DOMINICK (off stage)
Each afternoon I watched her coming back through the hot stony field after swimming, the sea light behind her, and the huge sky on the other side of that.
I felt like Jack Gilbert, doing that. Falling, and failing in love.
HELEN enters, stage left, with the GREEK WOMAN and carrying an opened bottle of wine. Her hair is wet from swimming. She motions for the GREEK WOMAN to take a seat, sits down herself, and pours each of them a glass. They drink during the scene.
HELEN
The moon’s breathtaking, isn’t it? Rising over the water. And the stillness….
Dominick and I have been having our troubles, lately.
GREEK WOMAN
Nikos?
HELEN
Yes, ναι [naí]. Nikos. My husband, ο σύζυγός μου [o sýzygós mou].
My Greek’s not so good, yet.
Like your English.
GREEK WOMAN shakes her head “No.”
GREEK WOMAN
Αγγλικά, όχι [Angliká, óchi].
HELEN
No English. Yes, I understand. It’s okay.
I just need to talk … some company to talk to.
Nikos is busy.
GREEK WOMAN nods.
HELEN
He and I have been here two years. On Mykonos. And I never weary of it.
I love the simplicity. I love the love here.
I’ve grown used to it. Being the uninterrupted center of his attention at night.
But, like I said, we’ve been having problems lately. The last couple of months.
Something’s changed. He’s grown moody. His mind is out in space somewhere.
I’m sure it’s his writing. I’m sure of it. But I’m not sure why.
I’m no writer myself.
It’s not so fresh anymore. Not so vital and sublime as it used to be.
And he’s forgetting things.
A few days ago one of his children arrived.
Unannounced. At least, not to me.
Because he buries himself in his writing? Is that it? That’s why he forgets to tell his wife that his daughter’s coming to Greece? What’s that all about?
Sure, writing’s his passion. Like all writers, I suppose. And me, at night.
And before two months ago he couldn’t wait to make love with me at night.
But not telling me his daughter’s coming to visit? And forgetting other things?
It’s gotten all too strange.
And what he’s writes now annoys me. Annoys me.
I never, ever thought I’d live to say something like that. Like, Moonstruck ….
DOMIICK enters, stage right, looks around the bar (empty but for the WOMAN sitting there), and sits down next to her.
DOMINICK
[to BARTENDER] Four Glenlivet doubles, please. Just line them up in front of me.
[to WOMAN] How’s it going tonight?
WOMAN
Not much doing.
DOMINICK
Has the tenor come on yet? With his deadly granite tin can music?
Putting the chorus girls asleep in the side booths?
WOMAN
What are you talking about?