Yo-Yo Boing!

— She is the most poetic human being.

— With a tragic sense of reality.

— We are misplaced. They did not even ring me to tell me what they did to my daughter. A tragic twist of fate. Clorox, I will never forget opening night in Paris, when the leading man drank champagne from the glass in his hand, and cried: Clorox! Then I swallowed, and cried: Clorox! That was the twisted night of my fate.

— Baudelaire would have fallen in love with you.

— No, he liked helpless, weak women.

— But you are helpless. Bring Sarah’s x-rays to a specialist in New York and see if her bones are healing properly.

— I’m a widow — no compassion for a widow. They write letters to the driver, those reckless runts—thank God nothing happened to you, Marla. No mention of Sarah who is in a body cast. Now, what type of friends are they? No manners, no continuity. Thank God nothing happened to you, Marla. And their parents are telling them shoo-shoo away from Sarah, she might sue.

— You should sue. Hospitals will suck you dry. If Marla ran the red light, Marla should be held accountable. That is what insurance policies are for.

— In Oxford nothing like this would happen. Wolves, instead of seeing a beautiful girl, they see blood, meat. Damned Americans, I cannot believe we created this monster.

— Well, as Goya said, el sueño de la razón produce monstruos.

— And science created Frankenstein. How much longer will I be able to stand this bloody country without collapsing. I’m a widow. Often, I often wonder, what would become of her without me.

— I would take care of her.

— And who will take care of you. All she longs for is continuity, friendship. Sarah is half British, her manners — and it is clearly a matter of manners — for we are the makers of manners. Often, I often wonder, how can manners exist in a country without continuity.

— They can’t.

— So that is what you have found, my darling. Instead of appreciating beauty, courage, intelligence, they drool for blood. I must carry her back to her roots. Although she plans to bring the Globe Theater to this cold, callous country where I have rooted myself — for an ill-fated roll of the dice. That is what we have in common. We are misplaced. It is all so frightful, so fragile. My darling, how can we live?

— Todo pende de un hilo.

— De un hilo. How do we bear such burdens?

— Mira, Chipi, again, they did it to us again. The red stamp. 15 % gratuities included.

— Why is the tip included on the bill?

— I’m sorry, I thought you were tourists.

— Tell me, where am I from?

— I’m sorry. I really don’t know.

— New York.

— You were speaking Spanish.

— New York speaks Spanish. I want to know what is the criteria for determining who are tourists.

— It’s up to each waiter. We’re bound to offend some people.

— Who. You’re not worried about offending Spanish speaking people. Everybody gets the red stamp, or nobody. I’ll write to The New York Times about this establishment.

— Our apologies. We’ll return the tip.

— That’s right, missy, no tip because of the discriminatory policies.

— Our apologies. Cognac on the house.

— You’re always yackity-yacking about discrimination and now you’re suddenly at a loss for words?

— Yes, because you’re cheap. It’s discrimination against stinginess. Look how you’re dressed. Tattered jeans and sweat socks. Have a sense of reality. We shared a dish.

— It’s not a matter of money. I’m a very generous tipper.

— At least now we get cognac. You were counting pennies, and I was hiding my face. I don’t have make-up on. What if somebody recognizes me. That’s why I kept quiet. If I were beautiful today, I would have defended you.

— Defended me? I was defending you. It was because of your accent. They discriminate against Hispanics. Face it, you know it exists, but when someone slaps your face, you freeze and fall mute. Y cuando no hay ningún problema tú lo creas. Yo pensé, so what? It’s true, you don’t like to be on committees.

— But, Crespo also told Arnaldo she doesn’t like committees either, but she goes. You see the bias against me. She is allowed to say she doesn’t like them, but she won’t hire me because I don’t like them. If she doesn’t want to be like me, why does she have to say she is like me.

— I’m good—she says—I don’t like committees but I have to go so I go.

Está con Dios y el diablo. Los in-betweenies me matan. If I don’t like them, I won’t go.

— You can’t admit that you won’t go.

— Don’t shake my confidence.

— I know you’ll say it wrong.

— Not if you write it down. I’ll read it to Migdalia on the phone.

— How can you talk about the search committee as an outside evaluation when you and Crespo are the search committee?

— Okay, who told you they are the search committee?

— Vox populi. Fuenteovejuna.

— Then you have a case.