Free The Normal Heart and The Destiny of Me: Two Plays by Larry Kramer Page B

afraid he’s giving it to everyone.
    FELIX: Maybe it isn’t paranoia. Maybe what we do with our lovers is what we should be thinking about most of all.
    (
The phone rings.
NED
answers it.
)
    NED: Hello. Hold on. (
Locating some pages and reading from them into the phone.
) “It is no secret that I consider the mayor to be, alongwith the
Times,
the biggest enemy gay men and women must contend with in New York. Until the day I die I will never forgive this newspaper and this mayor for ignoring this epidemic that is killing so many of my friends. If. . .” All right, here’s the end. “And every gay man who refuses to come forward now and fight to save his own life is truly helping to kill the rest of us. How many of us have to die before you get scared off your ass and into action?” . . . Thank
you. (He hangs up.
) I hear it’s becoming known as the Ned Weeks School of Outrage.
    FELIX: Who was that?
    NED: Felix, I’m orchestrating this really well. I know I am. We have over six hundred volunteers now. I’ve got us mentioned in
Time, Newsweek,
the evening news on all three networks, both local and national, English and French and Canadian and Australian TV, all the New York area papers except the
Times
and the
Voice. . .
    FELIX: You’re doing great.
    NED: But they don’t support me! Bruce . . . this fucking board of directors we put together, all friends of mine—every single one of them yelled at me for two solid hours last night. They think I’m creating a panic, I’m using it to make myself into a celebrity—not one of them will appear on TV or be interviewed, so I do it all by default; so now I’m accused of being self-serving, as if it’s fun getting slugged on the subway.
    FELIX: They’re beginning to get really frightened. You are becoming a leader. And you love to fight.
    NED: What? I love it?
    FELIX: Yes!
    NED: I love to fight?
Moi?
    FELIX: Yes, you do, and you’re having a wonderful time.
    NED: Yes, I am. (
Meaning
FELIX.)
    FELIX: I did speak to one of our science reporters today.
    NED: (
Delighted.
) Felix! What did he say?
    FELIX: He’s gay, too, and afraid they’ll find out. Don’t yell at me! Ned, I tried. All those shrinks, they must have done something right to you.
    NED: (
Giving
FELIX
a kiss with each name.
) Dr. Malev, Dr. Ritvo, Dr. Gillespie, Dr. Greenacre, Dr. Harkavy, Dr. Klagsbrun, Dr. Donadello, Dr. Levy . . . I have only one question now: why did it have to take so long?
    FELIX: You think it’s them, do you?
    NED: Dr.—I can’t remember which one—said it would finally happen. Someone I couldn’t scare away would finally show up.
    FELIX: At the baths, why didn’t you tell me you were a writer?
    NED: Why didn’t you tell me you worked for the
Times?
That I would have remembered.
    FELIX: If I had told you what I did, would you have seen me again?
    NED: Absolutely.
    FELIX: You slut!
    NED: Felix, we weren’t ready then. If I had it, would you leave me?
    FELIX: I don’t know. Would you, if I did?
    NED: No.
    FELIX: How do you know?
    NED: I just know. You had to have had my mother. She was a dedicated full-time social worker for the Red Cross—she put me to work on the Bloodmobile when I was eight. She was always getting an award for being best bloodcatcher or something. She’s eighty now—touring China. I don’t think I’m programmed any other way.
    FELIX: I have something to tell you.
    NED: You’re pregnant.
    FELIX: I was married once.
    NED: Does that make me the other woman?
    FELIX: I thought I was supposed to be straight. She said I had been unfair to her, which I had been. I have a son.
    NED: You have a son?
    FELIX: She won’t let me see him.
    NED: You can’t see your own son? But didn’t you fight? That means you’re ashamed. So he will be, too.
    FELIX: That’s why I didn’t tell you before. And who says I didn’t fight! What happens to someone who cannot be as strong as you want them to be?
    NED: Felix, weakness terrifies me. It scares the shit out of me.