BEAST ON THE MOON by Richard Kalinoski
Beast on the Moon was first workshopped in April of 1992 in a semiprofessional production at Nazareth College in Rochester, New York. It was directed by Mr. Kalinoski (Holly Valentine, stage manager) with the following cast: 
ARAM - Mark Almekinder
SETA - Sarah Frank
VINCENT - Ryan Gravelle
GENTLEMAN - William Weyl

PLACE
Milwaukee, Wisconsin 1921-1933.

CHARACTERS
A GENTLEMAN
ARAM TOMASIAN
SETA TOMASIAN
VINCENT: A BOY

 
Act I
Scene I. Milwaukee. 1921.
An interior space; clean and rigorously spare. To one side an imposing easel. In the space is an old-fashioned wooden camera resting on a tripod. There are uniform pedestals for props that appear later. A thick and plain wooden table with five hard wooden chairs. The table has four sturdy legs.
 
In the darkness an old GENTLEMAN walks into the space and lights a single candle on the table. THE GENTLEMAN holds a large framed photograph (creased and worn) of an Armenian family, circa 1914. The family is a mother, a father, two young teen boys and a young daughter. The heads of the family have been cut out, leaving conspicuous holes. A discreet photo of the head of the youngest son (now19) occupies the hole made from the cut-out head of the father. 
 
In soft light, the old GENTLEMAN walks slowly toward his audience taking ample time for them to see the portrait he carries. A faint hint of a smile forms on his face and he places the photograph on the easel as he speaks.
 
GENTLEMAN
Gar oo chugar. There was and there was not. Armenian. 
 
(Beat. He looks hard at the picture, then looks out.)
 
I was born in the year 1921; yes, I am old—it was the aftermath of the Great War; six long years after Turkey, under the roar of guns and fire, began to dispose of some of its people. People we call Armenians. Maybe you know; the Turks distrusted these infidel Christians. Resented their striving and their success; so they pushed them out into the desert. Into nowhere where they starved in their clothes and withered next to their things. Some never made the trip; they were just killed—shot or hanged—or otherwise disposed of. A few of them, through chance, or luck—or will—survived. This play is about two of them. Mr. and Mrs. Aram Tomasian. A boy and a girl. I am their witness.
 
(THE GENTLEMAN sits in an old chair, on a far side. Bright afternoon light pours down. A YOUNG MAN enters boldly with a rude suitcase and moves to the table. He is lean and dark. The YOUNG MAN stands by the table and calls out.)
 
YOUNG MAN
Seta! Seta! Come in, please…come in!
 
(Around a corner, a YOUNG GIRL peeks, then giggles.)
 
YOUNG GIRL
Really? Really?
 
(She goes out. He pursues.)
 
YOUNG MAN: Seta. It is all right. Come back. This is where you’re going to live.
 
(She giggles off. He finds her and brings her in.)
 
SETA
Really, Mr. Tomasian?
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Come in.
 
SETA
Me?
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
You. Yes, of course, you.
 
(SETA is dressed formally but her clothes are rough. MR. TOMASIAN is dressed in the American Fashion of 1921.)
 
SETA 
Here? 
 
(She stares about, her eyes shine.)
 
Thank you! Thank you! 
 
(She jumps to the floor and kisses it.) 
 
Thank you, Mr. Tomasian. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Okay. Okay. Please, Seta.
 
(She kisses his outstretched hand.)
 
SETA
I’m just shocked—you must know.
 
(He moves her to a chair.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Please sit down.
 
(She sits.)
 
SETA
Thank you.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
I have a gift for you. Upon your arrival in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, The United States of America. 
 
(He finds a neatly wrapped package.) 
 
For Mrs. Aram Tomasian.
 
SETA
Who?
 
MR. TOMASIAN
You.
 
(She takes the gift. She weeps.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Seta. It’s okay. Seta, you already cried all through the train station in Chicago. You’re all right now.
 
SETA
I don’t know…I know…I mean…I don’t know…I mean….America, Mr. Tomasian. 
 
(Blowing her nose.) 
 
How is it I came to be this lucky—you chose me, Mr. Tomasian.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
I think it was a good choice. Your gift, Seta. 
 
(She works at the wrapping.)
 
SETA: I’m shocked. That’s what I think I am. Shocked. Oh, Oh…(Looking at the wrapping.) It’s so pretty. Everything is. I’m going to save this.
 
MR. TOMASIAN (Smiling) 
Seta, open your gift.
 
SETA
Yes, Mr. Tomasian. It is a day of gifts, I think. 
 
(She unwraps the bow and puts it around her neck.) 
 
Pretty. Yes. I’m opening. A mirror? A mirror! Oh, look…look. 
 
(She stands with it.)
 
Oh, isn’t it fancy? This is for me? The wood is like glass…
 
(She has uncovered a fine hand mirror, finished in a shiny hardwood.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN: (Smiling) 
And there’s an inscription.
 
SETA
Oh, yes. Look. 
 
(beat) 
 
I can’t read it.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
I had it inscribed in English. It’s from an expensive American Shop.
 
SETA
Thank you, thank you. 
 
(She looks at the writing on the back of the handle.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN (Beaming.)
It says, ‘For my wife, my picture bride from Armenia. 1921. Aram Tomasian.’
 
SETA
It says all that?
 
MR. TOMASIAN (Cheerfully.) 
It says all that.
 
SETA
I am a picture bride? What’s a picture bride?
 
MR. TOMASIAN
You know, don’t you? 
 
(He takes a picture from his suit coat. He shows it to her.)
 
This is the picture they sent me from the mission in Istanbul. I chose you from a total of 37 pictures. You haven’t seen this?
 
SETA (Giggling.)
Mr. Tomasian. Mr. Tomasian. Oh, oh, please, I apologize. Mr. Tomasian, my…
 
MR. TOMASIAN
What? Tell me.
 
SETA 
(Trying to restrain her laughter.)
That isn’t me. It isn’t.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
It isn’t you? How can that be?
 
SETA
I’m sorry, that is a picture of a dead girl—she’s dead—she died nine months ago of disease, but they must have used her picture. They put my name on the back, I think. Here.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
But you wrote to me. You said you were you.
 
SETA 
I am me.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
But this girl looks like you.
 
SETA 
I’m sorry. I’m ashamed. I had my picture taken, but I never saw it. Maybe they used this girl’s because of my sores.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Sores?
 
SETA
I had sores on my face from bedbugs.
 
MR. TOMASIAN (Confused) 
They sent a dead girl to me? My bribes went for a dead girl? Who are you?
 
SETA
Please, please—we look almost the same—but that girl didn’t have sores on her face in the picture—so they just sent it—it was over a year ago—I was hardly fourteen years old. All the myrigs, they just wanted to save as many as they could.
 
(He has turned away.)
 
SETA
Mr. Tomasian. Mr. Tomasian. I wrote to you. I am the same girl who wrote to you.
 
MR. TOMASIAN (Confused, then pouting) 
I paid a bribe to the mission, to the orphanage—to a man in Istanbul to buy your ticket, to a man in New York at the immigration. I paid everyone. I ordered the girl in this picture and they sent me someone else. We are married. Married. Three months ago, by proxy—you know this.
 
SETA 
Yes. But about the picture, I didn’t know…I was just so glad to get your letters. I thought they used my picture. Pictures, names, they mix them up. 
 
(Long pause. She looks at herself in the mirror.) 
 
Thank you for the gift. I can see that my sores are gone.
(He sulks.)
 
SETA: (Eager and cheerful)
I think I am prettier than this other girl. 
 
(She looks at the picture.) 
 
I apologize, Mr. Tomasian. Mr. Tomasian.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
You didn’t know about this picture? About this dead girl?
 
SETA
I was a girl dying in an orphanage. You wrote to me.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Let me see.
 
(She hands him the picture. He stands next to her and compares. He holds her face to the light.)
 
Okay, okay, open your mouth, Seta.
 
SETA
Open my mouth?
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Yes.
 
(She does. He looks at her teeth, holding open her mouth.)
 
Close.
 
(She does. He looks at her eyes.)
 
You had trachoma?
 
SETA
A little bit. I was cured.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Okay, good. Good teeth. Clear eyes. Strong face. I see that you are a pretty girl. 
 
(He stands back.)
 
SETA
Thank you. 
 
(She waits as he looks at the picture.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN
All right, I can forget this picture. I want to take a new one. Sit and try a small smile. Small one. 
 
(He moves to behind the camera.)
 
SETA
A new picture?
 
MR. TOMASIAN (A given.) 
Our life should be recorded.
 
(He is busy with the camera. She digs in her suitcase and pulls out a crude doll.)
   
MR. TOMASIAN
No doll.
 
SETA
…something to hold. It’s…it’s what I have. My mother…my mother made it.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Seta, no doll.
 
SETA
Please.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Seta.
 
SETA
Mr. Tomasian, please.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
We are legally married. Put the doll away. You act like a child.
 
SETA 
It’s how I feel…
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Stop feeling like a child.
 
(She puts the doll at her feet.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN
(Pause) 
Americans…they smile. Smile now—a little and hold.
(She smiles.)

SETA
Hold what?
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Hold the smile. The light must soak in. Hold. Hold. Hold.
 
(Her smile is fading.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Seta, it’s gone.
 
SETA
I don’t feel like smiling.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Ah! You’ve ruined it. I must get a new plate. Seta, smile. No grim looking Armenian girls.
 
SETA
Mr. Tomasian. I apologize, but it doesn’t feel natural.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Pictures aren’t natural, pictures are posed. Now smile. 
 
(She does, and looks like a monkey.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
That’s too big!
 (She withers.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN
That’s too small.
 
SETA
I don’t know. Too big, too small.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Look at me. Practice smiling. Smile.
(She does.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Good. Fine. Now stay like that. (He prepares the camera.) Stay like that. Stay like that. Okay. Hold!! Hold! Hold, hold, hold, hold, hold, hold, hold, hold, hold, hold, hold, hold, hold. Holllllllllddddd. Good. 
(He presses a bulb.) 
Done.
 
(She grabs the doll. He takes the new plate out and exits. She stands and notices the portrait on the easel. ARAM enters.)
 
SETA 
Why are the heads gone? Mr. Tomasian—the heads are gone. Except this one. Your picture is in this one. Who is this?
 
MR. TOMASIAN
My father.
 
SETA
You put your head where your father’s was?
 
MR. TOMASIAN (Quietly)
Yes.
 
SETA 
Oh.
 
(Pause, she waits. ARAM has a Bible in his hand. He puts it on the table.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Please sit down. I want you to listen.
 
SETA
You’re still angry.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
This is the first day of our life together.
 
(She sits and clutches the doll.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Seta, put the doll away.
 
SETA
The picture’s over.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Seta, a man can’t have a wife who clutches a doll. Put the doll away.
(She hesitates)
You can put it on the table.
(She looks at him and does this slowly.)
You are 15 years old. A woman. A woman doesn’t hold dolls. (Pause.) Seta, you have no reason to be afraid. Hold my hand then.
 
(She does this, hesitantly. She looks at his hand, then finally takes it. Awkwardly, they stand together.)
 
There, is that better.
 
SETA: (Slowly) 
Maybe. Yes.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Good.
 
(They face out, side by side. She is self-conscious. Long pause.)
   
MR. TOMASIAN 
So. So lucky and such a great day. I have a wife…and she is in America…with me. (Pause.) My life can start now. My life…you know…it can start now. 
 
(He breaks.) 
 
My father would never imagine. Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Me, a wife.
 
SETA
We’re both…alive.
 
MR. TOMASIAN (Abruptly) 
So, it’s time for reading.
 
SETA 
It is?
 
MR. TOMASIAN (Pleasant veneer) 
Do you have a question about everything?
 
SETA
It’s just that I don’t know very much. It’s a new country.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
The man reads. So, I am going to read.
 
SETA
Umm, Mr. Tomasian, may I be permitted, excuse me, to ask why? Is that what is done with new brides who come from trains?
 
MR. TOMASIAN (A given. Inspecting her.) 
My father read at all important events. At meals. At funerals. At weddings. It’s in my plan.
 
SETA
Oh.
 
MR. TOMASIAN (Matter-of-fact.) 
Nothing happens without planning.
 
SETA
Oh.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Why do you say ‘oh’?
 
SETA
Mr. Tomasian, forgive me, it’s just that things, everything, seems to happen all the time without planning.
 
MR. TOMASIAN: (Looking for patience) 
Seta, I am going—
 
SETA (Blurting) 
Here I am in Milwaukee, no one ever planned that I was to live in America—and then the myrigs sent the wrong picture—then the big thing is I’m alive and I certainly didn’t plan on being that—because everyone else is just dead—my parents—
 
MR. TOMASIAN (Patiently) 
Stop talking now, Seta.
 
SETA 
Oh.
 
(She puts her head in her hands.)
 
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
What are you doing?
 
SETA 
Nothing.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
This is from Timothy. Open up your ears.
 
(She raises her head and pulls on her ears.)
   
MR. TOMASIAN (Simply) 
“Women shall adorn themselves in modest apparel, with shamefacedness and sobriety. I suffer a woman not to teach, nor usurp authority over the man.” There, now tell me what it means.
 
SETA
It means…I don’t know…it means what it says.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Yes, Seta. What is that?
 
SETA 
It means…you’re the man and you make the rules. I’m a girl—I mean a woman—and I’m to be quiet and serious. Except I’m not? 
 
(He looks at her.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN
What?
 
SETA 
No…thing.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Yes—something. Seta, say it.
 
SETA 
I’m not…quiet…I have never been quiet. Mr. Tomasian, I am sorry.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
It will take training.
 
SETA
Oh.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
A lot of training.
 
SETA
Oh.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
So…the second reading. You like your mirror?
 
SETA
I love the mirror.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Good. You may hold it.
 
(She picks up the mirror.)
 
Hand-rubbed. American.
 
SETA
Yes, Mr. Tomasian.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Do this. Hold the mirror out and look into it. I’ll read from the Proverbs.
 
(Uncertain, she does this—but awkwardly)
 
It concerns the ideal wife. That’s you. “Her husband,” That’s me…(Smiling.)
 
SETA 
I know.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
“Her husband, entrusting his heart to her, has an unfailing prize.”
 
(Mr. Tomasian smiles and awaits a response. Seta is caught in her pose.)
 
Well? (He stares.) Now tell me about Proverbs.
 
SETA 
Well…it says that, that I am your prize. How do I be a prize?
 
(He regards her.)
   
MR. TOMASIAN 
What did your parents teach you?
 
(She looks at him. She lets the mirror down.)
 
SETA (Quietly) 
I don’t know. They loved me.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Good, and what did they teach you?
 
SETA
They were just…just my parents. My mother sang.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
She sang…in a theatre?
 
SETA
In the kitchen. 
 
(Wistful.) 
 
When she sang, the whole house shook and the neighbors came out into their yards. (Glad.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
When my mother married my father she was not allowed to speak for a year. One whole year.
 
(SETA opens her mouth in awe. He watches her.)
 
You don’t understand. You grew up in a city. 
 
(Smiling warmly, speaking gently.) 
 
This one is special and important. 
 
(He sounds it out carefully.) 
 
“She brings him good and not evil all the days of his life.” 
 
(He awaits her response.) 
 
Well?
 
(She is in thought.)
 
Seta?
 
SETA 
Oh, uh, what did she do?
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
What did who do?
 
SETA
Your mother, Mr. Tomasian, a whole year! She did not speak for a whole year.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Haven’t I asked you about Proverbs?
 
SETA
Yes. I’m a prize. I mean, I’m your prize.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
And the rest?
 
SETA
I’m supposed to bring good, not evil.
 
(He tries to discern the intention.)
   
MR. TOMASIAN
So, you understand.
 
SETA 
I used to read the Bible to my father.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
You read the Bible? To your father? When?
 
SETA 
Before. Before the Turk. I was a child.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
He didn’t read it to you?
 
SETA: (Giggling) 
It put him to sleep.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
It put him to sleep?
 
SETA 
Oh yes, he loved it. He would start out sitting very straight.
 
(She postures.) 
 
And I would read and he would go very softly…dead…uh, to the world. It was a gentle music for him, I think.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
In my house the man reads.
 
(He effects a dramatic pose. She holds the mirror up.)
 
Chapter Six, The Canticle of Canticles. “Your hair is like a flock of goats…
 
(She spurts.)
 
…streaming down from Galaad.”
 
(She giggles and then represses it.)
 
This is the Bible!
 
(She quiets.)
 
“Your teeth are like a flock of ewes which come up from the washing, all of them big with twins, none of them thin and barren.”
 
(Her laugh explodes.)
 
Seta, Seta, Mrs. Tomasian.
 
SETA
My teeth are like pregnant sheep? 
 
(She laughs)
 
MR. TOMASIAN
These are compliments from the Bible. You laugh?
 
(She holds herself in.)
 
Seta, the Bible is not funny.
 
SETA 
Yes.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
The Bible speaks of beauty.
 
SETA 
Yes, Mr. Tomasian. 
 
(She bursts.) 
 
Oh, oh, I’m sorry, but I started to see all the goats, a thousand goats got into my head—they were jumping around and bleating in my hair—Oh, I can’t stop!
 
(Exploding again.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN: 
The Bible is the breath of God.
 
(She finds control. He watches her, waiting for another burst. He finds the mirror and thrusts it at her.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Look at you, Mrs. Tomasian. What do you see? 
 
(She takes the mirror, sobered.)
 
SETA 
Me?
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Of course you. Who is you? Who?
 
SETA 
I don’t…I don’t know.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
When you look, I want you to see a woman.
 
(She looks)
 
Well, Seta? (Slowly) Do you see a woman?
 
SETA (Pause) 
I’m sorry. I see me.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
And who is that?
 
SETA (Looking) 
She’s just a girl.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
‘She’s just a girl?’ ‘She’s just a girl?’
 
SETA 
Thank you for this mirror, Mr. Tomasian.
 
(He fumes.)
 
I do very much want to see a woman, but I don’t see one. I thank you for the mirror. And for my life.
 
(He paces. She gets the doll from the table.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
In marriage you don’t clutch dolls.
 
SETA 
I just want to hold it. Just for now.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Do you know the business of a man and a woman?
 
(Pause.)
 
Do you? 
 
(Pause.)
 
SETA 
Yes. I only ask permission for the doll.
 
MR. TOMASIAN (Simply)
No.
 
(She fingers the doll. He holds his hand out to take it. Very slowly, she hands it to him.)
 
Good. I am going to wash. You say that you know about marriage. I think it’s time for us to realize our marriage.
 
SETA 
Um…I.
 
MR. TOMASIAN (Easily) 
I’ll wash, I’ll come back. I’ll bring you in with me.
 
(He exits, doll in hand. She looks up, watching him leave. She begins to grasp the meaning of her husband’s words. She stands, looking around. She finds her coat and dons it. Finally, she sees the table and the chairs around it. Wary of MR TOMASIAN, she creeps under the table and quietly pulls the chairs around her, forming a barricade. Momentarily, MR. TOMASIAN enters, bare chested, carrying a towel. He finds her under the table.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Seta! Seta, come out. Come out. This is embarrassing. You look foolish.
 
SETA 
Please don’t make me.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Seta, you look like a child.
 
SETA 
I am a child.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Seta, this will not hurt you. Did you forget that you are lucky?
 
SETA 
I’m afraid.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Okay. Okay. 
 
(He gets an idea. Quickly, he exits. She looks around. He returns.)
 
Okay, Seta. I have something for you.
 
SETA 
What is it?
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Do you think I will tell you before you come out.
 
SETA 
I can’t come out before you tell me.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Fine. I am counting to five. One…two…three…four…five. (Pause.)
 
SETA 
Why did you count to five?
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Huh? You don’t know why I counted to five?
 
SETA 
No. 
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
You are serious? I am giving you a warning.
 
SETA 
What do you have?
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Okay, okay, it’s gum.
 
SETA 
What kind?
 
MR. TOMASIAN (Exasperated)
Gum. Wrigley gum. Mint. Spearmint.
 
(There is a pause and then a small voice.)
 
 
SETA 
May I have the gum?
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
First you come out.
 
SETA 
Can I see it?
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Huh? Seta, this is a child’s game. All right, I’ll play. 
 
(He holds it up for her inspection.) 
 
Come out. 
 
SETA 
I can’t.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Come out and you can have the whole package.
 
SETA 
Wrigley gum?
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Yes.
 
SETA 
Throw a piece to me!
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
You are amazing me.
 
SETA 
Forgive me, Mr. Tomasian. I can’t come out.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
What did you think? Before we came here.
 
SETA 
I thought I was safe.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Safe? Safe? God in heaven, I am your husband! Seta, you are safe. 
 
(He sits.) 
 
I will wait, then. 
 
(A pause.)
 
SETA 
May I have the gum?
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
No.
 
SETA 
Mr. Tomasian.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Yes.
 
SETA 
I don’t…I don’t know you.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
What do you need to know?
 
SETA 
I don’t know who you are.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
I am practicing great patience with you—only because you came to me on a train alone and you don’t know America.
 
SETA 
May I have the gum now?
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Fine. Here. My second gift to you. 
 
(He throws a piece of gum under the table.) 
 
Now will you take your place with your husband? Seta?
 
SETA
Oh, this is good. This is so good. Thank you. Americans are so clever, I think, don’t you think, Mr. Tomasian, so many things they make and all the cars, I can’t believe even the toilets they have, even their toilets are pretty—
 
MR. TOMASIAN
God is not happy, Seta.
 
SETA 
He isn’t?
 
MR. TOMASIAN
God is not happy when a woman hides from her husband.
 
SETA 
Please, I’m sorry.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Don’t beg, Seta. Fine. I am counting to ten and if you don’t come out I’ll come and get you.
 
SETA 
Wait, Mr. Tomasian, Mr. Tomasian, oh, I don’t know you, no I don’t…
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
One…two…three…four…five…
 
SETA 
I don’t even know how you survived, how did you survive, you must have been very brave, yes, brave—
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
six…seven…eight…
 
SETA 
and clever because so few men survived, I know because so few—
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
nine…ten.
(Pause)
 
SETA 
No.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
You are having your last chance. What do you think? Do you expect me to be someone else? Not a man?
 
SETA 
No. No.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Do I drag you out then?
 
SETA 
Wait. The picture. The picture!
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
What picture? 
 
(Reaching for her) 
 
What? What picture?
 
SETA 
Behind me. Up there. That is of your family, right? Of your family?
 
MR. TOMASIAN
I don’t explain that picture.
 
SETA 
The heads, they’re gone. Who cut them out? Who cut them out?
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
This is not your business.
 
SETA 
I am your wife. Maybe it is, you see, excuse me, Mr. Tomasian, my business.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
No, it is my family! Now come! Come! Now!
 
SETA 
No no no no no, please no…
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Be calm, Seta. I won’t hurt you. We have to start, come—Calm, Seta. Calm. Calm.
 
(He reaches and pulls her by her leg as she grasps a table leg and clings, he pulls and the table comes with her. She gasps from the effort but doesn’t scream. Instead, she fights fiercely, kicking wildly.)
 
You don’t fight me. Ahh!!!
 
(She has kicked him, hard. He pulls her with care, evenly, dragging her by both legs. She kicks free. She scrambles and ducks under the table, grabbing a chair as defense, then gives that up and protects her body behind a table leg, clutching it. He lurches after her and in a massive heave, yanks the table away. She tries to escape, but he catches her leg and holds her. She hesitates, looks into his face, and then screams.)
 
SETA 
No!!!!
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Calm yourself, Seta. I won’t—
 
(She wrenches free in a panic, and holds her hands up, and shaking, curls into a ball. He sees her fear and watches her.)
 
What? What? Tell me. 
 
(She shudders. Pause. She quiets.)
 
SETA 
A Ttttur…a Ttturk! I saw a Ttturk. Oh no, I saw a Turk.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
A Turk?! Me?? A Turk! Me? Me? No. No. Seta. It’s me, Seta. Aram Tomasian. How could you…How could you?
 
SETA 
It was in your face.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Did a…did a Turk…were you…did a Turk???
 
SETA 
No, my sister, my older sister…in my place, she did it for me, for me, but I saw him, I saw him just then, oh I saw him on your face I saw him on you, in your eyes I saw him.
(shaking)
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
You saw a Turk in my face…in my face??
 
SETA 
I’m very sorry. I’m sorry. You are the one who saved me. You saved me, I’m sorry.
 
(He holds his face. He grabs the mirror. He looks in the mirror.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN:
Me? My face? 
 
(He stares into the mirror. BLACKOUT.)

Scene II
 
Lights reveal the old GENTLEMAN pushing a baby carriage. He stops and looks out. SETA’S head now appears in the portrait where ARAM’S mother’s was.

 
GENTLEMAN: 
His father had been a photographer too, the only one in the village. And he was the town clerk and a politician. He signed official documents and took official pictures. He raised goats. His wife, Aram’s mother, tended them. His father had been the kind of man on the verge of a smirk all day. Outwardly, he was cheerful even when he disagreed, about the weather, about what the Turkish government might do, about who Aram should be. He was proud and smiling and determined and he seemed to be everywhere. 
 
(The GENTLEMAN places a small American flag somewhere on the outside of the carriage.) 
 
Aram Tomasian, born of Toros Tomasian, was the son. And the endless liquid talk that spilled from the mouths of his mother and father was full of will…and expectation. The future. Aram Tomasian was the son. Son must follow son. It was understood.
 
(The GENTLEMAN moves away, leaving the carriage. He is replaced by ARAM, in shirtsleeves. He places a huge blue bow and ribbon on the carriage and realigns the camera for a picture. In a moment, ARAM stands apart and admires the carriage. SETA enters in a coat, with a hat and dress gloves. She moves cautiously.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN
You’re home. Good. Seta? Seta, tell me. You saw the doctor?
 
SETA 
(She moves to touch the new carriage, gently.) 
Very special, Mr. Tomasian.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
What of the doctor? Tell me.
 
SETA
(Pause.) 
He said. 
(Pause.) 
He said, no. Just no.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
No?

SETA
I see you have a celebration planned. 
 
(She is wistful.) 
 
Of course the camera. 
(Smiling.) 

Of course pictures. 
 
(He turns away.)
 
Mr. Tomasian, I’m sorry. He said it was the starving. But he doesn’t know. He’s sorry he said….Mr. Tomasian. He said girls who starve sometimes…can’t.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Can’t? Not can’t. Not can’t. You aren’t starving. This Levine doctor doesn’t understand.
 
SETA 
Mr. Tomasian, when I was nine, I starved. I starved.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
I know. But you have a woman’s cycle—and then you missed—you missed—it must mean—
 
SETA
It means noth-
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Doctors, doctors. What can they possibly know of you, of me? Huh? What can they?
 
SETA 
The second one—
 
MR. TOMASIAN
I know. You think I don’t know how many doctors?
 
SETA 
And you bought a carriage—was this to be my surprise? Or was it your surprise…Mr. Tomasian, a carriage does not make a baby, I think—
 
(He speaks over her)
 
—a carriage does not bring…
 
MR. TOMASIAN
He is a foreigner. He is not even American! He is an odar…He says he doesn’t -- He is a doctor! And he doesn’t—God never meant this—he will not…not tolerate this…not this, Aram Tomasian, with…no…it is a joke. A big laugh. 
 
(He laughs.) 
 
Impossible. 
 
(He turns away and is silent.)
 
SETA 
Dr. Levine is a kind man. He knows you’re disappointed.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Two years. More than two years. You are seventeen. 
 
(He moves toward the portrait where SETA’S face has replaced his mother’s.)
 
SETA
Yes. Such a lovely carriage, Mr. Tomasian. It makes me so…so sad too. Me. I’m sad. Did you know?
 
(He turns toward her. She is touching the carriage.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN (Softly) 
Yes. You are.
 
(They look at each other.)
 
But you are almost eighteen. I see a woman. 
 
(He begins to strip his shirt off.) 
 
And you and me, we have a task. We have work.
 
SETA
Now?
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Yes, now, and then again until…our legs ache, because we will, because, my father and his father, their voices are in me…here…
 
(He points to his head, his shirt off.) 
 
I hear them now. They are a chorus and they demand it. Life after life after life, Seta, so yes, now…now.
 
(BLACKOUT)

Scene III 
The lights fade up to reveal first the portrait. Still only the heads of SETA and ARAM can be seen. The rest of the portrait consists of children’s bodies. Downstage lights reveal MR. TOMASIAN at the table, reading form the Bible. SETA enters with a huge cake. She cuts a piece of colossal dimension and places it in front of him.
 
SETA
I made a new cake. Fudge cake. I got the recipe from Mrs. Binetti. It’s an American recipe.
 
(He looks.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN (Amused) 
This piece is so big, Seta.
 
SETA
I thought you would like it.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
It would stuff me.
 
SETA
It’s very special.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
It’s bigger than my foot.
 
SETA 
Maybe you will love it.
 
(He takes a bite.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN (Cheerfully) 
It’s wonderful cake. Thank you.
 
(They smile at each other.)
 
Delicious. Very. 
 
(He takes a second bite and chews. He remembers the time and looks at his watch.)
 
SETA 
Don’t you want to finish?
 
MR. TOMASIAN
I can finish it later.
 
SETA (Thinking) 
Oh. 
 
(Pause) 
 
The Binettis are going to start to sell ice cream in their grocery. Mr. Binetti bought a freezer.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Good luck. Freezers are expensive. It’s about time.
 
SETA 
You don’t want to finish the cake?
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
I can eat cake later. You’re well? You’re not sick? Seta?
 
SETA (Very quickly) 
Mrs. Binetti loves the portrait of her new baby, Nicky. She went on and on, oh, she’s funny, she is…her voice is so big and…musical…like big bells. I thought you would like the cake—you do like the cake?
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Seta, it’s time.
 
SETA 
Now? I think I’ll eat some cake. 
 
(She starts to gobble the cake.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
I see you like the cake.
 
SETA
(With cake in her mouth)
Oh yes.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
You can finish the cake later.
 
SETA
It’s so delicious…it has a hint of orange, did you taste that? I added that. That hint of orange is mine.
 
(He takes her hand. She stops, a huge chunk in her mouth.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Chew.
 
(She does. The lights fade to near darkness.)

Scene III 
The lights fade up to reveal first the portrait. Still only the heads of SETA and ARAM can be seen. The rest of the portrait consists of children’s bodies. Downstage lights reveal MR. TOMASIAN at the table, reading form the Bible. SETA enters with a huge cake. She cuts a piece of colossal dimension and places it in front of him.
 
SETA
I made a new cake. Fudge cake. I got the recipe from Mrs. Binetti. It’s an American recipe.
 
(He looks.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN (Amused) 
This piece is so big, Seta.
 
SETA
I thought you would like it.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
It would stuff me.
 
SETA
It’s very special.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
It’s bigger than my foot.
 
SETA 
Maybe you will love it.
 
(He takes a bite.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN (Cheerfully) 
It’s wonderful cake. Thank you.
 
(They smile at each other.)
 
Delicious. Very. 
 
(He takes a second bite and chews. He remembers the time and looks at his watch.)
 
SETA 
Don’t you want to finish?
 
MR. TOMASIAN
I can finish it later.
 
SETA (Thinking) 
Oh. 
 
(Pause) 
 
The Binettis are going to start to sell ice cream in their grocery. Mr. Binetti bought a freezer.
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
Good luck. Freezers are expensive. It’s about time.
 
SETA 
You don’t want to finish the cake?
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
I can eat cake later. You’re well? You’re not sick? Seta?
 
SETA (Very quickly) 
Mrs. Binetti loves the portrait of her new baby, Nicky. She went on and on, oh, she’s funny, she is…her voice is so big and…musical…like big bells. I thought you would like the cake—you do like the cake?
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Seta, it’s time.
 
SETA 
Now? I think I’ll eat some cake. 
 
(She starts to gobble the cake.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
I see you like the cake.
 
SETA
(With cake in her mouth)
Oh yes.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
You can finish the cake later.
 
SETA
It’s so delicious…it has a hint of orange, did you taste that? I added that. That hint of orange is mine.
 
(He takes her hand. She stops, a huge chunk in her mouth.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Chew.
 
(She does. The lights fade to near darkness.)

Scene IV 
In the dim light MR. TOMASIAN and SETA remove most of their clothes and make a pile—shirt—blouse, pants, skirt, shoes—in a stark pool of light. They move toward an unseen bedroom carrying the clothes. A brief pause then a tired SETA returns in her slip, pours a glass of water at the table and drinks. She looks at her tired face in the hand mirror. ARAM enters and waits for her. She sees him. She follows him back toward the bedroom as the lights fade…

Scene V 
In the darkness we hear gasps and footsteps. MR. TOMASIAN enters. He is in his underwear; his hair is sticking straight up. At the table he pours water and drinks. SETA enters, walking slowly. She sees him in the dim light and laughs.
 
MR. TOMASIAN
What? What?
 
SETA (Laughing) 
Your hair!
 
(He picks up the mirror and looks. He sees his hair, and laughs with her. He sits, they laugh. He looks into the mirror again, and the laughter fades. On his face is a vacant stare. Pause. They look away from each other. Pause. The lights fade.)

Scene VI 
THE GENTLEMAN speaks to the audience.
 
GENTLEMAN
Gar oo chugar. So. There was and there was not. The Armenian and the Turk. On a road, a Turk moving north on his horse. An Armenian moving south on his. The wary Armenian spots the Turk, jumps from his horse, stands still, smiles even, and waits there while the Turk passes. Now how does the Armenian know that what he sees on the road, way away, is a Turk? He doesn’t know. But he gets off and waits anyway. Why? It’s expected. It’s tradition. It’s insurance.
 
(MR. TOMASIAN is putting on a massive, very old coat. First he smells it, touches it—then puts it on and stands, Bible in hand. A pause. He hears a noise. He rushes to put away the coat. SETA enters in a hat with gloves.)

SETA
It’s too hot for these. 
 
(Pause, looks at gloves)
 
April and 81! Do you believe?
 
(She fidgets.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Seta. Seta? Yes, all right. You’re back. Yes?
 
(She picks at the fabric of her glove.)
 
SETA 
(Pause.)
No, Mr. Tomasian.
 
(He is silent. He walks up and down. He shakes, holds himself.)
 
I know. I know.
 
(He holds his head up.)
 
Can you say…something? Anything, Mr. Tomasian. A word? A sound? 
 
(Pause)
 
A shout?
 
(He looks at her. She steps back, then removes her hat and gloves, puts the hat pin in the hat, and places them on the table as the lights fade.)

Scene VII 
THE GENTLEMAN speaks to the audience.
 
GENTLEMAN
Her people were from the city. Her father had been a gentleman and a lawyer. In him,these two were not incompatible. He was a soft man, round at the edges, with huge hands and a big laugh that took up the room. Her mother had been an educated woman, a teacher, lively and important to everyone. Books and stories and music were the daily life of the house. At parties and picnics, her mother sang and the neighbors, some of them Turks, applauded when she raised high that voice. The sound was water clear and whole and for a few moments it was forgotten…that she was a Christian woman, an Infidel, who would one day be crucified on a dust road leading nowhere out of the city. 
 
(THE GENTLEMAN produces a newspaper and holds it up.)
 
In the newspaper, Aram Tomasian kept looking for Americans. He knew Armenians, they were his tribe. But Americans were so often something else—foreigners, Poles, Swedes, Jews, Germans. He was especially fascinated by the photos, staring hard, trying to find the cleanest possible image of an American, the true American. As he learned to read, he read more and more and found ample uses for the newspaper.
 
(MR. TOMASIAN enters and takes the newspaper and sits. He reads. He is dressed formally, as if he just came from work. SETA comes in with a platter. On it sits a meal: bread, milk, and a lamb stew. She sets the table. MR. TOMASIAN reads.)
 
SETA
Stew. 
 
(Pause.) 
 
Lamb stew. You know, I gave the recipe to Mrs. Binetti. Just imagine that, Mr. Tomasian. I…gave her a recipe. Me. 
 
(She works quickly.) 
 
Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this. Oh, I don’t know, I suppose I can tell you this. It’s about Mrs. Binetti. She thinks you’re very…very. She said handsome. She will say almost anything. 
 
(Slight pause.) 
 
She has some shocking opinions I think—and about men. She talks and talks about men, ones I’ve never seen, from Italy…she knows about men. Now that it’s summer, she says the ice cream is very successful. Mr. Binetti can’t get the trucks to deliver enough. She said you came in last week and bought some. I hope you enjoyed it. Let me guess what flavor you chose, Mr. Tomasian. The new one. Butter pecan. No? Yes? Probably chocolate. I know you like chocolate. 

(Pause.)
 
So. Yes. I don’t think I even told you, Mr. Tomasian. I bought a new bolt of cloth—I thought I would make some new draperies for our room—it was leftover material, just part of a bolt, really but a very royal blue…oh, oh, I have a sample—a dress for my doll--let me show you—
 
(She finds her old doll, now in a bright dress of blue. She attempts to put the doll in his line of sight, but his gaze is centered on the paper. She holds the doll for a long moment.)
 
We were talking, Mrs. Binetti and me, we were just talking, you know. She has been working in the grocery for eight years. Eight years. She knows everyone. She knows the Poles, she knows the Italians, of course the Italians, she knows the Greeks, the Armenians, and she knows all the kids in the neighborhood…Just Tuesday she had to break up a fight…several boys…just outside the grocery…tough boys…but they looked scared too.
 
(MR. TOMASIAN puts down his paper and stands. He picks up the Bible. Silence.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Genesis. Chapter One, Verse 28. “Then God blessed them and said to them ‘Be fruitful and multiply; fill the earth and subdue it. Have dominion over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, the cattle and all the animals that crawl on the earth.’” Amen.
 
SETA 
Amen.
 
(They eat in silence.)
 
Is this, Mr. Tomasian, excuse me, please. I mean…just…is this going to be—permanent? Today is July 3rd and tomorrow is the Fourth of July and that will be, that will be ten whole weeks Mr. Tomasian. I wanted us, you know, I thought…this great American holiday, July 4th…a husband and wife, together, America and freedom…everyone talks about freedom—except the Americans of course. I mean, two Armenian people, lucky Armenian people…I look at you and I see you so unhappy. I do, Mr. Tomasian.
 
(MR. TOMASIAN stops eating and looks at her for the first time. She looks back.)
 
It’s me. Yes, it’s me. Someone would laugh, I think, at this…here a man sits and here a woman sits and day after day they just live, and one talks and the other is a mountain of sadness. I look at your eyes. I talk to your eyes.
 
(He turns his gaze down and resumes eating.)
 
I wait for your eyes. 
 
(Silence.) 
 
Mr. Tomasian. You have, Mr. Tomasian, you have…decided…decided. Yes. It is my fault, you have decided. 
 
(He eats.)
 
You. You are my family. 
 
(She waits. She resumes eating.) 
 
Good stew. Very good stew. Delicious, wonderful, full of meat, and rich stew. Don’t you think? A special stew, a lucky stew, the day before the Fourth of July. I know! I’ll make more, Mr. Tomasian, and we can bring it to the Madha, to the Armenian picnic. An American-Armenian stew…er Armenian-American—

(With a jerk he picks up the Bible. He searches quickly.)

MR. TOMASIAN (Evenly.) 
Timothy. Chapter Two. Verse One. “Let a woman learn in silence with all submission. For I do not suffer a woman to teach, or to exercise authority over the man: she is to keep quiet.”

(She eats enthusiastically. He studies her.)

SETA (Slowly, carefully, quietly) 
“Every day is…miserable…for…the…depressed. But a lighthearted man has a continual feast!” Proverbs. Mr. Tomasian, you know Proverbs. “When one finds a worthy wife, her value is far beyond pearls.” Chapter 31. And, and… “She opens her mouth in wisdom, and on her tongue is kindly counsel.” Chapter 31 also, my father liked Proverbs, Mr. Tomasian.
 
(He snatches the Bible and stands.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Proverbs Chapter 25 Verse 24. “It is better to dwell in a corner than in a roomy house with a quarrelsome woman.”
 
(He pounds the book shut. SETA stands carefully, slowly.)
 
SETA
Proverbs Chapter 25 Verse 20. “Like a moth in clothing, or a maggot in wood, sorrow gnaws at the human heart.”
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Genesis! Chapter 25 Verse 21. “Isaac prayed to the Lord for his wife because she was barren!”

SETA (Shaking) 
Proverbs—
 
MR. TOMASIAN 
“Isaac prayed to the Lord for his wife because she was barren!!”
 
SETA 
Prov—Prov—Prov—
 
MR. TOMASIAN
“Isaac prayed to the Lord for his wife because—she…was… barren!”
 
SETA
Stop! Stop! Please, Mr. Tomasian…stop…stop…stop…st…st…s…
 
(She sinks slowly to the ground. MR. TOMASIAN is startled, surprised. She picks up her plate from the table and brings it with her as she drags her chair across the room. She sits turned away from him. MR. TOMASIAN sits, bewildered. He breathes in sighs. A long pause. He picks up the paper and rattles it. He looks at her. He scans the paper. He looks at her. He returns to the paper.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN
I. Uh….What? Seta. You have never…I have never seen…
 
(She does not move. He returns to his paper.)
 
Did you see? Here in the paper it says that more than 200 Polish families have come to Milwaukee in 1925 so far. So easy for them, they just get off the boat and like happy puppets they walk into a new country. And the country, Seta—takes anybody, I suppose. Foreigners. They love foreigners. (He looks for a reaction and finds none.) Tomorrow the parade will be going down Wisconsin again. I suppose you know. I suppose Mrs. Binetti told you. (Pause.) Seta, there’s a picture of that fireman hero. He’s going to be in the parade. Big white face. Big head. German. I…am…talking…Seta. I am talking? (He waits.) This German looks bad. Bad light. Bad picture. Not skillfully done. Here it is American Fourth of July, and they have a German fireman hero. It’s funny. Where are the Americans in America? (He looks at her.) Seta, isn’t it a little funny? A little funny, Seta? (He quickly eats a spoonful of the stew.) All right. All right. I will say this. This I will say. Your stew. It’s good. Good. There. And the lamb…is…is…just right. Just right. Seta. Seta, won’t you look? At your husband? (He eats.) Good stew. Seta. Thank you? Thank you for this fine stew. I have never seen…You. You. Like this. (Pause.) I think the Greeks are starting. I had a Greek family this week. The first Greeks. They came to me. It’s reputation. Fair prices. And I make everyone handsome. Even Greeks. About Nick Binetti and his freezer. How much did he have to pay for that freezer is what I meant. It will be years before it’s paid. Pennies for the ice cream and hundreds for the freezer. It’s the grocery business. Inventory. Equipment. Money. More money—is what I meant. My business is simple. I take pictures. I have a skill. People pay for the skill. I don’t sell, the skill sells. 
 
(She is quiet.)
 
All right. Yes. You are right. I had some of Nick Binetti’s chocolate ice cream from his fancy freezer. Yes. I had some. It wasn’t so…bad. Yes, I had some. Seta. Seta. You are still my wife. My wife. Seta. (Slowly he stands, looking at her.) Maybe. Maybe you can come and finish your meal of lucky lamb stew. Here. (Pointing.) With me? No? No? No? Seta, you have never done this. I have never seen you do this. Did I? Did I? I was just frustrate—
 
(He takes a step toward her. She turns away.)
 
Oh, Seta. How can. How did? How?
 
(He takes another step. She does not move. Step by careful step he approaches her. Awkwardly, slowly, he puts his hand on hers. She does nothing. He turns and moves away.)
 
SETA
Aram.
(He stops.)
 
MR. TOMASIAN
Huh? You said my…? What?
 
SETA: (Firmly) 
Just Aram. Nothing else.
 
(He is bewildered. He looks at her. She looks up and out. Lights fade.)
 
END OF ACT ONE