Adam's Daughter

A Drama in Two Acts

By
Ronald John Vierling

Dramatis Personae

Natalie	An actress in her mid-twenties
Natalie/the Younger	Natalie as a ten-year-old girl
Adam	Natalie's father
Adam/the Elder	Adam as an old man
Eva	Natalie's mother
Aaron	Adam's father
Tessa	Adam's mother
Stella	Adam's sister
Solomon	Aaron's brother, Adam's uncle
Bruno	Adam's life-long friend
Mary	Bruno's wife
Gerska	A Polish village woman
Daavid	A Polish Village man
Jaacov	A Polish village man
Captian Reichmann	A Nazi Gestapo officer
Sam Blake	Natalie's theatrical director
Maggie	Natalie's actress friend
Student One/Female	Adam's student
Student Two/Female	Adam's student
Student Three/Male	Adam's student
Man	An Hassidc Jew
Man	A New York Jew
Man	A New York Jew
Man	A New York Jew
First Hoodlum	A young white man
Second Hoodlum	A young white man
Third Hoodlum	A young white man
Fourth Hoodlum	A young white man
Nurse	Emergency room nurse
Doctor	Emergency room doctor
Police Officer	New York City policeman
Woman	Rape crisis counselor
Young Jewish Woman One	A second generation survivor
Young Jewish Woman Two	A second generation survivor
Young Jewish Man One	A second generation survivor
Young Jewish Man Two	A second generation survivor

Setting

Adam's Daughter is a dream play, a projection of the heroine's memories. For that reason, it uses what I term the lights and levels technique. That is, while the drama needs very few props, it does require a stage set comprised of precisely arranged risers and light areas, which create both times and locations. All stage directions adhere to that design.

Act One

Date: February 3, 1987.
Time: 8:00 p.m.

(A bare stage. Dim light. Lights come up to playing level slowly as Natalie emerges out of the darkness. Natalie moves from area 6 to area 8.)

Natalie:
(Slowly, carefully, precisely.) I walk among ghosts every day. (Long pause.) My father's memories. (Pause. Looks away. Looks back at the audience.) I keep waiting for them to talk to me, but they don't. (Half smile.) They talk to each other. (Moves half to area 9.) But they don't talk to me. (Turns to face audience front on; slight pitching of voice.) My father's dead. He's...one of them. But that hasn't changed things. They still don't talk to me. Which means...what? (Almost a bitter laugh.) Should I try to rid myself of his memories? Give them up? Could I do that? (Turns to 8, moves, stops. Turns back to audience.) Or is that impossible. Are my father's stories and poems and memories so deeply ingrained in me that they're mine, too? (Pause.) If I tried to forget them, would I be giving up a part of my own life at the same time? (Turns to 6.) I can't imagine my life without them. (Looks at audience again.) But I'm not sure I can live with them, either. (Slight shift in tone; a private laugh. Looks to her right then to her left then back at the audience. Gesturing.) This stage. (Half smile. Turns in to 7, speaking over her shoulder.) I got my start here. The (pitching voice) Student Union Players Company. (Pause.) This was a good place for me. This theatre...this university. (Turns to audience.) My father taught here. The University of Chicago. Poetry. Jewish Poetry. Slavic poetry. Russian. Polish.
(Lights on area 1. A man is seated at a writing table, his head bent over scattered papers. He is writing in long hand. Natalie looks at him.)

Natalie:
I remember my father sitting at his desk...hunched over his work. Writing in long hand. (Looks back at audience.) When I got old enough, I used to type whatever he wrote. (Half pause; voice pitches up.) But not poetry. He didn't write any poetry after the war. After what happened in Poland. (Looks down. Moves to 7. Lights out on man.) It cost too much. His family. It...took too much out of him. (Looks at audience. Moves to area 5. At the same time, lights up on area 1.) He was a wonderful teacher. He never raised his voice, but students listened.
(The man, Adam, stands up behind his desk. He beings to speak as if he were in mid-sentence when the lights came up.)

Adam:
...it was in Polzarski's modern sonnets that he spoke to us best. It is the value, the emphasis, the impacting he was able to achieve in every single word, every single syllable sound, that raised his voice above not only his contemporaries in Poland but his contemporaries in all of Eastern Europe. For his was a poetry of brilliant clear images that became brilliant moral expressions. Even the tragedy of death was turned into a symbol of life. (Pause.) And that is what Polzarski loved most. Life. The profound power of life lived so deeply that his images resonate in the deepest deep human consciousness, this...veil of... (He goes on forming words, but silently now. Lights down as he mimes the words what some might call eternal tears.)

Natalie:
(Still in area 5.) I would sit in his classes and listen to him, amazed at what he knew, because when we were at home together, he was just my...father. (Sits down on riser at DS edge of 5.) Sometimes, when he finished a lecture and left to go back to his office or maybe to Bruno's house--Bruno was his friend; they'd been together in Poland; they'd survived the camps together. They would sit on Bruno's back porch or in the little garden Bruno had made in his backyard, and they'd drink very hot sweet tea. It was all very European. (Pause.) When he finished a lecture, I'd go out into the hallway at the University and without telling anyone I was his daughter, I'd listen to what the other students had to say about him. Seeing him in public that way, sometimes I almost forgot he was my father.
(On Natalie's words, "he was my father," the lights come up on areas 1 and 2. Natalie turns to look. The lights go down on area 5 as she does.)

Student One/Female:
(Standing in area 2.) I never understand poetry when I read it myself. But when the professor explains it, it's so clear. It's so simple.

Student Two/Female:
(Standing in area 2.) When he reads poetry out loud, it comes alive. No one has to say anything about it. Everything makes sense.

Student One:
It's as if he's showing me a secret world, a place I never could have found without his help.

Student Two:
He makes me see what's in me. I mean, it was always in me. I just couldn't see it until he....

Student Three/Male:
(Seated at DS edge of area 2, his legs dangling over the edge of the riser, interrupting.) When I write essays for him, I have to be exact. I have to be absolutely certain, or he sees my uncertainty right off. He wants me to explain what I see. That's hard. Saying what I see in the poetry and then in me. That's hard. (Lights down on both area 1 and 2 simultaneously.)

Natalie:
(Lights up on area 5. Standing, thereby moving her into area 9, moving toward area 8, speaking as she does, Natalie turns back to the audience.) Sometimes, I almost forget about the pain I knew he carried with him every day. The beautiful life he lived in Poland. What had been lost. (Lights down on area 2. She observes from that place.)
(Lights up on area 4. Two women appear. Both are in their middle forties. Both are dressed in multi-colored blouses and skirts. The skirts reach the ground. Their heads are covered by scarves. To achieve the effect of Yiddish, their English is heavily inflected and accented.)

Gerska:
But Tessa, you know you cannot serve the Rabbi chicken. The Rabbi is an important man. He will expect more than chicken.

Tessa:
I will serve what I will serve. He knows who we are. Besides, it's the heart of the the cook that is important.

Gerska:
Oh, Tessa. You are so naive. Do you really think the Rabbi will care about what's in your heart when he sits down to eat?

Tessa:
If he does not, then he is too proud. And a proud man cannot do the work of God.

Gerska:
(Pitching her voice.) But your children. Think of Adam and Stella. They will be embarrassed.

Tessa:
I am thinking of them, Gerska. I teach them of the heart every day. I teach them it is enough. The heart is enough. (Lights go down on area 4 and up on Natalie in area 2 simultaneously.)

Natalie:
Yes, the heart. My father said his mother was a woman of great heart. His father was a man of intellect. Not a scholar. Not the way we would think of a scholar. But a scholar in the old-world way. A man who came home from his labors every day and who then sat down with his books and studies and thought and talked with his friends who did the same things. Read and think. That is what my father loved most. His mother's great heart. His father's mind. Men gathered to argue important issues. God and revelation and history. Jewish history. The meaning of Jewish history. (Natalie moves from area 2 to area 3. Then she turns back and looks at area 1. The lights go up on area 5 on Adam and Natalie/The Girl. They are sitting on the edge of the riser, their feet down on the stage floor.)

Natalie:
My father never tired of telling me about his mother. When I was old enough. He would sit with me and tell me stories of Grandmother Tessa. (Adam gestures as if he is telling the girl a story.)

Natalie:
Once he told me about a great disagreement that took place in his home. Village elders had come to complain to my Grandfather Aaron. They did not like the fact that Adam, my father, was going about reading stories that he'd written about the village to anyone who would listen. (Adam and the girl turn and look as the lights go up on areas 5 and 9 where four men have gathered. They are sitting on the edge of the riser. The man closest to CS is Aaron. Next to him is his friend, Solomon. The next two men are Daavid and Jaacov. They have come to speak with Aaron. Like Tessa and Gerska, their English is heavily accented.)

Daavid:
We have come to tell you that it is not right. (He glances at Jaacov, and they both nod.)

Aaron:
That my son makes the old people of the village laugh is not right?

Jaacov:
That he tells tales. That he uses names of people we all know. That is not right.

Aaron:
But the people in the stories love to hear their own names.

Daavid:
But the stories are not always true. Adam is making a fiction.

Solomon:
Has anyone complained he did not wish to be in Adam's fictions?

Jaacov:
That is not the point.

Aaron:
Then what is the point, Jaacov? Why are you and Daavid so angry?

Daavid:
You know why we are angry. You are a scholar. You know the stories of the Torah.

Solomon:
No man in this precinct knows the stories of the Torah better than Aaron.

Jaacov:
That is true. And for that reason, you should know better than any other that only Torah stories that instruct us in the ways of the Divine are good. Stories that men make up to amuse are evil. They mislead.

Aaron:
And in what way do Adam's stories mislead? He tells them to me, even before he writes them down.

Solomon:
And to me. Last night he told me another. It was a wonderful story. It was about a farmer who owned two beautiful bulls. Now, the problem was, the farmer only had one cow. So the bulls began to grow more and more restless, for the farmer could not make up his mind which of the bulls should be with the cow when it came time for--

Daavid:
(Growing too angry to contain himself, interrupting.) It does not matter what the story was about. It is not the Torah. No one should make up stories about farmers or bulls or anyone in our village. It is an evil thing!

Solomon:
An evil thing? An evil thing?

Jaacov:
A bad thing. Maybe not evil. But a bad....

Daavid:
It is an evil thing! It is the devil's work!

Aaron:
To tell a story about a man such as us and to make us laugh at the foolishness of the man is the devil's work? (Turning on Daavid.) Tell me how such a thing is the devil's work? Tell me how a story that makes children gather around at night and beg for more is the devil's work.

Jaacov:
You know what we mean, Aaron. Adam must be sent away to a Yeshivah. He must become a serious man. He cannot waste his years making up stories that make us laugh at ourselves, no matter how true they may seem to us when he is telling them.

Solomon:
But Adam does not wish to go to the Yeshivah. He wishes to attend the University. In Warsaw.

Jaacov:
(Aghast.) The University? In Warsaw?

Daavid:
That is just what I mean. His head is filled with foolishness. His dreams are foolishness.

Aaron:
Is it foolish that he loves this village? That he loves all of us?

Jaacov:
God is not interested in Adam loving us. God wants a boy like Adam to grow up to tell us what is right and wrong.

Solomon:
But Adam does that. Don't you understand? He does that with his stories.

Aaron:
He is even writing poetry now. (Both Daavid and Jaacov react as if they are horrified.)

Aaron:
(Going on.) Yes. Poems. He reads Shakespeare. I bought a translation in Polish from the secondhand book seller last year when he came through the precinct.

Jaacov:
Adam is reading Shakespeare? The English Shakespeare?

Solomon:
How many Shakespeares do you know?

Daavid:
I know Jews should not read Shakespeare. Jews should read the Torah. That is what God commanded. That is enough.

Aaron:
(Standing.) No. That is not enough, Daavid. With all due respect, the Torah is not enough. The Torah is history.

Jaacov:
The Torah is the word of God!

Solomon:
It is the word of God told as history.

Aaron:
Adam must know more than just the history of the Jews. He must know about the whole world.

Jaacov:
Why must he know about the whole world?

Aaron:
Because we live in the whole world.

Daavid:
Then it is you who has put these ideas into his head. (Standing.) It is you who are responsible for what Adam has done. For making him tell his stories.

Aaron:
I am responsible only for loving my son. It is Adam alone who is the poet. Just as King David sang his psalms of Jerusalem, Adam sings of us in his poems. And I have told him that to do so is a good thing.

Jaacov:
Then you are telling him to do a wicked thing. He detracts from the Word of God. Some of the village people are saying they would rather listen to Adam tell his stories than read the Torah at night.

Solomon:
Maybe that's because Adam's stories are more truthful.

Daavid:
(Aghast.) That is blasphemy! That is blasphemy!

Aaron:
No. It may be an exaggeration. But it is not blasphemy. How do you know that God Himself is not listening to Adam tell his stories? How do you know God does not like a good poem on occasion?

Solomon:
How do you know God does not like a good joke on occasion, Daavid?

Jaacov:
God is not a man sitting about on a warm day listening to jokes so he will not have to tend to his duties.

Solomon:
But Jaacov, God must like a good joke. Why else would he have made man?

Natalie:
(As the lights go down on the four men and the lights come up on her.) My father was in the next room. He heard his father and his uncle defend him. (Pause.) He never said as much, but it must have given him much courage. To have such men take his side. (Stops. Moves from area 3 to area 2.) So my father went to the University of Warsaw. And he was a wonderful student. (Pause.) But in his heart he was always a village boy. (Soft laugh.) His friends in Warsaw, the friends he made, they could not understand why he continued to love his village. They'd left their villages for the city because they wanted to escape. My father never spoke of escaping anything. But when he'd go back to the village to visit his parents, the people looked at him as if he'd come from the other side of the moon. (Looks at audience.) They couldn't understand anything about his life in Warsaw. (Nods slowly.) So he walked along the edge between the two worlds. (Looks away for a moment. Then turns back to the audience.) It must have been a strange time in his life. (Pause.) The problem was, whenever he told me of such things, he always ended up crying. Not out loud. Not because he was sad. I mean...he was sad. But that's not why he cried. (Pause.) I think...I think that...mostly he was bewildered. By what happened. He lost so much happiness. (Slowly.) Does that make sense? It wasn't the...sorrow that he suffered that made him cry. It was the happiness that he lost out on. I told a friend of mine later, when I was more grown up, I told her that my father believed he had been cheated out of his happiness. And he knew he could never get it back. (Moves to area 1, the lights following her as she does.) His village had made him into a poet. For in the end, he won them over.
(As Natalie says won them over, Adam, dressed as a student, appears in area 9, surrounded by five village children sitting on the floor and sitting on their knees in varying positions and three old village men, two of whom are Daavid and Jaacov, and two village women, all of whom mime laughter as Adam mimes telling a story. The lights then fade on the group when Natalie says, Not what happened in...1942. In 1943.)

Natalie:
Even Daavid and Jaacov. He won them all over. He made them see everything. Love and work and children and...death. Death when it's a part of...life. Not what happened in...1942. In 1943. That was different. That wasn't a part of anything. Except cruelty. Vile cruelty.
(Lights down on Natalie. Lights up on areas 7 and 8. Tessa appears, entering from 9. She is followed by Stella, Adam's sister, who is younger than Adam, and Adam, who appears as he did when he was a student.)

Tessa:
(Pursued by her children; defending herself.) I am not telling you to be cowards. To try to live (turning back on them) is not being cowards. I am telling you that you must take your brother and leave so both of you can live.

Stella:
(Unlike her father, Aaron, who has dark hair, but like her mother, Tessa, Stella has a fair complexion and long, light brown, sun-streaked hair.) I will not leave this place. Why should I run from the Nazis?

Tessa:
Because we have been told what will happen if you don't go.

Stella:
I'm as Jewish as anyone in this village. If the Nazis are going to kill Jews, they can kill me, too.

Tessa:
No. I will not let that happen. (Turning to Adam.) Tell her, Adam. Both of you must leave. You can pass.

Stella:
(Before Adam can respond.) Pass for what?

Tessa:
You know what I mean, Stella!

Stella:
No. You tell me Mama. Tell me! Say it to my face!

Tessa:
Stella, my darling girl....

Stella:
Say it, Mama! Tell me! Pass for what?

Tessa:
For a Gentile. For a Pole! (She turns away, deeply shaken.) Anything. Even a German. Any....
(Stella pursues her, leaving Adam momentarily alone.)

Stella:
Anything but a Jew!

Tessa:
(Turning back to face Stella.) Stella. Please. Both of you must....

Stella:
We must deny. That's what we must do. In order we live, you must deny who we are. (Turns away, moving past Adam.)

Adam:
Stella, listen to Mama. At least lis....

Stella:
(To Adam.) Is that what you want to do, Adam? Deny who we are? (Turning to Tessa.) Is that what you wish for us, Mama?

Tessa:
I want you to live! Both of you. You must live!

Stella:
But how shall we live, Mama? Who should I be?

Adam:
Stella, please. Do not be angry with Ma....

Stella:
(Turning on Adam again.) Do you wish to pass, Adam? You've lived in Warsaw. Do you wish to be someone else?

Adam:
(Caught in the middle emotionally between his mother and his sister, and caught in the middle psychologically between his desire to remain true to his village and his desire to run from the Nazis.) Stella, we must listen. Be angry if you want, but don't be angry with Mama.

Stella:
(Interrupting.) Fine. I won't be angry at Mama. But tell me who I should be angry at, Adam. (Turns away.) I have spent my whole life being a Jew. When we were in school and all your classmates loved you, everyone made fun of me because of my hair. But I was still a Jew. (Turning back to Tessa and Adam.) Now all of a sudden, after all of that, after all of those years of standing up to their tormenting, Mama wants me to deny my life and be someone else.

Tessa:
(Stepping toward her.) You must survive. Both of you. I did not raise you to be killed by Nazis.

Stella:
Did you raise us to deny who we are?

Adam:
Stella, please....

Stella:
(To Tessa.) And what about you and Papa? And Solomon and Aunt Rose and Zeda?

Tessa:
We could not pass. We are too old. We could not travel the way you can.

Stella:
So you wish to stay here and die? No struggle? Just stay here and....

Tessa:
(Seizing Stella by the shoulders.) Stella! Listen to me!
(Lights suddenly up on areas 1 and 6. A German officer stands on the area 6 riser. Tessa and Stella and Adam all turn and look at him as he smiles and speaks in an excessively polite but hard-edged voice. He will speak English with a German accent.)

Officer:
My name is Captain Reichmann. I wish to do this with as little difficulty as possible. (Stella starts to step forward and speak, but the officer hold up his left hand to silence her before she can begin.)

Officer:
Please, I do not wish to cause you any unnecessary anguish. It is important you do as you are told. In that way, no harm will come to you. (He smiles slightly, as if he is simply discussing a minor police matter.)
(Lights go down on areas 1 and 6. Lights back up on Natalie who has moved to area 4 during the scene.)

Natalie:
(To audience.) That man. (Pointing into the darkenss into which the officer and Tessa, Stella and Adam disappeared.) What he represented was...midnight. Nightmare. (To the audience.) God was deaf. Or powerless.

Officer:
(From the darkness.) All Juden will report to the village square. We have come to protect you from the Russian army.

Natalie:
God was dead. (Moves down to area 5. Stops.) My father denied that, of course. He would not allow such talk. He could not explain what had happened, but he would allow no talk in our house that God was dead. (Steps down to area 9.) When I was a child and trying to understand, I thought the only reason God had not died in the death camps was because my father would not let Him. (Pause.) I do not mean my father was observant. I mean, he believed deeply in what he believed. But he did not go to temple often. Instead, he sat in the small garden he made behind our house in Chicago, and he thought. Or he went for walks on the campus, and he thought. He...dreamed. (Lifting her head and laughing softly, affectionately.) I could always tell when he was dreaming.

(Lights remain on Natalie in area 9. Lights up on area 1. Adam, the professor, is seated on the edge of the riser. Natalie/the girl is seated next to him.)

Natalie/The Elder:
(Walking as she speaks, the lights rising and lowering as she moves from area 9 to area 8.) I could see it in his eyes. In the way he held his shoulders. My father was holding conversations with (slowly) God. (Adam mimes conversation.)

Natalie/The Elder:
(Turns to Adam and the girl) I don't think he ever got any answers.

Adam:
(Not looking at the girls sitting next to him.) There is one image on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel that is most important. It shows the hand of God and the hand of Adam meeting. To some, it is God creating man. To to others, it is man...creating God. I don't know. Maybe it is neither. Perhaps it is Adam being created when God sees him. Perhaps it is God being created when Adam sees him. (Pause. Turns to the girl.) What do you think, Natalie?

Natalie/The Younger:
(Turning to her father.) Me?

Adam:
Yes. What do you think?

Natalie/The Younger:
I think they were just...saying hello.

Adam:
(Starts to speak; then hesitates. Then speaks.) Hello? (Slight laugh.) Yes. Hello. I like that.

Natalie/The Younger:
(Quickly) You shouldn't ask me such things, Papa.

Adam:
No. I am glad I asked you. Hello. I like that. (Turns away from the girl.) That's a more profound thing than any rabbi has ever said on the subject, Natalie. There's a truth in what you say. As if they were passing each other on opposite sides of the street, going in opposite directions.

Natalie/The Younger:
(Embarrassed.) Papa....

Adam:
I mean it, Natalie.

Natalie/The Younger:
But, Papa. I am...afraid.

Adam:
(Surprised. Turns to the girls.) Afraid, Natalie? When I ask you questions?

(The girl does not reply.)

Adam:
But I always like your answers.

(Natalie/The Elder in area 8 speaks simultaneously with Natalie/The Younger.)

Natalie/The Elder and Natalie/The Younger:
That's not what I mean.

Adam:
(To the girl.) Then what do you mean?

Natalie/The Elder and Natalie/The Younger:
I mean...my life. I don't understand.

Adam:
And I don't understand what you don't understand.

Natalie/The Elder and Natalie/The Younger:
You don't know me.

Adam:
I don't know you. You are my daughter. Your mother and I wanted you.

(Lights down on area 1. Lights remain on Natalie/The Elder as she speaks.)

Natalie/The Elder:
My mother. My mother.

(Lights up on area 1. Adam is sitting on the edge of the riser. Instead of the girl, Natalie/The Younger, another young woman is sitting next to him. She has auburn hair.)

Natalie/The Elder:
(From area 8, looking at the couple.) It was an arranged marriage. That sounds funny. I mean, America, 1949. But it's true.
(Lights down on Natalie/The Elder. Lights remain on the couple in area 1.)

Eva:
They speak highly of you, Adam. (She pronounces Adam as if the word were two syllables, Ahh-doom, for her first language is Yiddish.)

Adam:
They?

Eva:
The Rabbi. And my father. And Meyer Roth.

Adam:
And what do they say...the Rabbi and your father and Meyer Roth?

Eva:
(Slight smile.) They say you are a fine teacher.

Adam:
I teach what I know.

Eva:
They say you are a learned man.

Adam:
I ask questions, Eva. So people think I am a learned man.

Eva:
And a young man, Adam.

Adam:
(Carefully.) As you are a young woman.

Eva:
Yes. As I am a young woman.

Adam:
I don't know what you have been told.

Eva:
I have been told that in some things you are a hesitant man.

Adam:
(Smiling.) Yes. I am afraid that is true, Eva. Perhaps too hesitant.

Eva:
And I have been told what they expect...the Rabbi and my father and Meyer Roth.

Adam:
(After a moment.) Yes. And I have been told.

Eva:
What they expect?

Adam:
Yes. What they expect.
(A silence passes between them.)

Eva:
And what do they expect, Adam?

Adam:
I will tell you a truth, Eva. (Looks at her.) There is pain in me. (Looks away again.) I try to hide it each day. Perhaps that is why I am hesitant. But there is pain in my heart.

Eva:
(Glancing at him.) I will love you, nonetheless, Adam.

Adam:
I did not know such a thing would be arranged in America, Eva.

Eva:
I am...prepared for it to be arranged.

Adam:
Prepared?

Eva:
I would be...happy...if it were so, Adam.

Adam:
Yes. I too would be happy if it were so.
(Lights fade on areas 1 and 6. Lights up on Natalie, whom has moved to area 9.)

Natalie:
And so it was. Arranged. (Looks into the darkness at the area where they had been sitting.) That they would be happy. (Turns back toward audience.) And they were. Until one day just a little more than a year later.

(Lights down on Natalie. At the same time, lights up on area 6. Eva lies on the floor, her head toward the audience, cradled in Adam's arms, who is down on his knees holding her, his body facing in toward center stage. Eva is in pain. Adam is terrified.)

Eva:
Oh, God! God! Adam! Adam! (She screams.)

Adam:
(Shouting through her scream.) Eva! The doctor is coming! Eva! The doctor is coming, Eva!

(Adam leans forward and buried his face in Eva's bosom. At the same time, lights down on the two of them and up on Natalie in area 9.)

Natalie:
(Looks into the darkness of areas 1 and 6. Then turns to the audience.) He would have been named (slowly) Nathan. (Very slowly, dividing the syllables.) Na-Than. But he was not. He was...not. (Turns toward center stage, moving, speaking, the lights in 8 rising, dimming in 9 behind her. To audience.) He was a form the doctor filled out. A death registration. A small...coffin. (Stops.) And so all was as it would be for years. Just the two of them. My father, the poet, the once-poet, the scholar and...teacher...brought here to American at the end of World War II by Meyer Roth and other Jewish men who were trying to preserve something...hold on to something that had been...lost. (Takes a deep breath.) Brought to American when he'd been found in an army hospital where survivors had been taken when the Nazi death camps had been liberated. (Starts to turn toward area 1; then does not.) That was Meyer Roth's doing. To preserve my father's gift. (Pause.) But my father had lost his voice. At Auschwitz. He lost...Tessa and Stella and his father, Aaron. And Solomon and Aunt Rose and Zeda...(Holding on.) And Nathan. Na-than. No son. No...Nathan.
(Lights up in area 1. Adam is seated on the riser. Natalie moved into the edge of the light.)

Natalie:
Why did you name me Natalie?

Adam:
(Turns to her.) Because it is a good name.

Natalie:
No! It is not a good name.

Adam:
Natalie?

Natalie:
(Steps toward him.) It was his name.

Adam:
His name? Natalie, what do you....

Natalie:
It was his name! Nathan's name. My brother. The son who was not a son! The child who was not a child!

Adam:
(Head down. Silent.)

Natalie:
(Stepping close to him, almost behind him.) Why? Why? What did it mean? Who am I supposed to be, Papa? (Almost overcome by her anger.) Who am I supposed to be?

Adam:
(Standing, tears in his eyes, moving into area 6. Turning to Natalie as she pursues him into the same light. Anguished.) All of them. (Screaming, his body rigid, his hands clenched into fists, facing Natalie.) All of them!

Natalie:
No! I am not all of them! I am me! (Pointing to her own chest.) I am me. (Crying. Turning away, moving out of area 6 and into 8, the light going down behind her, rising as she moved forward.) But who am I supposed to be, Papa? Who am I sup...posed to...be (slowing)...Pa...pa? (Turning to the audience.) Or not to be. That is the...question. That is the million dollar question. (Natalie now stops. She tries to regather herself. She sniffs and wipes away her tears with her hands. She looks at the audience again. In control once more.)

Natalie:
Mama...Eva...screamed again. In 1965. (Lights up on area 6. Eva lies on the floor, cradled in Adam's arms, this time her feet toward the audience so her face is visible. She is crying. She looks up into Adam's face. She screams once, then goes limp. Adam bends down over her, sobbing silently.)

Natalie:
(Going on even as the light goes down in area 6.) When I was born. And then she died. And Papa...Ah-doom (pronouncing Adam as Eva had pronounced it) was left alone in his...their...small house to raise this strange thing, this girl child he did not know and could not...ever...understand. (Lights down on Natalie. Lights up on area 2. Adam stands with two other adults, Mara and Bruno. Mary hold an infant child.)

Mary:
Adam, I will show you how to diaper Natalie. But you must learn to do this yourself. I will help you as much as I can every day. Bruno and I will help. But you must learn to take care of her yourself. (Hands the infant to Adam.)

Adam:
(Taking the child.) Yes. I must learn. I understand. You are most kind, Mary. You and Bruno. You are....

Bruno:
We are comrades, Adam. Through everything. You and me. Nothing can defeat us. Not the Poles. Not the Nazis. Nothing, Adam.

Mary:
Think of the child, Adam. You must learn to father this child. (Lights down on area 2. Lights up on area 5.)

Natalie:
And so he did. And so I grew up, always at his side, always warmed by his touch, his tenderness, but always outside. (Moves, stepping down to area 9. The lights follow her.) There was a preoccupation about him. Somthing...distant. Not aloof. He was an immediate man. He was not aloof. It was just that he was always thinking. Or remembering. So many things. (Lights follow as Natalie moves from 9 to 8 to 6.)

Natalie:
If only once he could have written something...now. About now. I mean, if he could have written a new poem or a new story. Maybe something about our Saturday morning walks on the campus. Or the summer we spent in Michigan on the lake. He wrote that summer. He wrote every day. But it was lectures and essays about other people's poems. (Stops. Turns back toward CS.) When I was ten, I went with my father to Boston. He lectured at a college. I think it must have been Brandeis. (Smiles.) What I remember was the Jews. I'd never seen so many Jews at once. They'd come all the way from New York just to hear him. (A man in Hassidic dress appears in area 3. He steps hesitantly toward Natalie/The Younger standing in area 5.)

Man:
Adam is your father?

Natalie/The Younger:
(Timidly.) Yes.

Man:
Your father is an important man. Do you know that?

Natalie/The Younger:
I don't....

Man:
(Smiles. Touches her shoulder.) That's all right. To you, he's probably just your father.

Natalie/The Elder:
(From area 6.) I hadn't known what to say.

Man:
But I tell you, for many of us...from Poland, he is a special man. Do you understand what I am saying?

Natalie/The Younger:
I think so. In Chicago I hear people say he is a poet.

Man:
(Looks at her.) Yes. He is. (Stops.) He has a gift, my child. Your father has a gift. (Lights down on man and girl.)

Natalie:
After he spoke, my father was surrounded by people. It was very hard to stand next to him. Then we went to New York on the train so he could go to services with some of the people who had come to hear him in Boston. (Moves up onto riser in area 6.) When I sat upstairs in the synagogue with the women (keeps moving, stepping up to area 2) ... when I sat and watched my father from the balcony, I think that was when I must have known (turns to audience) that I really didn't... know him. (Pause.) I mean, I sat and watched. (Lights up in area 9. Adam, dressed for worship, stands between two other Jewish men similarly dressed. Another man stands behind the three.)

Natalie:
(Continuing.) And I saw how some of the men treated him. How they came over very quietly and whispered in his ear. (The man to Adam's left turns to him and whispers in his ear.)

Natalie:
(Continuing) And how he nodded and seemed to understand everything they were saying to him. (Hesitates.) He turned once and looked up at me. (Adam steps forward and turns toward Natalie, gesturing that he sees her.)

Natalie:
(Continuing.) He wanted to be sure I was all right. So I smiled and waved (she does so) so he'd know. But I wanted to cry. I couldn't have explained. I didn't understand. But I wanted to be with him. I wanted to know him the way those...men...seemed to know him. (Lights down on Adam and the other Jewish men.)

Natalie:
(Concluding.) Perhaps that was the moment when I first understood that I never would. Know him. I never would. (Natalie takes a deep breath. Turns and moved through area 3 and into area 4. Stops. Turns to audience, speaking as she steps down to area 5. At the same time, lights up on area 1. Adam sits with Natalie/The Younger.) She is closest to CS. They will mime conversation.)

Natalie:
The first time I ever saw a play in a theatre, it was right here. My father brought me. (Looks at Adam and Natalie/The Younger.) It was a Shakespeare play. A Midsummer Night's Dream. From the moment the lights came on (she steps down into area 8) and the performers appeared, I knew. (Puck and Echo appear in areas 7 and 8, dancing onto the stage, miming action as if they were spinning a web of enchantment around Natalie, who, delighted, continues to speak, pitching her voice as if she realizes she will have to work harder to hold the audience's attention, turning to watch the young women as they circle her and then dance away, Natalie/The Younger also miming, clapping her hands with delight.)

Natalie:
(Continuing.) I knew....(the young actors dance away, having succeeded in weaving their spell) I wanted to be an actress. (Lights dim on area 1, but they do not go out.)

Natalie:
(Continuing. A half laugh.) A psychiatrist would have a field day with that, wouldn't he? (Quickly.) Or she. (Half pause.) But it was simple to me. (Lights on Adam and Natalie/The Younger fade to black.) I just wanted to act. To step into the light. To make something magical happen. (Hesitation.) I suppose I must have thought I could escape. I mean, I wanted to live a life. My life. I didn't want to be a part of his...(struggling) history. His pain. (Starts to turn away, but does not. Slowly.) So I left because I thought I could get free. Well... (a hard edge to her voice) I was wrong.

(Lights fade to black. End of Act One.)

Act Two

Date: February 3, 1987.
Time: Continuing.
(Lights come up on area 5. Natalie takes a deep breath. She looks at the audience.)

Natalie:
I was very, very wrong. (Steps down into area 9.) I learned a lot of things the hard way. (Stops. Starts to speak, then hesitates. Smiles.) I learned that no one should come to New York to get well. Or to get free. Get well at home Wherever that is. Get free at home. Then come to New York. (Pause.) I also learned that every second person I met in New York was an actor. I have a friend who's with Joffrey Ballet who says I'm wrong. She says every second person in New York is a dancer. (Nods, almost smiling.) Anyway, I wish I could tell you I was a big smash hit. But the fact is after I finished my studies at the University of Chicago and went to New York, it was almost seven months before I even got a walk-on part. And that was only because a woman stage manager I met needed a tenth female for a crowd scene in an opera. It was two more months before I got a part with lines. I played the house servant in Ibsen's Ghosts. That was a good part. She had some interesting things to say. And I got to work with Sam Blake, the director. He must have thought I had promise, because he's been using me ever since. He cast me in the summer stock production after Ghosts closed. Las year he cast me in a national tour of A Chorus Line. That was a wonderful experience. But we had a falling out last month. He (moving through area 8 toward area 6) wanted me to play in a tour of Fiddler on the Roof. But I told him I couldn't take the part.

(Lights up in area 7. Sam steps forward. He is in his early forties, stocky, wearing rumpled khaki slacks and a blue blazer and blue work shirt buttoned at the collar.)

Sam:
And I still want to know why.

Natalie:
I can't explain, Sam. I just can't take the part.

Sam:
Natalie, it's a natural for you. The oldest daughter. The one who rebels first. (Trying to hold his frustration in check.) And the principals are name players, Natalie. You'd work with some folks who could do you a lot of good. You'd be seen.

Natalie:
I know the play, Sam. And I know the cast.

Sam:
Then why in the hell won't you take the part?

Natalie:
I don't know. I just can't.

Sam:
I don't believe that.

Natalie:
You don't believe that?

Sam:
I don't believe that you don't know. I believe you won't tell me. But I didn't believe you don't know.

Natalie:
Sam, please. Don't be angry. Try to understand.

Sam:
Try to understand what? You haven't told me anything.

Natalie:
I told you I couldn't take the part.

Sam:
And I told you the part would be perfect for you.

Natalie:
And I told you I just can't do it. Now, stop, Sam, Please, stop.

Sam:
Sure, Natalie. I'll stop. And the next time I cast a play, I'll stop before I even call.

Natalie:
That's not fair. I've done every part you've wanted me to do.

Sam:
Except this one. Except the one that suits you the best.

Natalie:
Sam, I' not going to do the part.

Sam:
I know that. You've made that clear. But I still want to know why.

Natalie:
(Frustrated, angry, blurting out more than she wants to say, more than she thought she understood.) Because I'm not going to play a Russian Jew.

Sam:
A Russian Jew? Why not? You were in a French opera. You were Norwegian in Ghosts. You were Italian in the summer production of Othello. You were a Puerto Rican dancer in Chorus Line. What in hell is so hard about playing a Russian Jew?

Natalie:
(Turning away.) I just can't do it.

Sam:
But why? You told me once most of all you wanted to play Fanny Brice in Funny Girl. And Fanny Brice was a Jew.

Natalie:
(Turning back to him.) She was an American Jew.

Sam:
An American Jew? What does that mean? That you've got something against Russian Jews?

Natalie:
No.

Sam:
Then why won't you play Tevye's oldest daughter?

Natalie:
Because it's too close to home.

Sam:
What?

Natalie:
It's too close (turning away again) to home.

Sam:
(Hesitating.) What are you talking about?

Natalie:
Because I'm...Polish. I'm a Polish Jew.

Sam:
Polish? You said you were born in Chicago.

Natalie:
(turning to him.) My father was born in Poland.

Sam:
So have him come see Fiddler. He'll love it.

Natalie:
He couldn't do that. It would be too hard.

Sam:
Too hard? Why? What would be too hard?

Natalie:
Because he was in a Nazi...camp.

Sam:
A concentration camp?

Natalie:
A death camp. He was liberated.

Sam:
You never told me that.

Natalie:
It's not something a person talks about, Sam. At least, it's not something I talk about. Even my father doesn't talk about it. (Adding.) Not very often.

Sam:
(Slowly.) Natalie, I'm sorry to hear your father was in a Nazi camp. I'm sorry anyone was ever in a Nazi camp. But Fiddler isn't about Jews and Nazis. It's about a family. You know that as well as I do. As for the politics, it's about Jews and Cossacks. The Czar. But most of all, it's about a family. It just happens to be a Jewish family.

Natalie:
It's still about what was...lost.

Sam:
Maybe. Maybe it is. But it's also about what survived. It's about values and changes. But most of all, it's about what survived.

Natalie:
Sam, please. Try to understand. It's about a village. It's about good people in a village who were forced to leave. So for my father...for me...it's about what was. What once was. But isn't anymore.

Sam:
All right. (Hold up his hands.) All right. I won't push. But you could be making a mistake, Natalie. The fact you feel the way you do tells me you could be making a big mistake.

Natalie:
You mean it's going to hurt my career.

Sam:
I'm not talking about your career.

Natalie:
Then what are you talking about?

Sam:
(Quickly, but with sensitivity.) You know what I mean.

Natalie:
No, I don't.

Sam:
Natalie, I'm not a shrink. Don't ask me to be one. But you know what I mean better than I do. I think you're smart enough to understand everything you need to understand. I'm just disappointed you aren't brave enough to do something about it.

Natalie:
Sam, I don't want to do the part. Can't you understand that?

Sam:
Natalie, I don't care that you don't want to do the part. I care that you (pointing at her) need to do the part. (Lights down on Sam.)

Natalie:
(Stepping toward the darkness as she speaks.) But why, Sam? Why do I need to do the part? (A long pause.) You're like my father. You speak in...riddles. Hints! (Raising her voice.) Vague...hints. But you never come right out and say...(lowering her voice) enough. (Stops.) But he was gone. (Hesitates.) He was right. But he was gone. (Turning back to the audience.) And that was only the beginning. (Turns, starts moving back across the stage, speaking, as she doesn't. The lights follow her until she steps into area 8.) During the next winter, things got much worse. Sam didn't call with any more parts. I made the rounds auditioning, but nothing happened. I was called back for second readings, but that was all. Then one night, I was coming home with Maggie from a late reading. (A young, attractive black woman steps into area 9 as the lights come up. She is moving toward Natalie. Natalie stops and waits for her to arrive, but she continues talking. When the young woman gets to Natalie, she puts a trench coat around Natalie's shoulders. The young black woman wears a long, heavy button up sweater and jeans under her own parka.)

Natalie:
(Continuing.) We were trying to laugh and make ourselves feel good. It was cold. Really cold. (Because Natalie is still turned to the audience, she cannot see the four young hoodlums who appear suddenly in area 7 and then in area 8. Maggie does. It is the look of terror that flashes across Maggie's face that stops Natalie in her tracks. Looking at the closest of the hoodlums.) Then, suddenly, they were there. In front of Maggie and....

Maggie:
Oh, God.

(The hoodlums begin to move, encircling the women. The women turn, trying to watch all four of them at once.)

First Hoodlum:
Well, well. Look at this.

Second Hoodlum:
Two of them. Just right.

Third Hoodlum:
A nigger and a kike.

Fourth Hoodlum:
Our lucky night.

Seond Hoodlum:
Their lucky night. (The four hoodlums all laugh. Number One makes a grab for Natalie, but she pulls back. Number Four grabs at Maggie. She pulls back, but as she does, Number Two catches her.)

Maggie:
You bastards! You bastards!

(Number Three grabs Natalie from behind. She screams and tries to break free, but Number One steps toward her; he reaches to strike her.)

Natalie:
No! No!

(Maggie screams. The lights go black all over the stage. A slapping sound is heard. Natalie's voice can be heard: No! No! A third No! is muffled, as if she had been pulled down onto the sidewalk. Then it is silent. A long pause. Then Maggie can be heard crying. The lights come up very slowly in areas 7 and 8. The two young women are lying on the stage. The four hoodlums are gone. Maggie is lying on her back, closest to the audience, her jeans half-way down to her knees. Natalie is behind her, on her hands and knees, her blouse part way open. Her long skirt is up high enough to reveal her thighs. Both or them are crying. Natalie pushes her skirt down and reaches for Maggie.)

Maggie:
My jeans. Oh...God. My jeans. (She struggles to pull up her jeans.)

Natalie:
(Crying) Let me help you. Let me.... (Maggie rolled over into Natalie's arms. Together they struggle to pull up Maggie's jeans without Maggie getting up. Maggie falls back into Natalie's arms as Natalie sits back on her heels.)

Maggie:
(Crying, muffled, injured.) Natalie. Oh, God! Why...Natalie? (She continues to cry softly.)

Natalie:
Shhh. They're gone, Maggie. They're gone.

Maggie:
They hurt me, Natalie. They hurt me. (She pushes up into Natalie's bosom and cries in agony.)

Natalie:
(Holding her, crying herself.) I know. I know, Maggie. (They hold each other. Then Natalie looks up at the audience. Then she looks at Maggie.)

Natalie:
C'mon, let me help you. (She stands slowly. She tries to get Maggie to sit up.)

Maggie:
I can't.

Natalie:
You have to. C'mon. I'll help you.

Maggie:
They hurt me. They hurt....

Natalie:
(Standing, pulling Maggie to her feet. Interrupting.) I know. I know, Maggie.

Maggie:
(Suddenly terrified.) My jeans....

Natalie:
I'll fix them.
(Maggie pulls her jeans up around her waist. Natalie stands in front of her and secures the zipper and the top snap. Maggie is still crying, but softer now.)

Maggie:
They hurt me, Natalie.

Natalie:
(Moves and turns Maggie so they are facing each other in profile to the audience.) I know. They hurt me, too. They hurt me, too.

Maggie:
Why? Why did they want....

Natalie:
(Interrupting.) I don't know. I don't know.

Maggie:
Don't leave me, Natalie. Don't leave me....

Natalie:
(Quickly.) I won't. I won't leave you. (They turn and move toward the rising light in area 6. The lights in area 8 go down. To audience.) And I didn't. I...didn't. (The two young women reach area 6. A woman nurse waits.)

Natalie:
(Continuing as the two of them reach area 6.) We went to a hospital. The people there called the police. A nurse and a doctor examined Maggie first because she was still crying. (The nurse and the doctor take Maggie toward the SR darkness, leaving Natalie in the light.)

Nurse:
(Taking Maggie.) C'mon. I'll take care of you.

Maggie:
(Turns back to Natalie fearfully.) Natalie. Don't leave me, Natalie. (Natalie watched Maggie leave with the nurse.)

Nurse:
(To Maggie.) Your friend is coming. It'll be all right. We'll take care of both of you.

Doctor:
(Stopping, turning back to Natalie.) Both of you?

Natalie:
Yes.

Doctor:
How many men were there?

Natalie:
Four. (Looks at the doctor.) Four.

Doctor:
Two each?

Natalie:
(Nods slowly.) Yes. Two each.

Doctor:
I'm sorry. I'm very sorry. (The doctor turns and follows the nurse and Maggie into the SR darkness. He carries Natalie's trenchcoat.)

Natalie:
(After a moment, regathering her composure, buttoning her blouse.) A police officer came and took our statements. (A man in a police uniform appears in area 7. He mimes taking notes. Maggie is with him. Natalie turns and moved into area 7, joining Maggie and the officer. Natalie puts an arm around Maggie's shoulders as the officer speaks.)

Police Officer:
I have to tell both of you that the chances of catching the men based on your descriptions is pretty slim.

Natalie:
It all happened so quickly.

Police Officer:
I'm sure. (Hesitates.) Look, I'll put you in touch with our rape crisis people. We'll look for the four men. We'll try. But you know. (Awkwardly.) I think the best thing you can do is talk to a crisis counselor. Then go home. We can have a police officer take you.

Natalie:
Is anything going to help?

Police Officer:
I don't know. That's up to you and the counselor. She'll help as much as she can. (Natalie turns away from area 7 as the lights go down. She moves into area 8. She speaks again.)

Natalie:
Of course, nothing came of it. The report to the police, I mean. Men like that don't get caught. But I did try to work with the counselor. Maggie refused. She talked to the woman the first night, when the counselor came to the hospital. But not after that. She just couldn't. (Natalie moves to area 9 as the light comes up on a woman who is sitting on the riser in area 5. As Natalie nears her, the area 5 lights also go up.)

Woman:
Natalie.

Natalie:
Yes.

Woman:
How are you today?

Natalie:
I don't know. Okay. Awful. Whatever.

Woman:
(Waits a moment.) And Maggie?

Natalie:
(Sitting down next to the woman.) She isn't getting any better. She cries herself to sleep at night. Her parents came up from Florida to visit. I think her mother wants to take her back home. But Maggie won't leave. She says she wants to stay with me.

(The woman waits for a moment. Natalie does not go on.)

Woman:
(After a moment.) How do you feel about that?

Natalie:
I said I would take care of her.

Woman:
Can you?

Natalie:
(Carefully.) I have to. She's going to have an abortion.

Woman:
I didn't know she was pregnant.

Natalie:
We just found out.

Woman:
That's going to make it even harder for her, isn't it?

Natalie:
I don't know how it can get much harder. But at least when she has the abortion, part of it will be over.

Woman:
What about you?

Natalie:
Do you mean, am I pregnant?

Woman:
Yes.

Natalie:
No, I'm not.

Woman:
So you can take care of yourself? And Maggie?

Natalie:
(Stands, moving toward CS, but still in light of area 9.) I think so.

Woman:
It's going to be hard.

Natalie:
None of this is easy.

Woman:
You don't think Maggie will talk to me?

Natalie:
(Turning away.) I don't think so.

Woman:
Why?

Natalie:
Why won't she talk to you?

Woman:
Or to someone.

Natalie:
I don't know. I think....(stops.)

Woman:
You think...what?

Natalie:
I think we're...on our own.

Woman:
On your own?

Natalie:
The two of us. Maggie and me.

Woman:
I'm sorry you feel that way. I want to help.

Natalie:
I know. But I don't think there's much you can do. I don't think there's much anyone can do. We don't sleep at night, especially Maggie. She doesn't sleep. I mean, she wakes up screaming. She keeps trying to pull up her jeans. So I have to go to her and try to calm her down.

Woman:
What about you?

Natalie:
I keep....(stops.)

Woman:
You keep...what?

Natalie:
I keep hearing them.

Woman:
The four men?

Natalie:
The one who said a nigger and a kike.

Woman:
You hear him saying....

Natalie:
I hear him saying kike over and over again. I see his face. His sneer. He keeps saying kike, Kike! I... (She is very close to crying.)

Woman:
(Standing.) You've talked about this before, Natalie.

Natalie:
I have?

Woman:
Yes. You have. You've talked about the man who called you a kike each time we've had a session together. (Natalie does not respond.)

Woman:
Don't you think that's important?

Natalie:
What?

Woman:
Don't you think your response to all of this is important? Maggie's reaction is to try to pull up her jeans. So she can't be hurt. But you keep remembering what happened before you were attacked. When one of the men called you a kike.

Natalie:
It's a derogatory term.

Woman:
I would have thought that being raped would be even more derogatory.

Natalie:
(Quickly.) It is. I don't mean that....it isn't.

Woman:
But you've never talked to me about what happened.

Natalie:
What do you mean? I was raped. By two men.

Woman:
I know that. The police report told me that much. But you've never told me anything about it.

Natalie:
It isn't something I want to talk about.

Woman:
Then why do you keep coming back for our sessions?

Natalie:
Because you said that I should.

Woman:
No. I've never told you to come back. I've asked if you wanted to come back.

Natalie:
It's the same thing.

Woman:
No, it's not.

Natalie:
Then why...Then why do I keep coming back?

Woman:
You tell me, Natalie. (Natalie does not respond.)

Woman:
Natalie?

Natalie:
I don't know.

Woman:
Do you think it has anything to do with the man?

Natalie:
The man? There were two....

Woman:
The man who called you a kike.

Natalie:
I don't know.

Woman:
(Stepping closer to her.) I think you do. (Natalie faces the woman.)

Natalie:
You're the psychologist. The counselor. You tell me.

Woman:
I can't tell you anything, Natalie.

Natalie:
Damn it, that's not fair. (Turning away.) I've played every part you've ever asked me to play.

Woman:
(Slowly.) What parts have I asked you to play?

Natalie:
(Startled) What? What do you mean?

Woman:
You said you'd played every part I've ever asked you to play. I want to know what parts have I ever asked you to play. Or...were you talking to...someone else?

Natalie:
(Shaken. Starts to turn away. Then does not.) I don't know. I don't know...what I mean.

Woman:
(Turns away from Natalie, moving back into area 9, leaving Natalie in area 8.) I think you do, Natalie.

Natalie:
I don't! I don't!

Woman:
You're a survivor, Natalie. Only, you can't decide what it is you've survived. (Looking at Natalie from the semi-darkness.) You can't come to terms with being raped, Natalie, until you come to terms with the other part.

Natalie:
(Desperate.) What other part?

Woman:
You'll have to define that yourself, Natalie.

Natalie:
Define what? What am I supposed to....

Woman:
I can't help you come to terms with what happened to you until you know who you are, Natalie. (Natalie turns to pursue the woman even as the woman is fading away into the darkness.)

Natalie:
I am me! Isn't that enough? I am me! Natalie! (The lights in area 9 fade to black.)

Natalie:
I've played every part! I have survived. (Natalie moved to the edge of the darkness into which the woman faded; shouting.) I am Natalie! (She stops at the edge of the darkness.) The daughter of Adam...the poet! Who would not die! Who did not die! (She is crying. She turns back toward the audience. Lights up in areas 2 and 3. Three people, two young women and one young man, sit on the edge of the risers, their legs dangling over into the lights of area 7. At the SL side of the three is a fourth, a young man, sitting on the edge of the riser in area 2. Startled, Natalie turns to the three young people when the young woman in the middle speaks.)

Woman One:
Which is the beginning.

Natalie:
What?

Woman One:
A beginning.

Natalie:
A beginning?

Woman One:
Yes. A beginning.

Woman Two:
A good beginning.

Man One:
(In the group of three.) Better than mine.

Woman One:
Be fair.

Man One:
No, I mean it. I couldn't scream like that for months.

Woman Two:
But you can now.

Man One:
I don't need to now.

Man Two:
We've all had to scream some. It goes with the territory.

Natalie:
(Stepping toward them.) What territory?

Woman One:
The territory where you live.

Natalie:
Where I live?

Man One:
Where you live. Or where you don't live.

Natalie:
(Moving to area 1, stepping up onto the riser.) What do you mean?

Man Two:
(Pitching his voice.) I am Natalie. Daughter of Adam. Who did not die.

Woman One:
Which is a good beginning.

Natalie:
You said that.

Woman Two:
So now get on with it.

Natalie:
Get on with what?

Woman Two:
Tell us who you are.

Natalie:
Who I am?

Woman One:
Or who you aren't. Maybe you should start with who you aren't.

Man Two:
That's a good idea. (To Natalie.) Tell us who you aren't. We've all had to do it. It took me a long time to get around to that. For which I am sorry. Because it would have been better had someone told me to do that from the beginning.

Natalie:
But I don't know what you're talking about.

Woman One:
You know perfectly well what we're talking about. That's why you're here.

Natalie:
But where am I? Who are you?

Women Two:
You're with us. We're children of survivors. Just like you.

Natalie:
Just like me?

Man One:
Natalie, you're not going to get anywhere if you keep answering our questions with questions.

Man Two:
You sound like a rabbi. (Mockingly.) Rabbi, what is the meaning of life? (Pitching his voice downward.) What would you have it be, my son? (Adding.) Or my daughter.

Woman One:
Let's try for a few straight answers. For instance, who aren't you?

Natalie:
Who aren't I?

Man Two:
You're doing it again.

Natalie:
I'm doing I....(Stops. Hold up her hands.) Sorry.

Man One:
Look, sit down, and don't be sorry. Just be honest. (Natalie sits on the edge of riser 1, where it butts up against riser 2.)

Woman One:
Tell us why you're not just a regular young woman.

Natalie:
But I am just a regular young woman.

Woman Two:
No, you're not.

Natalie:
I'm not?

Man Two:
(Turns to the others.) She's hopeless.

Woman One:
No. She's just new at this. We all had to go through (to Natalie) the same thing. So tell us that you're not just a regular young woman.

Woman Two:
You're not even a regular young Jewish woman.

Natalie:
But I want to be.

Woman One:
That doesn't matter. Because you aren't. So let's move on.

Natalie:
Wait. I have to ask a question.

Man Two:
(Quickly.) See. She's hopeless.

Natalie:
If I'm going to answer questions, then I should get to ask some, too.

Woman One:
(Glances at the others.) All right. That's fair. Ask your question.

Natalie:
(Carefully.) Why can't I be just a regular young Jewish woman?

Man One:
Because you said, I am Natalie. Daughter of Adam.

Woman One:
Who did not die.

Woman Two:
You are the daughter of a survivor.

Natalie:
Which means?

Man Two:
You decide.

Natalie:
Which means that my life is....(She does not have an answer.)

Man Two:
That your life is...a quirk of fate.

Woman One:
An act of God.

Woman Two:
The failure of the Nazis to carry out the Final Solution.

Natalie:
What do you want me to say?

Woman One:
You get to pick.

Natalie:
Why should I pick?

Woman One:
Because those are the choices. You have to start from one of those places. You are the daughter of a man who survived--however he did it--who survived the most organized campaign of murder ever launched by any political regime against an unarmed ethnic population in the history of the world.

Man Two:
(Turning to Woman One.) That's very good. (Back to Natalie.) I used to have to say that to our new members. But she's making excellent progress, so I don't have to any more.

Woman Two:
Which means your father survived the Holocaust.

Woman One:
The apocalypse.

Man One:
A lot of rabbis call it the Shoah, now. To give it a theological feel.

Woman Two:
(Ignoring Man One.) Your father lived through the rupture of civilization.

Man Two:
Your father survived the midnight of humanity. The Abyss. (Looks at the others.) She doesn't seem to be getting it.

Woman One:
Your father survived the abyss. Which mean you did too.

Man One:
But for you to understand what it all means to you, you have to define what your life is. You start by picking a definition.

Natalie:
All right. But...I need to use my own words.

Man One:
Fine. Use your own words.

Natalie:
My father, (glancing at them) Adam, (Woman One and Man One nod approvingly) survived when the...previously unimaginable became imaginable.

Man One:
That's what I said.

Woman One:
You said the Shoah.

Man One:
It's the same thing.

Woman Two:
Just let her get on with it.

Woman One:
All right. You are Natalie, daughter of Adam, who survived when the (looks at Man One to check if she's getting the wording right) previously unimaginable became imaginable.

Woman Two:
(To Natalie.) Which means what?

Natalie:
You want more about him? Or about me?

Woman One:
Him, first.

Natalie:
Which means he has...looked at death.

Man Two:
Trite.

Natalie:
Trite?

Man Two:
Yes. Trite. You can do better than that.

Woman Two:
You'll have to do better than that.

Natalie:
(Standing up. Stepping into the rising light in area 7.) Which means he has... been to hell...and...I don't know. (Moves out to area 8. Speaking over her shoulder.) He's been to hell and come back to (hurriedly) tell the tale.

Woman One:
Are you going to walk away now?

Natalie:
(Turning around and facing them.) No.

Woman Two:
Then come back and sit down.

Man One:
Sit up here by me.

(Natalie moves to riser area 5, steps up, then moves to the edge of riser area 4 and sits down next to Man One. An awkward pause.)

Man Two:
Who's next?

Woman Two:
You are. This is the point at which you pick apart her answer.

Woman Two:
Yes.

Man Two:
All right. (Pause. Without looking at her.) Natalie, that's a lot of crap. (Natalie is shaken. The others wait.)

Natalie:
(To Man One.) What do I do now?

Man One:
I guess you'd better answer him.

Natalie:
But he didn't ask a question.

Man One:
No. But he made a damning judgment.

Woman Two:
Which you should answer.

Natalie:
I don't think I can.

Woman Two:
Why not?

Natalie:
Because, he's right. It is trite. It's what I wish had happened. The problem is, my father didn't tell the tale. He never told any tales. Not about the camps. I know about his life before the camps. But he never said anything about what happened in the camps, themselves. (Before anyone can interrupt.) I know his mother died. Tessa. And his father. And his Aunt Rose and Uncle Solomon. And Zeda. I know Zeda died. And his sister, Stella.

Woman One:
That's a lot of people.

Natalie:
It was everyone. Except him.

Woman One:
Which means what?

Man One:
Do you think your father's survival of the Nazis was an act of God?

Natalie:
An act of God? No. I...don't know. I....No.

Woman Two:
All right. One down. Do you think it was a quirk of fate?

(Natalie hesitates.)

Woman Two:
You know. Providence. The mix of the universe.

Natalie:
Was it...written in the stars that he would survive?

Woman Two:
When all the rest of his family would not.

Natalie:
(Slowly.) No. That doesn't make sense, either.

Woman Two:
Why?

Natalie:
Well, an act of God makes it seem like some kind of grand passion play. Something metaphysical.

Man Two:
Metaphysical is good.

Woman One:
(To Man Two.) Will you stop?

Natalie:
I don't want the Nazis to be actors in God's plan...or whatever.

Woman Two:
And Providence?

Natalie:
That means it was preordained. As if no one had any choices.

Woman One:
Did people have choices?

Natalie:
Yes.

Woman One:
The Jews? The prisoners?

Natalie:
I don't know if the Jews had choices. Maybe they did. Maybe they didn't. It must have varied in different places. But the Nazis. They had choices. Germany had a choice. It wasn't preordained.

Woman Two:
And Germany made a choice?

Natalie:
Yes. Germany decided. And that wasn't Providence or fate or whatever.

Man One:
Which brings us to the Nazis simply didn't get the job done. They ran out of time.

Woman Two:
They would have murdered all of the Jews if they'd just had more time.

Woman One:
What about the Allied armies? What part did they play?

Natalie:
That's why the Nazis ran out of time. But that doesn't mean the Allies saved my father. It means the Nazis simply hadn't worked their way down the list far enough to get to him before the Americans and the British showed up.

Man Two:
So it was an accident?

Woman Two:
Devoid of meaning? Theological meaning/cosmological meaning. (The four people look at Natalie. They wait for her to answer.)

Natalie:
Yes.

Woman One:
Which means what, Natalie?

Natalie:
I don't know.

Woman One:
Yes, you do. You've come too far for you to say you don't know.

Natalie:
It means...I am an accident.. (The four look at each other and nod in agreement.)

Woman Two:
An accident of history.

Man One:
(Smiling.) A lovely accident, you gotta admit.

Woman Two:
(Slowly, very carefully.) But an accident, nonetheless.

Man One:
(Corrected.) As you say.

Woman One:
Which tells you what, Natalie?

Natalie:
That I...I have to...accept....(Almost pleading.) I don't know.

Man Two:
That a part of the equation...the equation of you, Natalie, my dear, is that your life is the result of an accident of survival in the tragedy of history.

(Natalie doesn't respond.)

Man Two:
Which is so impersonal a concept that it's almost meaningless.

Woman One:
And the sooner you accept that it's true, that you are never, ever going to be able to find any moral justification for the fact that you are alive, second generation survivor and all, the sooner you are going to be able to accept yourself for just who you are and get on with the rest of your life.

Natalie:
(After a long pause.) What does all of that mean?

Man Two:
It means you can't deny any of it. Because it's real. But it also means that you can't let the trauma get to you.

Woman Two:
You make it sound like the bogeyman or something.

Man Two:
It is the bogeyman. The trauma slinks around in the darkness, just waiting for Jewish children who aren't prepared.

Man One:
Now, you're being silly.

Man Two:
I'm not being silly. I'm perfectly serious. If a Jew isn't properly prepared, the trauma can either turn him into a denier or....

Natalie:
(Interrupting.) A denier?

Woman One:
Someone who denies any of it happened. Not historically. But personally. (Adds.) Someone who refuses to come to grips with it.

Man Two:
Right. Which is unhealthy. Or it'll turn you into a Super Jew.

Woman Two:
That's his term, not ours.

Man Two:
Consider it my contribution to our therapy.

Natalie:
I'm almost afraid to ask what Super Jew means.

Man Two:
It means you'll learn everything about Israel but nothing about five thousand years of Judaism. It means you learn the Israeli national anthem, but you don't know any of the sacred music of the synagogue. Judaism stops being a religion and starts being a cause. Israel stops being a country, with all of the problems that attend being a country, and becomes an ideal.

Woman Two:
Natalie, Judaism is a religion. A way of seeing the world.

Man One:
(Quickly.) And seeing the world gives you a way of being in the world.

Man Two:
An affirmation.

Man One:
Even though none of us is volunteering to give Israel up. We're just trying to draw some distinctions.

Natalie:
But what does all of that mean? There's so much to think about.

Man One:
Well, it means that just like us, you've got a lot of hard work to do.

Woman One:
A lot of hard thinking to do.

Man One:
(Puts an arm around Natalie's shoulder.) Did you assume we'd have a simple answer for you?

Natalie:
I don't know. I suppose I did.

Woman One:
Sorry to let you down.

Woman Two:
We've all been through it. You aren't going to be any different.

Man Two:
We probably haven't helped you much. but you should have known that would be the case when you came.

Natalie:
Yes. (Nodding.) I should have known that. (Standing. Turns to them.) But you did help.

Man One:
Then stay and help us.

Natalie:
I would like to, but I have to go back to Chicago...to be with my father.... He's...dying.

(Steps down from riser area 5. Turns to the audience as she does. The lights go down behind her.)

Natalie:
(Continuing.) And I meant it. I wasn't running away. But my father...he really was dying. Maggie had taken the call. (Pause.) Yes, Maggie still lives with me. I try to take care of her. We...go to auditions together, sometimes. When I think maybe there'll be a part right for her. (Moves into area 8.) But she never...it hasn't worked out, yet. (Looks up, trying to smile.) We'll keep trying, though. We'll keep on trying. It's what we have in common. The hurt. The...trying. (Deep sigh.) Anyway, Maggie took the call. And two days ago I flew here to Chicago so I could be with (smiling affectionately)...with Ah-doom. (Moves across to area 6.) When I got to Chicago...when I got home, the doctor told me that my father was dying because of Auschwitz. (Stops.) My father had gotten pneumonia when he'd been there. But he hadn't been able to tell anyone. The Nazis would have killed him if they'd known. So he'd hung on somehow and gotten well. (Pause.) It just took all of these years for the damage to show up. (Turns toward area 5.)

(Adam is sitting on the riser in area 5, his back against the riser in area 4. A blanket covers his body up to his chest. Natalie moves to him, standing in the wash light from areas 8 and 9, which are also lit.)

Natalie:
Papa.

Adam:
(Slowly, looking up.) Natalie. (Smiling weakly.)
(Natalie moves to the edge of the riser in the corner where area 5 butts up against area 3. She sits down slowly on the edge of the riser in area 5, moving into Adam's light.)

Adam:
It's good of you to come.

Natalie:
(Hesitates.) I'm sorry you've been ill.

Adam:
I'm old. It's to be expected.
(An awkward silence.)

Natalie:
Is there anything I can get you?

Adam:
No. I'm fine. (He laughs softly. Then he must struggle to control his coughing.) The picture. (He turns to area 3, behind Natalie, where one 5 x 7 and one 3 x 5 framed photograph sit, as if they were on a bureau.) Would you get the picture for me? (He points.)

Natalie:
(Standing, turning to the photographs.) Which one?

Adam:
The small one.

Natalie:
Of you and...my mother?

Adam:
Yes.
(Natalie does so, turning back to Adam and handing him the photograph.)

Natalie:
You were very handsome in the picture, Papa.

Adam:
(Smiling.) I was a young man.

Natalie:
You were still handsome. (She sits back down next to Adam.)

Adam:
(Looks at the photograph.) You are a kind daughter.
(An awkward moment passes.)

Natalie:
I think I have a part in a play. I mean, I've gone to a third call back. They seem to...like my reading.

Adam:
(Looks at Natalie.) Which play?

Natalie:
Hedda Gabler.

Adam:
Ah. Ibsen. Yes. that's an interesting work. A good play, Natalie.

Natalie:
I'm reading for the part of Thea.

Adam:
(Thinks for a moment.) Hedda's friend?

Natalie:
Yes. Hedda's friend. Well, Hedda's husband's friend.

Adam:
(After a moment.) That's a good part, Natalie. You would do that very well. (Another awkward silence passes. Natalie stands up. She moves away for a moment then turns back, sitting on the edge of the riser, this time her back toward her father.)

Adam:
(Looking at Natalie.) I'm very proud of you, Natalie.

Natalie:
(Starting to turn to Adam, then not doing so.) And I'm proud of you, Papa.

Adam:
(Picks up the pad of legal paper to his left.) I'm trying to write a lecture. (Begins to cough again. Natalie does not turn to him. Instead, she waits.) I don't think it will mean anything. I can't imagine that I'll ever teach again.

Natalie:
(Speaking from over her shoulder, her body twisted toward the audience.) You must not say that, Papa. You'll be well soon. You'll be fine.

Adam:
(Interrupting.) No, Natalie. I've taught long enough. It's time for some younger person to have a chance. To take my place.

Natalie:
(Turning to him.) No one can take your place, Papa.

Adam:
Natalie, there's always someone ready to take your place. (Half pause.) People die. The next people will never have heard of me. That's just the way it is.

Natalie:
Papa, please. Don't....

Adam:
No. Listen. It's all right. People die. They live and then they die. (Stops.) Did you know Bruno died?

Natalie:
Yes. You wrote me. I wanted to come to the funeral.

Adam:
That's all right. It wasn't necessary.

Natalie:
But he was your friend. I should have come.

Adam:
You were busy.

Natalie:
I know. But I still should.... (Pause.) He was your friend. And my friend.

Adam:
(Laughing softly.) He was the most...distracted man I ever knew.

Natalie:
(Puzzled.) Distracted?

Adam:
I'm not criticizing. I...loved Bruno very much. We were together as comrades for..so very long. And Mary. She was a splendid woman. Your mother and I were such good friends with Mary. (A third awkward silence.)

Adam:
Sometimes, I would tell Bruno that he read so much he didn't have any idea what was going on out here (gesturing broadly) where the rest of us lived.

Natalie:
He was a... kind man, Papa

Adam:
Oh, yes. He was a very kind man. And a philosopher. The best kind of philosopher. He knew more about the history of ideas than anyone else.... (Looks at Natalie.) He was the kindest person I've ever known. He was so kind he almost did not...survive.

Natalie:
(After a moment.) The camps?

Adam:
Yes. The...camps. (Adds.) But...almost no one survived the camps.

Natalie:
(Carefully.) Did you ever want to write about what...happened? In the camps.

Adam:
(Tries to sit up more straight. Cannot seem to do so. Slumps back down again.) No. I could not do that. (Nods to himself.) Some did. Some tried. But I don't like what they've done. (Coughs.) It doesn't work. You cannot say...tell...really. (Stops.) In art. You just can...not....

Natalie:
(Uncomfortable.) But shouldn't people try?

Adam:
I don't think so. I don't know. (Shakes his head.) Maybe. I don't...know.

Natalie:
(Leaning toward him.) Won't the truth be lost if no one tries?

Adam:
The truth is lost, Natalie. (Looks away.) It was lost even when we were living it.

Natalie:
Even when you were living it? (Pause.) I don't understand what you mean, Papa.

Adam:
(Turns to her.) Natalie, we had to try to...forget. Every day.

Natalie:
But Papa, how can you forget something even when it's going on?

Adam:
(His voice tensing slightly.) Natalie, there's something I must tell you. How I lived through it.

Natalie:
(Pained, uncomfortable.) Papa....

Adam:
(Starts to look at her, then does not.) The Nazis were not stupid, Natalie. They understood Jewish men and women would not leave their children. That is how they controlled such large numbers. (Pause.) But the men and women, they could not protect.... (Takes a breath.) They killed the rabbis first. Then the scholars. (Turns to Natalie.) So we would have no leaders. No one to...advise us.
(Natalie reaches to touch is arm. He does not respond. She withdraws her hand.)

Adam: I was a young man. Someone must have told a clerk in the camp commandant's office that I was a university student. Because one day, a guard came and took me to an officer. (Slowly, remembering.) The officer said he knew I could speak German as well as Polish and Yiddish. I did not want to admit it to him. I thought it might be an excuse for him to kill me. But he acted as if he knew he was right without my answering, So he sent me to his sergeant. It was strange, Natalie. The sergeant was very nice. He was my age. He'd been a university student, too. It turned out we'd studied many of the same poets. He wanted to talk about.... (He hesitates.) He said he needed someone to type names. Polish names. Jewish names. He needed to be sure the spelling was correct. (Pause.) I was afraid. I still thought it might be a trick. I'd seen so many taken away. My mother. And Stella. They had been taken from the train as soon as we arrived. (Stops.) Perhaps I should not be telling you....

Natalie:
No, Papa. Please. I want....I need to know.

Adam:
(Nods slowly. Looks at her. Then turns toward the audience sitting in the darkness.) I was moved from barracks to barracks so none of the Jews would think I was a spy. But every day, I was called to the office to type names. After a while, the other Jews became afraid of me. They were terrified I would put their names on the list if they offended me. I tried to tell them.... (He stops for a moment. The he goes on.) Then one day I was typing, and I came to my.... (he almost breaks) I came to my father's name. I sat at the typewriter with my hands shaking. I could not control them. I put them under my hips and sat on them so on one would see. The sergeant, Hans, he brought me a cup of tea. He did that sometimes when I was working. But I could not pick it up. And I could not explain. (Coughs. Regains his composure.) I knew I could not sit there forever. So I...skipped my father's name. I (begins to cry softly) skipped my father's name. When I got to the bottom of the list, I was one name short. So I (turn away from Natalie) typed in the next name on the barracks roster. (Adam stops for several moments. Natalie does not speak.)

Adam:
(Continuing.) The Jews were moved around from barracks to barracks to keep the barracks full. And to keep us from organizing. So we never knew whose name might appear on the...lists. We could see the smoke every day. It would drift over the camp if the wind was right.
(He stops again. Natalie touches his arm. He does not resist.)

Adam:
(Going on.) After the first time, my father's name came up on the list again. And again I took it off. No one in the office knew. They never talked about the names. And the officers who were in charge of taking the Jews to the gas chambers...they did not question the lists. So I kept my father's name off the list four...four times... before he died one night in his...sleep. (Stops.) I took Aaron's name off the list...and put other men's names in his place. But he died, anyway, Natalie. He died anyway. I could not save him, Natalie. I could not.... (Natalie moves to him, taking his face in her hands, putting his head against her bosom. He is sobbing.)

Natalie:
(Who is also crying.) Papa....Papa....

Adam:
(Pulling back, his voice suddenly angry, almost raging, as much as his strength will allow.) I could not save my father! or Tessa! or Stella! Or...or..Solo...mon. I saved Bruno, Natalie. I saved Bruno. In the camp. But her. In Chicago. I could not save...Eva! I could not save my...Eva! That is why God has punished me! He took away my voice! Natalie! He took away my...voice. (Adam's cry dissolves into a wail, which then becomes a cruel, whispered agony, finally changing into a hard rasping. His head falls away from Natalie and slumps back on the pillow behind him. The framed photograph falls out of his hands. He is silent. His brathing is shallow and uneven.)

(Natalie sits next to him for some time. She touches his face as he sleeps. Then she picks up the photograph and puts it back on the riser behind his head with the other framed photograph. She starts to stand up. Then she reaches back and pulls the blanket up around his shoulders. She turns and steps forward into area 8 as the lights go down on areas 5 and 9.)

Natalie:
He died in his sleep that night. We did not speak to each other...again. (Struggling.) And there was so much more I wanted to know. My grandmother. My grandfather. My Aunt Stella. The village. The...camp. (Stops. Moves forward slightly.) But we did not speak to each other ever again. So it has all been silent. Ever since. And I don't know what to do. I came here tonight and sat alone and read his poetry...his Yiddish poetry...out loud. I read his stories out loud. And I could see the ghosts all around him. I can imagine all of them having conversations with him and with each...other. And they were real for me. As real for me as they were for him. But they ignore..me. Me. Natalie. Adam's daughter! They ignore me. (Turns to area 6, but does not move.)

Natalie:
Why did I become an actress? Right here in this place. I decided. But why? Because (pause) I don't know what to do...now. I don't know what to do...next. (Lights up on Sam standing on riser in area 1.)

Sam:
Use it.

Natalie:
(Turning toward the voice.) What?

Sam:
(Stepping down off riser 1 and into the lights that come up in area 6.) Use it!

Natalie:
Sam?

Sam:
Use it! Use all of it.

Natalie:
Sam. Please.

Sam:
Damn it, Natalie. Use it!

Natalie:
I can't.

Sam:
(Moving toward her.) Why not? What makes you so special?

Natalie:
(Turning away.) Sam....

Sam:
Writers use it. Painters use it. What makes you so damned special that you don't have to use it?

Natalie:
(Turning on him.) But it wasn't my life! It was his life.

Sam:
If you were in it, it's your life.

Natalie:
Sam. You don't understan....

Sam:
(Interrupting.) I understand you're afraid!

Natalie:
That's not fair. They aren't my ghosts! They're his ghosts!

Sam:
(Angrily.) They're your ghosts now. (Turning back toward area 1.) So use them!

Natalie:
(Stepping toward him.) Sam. Please....

Sam:
(On riser 1; turning back on her.) Natalie, just do the damn work!

Natalie:
But I'm surrounded....
(From area 9 as lights come up.)

Natalie/The Younger:
I will tell you (as they cross from 9 toward 6 together, passing Natalie in between areas 6 and 7) about her red hair.

Natalie/The Elder:
Papa....

Officer Reichman:
(From level 3 as lights come up.) You will come to the village square!

Tessa:
(Appearing in area 9, followed by Stella.) You must not die.

Stella:
I will not deny what I am!

Tessa:
(Turns toward Adam/The Younger, who has stopped with Natalie/The Younger in area 6.) Tell her, Adam.

Adam/The Younger:
Listen to Mama, Stella.

Natalie/The Elder:
Papa!

Eva:
(From area 5 as the lights come up.) I love you, Ah-doom.

Sam:
(Angrily.) They're your ghosts now. (Turning back toward area 1.) So use them!

Natalie/The Elder:
(Turning toward her, taking a step or two.) Mama....

Sam:
(From area 2 as lights come us.) Do the work, Natalie!

Adam/The Elder:
(In area 4 as lights come up.) I could not save my Eva!

Maggie:
(Stepping into area 9.) They hurt me, Natalie.

Natalie/The Elder:
Maggie! Oh, Maggie! I'm trying....

Stella:
I will not deny what I am!

Tessa:
Tell her, Adam.

Adam/The Younger:
Mama, I'm trying to raise Natalie.

Jewish Man:
(From area 4.) Your father is a great man.

Officer Reichman:
You will come to the village square!

Bruno:
(From area 2.) We have been through everything together.

Mary:
(From the wash lights at stage level between area 1 and 7; to Natalie/The Elder.) You must learn (holding out an infant) to father this child.

Natalie/The Elder:
Aunt Mary! Uncle Bruno!

Man One:
(Sitting riser 5.) Did you think it would be easy?

Natalie:
(Turning to him.) I don't know what I thought!

Sam:
Then just do the work!

Natalie/The Elder:
(Turning to Sam as Echo and Puck dance across the stage and encircle her, leaving just as quickly.) But I don't know what to do.

Natalie/The Younger:
Perhaps they were just saying hello.

Adam/The Younger:
Perhaps they were just saying hello.

Natalie/The Elder:
(Toward Adam/The Younger.) Papa....

Adam/The Elder:
I could not save my father!

Natalie/The Elder:
(Turning toward Adam/The Elder.) Papa!

Adam/The Elder:
I could not save my Eva!

Sam:
Just do the work!

Natalie/The Elder:
(Whirling on Sam.) But look at them, Sam! Listen to them! (A common chorus. All of the characters begin to repeat each individual's most recent line. The chorus as a body of sound should last no more than four seconds.)

Natalie/The Elder:
(Stumbling forward to the extreme DS edge of area 8.) No! Nooooo! Nooooo! (All lights down except on Natalie, sobbing, almost slumping forward onto her knees, screaming into the darkness in which the audience sits. Then she stops. She begins the regathering. She catches her breath, wipes her eyes, pushes back her hair. Then she stands erect, again, as she was when the drama began.)

Natalie:
I walk among ghosts every day. Memories. My father's memories (Pause, gesturing around her to both the left and the right.) I keep waiting for them to give me answers, to talk to me. But they don't. (Half smile.) They talk to each other. (Moves two steps closer to CS.) But they do not talk to me. Yet, I have survived their silence. I have survived. I have played every part. So now...perhaps...they will begin to...talk to me. Now...perhaps...they will talk to Adam's...daughter.

(Lights down slowly to black. End of Act Two.)

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Copyright 1991/1996 Ronald John Vierling
For production information, please contact Joyce Davidsen at Celnor House, 407-677-6288.

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A Teacher's Guide to the Holocaust
Produced by the Florida Center for Instructional Technology,
College of Education, University of South Florida © 2005.