Coronavirus Solitary: A Play

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By Vincent H. O’Neil

CURTAIN OPENS

INT. SMALL APARTMENT – DAY

A card table is at center stage, with a folding chair next to it.  A simple board game is on the table.  The PRISONER is a young man at right stage.  Dressed in a tee shirt and sweat pants, he is doing a set of crunches with difficulty.

PRISONER

Day 30 of the Coronavirus lockdown.  The TV said that when you’ve been alone long enough, it’s okay to start talking to yourself.

Stops in the sitting position, breathing heavily.

PRISONER

But what if you really don’t want to hear what you have to say?

THE DOUBLE steps out from a blind, wearing the same outfit and looking like the Prisoner’s twin.

DOUBLE

According to Socrates, the unexamined life isn’t worth living.

PRISONER

Yeah, but what if you examine it, and it’s still not worth living?

DOUBLE

Isn’t it nice, how we can have these little chats now?  None of the old distractions, nothing but time to talk about life.

PRISONER

My life, you mean.

DOUBLE

Hey, remember Steve from college?

PRISONER

Please don’t start up again.

DOUBLE

You have never stopped believing he was just a nerd.  Even when he landed that great job senior year.  Even when the alumni mag said he’d made his first million.

PRISONER

Yeah, that’s why I had them take me off the mailing list.  They always found a way to mention that Brainiac.

DOUBLE

That Brainiac is riding this whole thing out in style on his own island.

The Prisoner rises.

PRISONER

Are you suggesting that’s where I’d be right now, hanging out in the lap of luxury, if I’d just been nicer to him?  If I’d become his friend?

DOUBLE

I was thinking more like his groundskeeper, or some kind of flunkie.

PRISONER

I can always count on you to boost my self-esteem.

 

The Prisoner waves a dismissive hand at the Double, and the lights on the Double go dark.  The Prisoner sits in the chair, his back to the audience.

PRISONER

Day 100 of the Coronavirus lockdown.  No end in sight.  No idea what day of the week it is.

His arm starts jerking as if he’s pleasuring himself.

PRISONER

I know what you’re thinking.  Hey, we’ve all had to find ways to amuse ourselves.  But honestly, there’s only so much time you can spend–

The Prisoner rolls a pair of dice onto the table and then moves one of the game pieces a few steps.

PRISONER

–playing board games.  Board.  Games.  Board.  God I’m bored!

Lights reveal the Double on the other side of the table.

DOUBLe

Hell-o.

PRISONER

No!  I was just kidding.  I’m into the game.  I’m enjoying it.  No need for you to come out.

DOUBLE

You know, this experience wouldn’t be half as tough if you weren’t all alone.

PRISONER

I was really hoping the lockdown would end before you got around to this.

DOUBLE

Admit it.  You’d have a companion right now, if you hadn’t been so picky.

PRISONER

Oh, like marriage solves everything?  Living happily ever after?  Ever hear of divorce?  Or cheating?

The Prisoner leans across the table, staring.

PRISONER

Or being trapped with someone who constantly reminds you of every mistake you ever made, a voice you can’t silence that’s nothing but a judgmental, demeaning drain on every fiber of your being?

DOUBLE

Two of your relationships were awfully good.  Good enough to take the plunge, anyway.  But you managed to find that crucial flaw.

PRISONER

Is there a question somewhere in all of this?

DOUBLE

Yeah.  Why’d you stop looking?

The Double fades from sight, and the Prisoner sags in the chair.  Then he rises and starts pacing.

PRISONER

And here we are.  Lost in this never-ending night of the soul.  Day I-Lost-Count-Long-Ago of the Coronavirus lockdown.

The Prisoner is near tears.

PRISONER

Why is this happening?  What did I do to deserve this?  How do people I only know as faces on the TV get to send me to my room, and not tell me when I can come out again?

The Double reappears.

DOUBLE

You’ll get used to it.  What’s that idiotic term the politicians made up, for when they can’t solve a problem?  Oh, yeah.  The New Normal.

PRISONER

Who could ever get used to this?  It’s a complete waste of life.  There’s nothing normal about it!

The Prisoner flips the table over and throws the chair.

PRISONER

I want to go to a foreign restaurant!  I want to fly somewhere I’ve never been!  I want to dance under the stars with total strangers!

The Double stares at the Prisoner, dubious.

PRISONER

Okay, I never did those things before.  But I’m going to.  Whenever this nightmare ends.

DOUBLE

Never forget that.

PRISONER

Forget what?

DOUBLE

You just promised yourself you’ll go out and do everything you didn’t do when you could have.

The Prisoner is staring at the Double when a light spreads onto stage left.  Low street sounds and conversation flow into the apartment.  The Prisoner looks into the light, not believing.

PRISONER

It’s over?  I can come out now?

The Prisoner turns to glare at the Double.

PRISONER

Never again.

The Double nods once, and the Prisoner shakes his finger at him.

PRISONER

You are never doing this to me again.

The Prisoner exits stage left, into the light.  The Double watches in approval, and then fades from sight.

 

CURTAIN CLOSES

 

Vincent H. O’Neil is the Malice Award-winning author of the Exile mystery series from St. Martin’s Press and the science fiction Sim War series from HarperCollins. A huge fan of the stage, he wrote the play Coronavirus Solitary in the middle of the pandemic lockdown and has also authored a theater-themed mystery novel called Death Troupe.

 

 You can read more about his work at www.vincenthoneil.com

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