Julia Méndez García

Playwright, Poet, Person

Julia Mendez

Julia Méndez García

Playwright, Poet, Person

Facevalue

A one-act play

By Julia Méndez García

CAST OF CHARACTERS:

OLIVE JONES, 26, abandoned wife.

ARCHIE JONES, 30, Olive’s brother in law.

JOAN THE SECRETARY, 28, Mr. Jones’ secretary.

NARRATOR, any age, any gender, as long as they can read.

SETTING: A park bench, and everywhere else. Everywhere else may or may not be in a blackout. Depends on the situation (but most likely yes).

TIME: Now-ish.

    Directing Note:
    OLIVE is always wearing sunglasses. 
    When a line ends with “--” it means that they get interrupted. Rhythm is very important.

SCENE 1

An empty park bench. Night but not yet, not really. NARRATOR enters.

NARRATOR

The streets were dark with the lack of hope of a city who has found itself and then given all it has to the newspapers. Mr. Jones and his boys had eaten through everything. They had left in their bright red cars and had not been seen since. Someone said they saw Jones crossing the border months before, had not been heard from since. And his boys? Vanished alongside the hopes and vegetables of the city. How can you rebuild from dust and chewed up newspapers?

SCENE 2

        ARCHIE sits on the bench, reading an old newspaper. It has a date that says something like “3 years ago”.
    OLIVE enters. She wears sunglasses. She sits on the bench. She reads a book. She takes her time sitting comfortably on the bench. No position truly works. When she finally settles, she pretends to read but can’t.

OLIVE

Is that a first edition?

ARCHIE

A third, they don’t print firsts anymore.

OLIVE

Don’t you get tired of reading the same news?

ARCHIE

Just because there are no new ones, it doesn’t mean it’s the same every day.

OLIVE

I would get bored.

ARCHIE

No one’s asking you to read.

OLIVE

Good.

ARCHIE

What do you want?

OLIVE

I need to talk to you.

ARCHIE

Okay.

OLIVE

They took it.

ARCHIE

What?

OLIVE

They stole it.

ARCHIE

Have you heard from him?

OLIVE

No.

ARCHIE

And the boys?

OLIVE

No one’s heard anything for months.

ARCHIE

And how are you?

OLIVE

How do you think I am? They left me, all of them.

ARCHIE

What do you need?

OLIVE

Can you help me find it?

ARCHIE

Why would I?

OLIVE

Because they left you too.

I miss him, Archie, I really do.

ARCHIE

I don’t have to help you.

OLIVE

No, you don’t.

ARCHIE

What makes you think I will?

OLIVE

Part of you loves me. It always has.

ARCHIE

You don’t trust me.

OLIVE

I don’t have a choice.

ARCHIE

If we were to find it, how would we… uuuh… reassemble it?

OLIVE

We’ll find a way.

ARCHIE

We better.

Olive?

OLIVE

Yeah?

ARCHIE

When did you realize, it was stolen?

OLIVE

It took a while, it was bit by bit. Almost cell by cell even. Every night I woke up in a cold sweat. At different times, sometimes more than once. 2am, 3:04am, 4:26, 5:12. Everynight it took me a long time to go back to sleep. I never woke up feeling rested. It was like I was sleeping but going somewhere else while I slept. Into a different kind of sleep, a sleep that belonged to someone else. A few nights ago, I woke up and it was gone. It’s been entirely stolen, and I fear I may never find it.