BELLA

And then what?

CHRISTOPHER

That’s all I have.

BELLA

How are you feeling about the prose?

CHRISTOPHER

I’m not even thinking about it. At this point it feels as if the story is writing me. Is that okay?

BELLA

It’s more than okay. It’s good. It’s really really good.

CHRISTOPHER

Good.

BELLA

Would you like to join me for dinner?

(To the audience) I tell him it’ll be my treat. He says yes. And after he waits for me to answer a few emails, we walk over to Jack’s Bar & Steakhouse on College Street and order a pair of six-ounce filets.

(They transition to a restaurant.)

During dinner Christopher tells me about his mother—a mystery novelist who lives in Burlington, Vermont, in a modest clapboard house filled with books. She rarely goes outside. Christopher thinks she might be agoraphobic. She’s an obsessive, meticulous writer, completely devoted to her work. She’s published over twenty books and writes under a pseudonym that he won’t reveal.

(To Christopher) Sue Grafton.

CHRISTOPHER

She’s dead.

BELLA

Agatha Christie.

CHRISTOPHER

She’s even more dead.

BELLA

Joyce Carol Oates?

CHRISTOPHER

Yeah, Joyce Carol Oates is my mom. She’s going to be here in ten minutes. She’s taking me to one of the Muppet movies.

BELLA

(To the audience) Christopher’s father is a complete mystery with whom he has no relationship. I ask him where he is and he says something about the hinterlands of northern Wisconsin.

(To Christopher) When was the last time you saw him?

CHRISTOPHER

A long time ago. I might’ve been like five.

BELLA

Do you ever think about him?

CHRISTOPHER

Do you want me to think about him? Is that what you want?

BELLA

No. I—

CHRISTOPHER

(Mocking the possible litany of questions) What does he look like? How tall is he? Does he have a beard? Is he left-handed? Does he suffer from kidney stones? Is he good at copper etchings? Does he have any birthmarks? What’s his favorite sports team? How many pancakes can he eat in a single sitting?

(Bella simply takes this in. Then:)

BELLA

Sorry.

CHRISTOPHER

No, I’m sorry. Ask me something else.

BELLA

I think it’s your turn. I’m the one asking all the questions here.

CHRISTOPHER

Okay. Why don’t you have any friends?

BELLA

I have friends.

CHRISTOPHER

Every time I see you walking across campus—

BELLA

I have lots of friends—

CHRISTOPHER

… you’re conspicuously alone.

BELLA

I take it back. I don’t like this game.

(Tense pause. Then:)

Am I supposed to be marching in front of Beinecke with some sort of troupe? Is there a “Friends Go Walking” club I’m not aware of?

CHRISTOPHER

Other professors meet people for lunch. They chat with their students while purchasing overpriced health muffins. You’re always by yourself.

BELLA

Every other Tuesday I play tennis.

CHRISTOPHER

With who?

BELLA

Whom. She’s a visiting professor in the graduate architecture program.

CHRISTOPHER

What’s her name?

(Bella sits there for a moment, dumbstruck. She actually can’t recall.)

BELLA