Two for Tea

A Stage Play by Corinna Bridgebury

Two unknown characters discuss humanity, peace, war and philosophy over tea.

(We open on an empty stage except for one small table and two chairs. X enters with a tea tray with two cups on it and a plate of cupcakes, both chocolate and lemon flavored. X sets the tray down on the table and sits down. O enters.)
X. Hello! Come, have a seat!
O. Will do. How are you?
X. Good, actually. Tea?
O. Sure. I’m good too, incidentally.
X. Sorry, preoccupied with the tea. It’s been a long week.
O. As usual?
X. As usual.
(Silence)
X. You know, sometimes I wonder about people. I wonder why they live, why they die, why they even bother.
O. You wonder what they are.
X. I mean, really, all of them die at some time or another. And after that, sooner or later every single one of them is forgotten.
O. Almost every single one. We remember the great ones; the artists, the writers, the millionaires.
X. But what’s the chances of being one of those—one of the great ones? And anyway, the people don’t even remember who the person was; they just know what they did. They can’t know what the person thought, most of the time. They can’t know what this great person did in their free time – unless, that is, it was sufficiently scandalous enough to end up in the papers
O. Like when you--?
X. Yes, like that. That’s beside the point, though. Why do they bother?
O. Because they can, I suppose.
(Silence)
X. I will never understand you.
O. And I understand you all too well.
X. Humph. (Silence) Good tea, eh?
O. Yes – Chai, I’m guessing?
X. My favourite.
O. So, what do you think they are? Are they just bundles of perceptions and emotions, or is there something more inside them?
X. Well, there’s intelligence, cunning…
O. I’ve heard this list before. What else?
X. Well…nothing.
O. I see.
X. Oh, you expect me to believe in your fool theory? You expect me to believe they have – whatever-you-call-ems?
O. Souls?
X. Souls. Right. You expect me to believe that? After all the things they’ve done? Killings, rape, torture…
O. Charity, Friendship, Love, Creativity…
X. The atomic bomb, war…
O. Peace.
X. It never lasts!
O. But it exists.
X. Idealist!
O. And?
X. (Sighs) So, explain this theory of yours to me again. I can never quite grasp it.
O. People have souls.
X. I got that. So, what is a soul? Define it for me.
O. It is the undefinable bit of people that makes them human. It is the ability to choose between right and wrong, but it is more than that too.
X. Undefinable, hmmmm? That makes it easy on you.
O. You call it easy, to try and define the undefinable?
X. It’s undefinable. You don’t have to, you can’t.
O. I still try.
X. Why? Oh, wait. (sarcasm) Because I asked?
O. Because if I can explain it to you, then…
X. Yeah, yeah. You can’t, you know. I’m to cynical to believe any of that crap. Or just too dense. Take your pick.
O. You’re not dense.
X. Cynical, then. Thanks for the compliment.
O. Hmmmm.
X. Cupcake?
O. Sure.
X. Chocolate or Lemon?
O. Lemon, thanks.
X. The chocolate’s better.
O. This is good too.
X. A little sour, I expect.
O. I don’t mind. It’s sweet as well.
X. Ah.
O. It’s like you.
X. Ha! Are you suggesting –?
O. You’re not as cynical as you act.
X. Ri-ight. So, if I’m neither cynical no dense, what am I?
O. Stubborn.
X. As are you.
O. And we’re both convinced that we’re right, that we know the only truth there is. It’s our eternal failing. You’re stubbornly cynical, and I’m stubbornly –
X. Naïve.
O. If you say so.
(Silence)
X. If you can’t see, can’t hear, can’t feel, can’t taste or smell… does the world still exist? Do you still exist?
O. Yes.
X. If you never knew the world?
O. You might dream.
X. Of what? Of darkness?
O. You would have peace.
X. I doubt it. You would go crazy.
O. But you wouldn’t know it. Maybe you could create your own world, with new senses, new truths.
X. You’re wrong. Without sense, you would have nothing. You wouldn’t have life.
O. You would still have a soul.
X. Souls don’t exist. People aren’t inherently good—they’re bad, and the good ones are doomed.
O. I never said they were inherently good – I said they had a choice. And not just one choice; a hundred, a thousand. They choose, again and again.
X. And the ones that choose good are doomed.
O. In your eyes.
X. In the world! The world isn’t good, I’m not seeing things, and you are.
O. You believe that?
X. Definitely.
O. Why?
(Silence)
X. It’s the truth! I don’t need to repeat the list again, do I? Killing, rape –
O. Do I need to repeat mine?
X. Fine, fine. Peace –
O. Good.
X. Wait. That’s just what you want!
O. Peace. You knew.
X. I! … I suppose I did. Good job.
O. You still don’t forgive me.
X. Of course not. I fell –
O. You fell. I had nothing to do with it.
X. Right. More tea?
O. No thanks. You take some. (Silence) You’re avoiding the subject.
X. I know. We have no need to bring it up again.
O. You brought it up.
X. No, you did. I should never have gone along with it.
O. Ah. The conversation, or –
X. The conversation. You just can’t leave well enough alone, can you?
O. I can’t.
X. I suppose it’s in your nature.
O. It is.
X. I guess you can’t fight your nature.
O. Nope.
X. (sighs) Well. Do you want more tea now?
O. Sure – Truce?
X. I guess.
(Silence)
O. Peace. How wonderful.
X. Hmmm. Not nearly as interesting.
O. I suppose.
X. And I can’t very well quit my job.
O. I hear it pays pretty well.
X. It does. Does yours?
O. Not nearly so well. But I like it.
X. Mine is better.
O. Is the truce off, then?
X. It is.
O. It was a bit boring.
X. It is the fight, not the victory, that counts.
O. Hmmm. Just like the journey?
X. Or the fall…
O. It counts. Why?
X. (With wonder) Because it makes us who we are.
O. (Smiles, finishing tea) I suppose it’s time for me to leave.
X. Already? (Catches himself) Well. Next Friday, then?
O. Next Friday. (O leaves)
X. (Cleaning up) Peace… and the fight. Hmmm.
(Lights down, Curtain down)