Peachcake

Samantha stands at the oven, stirring a pot and talking on a long
corded phone. She is wearing an oversized t-shirt and thick socks.
Although she is in her mid-twenties, her face is haggard and sickly;
she seems to have aged prematurely.

Samantha: So it says on the packet 'Stir till it boils', then what do I
do? More salt. I don't think I can handle this. I'll just order a pizza
again. Nancy, I should be okay, right? I wanted the break up anyway,
but now that he's gone, I feel so useless. Everything I've ever held
dear seems to fall apart. No really, you don't need to come over again,
the drives is too long for you. It's been a bad week. That's all. I
lose my job, my boyfriend, and it's the tenth anniversary of Daniel's?
I can't even say the word 'death' yet. I still call it 'disappearance'.
Ten years. He'd have been thirty. (Laughs) My boyfriend leaves exactly
ten years after my brother. God doesn't seem to like me much. No,
really, don't come over, or maybe you should. I don't know, I just
don't want to be alone right now-

Doorbell rings. Samantha stares transfixed at the door, then she
relaxes and then says:
Sometimes I imagine the doorbell is ringing, and he's outside waiting.
For the past ten years, it's the waiting that's been killing me.

Doorbell rings again. She jumps, realizing it is ringing.

Samantha: Oh, actually, it is ringing. Hold on.

She crosses to the door, reaches out to open it, then hesitates.
Samantha: Who is it?

Voice: Samantha?

Samantha: Yes, who is this?

Voice: Michael.

Samantha: Michael Who?

Voice: Michael D'aggio. We dated back in High School.

Samantha: (does a double take) Oh. Hold on a second.

She stares at the door dazedly, then runs back and picks up the phone,
whispering urgently:
Nancy, Michael D'aggio is outside. Michael D'aggio. Remember
Psycho
Mike-o? Yes, the weirdo I dated, I think I was fifteen. What's he doing
here? (Doorbell rings again) I'll call you back.

She runs to the door, then remembers how she's dressed; turns and runs
back to the sofa, grabbing a pink dressing gown, letting her hair out
of the pony tail, flips it back, runs back to the door, and opens
it.

Samantha: Hi-

Michael D'aggio enters. He is in his late twenties, glowing with
supreme confidence. He is dressed like James Dean, and possesses the
same rugged charm. And yet, something is wrong. It feels like he's
trying too hard to be someone he isn't.

Samantha: Hello.

Michael: Hey Sam.

Samantha: You- you've changed so much. You look great...

Michael: Thanks, I've been working out. Have you gained weight?

Samantha: Would you... I ? would you like to sit down?

Michael: (Doesn't sit) It's good to see you, Sam.

Samantha: Yes, it's been?

Michael: Ten years to the day.

Samantha: Didn't know you were counting. I suppose you heard about my
brother.

Michael: Yes, he was reported missing the day after we broke up. I was
very sorry to hear about it.

Samantha: Sometimes I try to remember what I said to him that day to
make him leave. I feel that I'm to blame.

Michael: Have the police found anything yet?

Samantha: They gave up a long time ago.

Michael: And you. When did you give up?

Samantha: I didn't. Please sit down.

Michael: You must give up, sooner or later.

Samantha: Would you like to sit down?

She points him towards the couch, picking up piles of clothes and
magazines, then dumping them on the floor. He watches her and then sits
down in the armchair.

Michael: How are you, Sam? You don't look too good.

Samantha: Can I get you something to drink?

Michael: Got your heart broken?

Samantha: (shaken) Can you tell?

Michael: I'm familiar with the symptoms. You dumped me, remember?

Samantha: I'll fix us two beers.

She crosses upstage to the kitchen cupboard. Once her back is turned,
Michael relaxes his pose and turns to look around the room. The James
Dean fa?ade is gone. His face is contorted in a mixture of ecstasy and
fear, as if he's been waiting for this moment for years. Samantha
returns and he immediately assumes the affected air again.

Samantha: Here you go. I love the jacket.

Michael: Pure leather. People tell me I look like James Dean. You used
to love him as a kid, remember?

Samantha: Yes, then I moved onto David Cassidy.

Michael: Yes, but you still have a place for him in your heart.

Samantha: Right now, there is no heart.

Michael: I thought it would please you. The way I'm dressed.

Samantha: I? So, what brings you here?

Michael: I was in the neighborhood.

An uncomfortable silence follows.

Samantha: I'm so sorry about the way I look, but I wasn't really
expecting anyone at this hour.

Michael: No, I'm sorry for coming so late, and without even calling
you. You must hate me.

Samantha: I don't.

Michael: You look beautiful, give or take a pound of fat or two.

Samantha: Thank you.

Another pause.

Samantha: How could I have gained weight? I haven't eaten anything all
week!

Michael: I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. The last time I saw you,
you were Twiggy thin, that's all.

Samantha: I read about you in the papers a few years ago.

Michael: Yes, I have my own firm, D'aggio enterprise.

Samantha: That's very impressive. You're young and successful. You must
have a wonderful life.

Michael: Yes, but success isn't everything. I get lonely
sometimes.

Samantha: Can I fix you another drink?

Michael: What about you? You were going to make it big on Broadway,
what happened?

Samantha: I teach night school. I gave up on Broadway when Daniel
disappeared.

Michael: I'm making you uncomfortable.

Samantha: No, no. I'm surprised to see you after all this time, that's
all.

Michael: (Looks around the room) You live alone now.

Samantha: Yes. My boyfriend moved out a few days ago.

Michael: What about your neighbors?

Samantha: They're all half dead. They never bother me.

Michael: Good. (Pause. He leans forwards) You still have great legs.
Have you considered modeling? There's an agency I'm sure would be
interested in you...

Samantha: Thank you. I'm flattered, but no.

Michael: Why? You have an amazing bone structure. (Reaches forwards and
tilts her chin) Your skin is still velvet cream. You could make some
money (looks around the room), which I'm sure you need.

Samantha: I don't feel like selling myself just yet.

Michael: It's not prostitution, you know. As a matter of fact, I've
done some modeling myself. Made six hundred dollars in one day. I still
get offers all the time, but I don't need them, now that I'm a
multimillionaire.

Samantha: Michael, why are you here? After ten years, you show up out
of nowhere in the middle of the night, just to tell me I'm fat?

Michael: Now, now, don't go misquoting me, all I said was-

Samantha: I don't care what you said, I want to know why you're here,
and why you're being so brutal to me.

Michael: The last time I saw you, you were spitting in my face and
saying you never wanted to see me again. I find it rather hard to be
friendly to you.

Samantha: Then why did you come? Why are you here?

Michael: (Hesitates then sighs). Don't laugh, but I have some
things
that belong to you. (Slowly and deliberately pulls a tape out of his
pocket)

Samantha: A tape?

Michael: Not just a tape, Sam, it's our tape. You gave it to me ten
years ago and I never gave it back. I didn't want to, I felt very
possessive about it, all I had left of you. Remember 'The touch of your
lips upon my brow'?

Samantha: You came over to give me a tape?

Michael: I've listened to it every single day since you dumped me.
Doesn't that mean anything to you?

Samantha: Michael.

Michael: You were really something then. You walked with a bounce and
had a smile like sunshine. But you were one hell of an ice queen. You
just ripped me apart.

Samantha: I was only fifteen.

Michael: But you managed to take away the little self-respect I had
left. And it took me a very long time to heal.

Samantha: I may have been too harsh...

Michael: Harsh? You told me that you'd never loved me, that you were
ashamed of being seen with me, that your brother hated my guts...

Samantha: I was fifteen. We were only seeing each other casually and
then you jumped on me with all this freaky talk of long-term commitment
and dependence, and you pressured me...

Michael: Pressured you? I loved you!

Samantha: Isn't that the same thing?

Michael: And then you went and blamed it all on your brother, telling
me he'd ratted out on you to your parents, and they didn't approve. You
said we could never be together while he was still alive.

Samantha: What?

Michael: You don't remember saying 'He is so fucking annoying. I wish
you would just kill him?'

Samantha: But I was only joking.

Michael: Of course you were. Funny how he disappeared straight
afterwards.

Samantha: Don't you think I know that? Don't you think it's been eating
at me every day for the last decade that I'm to blame? That it's all my
fault? Sometimes I wake up, and it hits me so hard, I can't get out of
bed.

Michael: You hated him.

Samantha: Of course I didn't, Michael. He was my brother. I was a
spoilt brat. Now look at me; I'm no ice queen no more. I've been living
in a continuous state of guilt and waiting all these years. I can never
move on until I know what happened to him.

Silence.

Michael: So you feel guilty?

Samantha: Yes, and I'm so sorry.

Silence.

Michael: I forgive you.

Samantha: I didn't mean you, I meant my brother.

Michael: Peachcake.

Samantha: What?

Michael: (stands up). You used to call me peachcake, and I would call
you honeybun. But I felt more like Beauty and the Beast.

Samantha: And now you're a multimillionaire, and I'm wearing a moth
eaten T-shirt.

Michael: (crosses to a stereo system on the Right side of the couch)
Does this thing work?

Samantha: What are you doing?

Michael: You made this list once, in English Writing class, of what
Prince Charming should be. You wrote, 'Tall, James Dean, leather
jacket. Smart, sexy and a multimillionaire'. Look at me now, Sam. I've
worked and fought so hard for the last ten years to get here, and I
overcame every obstacle that stood in my way, in our way.

Samantha: What do you want from me?

Michael: Well, I was hoping for your heart, your soul, and your body.
But most of all I was hoping for an apology. I'm ready to forgive you
for all the pain you caused me. All I need to hear is 'Sorry'.

(Long Silence. Samantha stares at him, refusing to give in.)

Say it, Samantha. For God's sake, just say you're sorry.

(In the silence that follows, Michael's face crumbles in despair and
exhaustion, his voice suddenly takes on an ice-cold tone, full of
resignation )

But now I'll just settle for one last dance. (She hesitates.) It's the
least you owe me, Sam.

Music fills the room. Michael offers her his hand, she hesitates.

Michael: It's me. Psycho Mike-o.

Samantha: (giggles) Oh God, how did you find out about that?

Michael: It got back to me. Everything always did.

Silence. The couple moves to the jazz song in a slow awkward way.
Samantha slowly relaxes, until her cheek rests on his shoulder.

Michael: Remember the day we went to the castle on the beach? And we
walked around the rocks and the waves got us wet? Your brother ran
after us calling 'Sam! Sam!' But you just laughed and held my
hand.

Samantha: Yes. We were so young then.

Michael: We still are. Funny how neither of us has managed to grow up,
since that day you-

Samantha: (over 'day') I dumped you. Yes.

Michael: You're still beautiful, Sam. Any man would be a fool to let
you go. I was a fool once, and I'm not-"

Phone rings.

Samantha: That must be Nancy. I was supposed to call her.

Michael: Nancy? You're still friends with Fancy Nancy? She always hated
me.

Samantha: I should answer it.

Michael: Let it ring, you can call her back. This dance isn't over
yet.

Samantha: I suppose I can. (Phone stops ringing. They continue dancing,
she stares into his eyes) You've changed somehow.

Michael: You like me more now, do you?

Samantha: Right now, I just feel so vulnerable? I need a friend.

Michael: There's only me.

Samantha: Yes, there is. I suppose you'll have to do.

She leans forwards to kiss him, he suddenly pulls back.

Michael: No, I can't.

Samantha: You know you want to. I can see it in your eyes.

Michael: That's not what I'm here for.

Samantha: You're here to kiss me.

Michael: No, Sam, not anymore.

Samantha: Kiss me.

She leans forwards to kiss him, their lips touch before he breaks away,
and pushes her violently off him. He then sits down on the couch, lays
his head in his hands and breathes in heavily.

Samantha: What?

Michael: Please, don't make this any harder on me. That's not what I'm
here for.

Samantha: (aggravated) Then why are you here?

Michael: I have something else to give you. I don't want to, but I have
to. I must.

He reaches into his pocket and hands her a silver chain necklace,
avoiding her eyes.

Samantha: (nearly falls over) That's Daniel's. That's my
brother's.

Michael: He asked me to give it to you.

Samantha: (grabs the chain necklace) Daniel. You saw him? He gave this
to you? My brother's alive! (She jumps onto the couch, and falls into
his arms) My brother's alive! You found Daniel! You found him, and now
you've brought him back to me! Oh I love you! (She covers his face with
kisses, he cringes, and she starts crying herself) Yes you have
changed, I never loved you, but now I do, my Prince Charming, you've
saved me. Ten years! My brother's alive! He must have changed so much!
Or maybe still the same! Oh, where has he been all this time? I'm going
to see him again! (Laughs through her tears) I gave him this chain as a
birthday present, and he promised me he'd never take it off, even if
they had to kill him first. He was always so hard-headed, he never took
it off... (Slows down. Looks at Michael) He never took it off. Not even
in the shower.

Michael: I took it off him.

Silence. Samantha looks at Michael, and suddenly she understands, her
face crumbling with horror.

Samantha: You.

Michael: Remember Samantha, I'm a one girl guy.

Pause. Samantha suddenly jumps over the couch and rushes over to the
phone. Michael runs after her, grabs the phone; they both fall to the
floor. He grabs the phone and throws it out of her reach, then pulls
her up, pinning her hands to her sides, as she fights back furiously,
kicking, biting for all her life.

Samantha: You bastard. You did it.

Michael: Did you think I was joking when I said I'd do anything for
you? You told me to kill him, you told me with your eyes and cherry
mouth to kill him and I did. Now it's your turn.

Samantha: You killed Daniel! You killed Daniel!

Michael slaps her face, she crumbles, and he holds her gently in his
arms, although she's still struggling.

Michael: You asked me to. And I did it. Remember that movie 'High
Society', where Bing Crosby tells Grace Kelly he's a one-girl guy?
Well, he waited, even if it took him years, even when she wanted to
marry someone else, he still waited for his turn, and he got her in the
end. Grace Kelly, the ice queen, melted in the end.

Samantha: Let me go.

Michael: No, I let you go once, and I've waited for ten years to have
you back again. I'm not letting go anymore.

Samantha: I'm sorry, please, just-

Michael: You should always think first, Sam, before you kill a little
boy on the inside. If only you hadn't been so brutally careless?

Samantha: I'll scream. The neighbors will hear me.

Michael: You won't have time.

(He holds her against him in a tight hug, her chin rests against his
shoulder, as he brushes the hair back off her face.) You were the most
beautiful thing I had ever met, and for a moment, you were mine. You
were my love, and I wasn't Psycho Mike-o anymore. But when you dumped
me, all you cared about was your own freedom. You never thought about
me, how it would hurt me. Because I was an ugly little prick, you
thought I didn't have a heart you could break.

Samantha: I didn't think-

Michael: Of course you didn't think. You never did. It was all about
Samantha. You're right, there is no heart.

Samantha: No, don't do this. You didn't come here to kill me.

Michael: No, you're right. I didn't. I came back because I'd hoped that
ten years would make you a nicer person. But you're not. Everybody
loves you then leaves you, have you ever wondered why? It's because
you're too cold to touch.

Samantha: You can't kill me. You love me.

Michael: Samantha, I love you with all my soul. But you wouldn't even
give me an apology. That's all I asked for. Just a few humble words: I
am sorry for hurting you, Michael, please forgive me.

Samantha: I am sorry for hurting you, Michael, please forgive me.

Michael: And even now you think only of yourself, of getting out of
this. Do you really think I will let you go? So that you can run and
tell everyone what bad little me did for angel you? So that they lock
me up, and I rot in a cage, festering with love for you? Of course not.
I have to get over you, I need closure.

Samantha: Fine, kill me, you sick little fucker. But you never had me,
you never could, and you never will. You're too much of a shit to be
worthy of me. Just try and beat that, you scum.

Michael: Me, scum? (Shakes his head sadly). After all I've done for
you. I nearly broke my back getting your brother down into the
basement. I thought you were worth it. Guess I was wrong.

Samantha: (realizes there's no escape) Peachcake, please. Let's
pretend. Please, one last dance. I'm your honeybun, let me kiss you. We
can be fifteen again, and I promise you, this time I'll be nice.

Michael: Man, I am so over you now.

Samantha: I'm sorry. I am so sorry.

Michael: Sorry is not enough.

Lights fade to a soft blue light on Michael holding Samantha, her back
against his chest, his arm curled around her neck in a possessive
way.

Michael: You're not that hot anyway.

Fade out to Black.

Samantha: Please-

The End