DAUPHIN

I feel strange…airy. I feel like what have I lost? I lost something, Angie. Where will i find it? Andy took it from me. Did he?

Angie: No. Well. He made an idea out of you. (picks up a laurel wreath).

Dauphin: Like what? He made an idea out of me…

Angie (holding and maybe examining the laurel wreath) : He made an idea about you.

Dauphin: He made an idea of me … about me, which he stored into his memory. For power. Juice for his poetry. His fucking poetry. About being a beautiful sapphire, an ethereal and marblaic pearl of a woman who streams like the flowing river of the Ganga chiming down Shiva’s locks. He made me into a story. And then left. Without recognising me. And the point is -

Angie: – you gave your soul to him. Your being, your entire energy to him. You gave him more than he gave you. You opened up. You gave your attention sincerely. But you didn’t watch yourself.

Dauphin: I didn’t listen. That night. By the roadside. On his motorbike. He said “you wanna come to the terrace?”. I had already been thinking I want to end the night and let this go a certain pace. Slow. But there was a romance in the air. The moon was out. Before I know it we were on the terrace. I think on it now. Full moon. The time of fecundity and fertile offshoots from the female. We were on the terrace. Here I was lost, at a loss.

Angie: – captivated by the dream. The dream he proposed. Envisioned. You were –

Dauphin: – lost. In this dream. Heady. Bewitched bothered bewildered…you know the one?

Angie: But you’re the fool. He and you sat side by side. Talking. Talking. The moon full and radiant. Shine falling upon your faces.

Dauphin: My stomach felt acidic. Crampy. 

Angie: Insects and crickets sang, filling the air with a symphonic backdrop. The scene is set. Trees of many varieties. Tall, wide and bending crowd around you both as though to surround you. Embalming you.

Dauphin: I didn’t know how to proceed. I liked it and I love the way he talks about his work as a poet. His direction, his genuine desire to make something. So genuine.

Angie: And then you sit together. And then you ask - 

Dauphin (walks over from one side of the stage to the other where there is a terrace as though walking across space and time and sits next to Andy) : – what’s on your mind?

Andy (Andy has appeared on the stage leaning on the terrace) : …I find you attractive …and I want to kiss you.

Dauphin: and I say…come here (with a soundful grin)

(Dauphin’s voice recorded to reflect her remembering while Andy and Dauphin are together kissing in the scene): 

We kiss, and kiss and it grows and grows and grows. The heat. The heat. The feeling of heat. But there is acidity in my stomach. It hurts. I feel overwhelmed. I think. I think a lot. But I keep kissing. He touches my hips. My arms. My breasts. Stroking my chest and my stomach. It feels good. I like the idea of it. That is…what feels good.

Angie: Yes – that is what feels good. The idea of feeling good. You get naked.

We take off our clothes and I, well…I take off my clothes and he feels me. All of me. I don’t do anything but let him feel me. I have no control. There is nothing. I am just passively moving through. I love it. The idea of it. But I feel no connection. No engagement. Just passive flow. And the more he wants me the more I want him to want me and the emptier I feel.