MURDER/by Hanoch Levin(ACT 2)

ACT TWO

(Three years later. Summer evening, on the beach. From the distance come sounds of a celebration, music. Boy and Girl enter, dressed up)

Boy: When we grow up, will you marry me?
Girl: Depends whether I’ll love you, but I won’t ‘cause you don’t have any money, and your house isn’t nice, and you don’t have a car, and you’re boring, and you stink and you’re ugly, and your pipi’s little.
Boy: You know you’ll die someday?
Girl: I won’t die.
Boy: You will die. You got to.
Girl: You know who I am? I’m the sister of the bride.
Boy: It won’t help you.
Girl: And you don’t even exist. I’m dreaming you. If I wake up --that’s the end of you.
Boy: That won’t help you either.
(Enter the Mother of the Bride)
Girl: Mother, he said I’ll die.
Mother of the Bride: You won’t die.
(To the Boy)
She won’t die.
Boy: You got to die.
Mother of the Bride: You idiot.
Girl: With a disgusting pipi.
(She exits with the Mother of the Bride. The Boy exits, offended, in the other direction. Enter the Bridegroom and the Bride, very young, intoxicated and laughing, leaving the celebration to be alone)
Bride: We didn’t go too far away?
Groom: I told my father we want half an hour alone, just the two of us, and not to look for us.
(He pulls her to him)
I love marrying you so much.
You. Wedding. Wine.
Sea. Sky.
And again you.
Bride: You became a poet.
Groom: I think I’m going to go crazy with happiness. You’re painfully beautiful.
(To himself)
Wonder if she’ll blow me.
I want a blow-job so much.
If I die now --
I’ll die without knowing a blow-job.
(The Bride laughs, gives him a long kiss on the lips)
I’d like to have you now,
here, on the sand,
and forget the rest.
Bride: A real poet.
(Lifts the hem of her dress. The Groom starts taking off his pants)
Bride: What for?
Groom: How, then?
Bride: I’ve also been waiting for this moment.
There are things I haven’t tasted yet.
(Whispers in his ear)
I’d like, my love,
above all and first of all for you to do me right,
as you’ve certainly guessed I like.
(He doesn’t understand)
Dreamy, supine, eyes gazing at the stars,
tatters of clouds passing by along with tatters of thoughts.
Groom: A real poetess. And I’m dressed?
Bride: Except for what has to be bare.
Groom: It’s already quite hard.
Bride: But what I want doesn’t get hard at all.
Groom: But wet?
Bride: Wet.
Groom: Red?
Bride: Red.
Groom: Poking out?
Bride: And how.
(The Groom starts taking off his pants again)
Not there.
Groom: I’m really confused.
Bride: Hint?
(Whispers in his ear)
From the moment you’re born to the day that you die,
behind every cry or smile,
it rolls around, winds around,
in a cell dark and vile.
At one year old, it longs for sweets,
at twenty -- for wine that suits,
and as it goes through life it meets a lot of asses and boots;
at the start of its road that is long there’s music and song ,
at the end there’s a prayer for just a little bit of air.
Groom (Looks at her with a smile frozen on his lips. To himself)
Goodbye, blow-job;
Hello, pussy-job.
(She lifts her dress, stretches out on the sand. The Groom thrusts his face between her legs. She moans)
Bride: I love you.
I expect heaven and earth from you.
You can’t hear me ‘cause your ears are pinned between my legs,
but I’ll guide you with taps on the neck.
In time, you’ll learn by yourself what I like.
(She tightens her thighs around his head. Taps the back of his neck. He licks between her legs, she lifts her face to the sky and moans with pleasure)
Shall I tell you what’s happening in the sky in the meantime?
Groom: (Shakes his head no, his voice is muffled)
Later, when I recover.
(Enter the The Father, a black silhouette in the dark, whispers)
The Father: Tell me. What were his last words.
Bride: (Lifting her head)
Somebody’s here?...
(Pause...She drops her head, moans)
Go on...go on...
The Father: His last words
I want to know...
Bride: (Lifts her head, gets up)
Somebody’s here!
The Father: (Approaches, holding a gun)
I’m the one who was left with the corpse.
I’m the one who lay on top of him.
I didn’t cry then, I was just stunned. After you went,
only then did the crying start.
It hasn’t stopped.
Bride: Don’t kill.
This is our wedding day.
The Father: Once, a long time ago,
I gave her a child.
She was naked.
She lay like you.
Bride: What do you want?
Is this a robbery?
You want jewelry?
The Father: Be quiet.
If one of you tries to escape, I’ll shoot.
Bride: All the guests are there.
The Father: Nobody will hear.
The orchestra, the noise of the waves,
the champagne corks.
And you went so far away.
(To the Groom)
Remember me?
Three years ago,
a boy who was murdered, a cellar,
and I, his father, come in,
see three soldiers over his dead body.
Groom: I don’t know what you’re talking about.
You’re confusing me with somebody else.
The Father: It’s you. A red scarf was around your neck.
Groom: I never had one.
I don’t wear scarves.
The Father: It’s true my eyes have grown dim,
my memory betrays me,
old age overpowers me.
But you guys I do remember clearly.
I won’t forget the three of you over the corpse of my son.
Groom: I’ve got brothers and relatives,
there are people who look like me.
You can’t come at night,
after a few years and shoot somebody.
People don’t kill just like that.
The Father: Yes, sometimes it dies down.
I say to myself:
There’s everyday life.
But it comes back to me
that night in the cellar.
The corpse, over it three
living soldiers,
one of them is you.
(Puts the gun to his temple)
You want to live?
Groom: Very much. I want to live very much.
The Father: Tell me who killed him.
Tell me who stuck the knife in his back.
But more than anything I want to know what were his last words.
Groom: How can I tell you? I’ll make up something so you’ll be satisfied?
There’s a mistake. Look at me: I myself am almost a boy, tonight I got married,
you caught me in the middle of making love with my bride.
The Father: Who doesn’t want to make love, who doesn’t want to get married,
who doesn’t want wine, music?
Who, after he murdered, doesn’t want to cultivate his garden and caress the heads of his children?
Bride: He wasn’t there.
That’s my bridegroom.
He tells the truth.
I wouldn’t love him and be bound to him all my life
if he didn’t tell the truth.
I didn’t know your dead son and I don’t know what this is about.
I only know that tonight is the night I’ve waited for --
what right do you have to come and disturb it?
What right do you have to aim a gun in the middle of the night at somebody,
on the basis of your deluded memory?
Who are you to destroy our lives?
The Father: You talk nice, and the sound of your voice is charming. I’m tempted to believe you. It’s easy to convince on such a sweet night,and the moon and the sea and the wedding, and above all -- your body.
I’m losing my confidence in my memory, in my eyes,
and yet I know that if I leave here now,
in another hour, tomorrow, a year --
I’ll be sorry I didn’t kill him.
Understand: I’m not alone.
I carry my son on my back.
Groom: Then nothing will help me.
You’ll kill me no matter what.
The Father: Yes, yes, I”ll kill.
And if not for your eyes looking at me like that, I would have killed already.
It will take another minute, because of the eyes, but I will kill.
Groom: (To the Bride)
When I was a boy, I wrote poems.
I want to recite the last poem
that I dedicated to you.
The Father: Why don’t you shout for help?
Bride: I don’t believe you’ll shoot him.
Groom: (Recites)
I would like to sing you the absolute song about everything.
About the whole world,about the mountain and the wind,
about what exists,and about what changes --
in a word,
in a syllable,
Ah-ah-a-a-a-a.
(The Father shoots him in the head. The Groom falls. The Bride shouts. The Father jumps and stops her mouth)
The Father: And you, shut up!
I see that I have to kill you too!
Bride: Don’t kill me!...
I haven’t done anything!...
I beg you:
I want to live!...
Tomorrow morning we planned to travel for two weeks with another couple of friends...
my older sister already has a baby...
I’m only eighteen years old and I haven’t done anything yet...
I haven’t had time to mistreat anybody...
once I slapped my little brother,
he cried and so did I...
once I fought with a girlfriend...
once I left a boyfriend who loved me...
more than that I haven’t done...
tonight I got married...
I’m still a virgin...
there are still pleasures I haven’t known...
And I haven’t even been abroad...
My whole life is ahead of me,
and it’s not fair for you to rob me...
(Chokes, trembles with fear)
I won’t tell anybody who you are...
go away...I didn’t see you...
I’ll never recognize you...
I’m begging...here I am
kissing your shoes...
(Crawls to his feet, kisses his shoes, he grabs her face)
The Father: How long it’s been since I touched a woman.
(He holds her face as she sobs quietly)
Bride: You killed the man who was dearer to me than anybody.
You just killed.
If you knew how innocent he was.
He never even slept with a woman.
How could he have killed?
We had a moment of pleasure,
such a lovely start.
The Father: I’ll never quench this thirst: to kill.
(Clasps her in his arms)
Bride: Take pity on me! Please!
The Father: I came to disturb the peace.
Wherever I see it,
I’ll destroy it.
(Knocks her down and lies on top of her)
Bride: No!...No!...
The Father: Understand: I don’t give a damn
about brides and grooms,
and little babies and mothers,
and life altogether.
I don’t give a damn about nature,
and its wonderful landscapes.
The world pains me,
peace wounds my rest.
You cry and your tears tempt me.
Bride: No!...No!...
Please!...
(The Father rapes her. At first she resists. Her resistance subsides. The Father finishes and gets up. She continues lying, whimpering softly like a baby)
The Father: Why do your eyes keep staring at me?
Why don’t you scream?
Why don’t you get up and run away?
(The Bride lies still on her back, groaning softly)
You’re breaking my heart,
my girl. My boy.
My children.
(Aims the gun at her face. She whispers, almost swoons)
Bride: Why?...Why?...
The Father: “Why.” We’re long past the question “why.”
The question “why” shouldn’t be asked.
The question “why” belongs to other times.
(He shoots her in the face and exits. Enter the Girl, on her way back to the party. She comes on the two corpses, looks at them with her mouth gaping open, runs out, comes back with the Father of the Groom and other guests)
Father of the Groom:What...what...what...
How!...How!...
I don’t believe
what my eyes see!
I can’t digest it!
What...what...what...
What my eyes see, it’s not true!
Guest: Give him some water, and then give him some time.
To digest facts like these takes time.
Father of the Groom:My son is murdered at his wedding?
My son and daughter-in-law at their wedding?
How?! Who?! What for?!
Why did they kill my innocent children
on the day of their happiness?!
Guest: Give a man time to digest the death of his dear ones.
Give him time for shock..
Then give him time to collapse.
Then give him time for mourning,
for breaking down, for shrivelling with grief,
for the endless crushing of his heart.
The Father: (Shouts)
They murdered my children!
The earth is quaking!
They murdered my children!
Guest: (Quietly, to himself)
Give him time.
The earth seems to be quaking,
but not really.
The earth is quiet,
and the night is clear and calm.

END OF ACT TWO