

AMBIKA: Are you drinking without me?

CAN: Never.

(CAN goes back and comes out with another mug for AMBIKA and a bottle of bourbon. She sits where CAN was while he leans against the wall. All the women are in a chair.)

AMBIKA: I can’t talk any more. I never imagined there would be so many people. Who were they?

MANJU: She was the most likable girl in the whole world.

AMBIKA: Brysen’s family kept asking me questions.

CAN: Bryden.

SHAHNAAZ: Shh.

AMBIKA: Distract me. Punch me even. Make my outside match my insides.

(AMBIKA drinks.)

MANJU: Guess what Can and I are doing before I go?

SHAHNAAZ: Cocaine?

CAN: Maybe, actually. But not what we’re looking for.

NINA: NO!

MANJU: Yes!

NINA: Are you doing the drag show??

MANJU: Yes!

SHAHNAAZ: The what?

NINA: No, no, no! I’m so jealoussss!

CAN: You said not while you’re still using the cane!

NINA: My vanity is forever.

MANJU: I’m going to sing and he’s going to dance.

NINA: What are you singing?

MANJU: Janet Jackson, obviously.

CAN: Meera made us promise. We’ll send you all the info. I recommend coming drunk.

AMBIKA: She would love this. She had so much fun at that concert with you.

(A pause.)

CAN: Yeah.

AMBIKA: She reeked of marijuana afterward.

CAN: Sorry.

AMBIKA: She told me that night. About the baby. And about the cancer. I’m glad she was high for it. I’m glad she had you on that shitty day.

NINA: I’ll send you more photos.

CAN: She was such a good dancer.

AMBIKA: She is. Was. Classically trained. Ten years. She was the youngest girl in her class to have her Arangetram. Mummy wanted to fly in for it.

NINA: Thank god. She would have never gone back.

MANJU: I thought Meera was going to fall over under that huge braid. But then she started . . .

SHAHNAAZ: I’ve never seen anything like it.

(Beat.)

AMBIKA: Do you want to hear a joke?

MANJU: Please.

AMBIKA: What’s the most expensive haircut in the world?

CAN: What?

AMBIKA: Chemotherapy.

(A pause.)

MANJU: I don’t get it.

(NINA slowly and then loudly laughs. SHAHNAAZ joins and so does CAN.)

NINA: That’s awful.

MANJU: Why is that funny?

AMBIKA: You know. Because you lose all your hair?

(AMBIKA finishes her cup. She refills.)

MANJU: I don’t like that.

AMBIKA: What do cancer jokes and children with cancer have in common?

MANJU: I don’t want to know.

NINA: What?

AMBIKA: Both never get old.

(AMBIKA finishes her drink in one.)

MANJU: Stop. Please.

AMBIKA: How do you get bubble gum out of your hair? Cancer. What’s the difference between cancer and an immigration officer? Cancer doesn’t discriminate. You know, I used to hate cancer humor. But it’s starting to “grow” on me.

(AMBIKA refills. She drinks.)

NINA: Stop. I don’t want to hear anymore.

(AMBIKA refills.)

AMBIKA: I don’t give a shit about what you want, or what I want, or what anyone in this world wants because my daughter is gone.

(Silence.)

CAN: I’m sorry.

AMBIKA: Why? Tell me, Can. Why are you sorry?

CAN: I am. I miss Meera too.

AMBIKA: I bet you do. She was a fun dancing partner and she had pretty hair and she said so many funny things and I’m just a mean, bitter bitch like your mom, right? So, yes. I’m sorry too.

MANJU: Don’t say that.

AMBIKA: STOP TELLING ME WHAT TO SAY. LOOK AT THIS PLACE. You get to decide that life is too short and travel the world. You (CAN), you get to abandon your mother and go with her. And you (NINA). Somehow my daughter is gone and you’re still here. The princess who gets everything in life and then buys it all again—you got a miracle. How can I live in a world like this?

(AMBIKA stands to refill. MANJU shields NINA from AMBIKA’s onslaught.)

And you (SHAHNAAZ). Why were you hiding in the back? With Maryam. You should have been up front for Meera. Half of the world is gay now. Who gives a shit? Look at this boy. He’s super gay, and women still pay his way through life.

MANJU: Stop it.

AMBIKA: When are you paying her back? You ungrateful child.

(MANJU slaps AMBIKA. MANJU grabs her cheeks and kisses each of them.)

MANJU: Please stop saying these things.

(They all wait. AMBIKA loses her fight. She moves to the middle of the room to stand alone.)

AMBIKA: She was so mean to me.

(AMBIKA sits on the floor.)

Do you think she hated me?

(AMBIKA looks to everyone. No one says anything.)

I hate me. I keep thinking about how this is my fault. I could have picked any man back home but I loved Sho. My dream came true and it killed her and it left Mummy all alone and now I’m here all alone too. It’s so unbearably cruel that cancer is genetic. The worst, unchangeable part of you just shows up on your child’s doorstep. I want the earth to open and swallow me whole.

(AMBIKA starts to sob. The room is frozen.) 

Don’t all comfort me at once!

(MANJU rushes forward and hugs AMBIKA.)

MANJU: There’s no way she could hate you.

(NINA joins MANJU in hugging AMBIKA.)

NINA: At chemo, you were all she talked about. And Bryden. And—

AMBIKA: He wants to take some of my Meera’s ashes home. (She holds her purse and the object inside tightly.) How could I separate us? She’s mine—he barely knew her. He gets to be young. He’ll find a new wife and have kids and forget Meera ever existed. I go home to a leaky roof and the house of cancer. Where do I put all of . . . “this” (the anger)?

(Silence.)

How can I be mad at her for hating me? Look at me.

NINA: Say it all. It makes you sick when you hold it in.

(AMBIKA cries.)

AMBIKA: You can’t all be nice to me now. I’m a hateful bitch.

NINA: We’ll be mean tomorrow.

SHAHNAAZ: We will. We promise.

(AMBIKA, MANJU, and NINA slowly rock together. SHAHNAAZ joins them. CAN opens one of the drawers at his station. He gets a small envelope from inside.)

CAN: She asked to save this for today.

AMBIKA: What?

CAN: She . . . Here.

(He gives AMBIKA a letter in an envelope. She tears it open, and there are pages on pages of handwritten yellow-legal-pad paper.)

AMBIKA: This is from her?

(He nods.)

For me? How?

CAN: She wasn’t always writing a list.

(AMBIKA holds the letters to her face and breathes them in. She takes CAN’s hand. He joins them.)

AMBIKA: I dreamed a whole life for her. It stretched out for years and years. All gone. Who do I dream a life for now?

(Silence.

They rock together. Lights down on the salon.

Lights up on MEERA. She is dressed for her Arangetram. She looks incredible. She strikes a pose and her first gesture. Just before she takes a breath to dance—

Blackout.

END OF PLAY.)

Read more from Issue 23.1.