DRIPPING SWEET

A short script

By Garrett Gilchrist

[Michael, a soldier, dirt and blood covering his face and a small pack at his shoulder, walks down a lonely dirt road. Dover, a beggar with dirt and mud all over his clothes, holds out his hand as Michael passes.]

DOVER

Spare a penny for a poor old man?

MICHAEL

You call yourself old?

DOVER

Does it make a difference?

MICHAEL

You're not old.

DOVER

I am old in spirit. Heavy in heart. I have seen more pain than you have.

MICHAEL

Somehow I doubt that.

DOVER

Where have you been? What have you seen?

MICHAEL

I care not to say.

DOVER

Your loss. I consider myself a good listener.

MICHAEL

I'm sorry, stranger. Perhaps you have seen more pain than I have, unlikely as that is. I would give you a penny if I had one to give, but I have none. I have just returned from the war and have nothing with me but the shirt and pack on my back.

DOVER

You've been to the war?

MICHAEL

I've been to many wars. Too many. You ask me what misfortunes I've seen and I must say I have seen too many. So much grief, sorrow, misery ... I wonder how the world can stand to hold it all. Why it doesn't just give up and crumble to dust. Every road I walk down seems to be paved with blood. So there's your answer, old man. I'm sorry I have no penny to give you.

DOVER

It's you. I thought I recognized something in you. We had thought you dead.

MICHAEL

You recognize me? No, you must be mistaken, old man. Young man. You must have me confused with someone else, as I have never met you.

DOVER

I know exactly who you are.

MICHAEL

That's doubtful. You recognize me? I don't recognize you. I remember every face, every person I come across. Yours is unfamiliar. Have we met?

DOVER

We haven't.

MICHAEL

Then you don't recognize me.

DOVER

But you are the young soldier who walked down this road and went off to war so long ago. Five years, almost six years now. We never thought you'd return.

MICHAEL

People missed me, when I was gone?

DOVER

They did. They missed you, and care about you dearly.

MICHAEL

They didn't seem to care about me when I was living there, peacefully. They could have cared less whether I was there or not. That's why I left.

DOVER

And they cried when you left. I was there, I saw it.

MICHAEL

Do they cry still? Do they smile, do they laugh? Have they forgotten about me?

DOVER

They thought you were dead. The wars have been over for three, nearly four years now. They cried over you, so much that it would pain you just to watch it. It pained me, even with all the miseries I've seen, and I think it would have pained you too, even though you may have seen more misery than I have.

MICHAEL

Why did they cry for me? I am nobody.

DOVER

You were our son, our soldier. You are our son still. And it warms my heart to know that you are still alive.

MICHAEL

It warms my heart, more than you could know, to see that someone cared whether I lived or died. I didn't think they did. I still can't believe it.

DOVER

I promise you they care quite a bit.

MICHAEL

I had thought that I went off to war for nothing, that I fought for nothing, for no one. Now at last I see what I was fighting for. Stranger, you have made me happy again. It has been a long time since I've felt happiness. You've given me a great gift. And I have given you nothing.

DOVER

You have nothing to give. Such is the way of the world. I would ask nothing of you. You have seen blood, and death. You, like me, have wandered for a long time with nothing, carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. You have seen pain. And in our pain, we are brothers, you and I. I could ask nothing of a brother.

[Michael removes his pack, and opens it. Inside is a compass, canteen and portrait. He hands them to Dover.]

MICHAEL

Take my pack, please. It is all I have, and I will not need it any longer. Inside is a compass, so that you may never be lost. A canteen, so that you may never go thirsty. And a portrait of a girl I loved once. I love her still, even though I don't think she ever loved me.

DOVER

Thank you. But keep the portrait of the girl, please. I couldn't take her. She's yours.

MICHAEL

She isn't. She never was. Maybe you'll have better luck with her than I did.

DOVER

She's beautiful.

MICHAEL

She was. And her voice was like candy ... dripping sweet. When she walked she seemed to float through the air like a fish in water. She was a breeze, warm and soft and sweet as early summer, and a million men loved her as I did. Better men than I. I could never have her, so I went to war. I went off to a distant land. And I fought and killed a million men who were better men than I. Men who did not deserve to die. I deserved to die, and I wanted to die, but I didn't, I couldn't. They were better men, but I was the better shot.

DOVER

Did you win the war?

MICHAEL

I have no idea.

DOVER

Well, who wound up dead? The enemy, or you?

MICHAEL

Everyone died, every single one of us. Except me. We shot them to bits, we killed every one of them, and they killed every one of us. I suppose I won since I'm the only one left, but do you call that winning? I don't. No one won. Every life was lost. Death won. Death is the only winner. I don't regret fighting the war. I know now why I fought, and if I had the chance I would fight that war still, a thousand times over, until I was dead with everyone else. But no one ever wins.

DOVER

I'm sorry I called myself an old man. And I'm sorry I called you young. You're older than I am now. I've seen a lot of hardship in my day. It aged me, but you have felt worse. I thought ... I thought I was old.

MICHAEL

Please old man, tell me, what hardship have you seen?

DOVER

If you had asked me earlier, I would have told you of broken hearts, betrayal, unrequited love. I am, you see, a hopeless romantic. I must seem silly. You may laugh at me, if you wish.

MICHAEL

I cannot laugh at love. I could tell tales of war and you could tell tales of love, and your tales would be sadder than mine.

DOVER

They would be, I think. And I could make you weep. But we will have no more talk of sorrow today. The roads here are not paved with blood, not yet anyway, and there are places in the world that war has not touched yet, has not destroyed yet. This is one of those places, and here the forces of love, which can often be cruel, are not cruel to those who keep hope in their hearts.

MICHAEL

Do you still have hope?

DOVER

I'm not sure. I used to have hope, but I never had money. I had so much love to give, but no one to give it to. I wound up begging for help. First to those who loved me, and I begged so much of them they stopped loving me so much. Then I begged to those I loved, and hoped would love me back. But they couldn't love a beggar. Now I stand by the side of the road, keeping track of what's going on in town, waiting until I can stand on my own feet again.

MICHAEL

You'll never stand on your own two feet if you persist in being a beggar. Beggars are loved by no one.

DOVER

I know. And maybe someday I'll stop begging. But for the moment, it suits me. And being a romantic, a hopeless romantic at that, I persist in the belief that a true love is out there somewhere for everyone. And my true love, my perfect love, would love me no matter what. So I stand here every day, always hoping that someday a woman will come along, who won't mind that I'm a beggar, who will see through my tattered clothes and love the person that I really am. I used to be rich, you know, well-dressed and everyone loved me then. But I was very young and very foolish, and I spent my money not seeing their love for what it was. When my money disappeared, so did their love for me. I don't want that kind of love. So I wait forever, and will die here perhaps, waiting for someone who will love the person I really am.

MICHAEL

You shouldn't be doing this. Your pain is great, and I understand it. But you are being foolish.

DOVER

That's probably because I am a fool. You were a fool once too.

MICHAEL

You're right, I was. I fought a war for a woman who didn't love me. I should have fought the war for the people who did love me, who did care about me, the people I couldn't see then. Now whether that woman is still around, I don't know. I don't even know if she's still alive, if she'd even remember me. But if she jumped into my arms right now I'd know she wasn't worth fighting a war over. I tried to get myself killed just because she wouldn't love me. I had so much love to give then, and that love has dried up. I wasted my best years in pursuit of her, and I don't have that love to give any more. Maybe I will again, eventually. But not for a long time. I was a fool, you know. But being young and being foolish go hand in hand. I was young then.

DOVER

And you'll be young again.

MICHAEL

I hope so, old man.

DOVER

As do I. Young man.

MICHAEL

I wish the same to you.

[Silence, for a moment. Then Michael continues on his way. After a moment, Dover looks at the portrait of the girl.]

DOVER

And her voice was like candy ... dripping sweet.