Lack of appetite
[ Principal ] [ Arriba ] [ Lack of appetite ] [ Modesty ] [ State ]

• Traslated into English by:  Gwynne Edwards

Characters:

SCENE 1

(HUSBAND and MRS. PERROTTA sitting at the table. They eat very little. Or they have finished eating. The television is switched on. Its background noise emphasizes the pauses.)

MRS. PERROTTA: Did I tell you what happened yesterday?

HUSBAND: I think so, yes.

Pause.

MRS. PERROTTA: I thought perhaps I hadn’t.

Pause.

MRS. PERROTTA: I was so tired when I got back.

Pause.

MRS. PERROTTA: I went out last night. That’s why I wanted to know if I’d told you already. Have you ever thought of adopting?

HUSBAND: Of course.

MRS. PERROTTA: We could have a child. To be able to have a child without any complications! Lately I’ve been thinking of adopting.

HUSBAND: Whatever you want.

MRS. PERROTTA: Of course, a father always prefers a son, a genuine son.

HUSBAND: I really don’t mind.

MRS. PERROTTA: Would you like to talk about it? I am the mother, after all. I’m entitled to say one or two things.

HUSBAND: I don’t mind what you do. Adopt if you want.

Pause.

HUSBAND: Alright. Say what’s on your mind.

Pause.

MRS. PERROTTA: Oh, it’s just a passing phase. I got excited about it. Silly really. A momentary thing. The idea of adoption, all the formalities. When you adopt, you can choose the sex of the child. We could have a little girl. That would be fantastic! I thought we could talk about it.

HUSBAND: Fine.

MRS. PERROTTA: Let’s leave it. I’m feeling so hungry.

HUSBAND: Not at all! If we don’t agree on something, we have to face up to it. Things that I’m all for, and you aren’t. I’m not for putting something off.

MRS. PERROTTA: What a strange man you are! I’m not asking for a divorce.

HUSBAND: No need to exaggerate. A married couple ought to discuss certain things. It’s the normal thing to do. Even if they are painful. I mean we are talking about adoption, not the war in Bosnia.

MRS. PERROTTA: You said it was all the same to you.

HUSBAND: I said it was alright. I even said I’d often thought of adoption.

MRS. PERROTTA: So? What are you saying?

Pause.

HUSBAND: Well, we could talk.

MRS. PERROTTA: Ah!

Pause.

MRS. PERROTTA: Is it Bosnia or Serbia?

Pause.

MRS. PERROTTA: Sorry. We agree, then? We could adopt.

HUSBAND: Yes.

Pause.

HUSBAND: You said you were hungry. What did you say?

SRA.: I could eat a lamb of God.

HUSBAND: I could make some noodles. Or some more omelette.

SRA.: It doesn’t matter. I’ve had too much already.

HUSBAND: Me too.

MRS. PERROTTA: Isn’t that Yugoslavia?

Pause.

MRS. PERROTTA: We’ve got some oranges.

HUSBAND: they look good. Used to be Yugoslavia.

MRS. PERROTTA: Do you want one?

HUSBAND: I’m fine. I’ll get some chocolate later.

MRS. PERROTTA: We’ve got some.

HUSBAND: Mmh.

Pause.

MRS. PERROTTA: So you thought about adopting?

HUSBAND: I think about lots of things.

MRS. PERROTTA: When?

HUSBAND: And amongst other things I imagined this house with one or two small children. Really small. And they go to kindergarten, they get a Degree, they take care of us when we’re old. They give us our meals.

MRS. PERROTTA: I’m still young.

HUSBAND: Of course you are. I imagined other things too.

MRS. PERROTTA: You ought to take up some sport. Tennis or something. You think too much because you’ve got nothing to do.

Pause.

HUSBAND: Are you going out?

MRS. PERROTTA looks at him, surprised, in silence. After a moment:

MRS. PERROTTA: I am. Yes. Of course. I’m going out.

SCENE 2

MRS. PERROTTA, an office.

EMPLOYEE: Take a seat.

MRS. PERROTTA: I’m perfectly alright.

EMPLOYEE: You wanted to see me?

MRS. PERROTTA: Take a look at this gas-bill. You sent it to me. You did.

EMPLOYEE: That’s right.

MRS. PERROTTA: Well. That’s it.

EMPLOYEE: I don’t follow.

MRS. PERROTTA: You follow perfectly well.

EMPLOYEE: (Closing the door) They said you caused a scene at the inquiry desk. But there’s no mistake in the bill.

MRS. PERROTTA: Oh, no. I’m sure. I’ll have it back, if you don’t mind. I wouldn’t want to lose it. (She puts it in her purse.)

Pause.

EMPLOYEE: Well then?

MRS. PERROTTA: That’s why I’ve come.

EMPLOYEE: There’s no mistake. It’s your address, your name... you are Mrs. Perrotta.

MRS. PERROTTA: My name doesn’t matter. In these cases I prefer anonymity.

EMPLOYEE: In which cases?

MRS. PERROTTA: Don’t make it more difficult. I know very well who you all are, so you ought to know what I’m looking for.

EMPLOYEE: We all?

MRS. PERROTTA: I’ll say no more. If I’d made a mistake, you’d have thrown me out. I want to give it a try. I know you accept new members.

EMPLOYEE: Why don’t you say what it is you want?

MRS. PERROTTA: I’d rather not. I find it embarrassing. I hoped you’d tell me what I have to do. I imagine the premises are somewhere else.

EMPLOYEE: Would you like a coffee?

MRS. PERROTTA: Please.

EMPLOYEE: (Over the intercom.) Sara. (He sits with his arms crossed on the desk and his head resting on his arms.)

Pause.

SARA: Hello.

MRS. PERROTTA: Hello.

SARA: I’m Sara.

MRS. PERROTTA: Good to meet you.

Pause.

SARA: Well...?

EMPLOYEE: I don’t know. She...

MRS. PERROTTA: It’s not easy for us to talk about it, I know. That makes me feel a little easier. I was terrified on my way here. I’m a normal woman, like the rest of you, I suppose. I have a husband, and a family. Sometimes I go out. I have my women friends. They are normal too. We all get embarrassed. My friends are married too, but at times they’ve been unfaithful. We’ve never had group sex. My husband’s rather conservative. I’m sorry, but someone had to start.

SARA: Please. Go on.

MRS. PERROTTA: Still, we are quite independent. And we’ve brought up our children to be independent too, so they can decide what’s good or bad. Anyway, when it comes to... desire...

SARA: You mean sex... not to worry!

MRS. PERROTTA: Yes, that. No one can say: this is good and that’s bad.

EMPLOYEE: How many children?

MRS. PERROTTA: There are some things I’d rather not... just in case... you know what I mean. I could quite easily take my handbag and leave, and we’d never have set eyes on each other. I don’t even know your names.

SARA: Sara.

MRS. PERROTTA: That’s what you say.

EMPLOYEE: Your name is on the bill, Mrs. Perr...

MRS. PERROTTA: Please! Don’t say it aloud. Don’t spoil it. A name is a name. Some names aren’t even that. A married woman acquires it, it belongs to someone else.

SARA: Let’s take our time. What do you want to talk about?

MRS. PERROTTA: I know you arrange... certain practices...

SARA: Sadomasochism?

Pause.

MRS. PERROTTA: My women friends have had sex amongst themselves, as well as with strangers. We’ve talked about it a lot. When we get together. It’s been fine.

SARA: And they suggested you come here?

MRS. PERROTTA: I’d have liked to have come with my husband. But he didn’t want to. I suppose he gets embarrassed... in front of me. It’s quite some time since we had normal relations. To all appearances we have a happy marriage. Today we had a terrible argument, over lunch. About certain painful matters that go back years. He said I was ageing more quickly than him. And it’s true. He plays a lot of sport, and I fancy he has a very active sexual life, outside marriage, of course. I do nothing, except meet my friends.

SARA: You don’t have a job?

MRS. PERROTTA: I used to. Then I got pregnant and had to give up work, and then I got pregnant again much quicker than I thought. You can imagine. I was stuck at home except for meeting my friends. Magalí, Romita. I want to try some hard sex. I want them to tie me to the table and bite my cunt. I want to dress in leather and handle a whip. I want to discipline men and women, with and without pain. I have lots of fantasies about that.

SARA: Since when?

MRS. PERROTTA: A good question.

EMPLOYEE: Would you like some water?

MRS. PERROTTA: Please.

EMPLOYEE: (Over the intercom) Virgil.

MRS. PERROTTA: What about you? Do you have a family?

SARA: We live in the suburbs, on the way to Ezeiza.

MRS. PERROTTA: Ah yes. My place is nothing to write home about. It suits us for the moment.

Enter Virgil.

EMPLOYEE: Ah, Virgil. Come in, come in.

MRS. PERROTTA: Hello.

EMPLOYEE: Right, we’ll leave you for a bit. Give us a call if you want something. We’ll be next door.

SARA: Chau. See you later.

MRS. PERROTTA: Bye, Sara.

EMPLOYEE: See you soon.

SARA and EMPLOYEE go out. VIRGIL remains standing, facing MRS. PERROTTA, who is seated.

MRS. PERROTTA: So you are Virgil? They’ve told me a lot about you. Maybe you know my husband. He’s a very nice man, about forty-five. Small glasses. A metre seventy. Dresses smartly. Just this morning he said to me: “If you see Virgil, or if he’s introduced to you, give him my regards. And tell him I managed to get him what he spoke about the other day.” No, what he said was: “What we spoke about the other day, it’s at Horacio’s.” Horacio’s a friend of his. He has a villa near Lomas. He goes there a lot because there’s a tennis-court. But I expect you know who Horacio is, I mean you all must know each other. Very well indeed! I don’t know if I could spend a week there... I’m not sure... The first time round a long week-end might be better. There are two in June. And I mean, the weather will be good. You see, I work in schools during the week. It’s just a trial, after all. And maybe I’ll hate it. Have you met my eldest son? He must have been there sometime, with my husband. I haven’t spoken to him for quite some time. It’s so stupid. We just grew apart. Like all mothers, I suppose I misjudged him, I interfered with things that had nothing to do with me when I shouldn’t have. Parents always want to take charge of their children’s moral outlook. As if we weren’t all independent of each other! But it’s much more difficult with one’s own children. I’ve got two boys. You wouldn’t know the younger one. If only we’d never had them! You don’t have children, do you, Virgil? Have you had a vasectomy? Forgive my asking, it’s not really relevant, but I just thought it might have to do with other questions that are, and it wouldn’t be right to ask later on when things have gone much further. Anyway, if you decide to have a child one day and you can’t, there’s always another option. (Long pause.) There’s always another option, Virgil. (Lights down.)

SCENE 3

MRS. PERROTTA in a square. A GYPSY.

GYPSY: Hello.

MRS. PERROTTA: Hello.

GYPSY: Show me your hand.

MRS. PERROTTA: Of course, of course.

GYPSY: A very clear future, full of roads, desires, fantasies. I see a pig, a lovely pig with big ears at a crossroad in your life, and an intelligent, mature decision. You’ll live to be a hundred, a thousand, always provided you don’t go crazy about things. You’re a deep woman. What sign are you?

MRS. PERROTTA: It doesn’t matter. Sit here. Go on talking. It’s doing me good.

GYPSY: You ought to know none of it is true.

MRS. PERROTTA: I’ll pay you anyway.

GYPSY: Okay. What would you like to hear?

MRS. PERROTTA: Tell me how happy I’ll be with my little girl Leila.

GYPSY: Is that her?

MRS. PERROTTA: The one on the swing. Isn’t she lovely? Sometimes I wonder if we’ll be happy. I see her but I don’t know her.

GYPSY: Yes, she’s a lovely child. Leila will become a Protestant. She’ll run a travel agency. You’ll both be happy.

MRS. PERROTTA: A protestant?

GYPSY: For the simple reason that she is your child, she swings joyfully, like a pendulum, convinced that the same god joins her to her parents. In the secondary school, on Tuesday the 20^th, a few years from now, a teacher with a Spanish name talks about Luther. So Leila is drawn to her history books. She comes across bits of information, an account for students of the Reformation. A not very accurate account. Even so, the fever takes hold of her that Tuesday. A thirst to know the whole story forces her to look for more information. She learns German with the help of a scholarship you and your husband have obtained for her.

MRS. PERROTTA: My husband?

GYPSY: Yes. She goes back to the actual sources. And she becomes a Protestant. But this doesn’t make her some kind of monster. Not at all. Her activities, her affections, her musical tastes aren’t changed in any way. But she takes up the cause passionately, and it makes her happy.

MRS. PERROTTA: (Tears in her eyes.) Thank you.

GYPSY: Are you alright?

MRS. PERROTTA: I knew that none of it was true. What I didn’t know is that I’d realise that so soon. I want you to take Leila.

GYPSY: Your little girl?

MRS. PERROTTA: Take her. I don’t want her.

GYPSY: Are you serious?

MRS. PERROTTA: The girl on the swing. Bring her up as you wish, as gypsies bring up their children. I can’t do everything. Take her, before she knows I’m going and wants to come home with me, like a little dog. Go on! Take her! But please don’t change her Christian name. It’s Leila. Give her your surname if you wish. Her surname would change in any case when she got married, poor child. But always call her Leila. Her name is everything. She’s a bright child. And she already answers to her name whenever you call her. Goodbye.

Should you wish to read the rest of this play, please contact author by e-mail.

E-mail: spre@argentores.org.ar                                                                                                                                      Espacio cedido por ARGENTORES