DESMOND'S WOODS
                                          (a radio play) by Ken Dowen
                                             
       ©1998 by Ken Dowen
                           (As performed on Theater Now on The Air, WCUW fm radion, 1989)
                      Characters:      Desmond      Bea        Richard         Waiter         Narrator                                                                     
(THEME UP. APRIL IN PARIS.)

NARRATOR

It's late spring. The ice has been off Flint's pond for several weeks. The world is wet tonight with rain and tears and images of light and dark are not very sharp. Windshield wipers mark time as Beatrice Pope reaches the edge of town. Beatrice Pope is a poet. Tonight she rushes to here friend and lover hoping she's not too late and poetry be damned. Desmond Dickens is a sculptor, a creator who, moments ago, wept words of self-destruction into the phone. The receiver clicked like a cocked trigger hammer. Beatrice Pope pushes against the door but it won't give, the damp weather makes it stick. It's raining as it was raining two weeks ago, only then, it was raining chips of marble--raining chips of marble on the floor of Desmond's studio. Let's return .....

(Fade out on return.)  (Hammer and chisel noises.)

BEA

Don't be foolish, Desmond.

DESMOND

I just think you ought to forget about me.

BEA

Do you really want me to leave you, Desmond?

DESMOND

Hell, you're my inspiration. You, strong coffee, and this old shop. One man shouldn't have it so good and I could never give up the coffee.

BEA

You shouldn't joke about our relationship.

DESMOND

These woods and this nook is my own little world, Desmond's world and I can joke if I want to and I can make love to you all day. This is Utopia, Baby.

BEA

Utopia?

DESMOND

Well, I make sculptures, you make poems and no one buys either one but we have the woods and the mattress. What else is there?

BEA

Your utopia isn't air tight, Desmond. Someday, what's out there is going to get into your utopia as easily as the mice.

DESMOND

No....no bowling alleys, shopping malls or condominiums allowed in this world. Mice, huh. Well, mice are ok if I don't see them. Oh, and poets too. They're ok if they're soft and sensual. .

BEA

I don't know if I'm a poet.

DESMOND

Don't worry about it, just write poems.

BEA

Maybe I should see others. It would be good for my writing.

DESMOND

Now, Bea, I don't know about that.

BEA

Desmond, is there just a tinge of jealousy in your concern? What if I were to discover another lover because I though you wanted me to?

DESMOND

That, my dear, is irony.

BEA

You've often said one must be absolutely certain before striking the chisel.

DESMOND

You have to know when and when not to take the court jester seriously, Beatrice.

BEA

You're going to be an artist forever, Desmond and I'll never know when to take you seriously. There's irony in that, no?

DESMOND

Not forever, Bea, only so long as I can paint with my dick. Renoir said that the artist paints with his dick. So, as long as I paint with my dick I'll keep from being a fool, huh?

BEA

And what did Renoir believe women painted with ... their clitorises?

DESMOND

Hmmm. The strokes wouldn't be as broad of course....

BEA

Desmond, sometimes you are vulgar.

DESMOND

Now's not when I prefer to be vulgar. I'd rather save that for stuffy gallery openings or in academic environments.

BEA

Sometimes it irks me to hear an intelligent man like you speaking....

DESMOND

(Singing.) "Hey, you get off of my cloud."

BEA

I've got it, Lionel Richie?

DESMOND

No...the Stones, of course.

BEA

You're dating yourself, darling.

DESMOND

Listen, Maid Marion...I'm Robin Hood and this is Sherwood Forest and out there, the Sheriff of Nottingham just picked up a spare. Where would you rather be?

BEA

I have to be out there sometimes but, don't worry, I know how to avoid the sheriff.

DESMOND

I want to monopolize you. .cp255 BEA

I have a world too, Desmond. It's a world made of chips of inspiration. These chips jump out of people's pockets and neon lights. Sometimes they leap out of my lover's sculptures and land at my feet. Little chips, little chips, little chips.

DESMOND

Little chips, huh?

BEA

You see, Desmond. We are different.

DESMOND

I suppose we are.

BEA

You have your woods, squirrels, birds and rabbits....

DESMOND

Go on, honey. You're on a roll.

BEA

...and I have my city, cabbies, clerks and policemen.

DESMOND

Bravo!

BEA

Your boulders are my granite buildings but we share the sky and the winds. Whoosh!

DESMOND

Encore! Sap's running early this year.

DESMOND

Yes. I need to hear the wind in the woods every morning like my father.

BEA

The woods are part of your sculptures. .

DESMOND

My old man named me after the woods. He had his ashes scattered here. Whoosh! My father's ashes and brown pine needles make a forest floor.

BEA

I didn't know....

(End hammer and chisel noises.)

DESMOND

I was in Nam. He never got over my mother's leaving us. He needed her more than he needed the damn woods but he didn't realize it until it was too late....(opens drawer.)

BEA

What are you doing?

DESMOND

Did I ever show you his pistol? He just put the pistol up to his temple and....

BEA

Desmond, don't fool around with that.

DESMOND

BANG!

BEA

Desmond!

DESMOND

(Puts gun in drawer.) You get the picture...It happened just before I was discharged and I had the duty of watching the last blacksmith in the county's gray ash swirl with the fall leaves.

BEA

Oh, Desmond! (Pause.) I have been seeing someone, else.

DESMOND

Oh?

BEA

His name is Richard...Richard Hilway.

DESMOND

And what is this Hilway's specialty?

BEA

You are angry, Desmond. I guess I shouldn't have told you.

DESMOND

Don't be ridiculous. Tell me all about him.

BEA

He seems nice. He's a developer.

DESMOND

Photography, huh?

BEA

No, he's a land developer.

DESMOND

Now, I'm angry. You've taken up with a land raper?

BEA

People can change, Desmond.

DESMOND

Once a land raper, always a land raper.

BEA

He collects art. He says he knows your work and he'd like to purchase something.

DESMOND

(Sound of hammer and chisel.) Oh, really. Screw him. .

BEA

Really, Desmond I'd like to introduce you to him but if you're going to....

DESMOND

Did you....Are you in love with him?

BEA

The answer is no I didn't and no I'm not and we've only been out a few times.

DESMOND

And what do you talk about? His art collection?

BEA

Desmond you're jealous.

DESMOND

This guy sounds like the Sheriff of Nottingham. I want to kiss you. (Sounds of exchanged affection.) You know, it might be exciting having a married woman for a mistress but I want you for myself.

BEA

Honestly, Desmond, I'm not possessed by you and you don't possess me. We're not pieces of sculpture.

DESMOND

Yes, we're not pieces of sculpture.

BEA

We've got to be independent.

DESMOND

Yes, we've got to be independent.

BEA

Don't patronize me!

DESMOND

You may possess me. It's your decision. It's as easy as picking petals from a daisy. Will, won't, will, won't (Faster.) willwon'twillwon'twillwon't.

BEA

Desmond!

DESMOND

What about that cat of yours. Do you possess it or does it possess you? Meow!

BEA

Meow! (Pause.) Honestly, Desmond. I think I'll leave your Utopia so you can get some work done.

DESMOND

(Passionately.) Let's make love. Hold my brush. Hmmm.

BEA

Is that all you ever think about?

DESMOND

Renoir, remember Renoir.

BEA

Can you be serious for a moment?

DESMOND

We're opposites, we attract. You're clay; wet and pliable. I'm stone and very hard. We'll come together.

BEA

(Pulling away.) No, Desmond, not now.

DESMOND

Is this Richard bastard on your mind?

BEA

No, he wasn't, but I am meeting him this week. .

DESMOND

Oh.

BEA

Three dates and he proposes.

DESMOND

He asked you to marry him, the arrogant bastard? You're not going to are you? (Pause.) Bea?

BEA

Oh, Desmond.

DESMOND

Get out of here. Leave me alone. God damn it, leave it alone.

BEA

Don't be angry.

(Door opens/closes.)

(Music up and fade.) NARRATOR

It was warm the following week, unusually warm for this early in the spring. It was warm enough for baby strollers dragging mothers and uniformed men leaning against the red noses of their fire engines. It was even warm enough for lunch in the park where Beatrice Pope waited for Richard.

RICHARD

Bea! Bea, am I late? I'm sorry.

BEA

What's a half hour among friends?

RICHARD

Just friends, huh? I was hoping we'd mean more to each other by now.

BEA

These things take time, Richard. I really hardly know you.

RICHARD

This is the age of fast food and fast romance. (Laughs.) You're not laughing. I just made a joke.

BEA

A sad joke.

RICHARD

Where's you sense of humor?

BEA

It's a least a half hour late.

RICHARD

(Laughs.) There it is. You could have come up to the office. We even have coffee.

BEA

But no tea. .cp255 RICHARD

No. No tea, I'm afraid. Well, it's getting late. Where would you like to eat, Steak Junction, The Fatted Calf or maybe you'd like to do Japanese today?

BEA

I thought it'd be nice to eat here under the trees.

RICHARD

You want to eat here in the park? (Pause.) Bea?

BEA

Huh? Yes, yes here in the park.

RICHARD

Sure. I guess that'd be all right, if you'll join me.

BEA

What do you mean?

RICHARD

Earth to Bea, Earth to Bea. Your mind is someplace else.

BEA

Forgive me. I was just thinking about a friend of mine and his woods and his trees. I brought some sandwiches.

RICHARD

All the trees you'll ever need are here in the park. We're sitting under a Mountain Ash. There's more of them up north. (Pigeons fly.) Pigeons are annoying though. Well, what kind of sandwiches did you bring?

BEA

Tuna.

RICHARD

(His mouth full.) Have you thought about me? About my...proposal? God does that sound corny?

BEA

Somewhat.

RICHARD

Well, I believe that anyone who hooks up with Richard Hilway is bound to be a somebody rather than an everybody.

BEA

Oh and why is that so important?

RICHARD

Well, I really care about what people think of me. You know people are unavoidable, they're everywhere in the big suburb. And I want people to say, "that guys got bucks. He's successful and he's got a nice looking wife, too."

BEA

(Sarcastically.) What are you talking about?

RICHARD

Do I sound archaic, like some kind of chauvinist?

BEA

Yes.

RICHARD

I wouldn't have my wife sit around the TV all afternoon.

BEA

Oh, you wouldn't have your wife do that?

RICHARD

You're funny, Bea. (Chuckles.) Just think though. If you were to take a job at Hilway and Son's Developers, we'd be close to each other all day. You'd have some real work. A perfect arrangement.

BEA

I see. You'd want me to work for your father's company. .

RICHARD

You could be a bookkeeper or something. We'd take our vacations together...

BEA

I don't understand how...

RICHARD

You're a little confused. That's understandable. You're cute when you're confused.

BEA

I'm not sure I'd want a job with your father's company.

RICHARD

Funny, Bea. You are funny. (Chuckles.) You don't have to work for the company if you don't want to. It's just an idea. I wouldn't care where you worked so long as you felt useful and it got you out of the house.

BEA

Can we talk about something else? Did you see Radio Days? I hear it's one of Woody's....

RICHARD

You hook up with me and I'll buy you a Volvo or a Mercedes, whatever. You'll be the best dressed woman at the PTA unless we send the kids to a private school. Now, Worcester Acad....

BEA

RICHARD?

RICHARD

Yeah, what?

BEA

Richard, I just don't think.... .

RICHARD

I wouldn't fool around if that's what you're worried about. I have my faith, like my father and his father and I wouldn't even think of ....

BEA

Aren't you the least bit curious to know what I want?

RICHARD

Sure. Tell me everything you want. I'll get it for you.

BEA

Really? Well, I want to write poems, and I want to have a man I can grow with, and I want to be able to laugh now and then when I've done something foolish or something wise. I want friends who'll try to understand me...

RICHARD

You want friends? We'll join the Country Club. Dad's been a member for years. No problem there.

BEA

No. (Pause.) No, Richard, listen to me...

RICHARD

You keep the friends you have now. They'll like me too. I have a way of being charming.

BEA

I don't think you understand....

RICHARD

No, you don't understand...anyway, I've got this big deal about to close. I'm talking big. Condo project, big bucks and there's an apartment for you and me in this deal, the classiest.

BEA

Oh, God, Richard. .

RICHARD

Last chance, baby. I don't know what else I can tell you. The point is, I'm on the way up and I like you, no, and I could love you. You're intelligent and beautiful.....

BEA

And I'd look lovely in the passenger seat of your Mercedes, right?

RICHARD

Sure you would.

BEA

When we met, at the University...

RICHARD

I remember.

BEA

You were rather shy, it seemed.

RICHARD

I'm sometimes shy around people I don't know.

BEA

There was a bit of mystery in your soft spoken manner. I was compelled to find out more about you.

RICHARD

I'm glad you were compelled.

BEA

NO! No, don't touch me, please.

RICHARD

I just wanted to....

BEA

(Almost to herself.) This always happens to me. I meet someone who seems quiet, so I assume we're somewhat alike and then, as I gradually get to know them, they get louder and louder until I can't stand it anymore.

RICHARD

What are you, neurotic?

BEA

Look, baby, you can take your cars, your private schools and your country clubs and this tuna sandwich and ...and... (Sounds of her walking away.)

RICHARD

(Shouting after her.) You better think about it, I'm not going to wait long.

(MUSIC BRIDGE.) NARRATOR

Beatrice was never really very far from Desmond. His mind, and his senses held her captive. She was as much a hostage as any muse could be. Along the path leading to Desmond's studio, Beatrice picked a spearmint leaf and placed it on her tongue. Bitter is sweet again, winter is spring again and the cycle continues.

(A knock on the door.)

DESMOND

Who's there? (From behind door.)

BEA

It's Bea.

DESMOND

Go away.

BEA

Desmond open this door.

DESMOND

Bea.

BEA

Are you all right? You don't look well. I'm sorry about the other day. I do love you, Desmond.

DESMOND

I'm all right...just working too hard.

BEA

You look awful.

DESMOND

I told you I was tired, that's all Beatrice. Now don't be difficult.

BEA

What's wrong, Desmond? For God's sake will you put that gun away!

DESMOND

Don't wife me!

BEA

What a mess! What's happened here? Did someone break in? Why would someone want to destroy your work?

DESMOND

Why would someone want to take the woods?

BEA

What are you talking about?

DESMOND

Here's the paper. See for yourself.

BEA

(Reading.) "Desmond Woods Condominium Project to begin soon." This is a mistake. These are your woods Desmond. No on can just come along and build....

DESMOND

There wasn't much work for a blacksmith in 1966. My father needed money, but he couldn't part with the shop his grandfather had built. So he sold the woods around the building to a logging company. They haven't logged these woods for years. I guess he was too proud to tell me about it.

BEA

(Reading.) ...plans for the 115 unit complex include a swimming pool, tennis courts and a small park", spokesman for the concern, Richard Hilway, said today. Richard Hilway? Oh, God.

DESMOND

He wants to build a small park, huh? Jesus.

BEA

Don't worry. I'll talk to Richard. Lie down and rest. I'll make tea. DESMOND

These are my troubles, Bea. My world's coming apart, not yours, damn it!

BEA

I'm part of Desmond's world. You said so yourself.

DESMOND

My goddamn woods are none of your concern. Do you know how long it takes a bulldozer to clear an acre of world? About as long as it's going to take me to destroy a lifetime of meaningless work. (Desmond ransacks his studio.) If the woods are to be destroyed, let's begin with destroying all that came from the woods.

BEA

DESMOND STOP IT! Stop this nonsense.

DESMOND

Leave me be. (Pause.) What power madness is. (Pause.)

BEA

You can't destroy your work, Desmond.

DESMOND

Leave me be. (Pause.) What power madness is. (Pause.)

BEA

You can't destroy your work, Desmond.

DESMOND

No, no I can't. (Breaking down.) Oh, Beatrice.

BEA

(Comforting.) It's going to be all right, Desmond. It's going to be all right. I can keep Richard from destroying theses woods. He wants to marry me.

DESMOND

I won't let you do it.

BEA

I know what these woods mean to you.

DESMOND

You won't marry him, Bea. I won't let you.

(Tea kettle whistles. Door closes.) (MUSIC BRIDGE.)  NARRATOR

Later that week, forsythia bloomed into yellow bells the color of winter sun and sap dripped into buckets in the Berkshires. Later that week, the last patch of white on the park lawn disappeared. At Desmond Wood spring creatures shed skins and tufts of fur. Later that week, Cream of Broccoli was soup de jour at the Fatted Calf....

WAITER

Table for one, Sir?

DESMOND

I'm meeting someone, a Mr. Hillcroft. I'm Mr. Dickens.

WAITER

Pardon me, but are you referring to Mr. Hilway, Sir?

DESMOND

Hilway. Yes, Mr. Hilway.

WAITER

Right this way, sir.

(Footsteps through restaurant.)

WAITER

Mr. Dickens, Sir.

RICHARD

Do I know you?

DESMOND

I'm Desmond Dickens. (To waiter.) Gin and tonic, please.

WAITER

Very good, Sir. (To Richard.) Will there be anything else, Sir?

RICHARD

No..no, Ray. Thank you.

WAITER

Very good. (Exits.)

RICHARD

Oh, yeah. You're that artist friend of Bea's. Did Bea tell you? We're going to get married.

RICHARD

Well, here we are, what can I do for you, Dickens?

DESMOND

I just wanted to....

RICHARD

....thank me for staying the hell out of Desmond Wood, is that it? Well, you can thank Bea for that. She told me in no uncertain terms to stay out of your damn woods. I had several sights in mind for the project anyway, of course.

DESMOND

Of course.

RICHARD

I promised her the classiest apartment at Desmond Wood...I was even going to use the original name, huh, Desmond Wood. Sounds British that way, Desmond Wood. You're name has class, pal. Oh, well, C'est la vie.

WAITER

Your drink, Sir. Would either of you gentlemen like anything else?

RICHARD

I'll have the usual, Ray. (To Desmond.) Something to eat?

DESMOND

(Drinks his gin & tonic.) Lentil soup, thank you. Look, you can't....

RICHARD

She thinks the world of you. Her father died last year you know. So, you own that shed on the corner of the lot, huh?

DESMOND

It was my Grandfather's blacksmith's shop, now it's a studio.

RICHARD

Well, it's picturesque, very picturesque. I would have made you an offer.

DESMOND

It's been in my family for generations.

RICHARD

I would have made it into a gatehouse and built Desmond Wood around it. Quite tasteful. You would have liked it.

DESMOND

I'd like to talk to you about Bea.

RICHARD

I'll give you a nice piece of change for that little shack. Twenty grand. I'll put it someplace else.

DESMOND

Studio.

RICHARD

Right.

DESMOND

Beatrice doesn't want to marry you.

RICHARD

No offense, but, that's between me and her.

DESMOND

She's only marrying you to save the woods.

RICHARD

(Laughs.) And you think I believe that?

DESMOND

Yes.

RICHARD

Well, Desmond old man, Bea's a smart chick. She knows she needs a sugar daddy to support her poetry and she knows I need her. You see, I need Bea. It's time I got married, had some kids, settled down. It's better for business.

DESMOND

Business? Bea could never live with you and write poetry.

RICHARD

Don't you ever get out of that studio of yours and into the world? Business is business.

DESMOND

O.K. Let's talk business.

RICHARD

I don't need any sculpture right now. I imagine we'll be getting a nice sample of your work as a wedding present.

DESMOND

I'll sell you my studio and the half acre it sits on. I've got the deed right here. I'll need a week to get out.

RICHARD

Now you're talking, Dickens. I'll show the deed to Beatrice, she'll realize there's no longer any need to keep me from building at Desmond's Wood. Twenty thousand. I'll write you a check. She's so damn sensitive. She thought the woods and you were inseparable. She said that you and the woods held each other's soul hostage or something like that. Well she was wrong, huh? Let's drink to contemporary women.

DESMOND

Yes, lets. (They drink.)

RICHARD

Your check.

DESMOND

Your deed. (Pause.) Now she won't marry you.

RICHARD

Not this again, Dickens. I've all ready explained to you...

DESMOND

You're a son of a bitch.

RICHARD

(Laughs.) Yes...yes I guess I am. I guess you can say your soul is owned by a son of a bitch.

(Desmond jumps at Richard over table.)

What! Are you crazy? Get off me you flake.

DESMOND

Stay away from Bea.

RICHARD

Who the hell do you think you are, her father? Brother...

DESMOND

No...no, I'm her lover. (To Waiter.) Lentil soup on him.

WAITER

What a violent man.

(FOOTSTEPS.) NARRATOR

That evening, a warm rain from the south moved over New England. Behind the soft neon glow of a tavern sign, in a brick bistro across from a city park, warm, wet jazz seared the atmosphere. Beatrice Pope looked at her watch between sips of brandy and cursed herself for worrying about the time. Richard was late again as was his habit.

RICHARD

Hey, Babe. It's pouring out. Why the long face?

BEA

I suppose you'll be late for our wedding.

WAITRESS

Hi, what can I get you.

BEA

Another brandy, please.

RICHARD

Cappuccino. (To Bea.) And then I'm leaving.

BEA

Oh, but I thought we were going to plan....

RICHARD

Look, I'm going to lay this right out for you.

BEA

Sounds ominous. Cold feet?

RICHARD

Something like that.

BEA

Oh? RICHARD

I had an interesting talk with your "friend" today.

BEA

Oh. What friend is that?

RICHARD

Desmond Dickens.

BEA

Oh.

WAITRESS

Cappuccino for the gentleman and brandy for the miss.

RICHARD

Thank you.

BEA

Thank you.

RICHARD

I hadn't realized just how friendly you two really were.

BEA

Quite good friends, why?

RICHARD

I'd say you were more than just friends.

BEA

Look, Richard. This conversation is going no....

RICHARD

God, I'm so naive sometimes. I thought you were concerned about this guy's inspirational woods when it's your cunt he's inspired by. (Laughs.)

BEA

Please don't be vulgar.

RICHARD

Who the hell do you think you are telling me what or what not to be? I'm going ahead with the Desmond Wood project. Your lover, well, your lover can move up in the world, up "shit creek". (Laughs.)

BEA

It's not going to be easy for you, Richard. Not while Desmond still owns the studio and the land is sits on. We'll do everything to keep you out of Desmond Wood.

RICHARD

Well, I've got you there, Bea. You see, your lover didn't think you should have to spend your life with me for his sake.....

BEA

What are you getting at?

RICHARD

This piece of legal paper.

BEA

I'm leaving....

RICHARD

It's the deed to your lover's studio and the half acre it sits on.

BEA

No...no he couldn't have...

RICHARD

What a good knight, Sir Desmond was...

BEA

You're an S.O.B. Richard.

RICHARD

He gave up his woods so you wouldn't have to marry me. How gallant of him to consider your talent so vital.

BEA

But you owned most of Desmond's woods anyway, over a hundred acres. Why was it so important to take his studio?

RICHARD

Yes, my dear, but I had no access onto the property until today, that is.

BEA

I don't understand.

RICHARD

I bought the woods from a logging company who bought Desmond's woods from Desmond's father. He was a smart old bird. He sold the land and leased the company the right of way. That way he made a profit and still controlled the land. The right of way is across Desmond's half acre, my half acre. (Laughs.)

BEA

You never wanted to marry me. You knew Desmond would never let me marry you.

RICHARD

I met him at an opening once. He didn't remember. He talked on and on about this wonderful young woman he knew who was a poet. Sounded like love. That was you, Bea, and business is business.

(MUSIC. BRIDGE.)  (Car stops. Door opens/closes. Knock on door.)

NARRATOR

(Windshield wipers and a car motor on a rainy highway.)

The world is wet tonight with rain and tears....There's a light in Desmond's window. The drenched ferns touch Bea's leg as she runs along the familiar path in the dull yellow light.

BEA

(Frantically.) Desmond! Desmond! Open the door. It's me, Bea. I love you, Desmond. Look, we'll find another place, another world. You'll be able to work and no one....

(SHOT!)

DESMOND! (Pause) Oh, Desmond.

(Door opens.)

DESMOND

Surprise, Bea. I couldn't do it, not while I'm still painting with my....

BEA

I'm beginning to like Renoir.

NARRATOR

Beatrice Pope is a poet and nothing will keep her from writing her poems, not Desmond nor Richard, not the Redwing's song not the whoosh! of wind in the maples, not even the bulldozers ripping through Desmond's Woods and the workers breaking for lunch.

END

 

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