Day 10

The Woman is sitting on a bench  with her suitcase. Her eyes are red as if she has been crying. She is speaking with Hamish McHamish.

The Woman: Hamish! How many rats did you catch in your life? 100? 1000? 3000? More? Less? How did you like them? How did they taste? 11 days ago when I decided to leave home I had a dream in which I was catching a rat: Madly, with rancor, with a wild deep-seated anger!  You know! I had a small rat at home . And I miss him so much. My possessions in this world are not many, and I am losing them one by one….  I miss them… one  by one. The first thing I lost was myself. And I missed me so much…

No! You can never understand my feelings, Hamish. Everybody in St Andrews adored you when you were alive, so when you died, people made your statue and put it here to remember you for ever. You never knew how it feels to be kicked out of a house, when you don’t have anywhere else to go. Actually, I was not kicked out by anyone. I was kicked out by death. Don’t worry. I am still alive. If I had died, my statue would have been here, right next to you. ‘Hamish McHamish and the Lady of Shalott’. And by this statue, the people of St. Andrews  would remember me as a weaving woman who came to this town, and did nothing but to find herself.

Don’t be jealous Hamish. If I die right now, no one will ever notice. No one will ever know. No one will raise my statue in any alley anywhere in the world. I will evaporate from the memory of the world, immediately, as if I never existed. You will remain in the memory of the world Hamish as a cat that belonged to St Andrews. I belong to nowhere. To belong, or not to belong that is the question, that is the pain.

Pause.

The Woman: No! No, Hamish. I can’t go back to her house again …I can’t go back because Carmona evaporated this morning at  6:11 am. Yes! She just evaporated. It was a heart attack. I called 999, but while we were waiting for the ambulance I tried to explain to her  that there was nothing to be afraid of. She was holding my hand, as if clutching to life. I was worried, scared that she might die, and she was holding tightly to my hand.

W: I am sorry Carmona… [Carmona is murmuring as if hallucinating) I can’t hear you, please, please…

C-W: …Jorge, Jorge…  my dear… my dear husband.

W: What about him?…where is he?…Do you want me to call him?… Carmona…what is his number?

C-W: 909…

W: 909…and then?

C-W: 909…

W: OK! His number starts with 909…what is the rest? Where is he?

C-W: In an airplane…

W: Is he in an airplane? Is he coming here?

C-W: He evaporated.

W: What?

C-W: He evaporated… 909 …weeks …ago…

W: …

C-W: He evaporated.

W: …

C-W: He evaporated.

Pause.

The Woman: Nobody will make Carmona’s statue although she was a writer, a good one, good enough to be invited to the university. You are lucky Hamish. Luckier than me and even Carmona.

 She wraps her violet scarf around Hamish’s neck.

The Woman: I don’t want this anymore. It is getting cold and dark. Don’t worry about me. I am going to do something…I have a great idea. I am going to be the Lady of Shalott, I am the Lady of Shalott… Good night, Hamish.

She goes with her suitcase. Spot Light on Hamish wrapped in the Woman’s violet scarf. Then, Darkness.