Moonlit Night

Character: Phuong is a middle age pianist. She has large, round eyes with curved dark lashes, but the eyes look dead, motionless. Long black hair falls down on her shoulders. Her pale skin appears even paler under the dim light of the room. She looks like a painting, beautifully sketched, but belonging somewhere else, perhaps from the past. Phuong resembles a piece of glass, easy to break and vulnerable. She presents the appearance of a ghost - a beautiful ghost.

Setting: It is autumn as the leaves start to change color, painting the sky with that burning orange hue. She sits on a rocking chair by the window, hour after hour. Her hands lay motionless on the chair arms. The right half of her face is totally obscured in darkness. The dim light only vaguely illuminates the room’s contents, giving an unrealistic appearance. It is a place totally apart from the noisy, busy world outside the door. It is a place where time doesn’t matter.

Situation: The full moon fills Phuong with memories of younger days when she experienced the greatest love of her life. Her husband was a Vietnamese soldier during the Vietnam War. After 1975, he was sent to the Re-education Camp and died there. She is so overwhelmed by the memories that she cannot focus on the scheduled piano lesson. She finally calms herself by playing the piano. She then begins to tell the story to her student, Nguyet.

Phuong: (She mumbles abstractedly.)

Tonight is the full moon, isn’t it?

(She sits, her hands laying motionless on the arms of her rocking chair as she rhythmically rocks back and forth. After a second or two in the silence, she stands and slowly walks toward the piano. Her steps are so light it seems as if she were not touching the floor.)

Are you ready for the lesson?

(Her long, thin fingers start to dance on the keyboard. “Moonlight” is the song. Her eyes open widely then close. Her fingers waltz cross the keys and her body sways along with the music. Her eyes look young; her body is active. The contents of the room are in focus, and she is at its center; all is in harmony with the universe.
The notes lag as the song comes to the end. Her fingers move slower and slower until they finally stop.)

We used to play this song together. He used to play the flute and I played the piano, just like now. It was the first song that we played together. Sometimes he even whistled. Oh, it felt wonderful. The sound of the music might end, but the magic of the song was still with me.

(Her long fingers move across the piano, slightly touching the keys.)

The only time that I’m truly alive is the time I spend with my piano.

(She whispers as if she speaks too loudly her memories would shatter. A warm smile is on her lips. The smile is bright as a young girl’s wonder at her first true love.)

We met each other when we were so young. He was about 28, and I was 20. He walked into my life like a strong wind. He loved me so much. I don’t know if I even loved him then. I was so young that it was difficult to know.

(Her voice rises and falls like the notes of her song.)

Life is long, but happiness is too short. War, affecting men’s souls, was burning through every village of the old homeland. It lasted for years. He was part of it. Many never returned, but mine did after each battle. He returned sometimes with a wound or two, big and small, but he always smiled. My love grew stronger each day I waited for him. Many nights together, we would just sit there for hours and hours watching the moon. We didn’t say much. I never told him that I loved him. I thought love was just something to keep and feel. He loved the moon and he compared me to the moon. Do you know that your name means moon, too?

(She pauses, hand across her chest. Her voice is shaking.)

War, guns, bombs couldn’t kill him, but hatred did. The war stopped, but hatred didn’t. It was still burning in ignorant hearts. Oh, I still remember each time I visited him in the Re-education Camp. His eyes were like that of a hawk with broken wings. I never saw him smile again. Sometimes I wished he had died earlier in battle. He died slowly, painfully; the man I loved is nothing but memory. Time has the power to destroy everything, but not memories. Happiness was very short, but it is enough for me to live on.

(She mumbles to herself.)

We were told the war was hope - the promise for justice, safety and dignity of our country. I’ve lived long enough to experience its conduct and witness its result. War is reality and that reality is painful. The most honorable war, the most just war, does not end with a better future for everyone.

(She rocks back and forth in the rocking chair with eyes closed.)

01.05

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