More Yen Than Zen
November 6, 1989

Scene: ROGER'S very green and sleek apartment. HOLLY and a wet ROGER enter through the front door. He limps, and clutches HOLLY as tightly as she'll let him. She looks disgusted, almost as if she's ready to say, "Zsst, foiled again!" but she doesn't. As they get well into the room, she makes him let go of her, and says . . .

HOLLY: There. You're home. Goodbye. (She turns to leave).

ROGER: You're not leaving!

HOLLY: That's right.

ROGER: You know, you could have killed me back there.

HOLLY: (sarcastic) Well, there's always next time.

ROGER: Look, you push me off a bridge, you break my foot--maybe! The least you can do is give me a hand until I get settled!

HOLLY: (yelling) I don't owe you a damned thing!!!

ROGER: You pushed me off a bridge!!!

HOLLY: You got yourself up on that railing, Roger. I only have so much control.

ROGER: Look, I'm soaking wet. I can't walk. Please, give me a hand.

HOLLY: Oh, you've got a lot of nerve. Where's the bedroom?

ROGER raises his eyebrows.

HOLLY: I'm going to give you a towel, and a robe.

ROGER: Ah, thank you. Uh, right around there. Holly, ah, you must be cold, too. I've got some Armanyac. Vintage.

HOLLY: Don't push your luck, Roger. And don't try and charm me--you're lucky I'm in the same room with you.

ROGER: (meekly) Right. Okay.

As HOLLY disappears around a corner, ROGER breaks into the most delightful smile, and begins to hop about on his feet. As he settles back on his chaise lounge, he says to himself ...

ROGER: It's working! It's working!!!

NOTE: Throughout these scenes, HOLLY is almost always sarcastic, often with her hands on her hips or her arms crossed, pacing about and looking over ROGER as often as at him. ROGER is preternaturally, comically meek, because he has intentions ...

As the scene opens, ROGER is in a robe, drying his hair with a towel and walking around near a railing in a raised section of the room. When he hears HOLLY'S voice, he clutches the railing and returns to faking his limp.

HOLLY: (as she comes around the corner with a tea tray) Do you realize you have nothing in that kitchen but herb tea and tofu?

ROGER: And Armanyac.

HOLLY: You don't even have a boullion cube.

ROGER: Boullion? You want boullion?

HOLLY: I thought you'd feel better if you had something warm in you.

ROGER: Oh, well, thank you for your concern.

HOLLY: Well, too bad you don't have the boullion, my concern has run out.

ROGER gives a loud scream.

HOLLY: Now what?

ROGER: Nothing. Nothing. I'll be all right. (He pauses.) Uh, uh, uh, um . . .

HOLLY: What?!

ROGER: Could you just, um, help me to the sofa?

HOLLY gives an exasperated sigh, and crosses the room to ROGER. He clutches her shoulder fiercely, but she practically dumps him on the chaise lounge.

ROGER: Thank you again.

HOLLY: I hope you're gonna call the doctor about this--or are you just gonna chant your mantra?

ROGER: Oh, I'm sure I'll . . . I'll be better. (He pauses--then brightly, but not too brightly) In the morning. Look, whatever happens, I don't want you to feel guilty, okay?

HOLLY: Guilty? You don’t want me to feel guilty?

ROGER: Look, I understand. It was just an impulse.

HOLLY: Roger, you jumped up on the railing of that bridge and started spouting off about my inner feelings. It was not an impulse to push you off; it was a thrill!

ROGER: (meekly) Right.

HOLLY: I should've left you on the river bank.

ROGER: But you didn't.

HOLLY: Don't read any meaning into that. I'm just not the sort of callous jerk you are.

ROGER: Holly, I know how you feel.

HOLLY is pacing in front of him, only occasionally looking at him.

HOLLY: You couldn't possibly know how I feel.

ROGER: Could you possibly just, just, just feel my head? I feel like I have a fever.

HOLLY gives him a wry, skeptical look.

ROGER: Okay, okay, but, but . . . Could you just stay one, one, one . . . please just stay just a little bit?

HOLLY'S jaw actually drops in shock, and she turns around.

ROGER: Where are you going?

HOLLY: I'm going to go get you a blanket. You do have them, don't you? Or is this too Western for your aesthetics? You probably sleep on a solar-heated futon with aloe fronds to hold in your natural warmth.

ROGER: In the closet, there is a real, old-fashioned blanket. And like I keep saying, "Thank you."

HOLLY: You notice I haven't said, "You're welcome."

ROGER: I've noticed, but it doesn't bother me.

HOLLY: Fine. Grand. Just don't go into shock or anything. Florence Nightingale I'm not.

As HOLLY goes back around the corner, ROGER reflects for a minute, and pleased--but without any hint of smugness--he says to himself ...

ROGER: She cares!

HOLLY comes back into the room with a blanket, to find ROGER in meditation. She sighs as she begins to put it around his shoulders.

HOLLY: Oh, brother.

ROGER: Sorry. Force of habit.

HOLLY: Well, if you're strong enough to ohm, you don't need me anymore.

ROGER: Look, I know you think that it's . . . an affectation, but meditation really does help.

HOLLY: You're suggesting I try it?

ROGER: You might.

HOLLY: You know what I think?

ROGER: No, but I'm sure you'll tell me.

HOLLY: I think your fascination for things Eastern has more to do with yen than with Zen, you know what I mean? I think it has more to do with these expensive bronzes than any kind of . . ."spiritual questing."

ROGER: No, no, now look, I don't mind your making fun of it, but you're wrong. Meditation has given me a balance I've never had in my life before. (He is "limping" across the room as he says this). See, I know that you think that I'm still stuck in the same place . . . I was when we were together all those many years ago, but I'm not. See, the discipline . . . has helped me . . uh . . . . lay my demons to rest. (He sits down near the tea set and takes up a cup. Looking over the cup at her . . .). Even my demons about you.

HOLLY: Mazel tov. (She moves to pick up her things.)

ROGER: Look, look, Holly. Don't you think that perhaps we could bury the hatchet perhaps not in each other's head for Blake's sake?

HOLLY: Well, gee Roger, I don't think so. I'm . . I'm really not clear. You know, I haven't meditated in, I dunno, fifteen years.

ROGER: Well, you could start. I have a book, uh, the Tao Te Ching.

(ROGER'S obnoxiously funny but very "Eastern"-sounding doorbell rings.)

HOLLY: What, am I hallucinating?

ROGER: That's very funny. That's my doorbell. Do you think you could (He gestures to his doorbell, and then to his supposedly "broke" foot) answer that?

HOLLY: But of course. (She puts her hands together and bows from the waist). Is that part of your philosophy--ordering women around?

ROGER looks mildly resigned, as if to say, "Well, we men must put up with these things for our pleasures." HOLLY opens the door to find a very confused PHILLIP. Phillip is already puzzled, and looking for BLAKE, and he certainly doesn't expect to see Holly opening Roger's door! He comes in and asks them about Blake, causing ROGER to lose his concentration and get up and walk. Of course, that makes HOLLY blow up and leave, spoiling a whole evening's worth of petty machinations and high hopes.

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