(She gives up, slouches on the chair, and looks around the room until her eyes fix on the sleeping man. She stares. Beat).
You and I aren’t that much different y’know (contemplating pause). Only thing is, I’m aware of the nightmare I’m living and you refuse to be aware of yours. Better be careful though, one wrong turn, one fuck up, and you’ll have no choice but to face your nightmare. DING! DING! DING! They’ll have another winner!
(Flailing her arms, Vanna knocks down the alarm clock, then stands up and quietly puts it back on the dresser. She then walks over to the other side of the bed and sits down beside the sleeping man. Vanna whispers).
I was an angel growing up, most likely to become a lawyer, they voted me (chuckles). But after the ‘mother-daughter-blowout-of-the-century,’ I took my wrong turn (reflective pause). And now I’m here.
(Vanna gets up and starts looking for her baggie of coke again).
I figured that some day, this meaningless existence I call a life would fix itself. Y’know, I’d grow up, find my way. All that typical white chick in Hollywood crap. I guess you could say I found my Hollywood; just not as glamorous (Vanna smirks). Waking up on the right side of the wrong bed every AMAZING day of my FABULOUS life. I’m taking orders from a burnt mind and a yearning heart that are both looking for relief. Relief.
(Starts searching pockets of her pants).
C’mon... c’mon.
(Pulls out pouch of cocaine. A sigh of relief as she focuses on it).
The second these flakes make contact, I feel alright again. Hopeful. Calm. Bliss.
(Snaps back to reality).
But I’m as far from bliss as I am from Hollywood. People walk by, watching me like a clown at a black-tie affair; they’ll turn to the robots they’re with and whisper about how their lives are better than mine and I’ll laugh. If only their wives knew I’d be the one blowing them later on. It’s funny because we’re all living lives on drugs, right?
(Vanna’s trying to convince herself as much as she is the sleeping man).
Yours is me, hers is money, mine is survival- the world is filled with a cycle of addicts that feed off each other to keep their addictions alive. (Pause). And slowly, like a box of shaken pastries, we ALL begin to crumble into pieces.
(Vanna lifts up the cocaine pouch and fixates on it again. Talking slowly).
Everything around us is telling us to let go.
(Vanna puts the pouch down and begins to gather her things. Moments later, she looks back, drops everything, and attacks the cocaine).
But instead we hold on for dear life, clinging on to our only comfort.
(She pulls out her compact from her purse and begins to pour out the cocaine on the mirror. She pulls out a bill from her bra and rolls it up. Looking at the line of cocaine).
Our addiction: to coke, to money, to success- to survival.
(Vanna inhales the line of cocaine while a tear trickles down her cheek. She then takes a deep breath, her shoulders relax noticeably, and she grabs her purse, her earnings and her clothes.
Vanna exits the sleeping man’s apartment). {w}
by Yasmin Afshar
