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Act Six
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179 Act Six Four Years Later.... Epilogue Evening A comfy campus hostel room (University of Cambridge) ARCHER McLEOD, in warm clothes and woollen gloves, is sitting at a book-clustered desk browsing the Internet on a laptop, jotting notes and sketching diagrams on a pad. Cell-phone headphones plugged in his ears; he is nodding mildly, rhythmically, occasionally sipping a hot mug of coffee. A knock comes on a door behind him, but he doesn’t hear it. It comes again, louder this time. He continues to study. The knock comes for the third time, louder than before. He turns, removing the headphones. ARCHER (To the door) It’s not locked! Hop in! But I told you I would be reading! A moment lapses and he reverts to his studies. The knock comes again. ARCHER sighs aloud, annoyed, and shrugs. (Focused on his studies) I know it’s you, Llewellyn! It’s either you want to tell me a naughty Irish joke or you are standing there naked! I wish I was also taking Sociology! Medicine is backbreaking! Now hop in, moron, or vamoose! 180 The knock comes for the fourth time. (Looks at the door) Hey! You are snapping my nerves, screwball! If you want to continue to be my buddy you must understand, Llewellyn! He continues to stare at the door. Another moment passes and the knock comes for the fifth time. ARCHER rises, angrily crosses to the door, pulls it open and retreats in shocked disbelief. Enter YEMUDEH in red warm garments and high heels. A visitor’s badge is pinned to her clothing. She is carrying a small traveller’s bag. ARCHER halts in the centre of the room, and she does the same two paces from him. (Stutters) Mi-Mimudeh! It’s been four years now! September the eighteenth once again! And – and you are here! What’s happening? YEMUDEH I landed and checked into a hotel less than an hour ago. Couldn’t get a direct flight and had to fly via Tel Aviv. I was airborne for over twenty-three hours. (Looks about and smiles) Archer, or should I say Dr McLeod, aren’t you going to offer a lady a seat? ARCHER O! Of course, Mimudeh, I am sorry. What’s happening to my manners? (Motioning to a couch beside his desk) I think I am slipping into something worse than traumatic shock. Please, sit down. [34.203.242.200] Project MUSE (2024-03-28 20:28 GMT) 181 YEMUDEH crosses to the couch, sets the bag on her lap and sits. He follows her gingerly, sinks on his knees at her feet and looks inquisitively into her eyes. (Voice trailing off emotionally) Four years, Mimudeh... (Sticks out four fingers to her) Four... four solid years! What is a married lady doing in a bachelor’s room? YEMUDEH (Clamps his cheeks between her palms) No, Archer, it’s me. Look at me closely. (Pauses) It’s Yemudeh –her twin. ARCHER Christ! It’s terrible! You two have always looked like terracotta replicas. O, Yemudeh! Tell me about Mimudeh. How is she? (Begins to cry, his shoulders lurching, and buries his face on the bag on her lap) YEMUDEH (Patting and stroking him) Shhhh. Don’t cry, Archer. Crying is sissy. Queen Mimudeh shares your grief. Look at the bright side. The monarch offered you an open bursary though you had arrogantly turned it down. You’ll walk out of Cambridge University a specialist doctor. Queen Mimudeh is alive and well, discounting the heartbreak. Life must go on; the way it went on after the Holocaust. (Pauses) She bore him a son, one of about twenty-five children. ARCHER (Looks up at her and cries fervently) Is she happy? I am worried about her happiness. 182 YEMUDEH She often says there is no difference between her and a palace ornament. She doesn’t elaborate. The controversy around her marriage has ceased to be news all over the world. Our parents shun talk about it. They sue whoever tries to revive the case. The Reed Dance continues unabated. ARCHER (Crying with resignation) O! Why did you come, Yemudeh? Why did you agree to be sent to remind me of her? Why has she become so heartless? YEMUDEH Shhhh, Archer. Shhhh. Many people in the world are in graceless marriages. An elder in the King’s Council found her crying one day and told her that conflict, real and unreal, perpetuated the world. Don’t...