SCREEN: White letters on black background. "MARCH 22, 1991" SETTING: Lights cross fade USC to David's house. Tidier version of the Scene One Living Room. AT RISE: David and Jeremy move about.
DAVID I don't see the problem. I want to sell the house. It's not exactly filled with pleasant memories. We moved in. He got sick. He died. Why would I want to live with that? Why would you want me to?
JEREMY Well, when you put it that way. It's just that. This place is like a heaven to me. I felt safer here than in my own apartment.
DAVID Then, maybe we should both move. Listen. I haven't even spoken to an agent. There's no point in arguing about it now. When I start showing it to courageous left-wing yuppie couples, we can fight like rabid dogs. Do we have a deal?
JEREMY I'll think about it. How much would you want for it?
DAVID I don't know. Why? You want it, it's yours. Don't expect me to visit. I need a cheaper place. I doubt revenues from my play are going to be astronomical. I should never write for therapy. It always stinks. Even the title is unbearable: Dead in the Water. Instantly, people will know it's either about terminal illness or fishing. Maybe I should have written about terminally ill gay fishermen.
JEREMY Make it a musical. (sings flamboyantly:) "As we sit here fishing/All I'm wishing/Is our love could abide/Without a spermicide. What's that nibbling at my line?"
DAVID Have you been over-medicated or under-medicated? (Jeremy shrugs. He appears all too happy.) Oh, no. You've met someone.
JEREMY I think you'll like this one. His name is Lorenz Frelig. He graduated from college and writes poetry. And he's only five foot three. He's gorgeous. He used to wrestle and he's into bodybuilding. I know what you're thinking, but he's not a violent person. Although, he is sensitive about his height and has this phobia about abandonment. But otherwise, he's a gem. I met him after my compulsive shoppers session. In the men's room. But it's not tawdry. We weren't passing notes between stalls or anything. We started talking by the mirrors. He maintained eye contact and hardly looked at his reflection. Then, we went out for pizza. Well, I had a pizza; he had a salad. I let him tie me up and when it was over I still had my money, my teeth and no pain. Can't you be just a wee bit happy for me?
DAVID Did he paint your toenails while you were tied up?
JEREMY I was too nervous to ask. All I could think of was how underdeveloped I was by comparison. How could I share Bull Durham fantasies. Why don't we do something? Go to dinner or a movie? You find the house claustrophobic anyway.
DAVID I can't. If I didn't have all this work, I'd be going to the rehearsal. Or I'd be rewriting the fucking thing. In fact, I think I'll do that.
JEREMY Damn it, David! Listen, if this is how you want to live your life for now, then fine. I can't say anything. But, please. I don't want to lose you, too.
DAVID I'm not lost, Jeremy. I'm busy. I'm trying to keep things as normal as I can. This is just a slightly more hectic term for me. I hope you understand.
JEREMY Sure. No. No, I don't understand. I need. There's got to be someone I can go to, and I need that to be you. I don't feel close enough to anyone else. I get this impression from you that because we became friends through Matthew, our relationship has to fade now. I'm here for you and you're not coming. I realize you have other friends, but I don't think you're going to them either. Maybe this is selfish of me. I don't know. But, you've had your time alone. So have I. The difference is: I never wanted it. I'll be on my way. I wish you well with your rewrite. I'm sure it'll be great. (Jeremy exits. David freezes for a moment. He gets out his typewriter and starts typing frenetically.) (END OF SCENE)