Neon Sign

CHARLIE comes on stage. He wears a button down under a wool coat. A scarf sits around his neck. The stage is bare except for maybe a wall, something for him to lean on. He narrates vaguely like he’s in a noir film.

 

CHARLIE
This story happened on a night like any other, in a town like any other, outside of a bar like any other. There was a neon sign in the window.

 

A neon sign that says “neon sign” lights up. Whenever Charlie narrates, the sign says “neon sign,” while in moments of reality, the sign says “bar,” and turns off in Charlie’s imagination. There are stiff changes between the dream and reality for everything and everyone but Charlie.

 

A police car occasionally passed by.

 

Two actors in black holding police lights run in front of him.

 

It had rained a little earlier, and puddles were still there to dampen the soles of passersby.

 

An actor dumps a bucket of water on stage in front of him.

 

I came to the bar after work with some demanding colleagues.

 

A window illuminates below the sign, through which we can see the silhouettes of men and women, talking, laughing, and drinking.

 

They’re nice enough people, just not exactly my type of nice enough people. But I had exhausted my supply of “some other time”s. We get here, and quickly I take my normal, quiet position at the bar. Listening, but on the fringe, where I can easily step away for the bathroom, or a cigarette.

 

He holds up his hand as if he has a cigarette between his fingers. An actor places a cigarette there, lights it with a Zippo, then is gone.

 

I stood here for some time planning what I could say exactly to my coworkers.

 

CHARLIE breaks the noir narration and assumes a less confident energy. “Bar” turns on.

 

Hey, guys I just got a call from my mom, there’s a bit of a family emergency so I can’t stay any longer—no, no. I can’t lie. If I lie I’ll have to continue lying on Monday, and Tuesday, and most likely for the rest of my career here…Hey guys, I’m just gonna go. Can I do that? Can I just say I’m gonna leave with no reason? No, I gotta give a reason otherwise they can convince me to stay longer. Hey guys, thanks for inviting me out but it’s getting late, I’m gonna head home. Ugh! That’s the most cliched excuse I can give!…I guess, I could just leave right now…

 

“Neon sign.” He returns to the noir narration.

 

While I considered the pros and cons of the Irish Goodbye, she walked up.

 

A subtly beautiful woman, similarly attired approaches him.

 

A subtly beautiful woman, similarly attired, approached me. Had she been in the same bar as me? Did I only notice her now by the orange glow of the street light and not by the dim, golden lights inside? Or was there another bar or restaurant closeby, that she similarly fled for a quiet cigarette? Whatever it may have been, she approached me with those three words:

 

WOMAN
Got a light?

 

CHARLIE feels around in his pockets. Finding no lighter, he looks offstage to where the actor with the Zippo had left. Meanwhile the WOMAN steps forward, puts a hand on his chest and stands on her toes. Her cigarette presses against his and she slowly breathes in, lighting it. She pulls away and looks off, perhaps also leans against the wall. CHARLIE stands dumbfounded. Their “first positions.”

 

CHARLIE
(narration but with the less confident energy) 
Now what the hell do I say after that!

 

Sign off. CHARLIE attempts to lean with one arm on the wall, misses, and falls to the ground. Quickly picks himself up. “Bar.” They stand there looking out at the street. Window lights up somewhere, they turn their heads. Sign off.

 

CHARLIE
So you come here often?

 

WOMAN
Is that your follow up? The most cliched line in the book?

 

CHARLIE
You’re right. I’m sorry.
(To audience) 
How about…?
(To her, faux noir)
What’s a gal like you doing in a place like this?

 

WOMAN
(same)
A man done me wrong. I moved to the big city for him, then he moved on from me. Now I’m just a country girl lost in a world she doesn’t know.

 

Sign off. They laugh. Door opens and an actor leaves. It does not close. The last minute of “Age of Consent” by New Order can be heard.

 

WOMAN
I love this song!

 

CHARLIE
Me too! New Order’s great.

 

They smile, but don’t say more. Song shifts into “Teenage Dream” by T. Rex.

 

WOMAN
Hey–you wanna dance?

 

CHARLIE
(narration)
People are always trying to get me to dance, but I never do. I don’t know how to dance. I’m afraid of people watching me try and fail to dance. I wish I wasn’t because–
(to her)
I would love to dance.

 

They dance.

 

WOMAN
So why are you here?

 

CHARLIE
Oh, my coworkers kinda forced me to come.

 

WOMAN
No, why are you out here smoking alone? You don’t seem like a smoker.

 

CHARLIE
Yeah. It’s only occasionally, in times like these. It’s an excuse to escape.

 

WOMAN
Don’t like your coworkers? What? Did they vote for the wrong guy? They smell bad? GASP…Do they hate New Order?

 

CHARLIE
(laughing)
No, no it’s not them. It’s me. When I’m around them, I feel one-dimensional. I feel like I’m trying and failing to be a human. I’m listening to them, worrying about whether I’m reacting correctly and enough. And all my responses are paper thin and only yield awkward silences.

 

WOMAN
You don’t seem like that to me.

 

CHARLIE
I don’t feel like that now.

 

WOMAN
I wonder why that is?

 

CHARLIE
Maybe you’re different?

 

He twirls her and she ends in first position. “Bar.” They both look at each other but never when the other is. Sign off.

 

CHARLIE
(attempting to be causal) 
So what shit-show are you taking a break from?

 

WOMAN
(With tears in her eyes)
We were just having the reception for my dad’s funeral, and I just needed a break from all of it. It just happened so suddenly–
(she breaks off into sobs)

 

CHARLIE
Oh no, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean it like that.
(To the audience in narration)
Or.

 

WOMAN
(Back to normal)
It’s my boyfriend’s birthday. The party was getting pretty wild, so I just had to step out for a quick smoke to cool down.

 

“Bar.” First positions. Charlie looks down and notices his cigarette is almost out.

 

CHARLIE
(under his breath) 
SHIT!

 

His eyes start to dart back and forth. He does not want her to see him light another cigarette, but he has to to stay out here. The two actors with the police lights run back across stage. The WOMAN follows. CHARLIE turns and flicks the cigarette butt. Another actor runs onstage with a cigarette and the Zippo. CHARLIE turns back forward. WOMAN looks away from the police lights, notices his cigarette with confusion but doesn’t question it. “Neon sign.”

 

CHARLIE
I have to tell you, I’ve never actually seen any of those old noir films. I’ve never actually ever picked up a girl at a bar. All my dating experience has been the result of getting close to some female friends. But you don’t need to know that to realize I am out of my depth here.

 

WOMAN
Who are you talking to?

 

CHARLIE
Oh, uh, just the audience…

 

WOMAN
Are you telling them about this night? This five, maybe ten, minute period we stood here smoking?

 

CHARLIE
Yeah, it’s an interesting story.

 

WOMAN
To tell to your friends, you didn’t have to mount a whole theatrical production about it!

 

CHARLIE
I’m sorry, I’ve just been having some bad luck with–Wait, is this what you actually think, or is this just my paranoid mind making you say these things?

 

WOMAN
It’s one hundred percent the latter.
(Before returning to her silent position) 
Or is it?

 

“Bar.” First position. Sign off. She goes to walk forward, Charlie takes off his coat and puts it over the puddle. She smiles, and continues walking. The two actors with the police lights run across stage a third time, and a third actor throws a bucket of water on her. CHARLIE is completely dry. “Bar.” First position. WOMAN shivers from the cold. Sign off. CHARLIE takes off his coat and offers it to her.

 

WOMAN
Thanks.
(She drapes it over herself)

 

CHARLIE
My name’s Charlie.
(Offers hand)

 

WOMAN
(Taking it) 
Alice.

 

CHARLIE
Nice to meet you. What brings you out to this damp little corner of the world?

 

WOMAN
Oh, well, my coworkers kinda forced me with them to a bar around the corner. And I just had to get away for a little. That’s why I originally took up smoking: it’s an excuse to escape.

 

CHARLIE
What’s wrong with your coworkers? Bad music tastes? Never shut up about their kids? Pressure you to drink too much?

 

WOMAN
(with a little smile)
No, no it’s not them, it’s me. I have trouble talking to them. The whole time I’m half-listening to them, half-making sure that my face is responding correctly to what they’re saying. That my affirmative nods and interjections come at the right time. And I look at them and can only think they see right through it all. That they see me as one-dimensional, see that I’m attempting and failing to be a human.

 

CHARLIE
You don’t seem that way to me.

 

WOMAN
I don’t feel that way now.

 

CHARLIE
I wonder why that is?

 

WOMAN
Maybe you’re different.

 

“Neon sign”

 

CHARLIE
Is that really what you would have said?

 

WOMAN
I don’t know. Maybe? You never asked.
(Handing him back his coat) 
We just stood here for five to ten minutes smoking in silence, until I eventually finished and walked away.

 

“Bar.” First position. WOMAN drops the cigarette and crushes it under her foot, and walks away. CHARLIE lingers there a moment longer, looking at the cigarette, where she stood, and where she walked away. Cursing himself, he drops his cigarette, crushes it under his foot, and walks away.

Massimo Napoli is an aspiring actor/writer. He graduates from USC with a Bachelor of Arts in Acting this May.