Free Trying to Find Chinatown: The Selected Plays of David Henry Hwang by David Henry Hwang Page A

work.
    MA: But we’ve won the strike.
    LONE: I know. Congratulations! And now—
    MA:—back to work?
    LONE: Right.
    MA: No.
    LONE: But the strike is over.
    (Lone tosses Ma a stick. They resume their stick battle as before, but Ma is heard over Lone’s singing.)
     

     
LONE:
MA:
Hit your hardest
Wait.
Pound out your tears
I’m tired of this!
How do we end it?
The more you try
Let’s stop now, all right?
The more you’ll cry
At how little I’ve moved
Look, I said enough!
And how large I loom
By the time the sun goes down.
     
     
    The Dance and the Railroad
     
    (Ma tosses his stick away. Lone, already aiming a blow toward Ma’s stick, hits Ma instead and mistakenly knocks him down.)
     
    MA: Oh! Shit!...
    LONE: I’m sorry! Are you all right?
    MA: Yeah. I guess.
    LONE: Why’d you let go? You can’t just do that.
    MA: I’m bleeding.
    LONE: That was stupid—where?
    MA: Here.
    LONE: No.
    MA: Ow!
    LONE: There will probably be a bump.
    MA: I dunno.
    LONE: What?
    MA: I dunno why I let go.
    LONE: It was stupid.
    MA: But how were we going to end the opera?
    LONE: Here. (He applies whiskey to Ma’s bruise) I don’t know.
    MA: Why didn’t we just end it with the celebration? Ow! Careful.
    LONE: Sorry. But Ma, the celebration’s not the end. We’re returning to work. Today. At dawn.
    MA: What?
    LONE: We’ve already lost nine days of work. But we got eight hours.
    MA: Today? That’s terrible.
    LONE: What do you think we’re here for? But they listened to our demands. We’re getting a raise.
    MA: Right. Fourteen dollars.
    LONE: No. Eight.
    MA: What?
    LONE: We had to compromise. We got an eight-dollar raise.
    MA: But we wanted fourteen. Why didn’t we get fourteen?
    LONE: It was the best deal they could get. Congratulations.
    MA: Congratulations? Look, Lone, I’m sick of you making fun of the Chinamen.
    LONE: Ma, I’m not. For the first time. I was wrong. We got eight dollars.
    MA: We wanted fourteen.
    LONE: But we got eight hours.
    MA: We’ll go back on strike.
    LONE: Why?
    MA: We could hold out for months.
    LONE: And lose all that work?
    MA: But we just gave in.
    LONE: You’re being ridiculous. We got eight hours. Besides, it’s already been decided.
    MA: I didn’t decide. I wasn’t there. You made me stay up here.
    LONE: The heads of the gangs decide.
    MA: And that’s it?
    LONE: It’s done.
    MA: Back to work? That’s what they decided? Lone, I don’t want to go back to work.
    LONE: Who does?
    MA: I forgot what it’s like.
    LONE: You’ll pick up the technique again soon enough.
    MA: I mean, what it’s like to have them telling you what to do all the time. Using up your strength.
    LONE: I thought you said even after work, you still feel good.
    MA: Some days. But others . . . (Pause) I get so frustrated sometimes. At the rock. The rock doesn’t give in. It’s not human. I wanna claw it with my fingers, but that would just rip them up. I wanna throw myself headfirst onto it, but it’d just knock my skull open. The rock would knock my skull open, then just sit there, still, like nothing had happened, like a faceless Buddha. (Pause) Lone, when do I get out of here?
    LONE: Well, the railroad may get finished—
    MA: It’ll never get finished.
    LONE:—or you may get rich.
    MA: Rich. Right. This is the Gold Mountain. (Pause) Lone, has anyone ever gone home rich from here?
    LONE: Yes. Some.
    MA: But most?
    LONE: Most . . . do go home.
    MA: Do you still have the fear?
    LONE: The fear?
    MA: That you’ll become like them—dead men?
    LONE: Maybe I was wrong about them.
    MA: Well, I do. You wanted me to say it before. I can say it now: “They are dead men.” Their greatest accomplishment was to win a strike that’s gotten us nothing.
    LONE: They’re sending money home.
    MA: No.
    LONE: It’s not much. I know, but it’s something.
    MA: Lone, I’m not even doing that. If I don’t get rich here, I might as well die here. Let my brothers laugh in peace.
    LONE: Ma, you’re too soft to get rich here,