JON: Except you don’t talk to me.

(Pause.)

TESS (Almost to herself): She looks so real . . .

JON: It’s amazing what they can do with a few zillion pixels. Of course it helps that we want to believe.

TESS: Do you think there’ll be versions of us?

JON: Primes?

TESS: Like will Mitchell be talking to a Prime of me some day?

JON: Well, probably not Mitchell.

TESS: No, not Mitchell.

(Short pause.)

JON: I talked to Raina.

TESS: Does she know if she got the job?

JON: They told her next week.

TESS (Novelty): Raina at a desk.

JON (Taking an X-ray of what she said): It would be nice not to worry about her.

(Beat.)

TESS: What if I wrote to her?

JON: Just wait it out—she’ll come around soon.

TESS: I’m bad at waiting.

JON: I know.

(Short pause.)

Why don’t we go out with Bruce and Rosa? Just one night.

TESS: I don’t feel like it.

JON: You haven’t felt like it for a year.

(Beat.)

TESS: Yes Jon. This is true. I haven’t felt like it for a year. You really . . . hit the / nail on

JON: Please don’t / get upset—

TESS (Continuous): . . . the head. I haven’t felt like it for a year. It is not an affectation. Wake up, put on clothes, go out, eat ghee, go to sleep, wake up, put on clothes, repeat, repeat.

JON: You’re scaring me.

TESS: I’m scaring myself. No, that’s not true—I’m trying to scare you. Then I won’t be the only one who’s scared.

JON: That’s the kind of thing you talk about in therapy.

(Beat.)

You can’t keep mourning forever.

TESS: —

JON: You can’t keep sifting through her letters, polishing her tea sets. Maybe if you joined a book club. (Tess scoffs) You have to start up again. You can’t just keep grieving / forever—

TESS: Grieving! Grieving would be more respectable. This is completely selfish. Now that she’s dead it feels like . . .

JON: Like?

TESS: Like we’re just waiting our turn.

JON: We’re only halfway through our lives!

TESS: If we live to a hundred and ten!

JON: People live that long, healthy people.

TESS: Doesn’t it sound awful? Think of Mom at eighty-six. A hundred and ten—what would be left? (Beat) Halfway through our lives—that’s exactly it. There’s the half where you live and the half where you live through other people. / And your memory of when you were young.

JON: You think we aren’t living? We’re planning a trip, / we’re—