I Am Blue by Stina Trollbäck

 

Dialogue that is italicized should also be taken as stage directions.

Each bullet point signals a change.

CHARACTERS:

6

12

SETTING:

All white room.

--------------------------

6

Six

12

And twelve

6

Stand staring at each other in an all white room. They are clad in simple black clothing.

12

Twelve and Six should be treated as their character names.

6

They do not have real names because they are so obsessed with things that are intangible.

12

They do not feel like they belong.

6

But their emotions are very real.

12

Very human.

  •  

12

I am Blue

6

Six walks ten paces to the left

12

Yeah. I’m blue. Periwinkle maybe.

6

I would say I’m pink.

12

No, I disagree. Well… What shade?

6

Light? Or maybe very dark. The kind of pink that’s almost red, but more rebellious than that.

12

You’re not rebellious, though.

6

Yeah, I know.

12

You’re light pink.

6

Six walks to Twelve.

  •  

6

What color is my hair?

12

Brown.

6

I think so too.

12

Is beige considered brown?

6

Beige is beige.

12

Name objects that are beige.

6

Why?

12

Please?

6

...Sand, unless it’s not. My classrooms at school. My skin.

  •  

12

What holiday would you be if you were a holiday?

6

6 sighs and lies down.

You’d be birthdays. I don’t know what I’d be, but you’d be birthdays.

12

Twelve walks out.

6

Six sits up and looks to where Twelve exited.

You’re the light from a fluorescent lamp that’s been swallowed by sunlight. I can only tell you’re lit because I see the particles in the air near you.

It’s always someone’s birthday, so that’s too many. Because light bulbs burn out sometimes, and you can’t be excited and lit up all the time. I understand that. But you’re still light. I think you’re the birthday of every person you’ve ever been annoyed at. You’re a gentle pink. You’re gingerbread cookie chicken noodle soup.

12

Twelve comes in and switches places with Six.

You’d be New Year’s.

6

Six walks out.

12

Twelve sits up, arm propped up on knee, and looks to where Six walked out.

Not the parties or the underage drinkers, but the dresses they wear. The excitement. You’re sparkly and iridescent and white. You’re seafoam green and bubbling. Wavy and striped.

You’re the minute after midnight on New Year’s Day. You’re the surprised, hopeless feeling. I think that moment is underestimated. It’s the instant when there’s a change that can’t be controlled. You’re time.

6

Six enters.

6 and 12

Six and Twelve face each other.

  •  

6

Do you remember the time we bought yellow neon knee-high socks and unthreaded the fibers so we could use them to make knitted neon necklaces?

12

Twelve nods.

We hung blue and red buttons from the yellow fibers and called ourselves primary.

6

We bought white sombreros and painted them with silver glitter.

12

We fought off killer orangutan flies and rhinoceros mirrors --

6

And marshmallow paper cuts and words.

6 and 12

Pause

6

Six starts walking a little.

  •  

6

Sometimes I don’t want to talk because the pressure is too much and I have to get every word right or someone will misinterpret or get sad, and that’ll be my fault.

12

Sometimes I don’t want people to think I’m a rainbow. I want them to think I’m a grey scale and I want to be dull so people won’t look at me, won’t think about me, won’t smell me. I just want to sit and observe and listen.

6

Why is being okay never an option? Why are we always striving to be unique even though we already are from the moment we are born.  Our planet is one of billions that are capable of life, and we’re so inconceivably small, but there is only one of each of us.

No two things that exist are the same, but we still don’t understand that uniqueness is a property of existence.

  •  

12

When I touch your hand, we’re not touching, because there’s always going to be a miniscule amount of space between our fingers.

6 and 12

Six and Twelve stand, each with hands stretched out in front of them against the other’s hands.

6

The distance between our fingers is the same distance between our feet and the ground, so we’re always hovering if you think about it.

12

Twelve and Six walk in semicircles, facing outward.

  •  

6

I wish I were as influential as a color.

12

Or light.

6

I wish I were a concept. Intangible, not tangible. Figmented. Something that can’t be described.

12

You can’t describe color to someone that can’t see.

6 and 12

Pause.

12

But I can describe you as a color, because in my life, you are that big.

6

Six walks out.

12

Twelve lies down, head opposite the way it was before.

You want to cut off your face and plaster it on a gazelle, because you’re not graceful enough. You’re not fast enough. Your bones don’t sit right, and your knees can swivel around too far. You want to hide under your windowsill and play with rose color barrettes. And you don’t think that’s normal. I think that’s normal because we’re all normal, and there is no normal.

12 fidgets and crosses legs in several different ways, and stands up, and sits back down, slowly this time.

  •  

12

I want to move to Algeria.

6

Six walks in.

You want to move to Algeria?

12

No, not particularly. I want to move to Nepal.

6

You do?

12

No, not really.

6

I would be unhappy.

12

Thank you.

6

I’d be blue.

6 and 12

Short silence.

12

I’d be pink for you.

6

Close your eyes.

6 and 12

Lights dim.

  •  

6

Picture a desert. Picture one that has no cacti or coin collections or dark chocolate. Picture a grey door with a hole in the middle that has no window. Or a fluorescent light turned on in a bright hallway at noon. And imagine a leaking faucet whose drips are all dripping in the same place; imagine the tangerine swirls of rust around the leak.

(Lights rise.)

12

Why?

6

Well if you went to Algeria, that’s what I’d be.

12

I see.

(12 hugs 6. They linger.)

12

I don’t want you to be blue.

6

You’re the one who is.

12

I’m not blue because of you.

  •  

(Quietly play Moonchild/In Your Quiet Place by Gary Burton starting at 2:24)

6

Sometimes I’m drowning while in the air, and no air is in my lungs, but there’s no water either. I fly drown. I swim jump.

12

Be in a cloud. There’s water and air there.

6

I’ll be a cloud. That way I can be drenched and float at the same time, and I can swim through myself while flying.

12

I’ll be your sky, light blue and continuous. You’ll be rose pink reflecting the sinking sun, and I’ll be indigo for your coral.

(6 and 12 hold hands.)

6

We’ll be colossal.

12

Vast and anxious. Glorious and afraid.

6

We won’t have to talk, either, we can just whisper as the wind.

12

I’ll hear your words in the rustling leaves and you’ll hear mine in the stars.

(6 and 12 make movements like they are the blowing wind. They spin around and abruptly sit down, then stand again and walk lightly to the back of the stage where they each pick up a bouquet of flowers. 6 picks up pink. 12 picks up blue. They hand the flowers off to the audience members.)