Rx

by Kate Fodor

© 2011 by Kate Fodor

Val Day
WME Entertainment
[email protected]

January 2011

Administrative Offices ● 307 West 38th Street Suite 1510 ● New York, NY 10018 ● t. 212.840.9705
 CHARACTERS
3M, 3F (doubling)

MEENA PIEROTTI, 37 - Managing Editor, Piggeries, American

Cattle & Swine Magazine

PHIL GRAY, 37 - Schmidt Pharma researcher

ALLISON HARDY, 45 - Phil's boss

SIMON, 45 - MEENA's boss

FRANCES GODWARD, 78 - A widow in need of new underwear

RICHARD - Marketing executive

ED, 65 - Schmidt Pharma researcher (same actor as Richard)

PLACE
A Midwestern city.

TIME
The present.

Pronunciation Guide
Thriveon: with a long I and a long E
SP-925: like "nine to five"
SP-214: two-fourteen, like Valentine's Day
Scene 1

MEENA's office at American Cattle & Swine magazine, represented

mainly by an ugly industrial metal and plastic desk with some
papers on it. There's an extra chair across from the desk, and
maybe there's a wastepaper basket, but there's not much else.
The area will be taken over by other characters to represent
other offices throughout the play. MEENA enters with Phil close
behind her. He is wearing a visitor's badge and holding a
clipboard.

MEENA
Where would you like to -- Should I sit behind my desk?

PHIL
Anywhere you're comfortable.

MEENA
I could sit behind my desk, and you could sit in that chair right
there.

PHIL
Good.

(He sits.)

MEENA
I'm going to close the door because --

PHIL
That's a good idea.

(She closes it.)

MEENA
There.

PHIL
Should we get started?

MEENA
Yes.

(She sits.)

PHIL
Great. (He takes out his pen and looks at his clipboard.) Name
is Meena Pierotti. Age is.

MEENA
37.

(He writes it down.)

PHIL
Job title is.

MEENA
Managing editor, Piggeries, American Cattle and Swine Magazine.

PHIL
Number of years in this position is.

MEENA
Four.

PHIL
Number of years with this employer is.

MEENA
Ten.

PHIL
Question One.

MEENA
Yes.

PHIL
Do you like your job?

MEENA
No.

PHIL
On a scale of one to 10, with one being the least unhappy and
10 being the most unhappy, how unhappy are you during the average
workday?

MEENA
I can't answer that question.

PHIL
Just do your best.

MEENA
No, I mean -- it's badly worded.

PHIL
How so?

MEENA
Is 10 as unhappy as a person could be in any circumstance, like
homeless under a bridge, in which case it would be hard for me
to claim more than a two --

PHIL
I think if you just, you know --

MEENA
Or is 10 as unhappy as a basically healthy, employed person could
be, in which case I guess I would put myself at about a nine?

PHIL
How about five and a half?

MEENA
No.

PHIL
I took the average of two, from the first answer you gave --

MEENA
But they meant one thing or the other by the question --

PHIL
And nine, from the second answer --

MEENA
So the answer is either two or it's nine. It's not five and
a half.

(Phil and Meena look at each other from

behind their respective eyeglasses.)

PHIL
Let's put down nine for you.

MEENA
Whatever you think is best.

PHIL
(Recording the number)
Should we go on?

MEENA
Yes.

PHIL
Great. Question Two. Do you cry during the workday?

MEENA
Yes.

PHIL
How often?

PHIL MEENA
(overlapping) (overlapping)
Never, rarely, sometimes, Twice.
or frequently.

(They stare at each other.)

MEENA
Twice a day is --

PHIL
Frequently?

MEENA
Frequently. OK.

PHIL
Are you concerned that crying during the workday affects your
colleagues' or superiors' opinion of you?

MEENA
No.

PHIL
Why or why not?

MEENA
I go to the department store. I don't cry here.
 PHIL
I'm just writing that in the "explanatory notes" section.

MEENA
I go all the way in the back where they sell the old ladies'
underwear. It's the Bon-Ton on the corner. They sell a lot
of old ladies' underwear in the back, the great big white ones
that look like sails. No one in this office would wear
underwear like that, so I know no one will see me there.

(Phil holds up a finger to say he's still

writing. She nods.)

MEENA
(CONT'D)
Also, there's just something comforting about all those big
underpants. It's like you're surrounded by an army of
grandmas. Like they're standing guard for you while you cry.
(One tear leaks from the corner of her eye, and she swats it
away.) I don't cry here.

PHIL
Are you popular among your coworkers?

MEENA
I don't know.

PHIL
Just do your best.

MEENA
I really don't know.

PHIL
Do you experience boredom or over-stimulation during the
workday?

MEENA
Yes.

PHIL
Which?

MEENA
Both.

PHIL
Do you experience confusion during the workday?
 MEENA
Yes.

PHIL
How many times would you say that you become confused during
the average workday?

MEENA
Several?

PHIL
Do you remember your last episode of confusion?

MEENA
Yes.

PHIL
How confused were you, on a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the
most confused and 1 being the least confused?

MEENA
S -- Si -- Seven? Six.

PHIL
Are you crying, Miss Pierotti?

MEENA
No.

PHIL
But you're upset.

MEENA
I guess I just was hoping --

PHIL
Have I offended you in some way?

MEENA
I guess I just was hoping that you were going to help me.

PHIL
This is a preliminary screening. A standardized
questionnaire. Your answers will determine your eligibility
for the physical exam, which in turn will help determine your
eligibility for --

MEENA
Right. No, I know. I don't know why I --
 PHIL
Shall we go on?

MEENA
Yes, please.

Scene 2

Allison stands in a spotlight at a podium, addressing the crowd

at the annual Schmidt Pharma shareholders meeting. Maybe she
has slides. If so, the first one could identify her as "Allison
B. Hardy, MBA, Team Leader, Neurology."

ALLISON
One of the things we in the Neurology Business Unit are
especially excited about is a development-stage drug we've
code-named SP-925, which targets workplace depression, a newly
identified -- and we believe eminently treatable -- disease
caused by a startling drop in norepinephrine levels during the
working day. Plummeting norepinephrine levels leave some
sufferers listless and unproductive, while others become
agitated and difficult to work with. Anyone have a colleague
they'd like to volunteer for our clinical trial? I'm kidding!
We're in the process of pre-screening subjects for the first
major efficacy trial of SP-925, and we'll have that data to
present to you at the next annual Schmidt Pharma shareholders
meeting, assuming all goes well. And while I am required by the
SEC to caution you that my presentation today has contained
forward-looking statements that are not guarantees of future
performance and involve certain risks and uncertainties, I
assure you that I intend to personally see to it that all goes
well. Now ask me some questions so I can stay up here a little
longer. I love it up here.

Scene 3

An examining room at Schmidt Pharma. Phil wears a white

labcoat. Meena wears a paper gown and sits on a paper-covered
table.

PHIL
I'm going to begin by just looking into your eyes with a
penlight, if you'll allow me.

MEENA
I'm sorry for the way I behaved the other day during the
questionnaire.
 PHIL
No apologies necessary.

MEENA
I'm such a baby about my job.

PHIL
You may be suffering from workplace depression, which isn't a
personal failing, it's a disease. We hope.

(He switches eyes.)

MEENA
But you must talk to so many people whose jobs are so much worse.
Oh, god, like the girl who does my nails at the $10 place. She
wears a tee-shirt tied around her face because the fumes give
her coughing fits. Also, you know -- I don't know. Rat
catchers. Lunch ladies.

PHIL
We're developing this drug for patients with a household income
of at least $65,000.

MEENA
Really?

PHIL
I don't get sent to screen the working poor. They're not our
target patient population.

MEENA
I didn't know it worked like that.

PHIL
They don't have health insurance. It costs two billion dollars
to develop a drug. You have to be able to sell it to someone.
(He looks in her ears with the penlight.) OK. Great. Now if
you would open up the gown and lie back flat.

(MEENA hesitates.)

MEENA
Are you actually a doctor doctor?

PHIL
Yes.

MEENA
OK. Great. Sorry. (She opens up the gown and lies back flat.
He prods her abdomen, and she watches his hands.) You wear
cufflinks.

PHIL
Yes.

MEENA
That's nice. (He taps around, feeling the size of her liver.
She looks at the ceiling.) I could never be a doctor. I get
sick to my stomach when I see other people's blood. I do have
an MFA, though.

PHIL
Oh. Great. What is that?

MEENA
It's a master of fine arts. In poetry. I can dissect a text.

PHIL
Just a little pressure here. (He pushes down on her belly with
his palm.) I haven't read much poetry. I like it when I hear
it, but -- Busy, I guess.

MEENA
William Carlos Williams was a doctor. You know William Carlos
Williams? "So much depends/ upon a red wheel barrow/glazed
with rainwater...." Oh, god!

PHIL
Is something wrong?

MEENA
No. Sorry. Whatever you did just now made me feel a little --

PHIL
I'm sorry.

MEENA
-- jumpy, that's all!

PHIL
I apologize. May I push down firmly right here?

MEENA
Yes.

PHIL
And a deep breath, if you would.
 (MEENA takes a deep breath. Phil pushes
down sharply on her belly with his palm.
She has a little spasm of anxiety and
discomfort and smacks his hand away.)

MEENA
I'm sorry.

PHIL
No apologies are necessary, Miss Pierotti.

MEENA
Are you going to put me in the study?

PHIL
My colleagues and I will review your files, and we'll make a
determination based on --

MEENA
I'd really like to be in the study.

PHIL
I understand. There's a committee and we'll --

(He pushes down sharply again, and MEENA

smacks his hand.)

MEENA
Sorry.

PHIL
It's quite all right, Miss Pierotti.

(Phil steps back.)

MEENA
You can -- I won't --

PHIL
That's actually fine for now. You can get dressed.

MEENA
That's it?

PHIL
That's it for now.
 MEENA sits up and ties the gown.

MEENA
I meant to tell you. I have a deviated septum. I don't know
if you saw it. It didn't come up in any of the -- You can look
if you want.

PHIL
That's the whole thing for right now.

MEENA
I don't know why I hate my job so much. I just feel like I was
meant for better things. Isn't that sort of disgusting?

PHIL
No, I think it's -- You can just check out with Joan after you
change. She'll explain what happens from here.

MEENA
OK. Great. Thanks.

(Meena gets down from the table and leaves

the room. Phil writes busily in her
file. After a moment, Allison sticks her
head through the door.)

ALLISON
Hey! Phil!

PHIL
Hey, Allison.

ALLISON
Do you have a minute?

PHIL
Sure. Is everything OK?

ALLISON
Well, basically, yes. However.

(Phil closes the file.)

PHIL
What is it?

ALLISON
I got a memo about you.
 PHIL
You did?

ALLISON
A notice of violation of Schmidt Pharma policy. (She holds it
up.) I have to check this little box here and sign it to say
we discussed it.

PHIL
I didn't use my own data descriptors in the IRB report this time,
if that's what this is about. I used the registered metadata.

ALLISON
Yeah, I saw that. Thanks. That's not what this is about.
You gotta stop taking the document hutch off your work module.

PHIL
What's a document hutch?

ALLISON
The shelfy thing on top. You can't take it off and put it on
the floor. It's a fire hazard.

PHIL
Not having a shelf is a -- ?

ALLISON
Leaving it on the floor is a fire hazard, Phil.

PHIL
Can they take it away for me?

ALLISON
If you want your work module to go away with it!

PHIL
What is my -- ?

ALLISON
Your desk, Phil. Says here the shelving unit has the same
serial number as the desk, which means they can't be separated
per Schmidt Pharma policy on freestanding furniture.

PHIL
I hit my head on that shelfy thing every time I stand up.

ALLISON
Can I check the box, Phil?
 PHIL
I've been screening a lot of unhappy workers, and it's exactly
this kind of corporate crap that makes them hate their jobs.

ALLISON
No, it's not. People don't hate their jobs because of corporate
crap. People hate their jobs because of a treatable
norepinephrine deficiency that manifests during the workday.

PHIL
Well, yeah, I know, but --

ALLISON
You know how I know that people don't hate their jobs because
of corporate crap? Because I have been through every piece of
corporate crap there is. You could pull a mile of red tape out
of my ass and use it to tie a bow around all the forms I have
to fill out today, but I LOVE my job, Phil. And that's just
in my blood --

PHIL
It just seems silly --

ALLISON
That's just because working makes my norepinephrine flow.

PHIL
-- that I have to crack my skull five times a day because of
some half-baked serial number system.

ALLISON
Why don't you try just remembering not to bump your head when
you stand up? (Phil shrugs.) What did a year of med school
cost, Phil? Because it cost 350 bucks to get my cocker spaniel
Maggie trained and she doesn't have a problem with stuff like
this.

PHIL
What do you love about your job?

ALLISON
All the little triumphs that can be achieved in the course of
a day! The problem solved, the budget trimmed, the enemy
conquered!

PHIL
Do you have a document hutch on your desk?
 ALLISON
Nope.

PHIL
How come?

ALLISON
I took it off. (She shrugs.) I'm management. My life isn't
easy, Phil, but it really has its satisfactions.

Scene 4

Meena's office. Meena is working at the ugly desk. Simon

enters.

SIMON
Hey, Meena.

MEENA
Hey, Simon.

SIMON
So, this PETA quote in Amy's story.

MEENA
Yeah.

SIMON
We're gonna go with it?

MEENA
I mean, I don't care that much. But I told her to go ahead and
use it in the middle, as long as she gives Greenfield Meats the
last word, because it's awful when their press guy calls and
yells.

SIMON
Because Greenfield's an advertiser.

MEENA
Yeah. OK. It's fine. Either way.

SIMON
And that PETA stuff is very inflammatory. They're saying the
Greenfield employees were actually --

MEENA
Oh, god. I know. Don't say it.
 SIMON
As a form of protest against their working conditions. They
took it out on the pigs.

MEENA
No, please! I'm nauseated as it is today.

(Simon looks at Meena.)

SIMON
Are you going to throw up?

MEENA
Not unless you say the thing about the Greenfield pigs. You
want this half of my bagel?

SIMON
No thanks.

MEENA
I didn't touch it.

SIMON
I had a croissant.

MEENA
It's this medication I started taking, I think.

SIMON
Medication for what?

MEENA
For improvement of my condition.

SIMON
What condition?

MEENA
I'm not supposed to talk about it. I'm part of a clinical study.
They're testing a new drug on us.

SIMON
You think that's safe?

MEENA
I'm finding it kind of exciting.

SIMON
Because you don't look all that good.
 MEENA
They said my body would adjust. I'm not as nauseated today as
I was yesterday.

SIMON
If you feel like you're going to throw up at any point --

MEENA
I won't as long as we don't have to talk about the Greenfield
pigs.

SIMON
No, no, we don't have to talk about it. But if we're going to
run something from PETA claiming that management actually
turned a blind eye while those Greenfield employees were --

MEENA
Not! No! We're not! I don't care. I'll tell her to take it
out.

SIMON
OK. The other thing I wanted to tell you is Amy's quitting.
She gave me her two-week notice.

MEENA
No.

SIMON
Yeah, yesterday. So let's touch base with HR later about all
that.

MEENA
Did she get another job?

SIMON
She says she's going to write a book.

MEENA
What kind of book?

SIMON
Some historical kind of thing.

MEENA
What kind of historical kind of thing?

SIMON
A novel, I guess. It's called The Dairy Wife. It takes place
in Wisconsin in the 1800s. She said she got the idea when we
sent her to that Women in Dairy conference last month.

MEENA
Did she sell a proposal?

SIMON
Not that she said.

MEENA
She's just going to write a book and see what happens?

SIMON
I guess.

MEENA
What's she going to do for money?

SIMON
Tend bar nights at The Barrister. Which is funny, because I
go there.

MEENA
What's she going to do for health insurance?

SIMON
Skip it, I guess.

MEENA
What if she gets cancer or fibromyalgia?

SIMON
I didn't ask.

MEENA
Isn't she scared?

SIMON
I actually didn't --

MEENA
I don't think she's thought this whole thing through very
carefully.

SIMON
Well, you know, she's young, she's good-looking, she'll land
on her feet. (Meena looks unwell.) Hey, Meena, are you gonna--
 MEENA
No.

SIMON
You want to run to the ladies' room?

MEENA
I have to go to the department store. Shit, I can't find my
shoe! (She digs around under the desk.) No, wait! There it
is! I'll be back in half an hour.

Scene 5

MEENA sits on a small stepladder, crying, surrounded by racks

and racks of large, white cotton underwear. Suddenly, there's
movement behind one of the racks. MEENA looks up, surprised:
no one shops in this department. FRANCES is holding a pair of
giant white panties.

FRANCES
My eyeglasses are out of date. Would you mind reading this
pricetag for me? You're not busy, are you?

MEENA
No. (MEENA looks at the pricetag.) These are two for eleven
dollars.

FRANCES
Oh. But I don't need two new pairs of underwear. Well, maybe
I need two. (She looks carefully at the undies.) They're
good, aren't they?

MEENA
Yes.

FRANCES
Nothing fancy.

MEENA
No.

FRANCES
But nice and sturdy.

MEENA
Yes.

(MEENA weeps.)
 FRANCES
I'm going to take two. Why not? Live a little. (She suddenly
notices the weeping.) Oh, dear. What's the matter?

MEENA
It's nothing, really. It's just -- I hate my job. There's
nothing really wrong with it, but I hate it.

FRANCES
Well, now. I never had a job to speak of, so I'm no expert on
the subject, but you look pretty sharp. Can't you think of a
way to make things better?

MEENA
I don't know. Maybe. I'm trying a medication. It might start
helping soon.

FRANCES
Well, there you are! (Frances digs around in her pocketbook
and hands Meena a tissue.) It's not quite true that I never
had a job. I had a wonderful job for several months before I
got married. I worked in a factory that made hook-and-eye
fasteners. Little metal ones. But my husband preferred that
I give it up.

MEENA
You enjoyed making little metal hook-and-eye fasteners?

FRANCES
I did, yes. The other girls and I had lunch at Bensons every
day. I was terribly lonely after I fell in love and got married.
(MEENA wipes her nose. Frances gives her a little smile of
encouragement.) Better now?

MEENA
Yes.

FRANCES
There's a sale on, you know. You should buy yourself something
nice on your way out. That's something else I did when I had
that job. I shopped! Just bought myself little things and
then had them. (She looks down at the underwear in her hands.)
I haven't had new underpants in 12 or 15 years.

MEENA
I like those ones with the little flowers on the waistband.

FRANCES
Do you? A little decoration can be nice, don't you think?
(She shakes her head.) I don't know when I stopped taking care
of myself. I cut my own hair with my nail scissors. Why do
I do that? It looks awful.

MEENA
You look fine.

FRANCES
I look awful.

MEENA
No, you don't.

FRANCES
And my apartment! All the furniture is lumpy and
avocado-colored, like guacamole! My husband's cousin sold us
a whole living room set made out of guacamole at a discount.

MEENA
Would your husband let you change it?

FRANCES
My husband's dead.

MEENA
I'm sorry.

FRANCES
He died a lifetime ago. (Beat.) But I don't know how you would
throw away something as cumbersome as a sofa, do you? My
neighbor's son took hers to the dump for her, but I don't have
any children. My blood was negative-something-or-other, so
the pregnancies always ended badly. I read that nowadays the
doctors can fix the problem with hardly any fuss, just a little
shot of something. I would think it would be wonderful to be
young in this day and age. So many obstacles cleared from the
path. Like driving right behind the snowplow.

Scene 6
The Schmidt Pharma examining room. Meena in her paper gown;
Phil in his white coat. He is looking at a pair of cufflinks
in a little cardboard box.

PHIL
Did these cost five dollars or more?

MEENA
They weren't expensive. There was a sale at the Bon-Ton. They
looked like little pills to me. That's what made me think of
you.

PHIL
I can't accept gifts worth five dollars or more.

MEENA
I'm not sure where you'd find a pair of cufflinks that didn't
cost--

PHIL
There are certain regulations governing clinical trials.
(He hands the box back to her.)

MEENA
I'll use them for Secret Santa at the office.

PHIL
I think that would probably be best.

MEENA
I didn't mean to violate the regulations.

PHIL
Of course not.

MEENA
I really just wanted to thank you for putting me in the trial.
It's making a big difference to me.

PHIL
You're feeling the effects of SP-925 already, then?

MEENA
Well, no. But I feel like I might start feeling them any minute
and I guess that's making me feel -- not quite so hopeless.

PHIL
That's the kind of thing we like to hear. (He shuffles some
papers on the counter, reads one of them, and turns to her
holding it in his hand.) Miss Pierotti, I'm looking at your
study journal. You told me just now you were feeling better.

MEENA
No.

PHIL
Yes, you did. Just now.

MEENA
Not yet really, no. What I actually said was that I feel like
I might start feeling better any minute now and that is making
me feel not quite so bad.

PHIL
Why didn't you record in the study journal that you were feeling
better?

MEENA
I'm not yet.

PHIL
Miss Pierotti --

MEENA
Please don't take me out of the study!

PHIL
I'm not going to take you out of the study. But the study
journal is a key part of our data collection, so I just want
to be sure that you're using it in a manner that accurately --

MEENA
I'll change my study journal if you want. Here, give it to me.
I'll change it. Do you have a pen?

PHIL
Miss Pierotti.

MEENA
Yes?

PHIL
I'm not asking you to change your study journal. That would
be against the regulations.

MEENA
No, of course not. I'm sorry. It's a very hard time for me
right now.

PHIL
Harder than when we did our initial screening?
 MEENA
Yes.

(Phil uncaps his pen and reaches for her

file.)

PHIL
Why is that, would you say?

MEENA
Someone at work is quitting. She's going to write a book,
which I don't think is smart at all in this economy.

PHIL
Anything else?

MEENA
Not really.

PHIL
I see.

MEENA
It's very upsetting.

PHIL
Are you feeling envious because you would like to write a book?

MEENA
I did write a book.

PHIL
You did?

MEENA
Yes. After grad school.

PHIL
Was it published?

MEENA
Yes.

PHIL
Well, that's impressive! Really. What kind of book was it?

MEENA
Poetry. It was a collection of 27 prose poems.
 PHIL
Is it available -- you know, could I buy it in a store?

MEENA
You can get it on Amazon.

PHIL
That's great! You're an actual published poet.

MEENA
I'm the managing editor of piggeries at American Cattle & Swine
Magazine. I spent three hours this morning line-editing an
article about controlling parasitic worms in pigs.

PHIL
If you'll forgive me that actually sounds like--

MEENA
Nodular worms, roundworms and whipworms.

PHIL
That sounds like it could be interesting.

MEENA
The pigs get them from wallowing around in their own shit. Sorry.
Waste.

PHIL
Roundworms are often transmitted to humans through under-cooked
pork. It's a public health issue of a certain degree of
importance.

MEENA
Please don't take me out of the study.

PHIL
I'm not going to take you out of the study.

MEENA
Maybe today my norepinephrine levels will stabilize and I'll
start feeling grateful for all the things I should be grateful
for.

PHIL
(smiling just a little)
If that happens, will you note it in your study journal for me,
Miss Pierotti?

MEENA
Yeah.

PHIL
Thank you.

He hands her back the study journal.

MEENA
I'll see you in two weeks.

PHIL
See you in two weeks.

Meena exits with the study journal. The

little cardboard box of cufflinks is left
behind on the examining table. Phil
picks it up and takes the lid off.
Allison enters.

ALLISON
Hey, Phil!

PHIL
Hey, Allison.

He puts the box of cufflinks in the pocket

of his labcoat.

ALLISON
You ready to go?

PHIL
I don't know if it makes sense for me to be in this meeting.
I don't know if marketing is really my thing.

ALLISON
Marketing is everybody's thing.

PHIL
I'm just not sure I have a lot to contribute to a discussion
of --

ALLISON
If you work for Schmidt Pharma -- if you make the omelettes in
the cafeteria! -- then marketing's your thing. If we didn't
sell any drugs, there wouldn't be any eggs.

PHIL
I do see how it's all connected, but I --

ALLISON
Richard from the ad agency likes to have you in the room.

PHIL
Why does he care about me?

ALLISON
Because your little white coat and your doctor talk make Richard
feel like he is part of something important, like he helps
people. That little white coat of yours is the only thing
standing between Richard and his midlife crisis. So unless you
want him driving to Mexico with a high-priced callgirl and
breaking his three children's hearts, you're gonna come to my
goddamn meeting and play doctor with the guy.

PHIL
You're in rare form today.

ALLISON
Marketing meetings turn me on like almost nothing else.
(She takes his hand.) Come on!

Scene 7

Richard, a vice president from an advertising agency, is

standing at the front of a conference room. Allison and Phil
enter.

ALLISON
Richard! Got everything you need?

RICHARD
Yes, I do. Thanks so much.

ALLISON
You remember Dr. Gray?

RICHARD
Thanks for coming, Dr. Gray!

PHIL
OK.

ALLISON
We'll take our seats. The room is yours!
 Phil and Allison sit. Richard addresses
the room.

RICHARD
Good morning, all. As you may know, I'm Richard, co-founder
and principal of Health Is Wealth Inc., and we are here today
to transform the drug currently code-named SP-925
into... Thriveon. The brandname Thriveon is meant of course to
suggest the word "thrive," which is echoed in the tagline: "You
Can Thrive from Nine to Five!" That tagline will be used in
print, television, radio, online, billboard, brochure and
direct-mail advertising. And in the TV and radio spots, it will
be powerfully reinforced by our very own version of Dolly
Parton's 1981 chart-topper "9 to 5" --

ALLISON
I love that song!

RICHARD
Ready to go to Dollywood?

ALLISON
I'm coming with you!

(Richard pushes a button and the JINGLE

plays, to the tune of Dolly Parton's "9
to 5":)

ENERGETIC SINGING VOICES

I've got peace of mind
And I give Thriveon the credit!
Work can make you
Happy if you let it!

(Instrumental music continues under an

ANNOUNCER's VOICE: "Thriveon. You Can
THRIVE from Nine to Five!" Richard turns
off the recording.)

RICHARD
Hope I'm making you happy so far.

ALLISON
No one from any ad agency has ever made me happier. No man has
ever made me -- Richard. You make me. God, Richard. You make
me -- god. You make me -- god! You're really good at what you
do.
 RICHARD
Dr. Gray?

PHIL
Yes?

RICHARD
You're the one out in the field interacting with the people who
suffer from this debilitating but treatable condition.

PHIL
Yup.

RICHARD
How do you think they'll respond to our message?

PHIL
Oh. Well.

RICHARD
We know you'll agree that everyone wants to thrive in the
workplace --

PHIL
I don't know. I think most of the people I've been seeing just
want to stop feeling so awful for a minute.

RICHARD
But if they knew that thriving was within their reach!

PHIL
I think it's more about just, you know. Survival. Maybe
Surviveon? Maybe "You Can Survive From 9 to 5?" Because these
people are really feeling kind of hopeless.

(Richard beams.)

RICHARD
It's great to have Dr. Gray with us, isn't it? Because he
reminds us what we're doing in the first place: we're helping
people. Real, hopeless people who have nowhere else to turn!
That's why I love to have a doctor in the room. Because doctors
-- doctors help. You gotta admire -- You gotta sort of wish
you could -- I mean, looking at your own choices in life.
Anyway. I admire you, Dr. Gray.

PHIL
Thanks.
 ALLISON
Good. Everybody happy?

RICHARD
Sure, I'm happy.

ALLISON
Happy, Phil?

PHIL
OK.

ALLISON
Great! Let's see the focus group data.

Scene 8

The Schmidt Pharma examining room, near the end of one of MEENA's
check-ins. MEENA in her paper gown; Phil in his white coat.
Phil looks up from writing something on MEENA's chart.

PHIL
I bought your book.

MEENA
Oh. OK.

PHIL
I liked it.

MEENA
Good.

PHIL
I liked the poem about the day everyone in the world was
barefoot.

MEENA
Oh, well --

PHIL
I liked the line about the old man's toes, where you compared
his skin to the rough white rind of a --

MEENA
Oh, my god, stop! Please.
 PHIL
I'm only quoting it because I liked it.

MEENA
I know, but it's just so incredibly--

PHIL
I don't know a lot about prose poems, but I thought it was--

MEENA
It's incredibly--

PHIL
And the little girl's feet, how they were soft and pink like
the interior of a--

(MEENA claps her hands over her ears.)

MEENA
No, no!

PHIL
But --

MEENA
It's so embarrassing!

PHIL
-- you wrote it.

MEENA
That doesn't mean that I don't hate it.

PHIL
Well, I'll stop.

MEENA
Thanks. Sorry.

PHIL
But I thought it was very evocative, the one about the feet.

MEENA
Well. Thanks.

PHIL
Actually, I had a dream after I read it. I was back in Chicago,
in the emergency room at Hartnett Hospital, which is where I
did my internship. And I walked out into the waiting area and
I looked at all the people. And you know, there's always a guy
with a blood-alcohol level of point-four who's using an oily
rag for a tourniquet because he tried to open a beer with his
chainsaw, and there's always an old lady puking and praying the
rosary because she didn't throw away the chicken that was 29
days past its sell-by date, and there's always a five-year-old
with an ugly rash and a high fever whose mother waited too long
to bring him in because she wanted to beat her best score at
Tetrus. And I thought I wanted to do emergency medicine when
I was in school, I really did. But after a while, I deeply hated
my patients. I mean, I'm not entirely sure that you deserve
our help here, people. Because we're really tired and we have
$300,000 worth of student loans to repay, and you know,
honestly, it's time to take a little responsibility for
yourselves! But in this dream, I was back there and the waiting
room was really crowded, and everyone in there was barefoot.
Like in your prose poem. And somehow seeing their feet, it made
me feel some compassion again. It made me want to be of service
to them.

MEENA
Feet are -- you know, Jesus washed the apostles' feet.

PHIL
Do you have any other prose poems I could read?

MEENA
No. They're all in the book.

(They look at each other.)

PHIL
OK. See you in two weeks, then.

(MEENA nods. She leaves. She comes back

and stands in the doorway.)

MEENA
The book got very bad reviews.

PHIL
There were reviews?

MEENA
There was one review.

PHIL
In a newspaper?

MEENA
The New York Times.

PHIL
That's really impressive.

MEENA
It was a bad review.

(She leaves. Phil looks after her for a

second.)

SCENE 9

The old ladies' underwear section at the Bon-Ton. MEENA is

sitting on a stepladder crying. Frances enters.

MEENA
Oh! Hello.

FRANCES
I came back for second helpings! I can't tell you how much I've
been enjoying my new underwear. It's brought a sort of
freshness to everything.

MEENA
I'm glad.

FRANCES
Suddenly I want to fall in love and take a jazz dance class and
go to the Galapagos Islands.

MEENA
I think you should.

(Frances hands MEENA the stack of

underwear she was holding and pulls a
glossy pamphlet out of her purse.)

FRANCES
I inquired with a travel agent this morning about the Galapagos
and I got this brochure. It turns out that it costs $7,000 for
a two-week stay. So. (She shrugs.) We'll see. But! It's
exciting to have the brochure.

(MEENA looks over Frances' shoulder.)

 MEENA
That's a big turtle.

FRANCES
It's a 400-pound, 113-year-old Indefatigable Island Tortoise!
I'm going to make a list of the things I want to do, because
otherwise I'll forget. (She puts the brochure back in her purse
and digs around for something else to write on.) Look, here's
the receipt from my underwear! And here's a pen. Now, what
did I say? Learn jazz dance, which can be done at the YMCA;
fall in love, which I'm told can be done on the computer; and
go to the Galapagos. Does that all sound do-able if I have
another five or 10 good years in me?

MEENA
Completely do-able.

FRANCES
I'll make a list for you, too. You have more time. What do
you want to do?

MEENA
I can't answer that question.

FRANCES
Just do your best.

MEENA
I want to make something undeniably beautiful.

FRANCES
Can you be more specific?

MEENA
No.

FRANCES
Like a painting, maybe.

MEENA
No, I don't know how to paint.

FRANCES
Well, there you are! For you, I'm putting down: painting
lessons. (She writes.) That's number one. What's number
two?
Scene 10

The Schmidt Pharma examining room. Another check-in. Meena

is sitting on the paper-covered table in her paper gown. Phil
faces away from her, writing in her chart.

MEENA
You know, that was really weird, what you did.

(Phil turns and looks at her. Then he

looks at the floor.)

PHIL
I know. I hope you won't feel compelled to --

MEENA
I just need to know, should I be scared of you?

(He looks up, surprised.)

PHIL
Scared of me?

MEENA
Yes.

PHIL
No.

MEENA
OK.

PHIL
I meant for it to be art. I had a new camera, and you and I
had been talking about feet, so --

MEENA
It's just, the subject line of the e-mail said, "A photograph
of my feet," which was weird, and then there was no note or
anything, just the attachment with the picture of --

PHIL
My feet.

MEENA
So it was a little --

PHIL
I thought I might do a series with my new camera -- about feet.
But I've never tried anything like that before, so I wanted to
get your opinion, as a creative person.

MEENA
Well, no, I mean -- It was a good picture. If you're interested
in photography, then I think you should --

(Phil clears his throat.)

PHIL
Also, Miss Pierotti, I did want to show you my feet.

MEENA
Oh.

PHIL
Because of your prose poem. Because when you described the feet
of the people in your prose poem, you seemed to feel so much
affection for them. And after I read your poems, I felt so much
affection for you, and I was hoping that maybe you would feel
some affection for me. If you saw my feet. I'm a scientist.
I'm not good at this kind of thing.

MEENA
No. I understand. I mean, there are a lot of things I'm not
very good at. Really a lot of things.

(A pause. They look at each other.)

PHIL
I looked up that review of your book.

MEENA
Oh.

PHIL
I think he started out biased against prose poems as a genre.
Which I guess I can understand because I didn't even know there
was such a thing as a prose poem, and you have to admit, they're
a little -- But I think he just wanted to make a point about
prose poems. He didn't bother to read your book carefully
enough to see what beautiful use you were able to make of the
form.

MEENA
That's nice of you.

PHIL
I think you made really beautiful use of the form.

MEENA
Thanks.

PHIL
I'm sorry about the photograph. Leave the art to the artists,
that's what my mother used to say.

MEENA
I think what you do is really important.

PHIL
No, I mean, I was going to do something important, but then I
couldn't really cut it in the emergency room. I was so tired
and angry all the time, I wasn't helping anyone. At least here
they give me a lot of money for not helping anyone.

MEENA
You're helping me. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have this
drug and I wouldn't be feeling like any second I might start
feeling better.

PHIL
(gently)
I want you to feel better.

MEENA
Thank you so much.

(Phil and Meena kiss. It rains

white cotton underwear. The
underwear buries them. Beneath
it, they roll and thrust and
grunt and moan. The lights go
out on them. There is music
suggesting a celestial
unveiling, a choir of angels -
- and not far from the writhing
pile of underwear, lights rise
on Frances with a fabulous new
haircut. She's resplendent.
Meena stands in the dark to look
at her, steps into her light.)

MEENA
Wow!
 FRANCES
Do you like it?

MEENA
It's fabulous.

FRANCES
It's not ridiculous?

MEENA
No, not at all.

FRANCES
She layered it and gave me bangs.

MEENA
I can see.

FRANCES
Also, she did a color wash to make it silver instead of just
gray.

MEENA
It's glorious.

FRANCES
You can tell it's silver now?

MEENA
I can really tell.

FRANCES
The hairdresser was surprised to see me. So was the doctor.
They're next door to each other, so I did them both for the first
time in years. A haircut and a checkup! What's interesting
is that the doctor found a little lump in my left breast. He
says I should have been checking my breasts all these years in
the shower, but I don't like to poke at myself.

MEENA
No. Me either.

FRANCES
They're going to do a biopsy, and of course these things always
turn out to be nothing at all, don't they? When a doctor thinks
you should have some tests, you know there's money due on his
yachting slip, that's what my husband used to say.

FRANCES
What happened to your husband?

MEENA
He died of liver cancer.

Scene 11

Phil's bed. Night. Meena and Phil are looking through a stack
of photographs he took.

MEENA
I like this one, because of the way the light hits your ankle.
This one's good, too. I mean, the composition is, but it's kind
of out of focus. Right up here in the area by your pinky toe.

PHIL
Yeah.

MEENA
Did you mean to do that?

PHIL
It was before I read the whole manual.

MEENA
What's this one?

PHIL
It's yours. Your left one. I took it while you were sleeping.
Last week. It was the first night you stayed over, and I
couldn't believe how beautiful -- Like the Queen of Belgium's
feet in your prose poem about the day everyone in the world was
barefoot.

MEENA
No, no! Not good!

PHIL
It's beautiful and I am going to say it out loud. I am.

MEENA
No.

PHIL
"And the Queen of Belgium's feet were finely wrought, but
strong..."

MEENA
I don't want you to. I'll leave.

PHIL
I'll stop. I will. Lie back down. I promise. But your feet
are just like the Queen of Belgium's.

MEENA
My feet are just like a managing editor's. Oh, no, Phil, it's
12:42! I don't want to go to work tomorrow!

PHIL
Did you take your pill today?

MEENA
Yes. It's not helping.

PHIL
The effects are cumulative. Give it time.

MEENA
What if I'm in the placebo group? Didn't you warn me that could
happen, at our first interview? What if I'm one of the suckers
who's swallowing a lump of chalk every morning?

PHIL
The placebo is made out of sugar, usually. Milk sugar; lactose.

MEENA
What if I'm pinning my hopes on a lump of lactose and there's
no help coming at all?

(Phil takes his glasses from the

night-stand and puts them on. He looks
at Meena.)

PHIL
You're not in the placebo group.

MEENA
How do you know? (She sits up and puts on her glasses, too.)
You said you weren't allowed to know, because it could influence
your perceptions of my reaction to--

PHIL
I'm not allowed to know. But I do.

MEENA
You do?
 PHIL
Somebody owed me a favor. So I asked him, and he told me.

MEENA
Really?

PHIL
Yes.

MEENA
Couldn't you get in trouble for that?

PHIL
I needed to know I was really helping you. I didn't want to
be giving you a lump of lactose.

MEENA
Wow. Thank you.

PHIL
SP-925 shows a lot of promise, MEENA. Give it time.

MEENA
OK. (She looks at him.) Are you OK? Do you have a headache?

PHIL
No, I just -- It was a long day. And I smacked my head really
hard on this shelfy thing above my desk.

MEENA
Do you ever think about leaving Schmidt Pharma?

(Phil takes his wallet from the

nightstand, takes a small folded square
of paper out of it, and hands the paper
to Meena.)

PHIL
I saw this in the back of New Physician magazine.

MEENA
"Put your ideals into action! Flying Physicians, a nonprofit
corps of doctors who travel the world providing medical
assistance where it is needed most, seeks field staff. Join
us for a presentation, film, and question-and-answer session
to learn more about how you can become a Flying Physician working
in India, Australia and/or Africa." (She looks at Phil.) Are
you going to the presentation?
 PHIL
It was last month.

MEENA
Why didn't you go?

PHIL
Because once in the emergency room at Hartnett, I told a
nine-year-old with a broken arm that he was a little fucker.

MEENA
You did?

PHIL
He was a little fucker.

MEENA
Oh.

PHIL
He bit my hand.

MEENA
OK.

PHIL
So. I don't have a good enough heart to do that kind of work.

MEENA
I think your heart is the eighth wonder of the world. I think
your heart is like that record-breaking tower they're building
in Dubai that's going to be 2,000 feet tall and have the world's
fastest elevator and look like a shining silver spiral reaching
up into the sky.

PHIL
Was that a prose poem?

MEENA
Yes. I think that was a little prose poem about your heart.

PHIL
Wow. Thank you.

MEENA
No problem.

PHIL
The thing is, I think maybe my heart is only like that when I'm
around you.

MEENA
Well, that's OK, because I'd come with you.

PHIL
You would?

MEENA
Yes. I'm going to come with you to Africa.

PHIL
And write poems?

MEENA
Sure. Can you imagine anywhere better than Africa to write
poems? The grasslands and the children with those big
beautiful brown eyes. My god, those eyes are poems already,
aren't they?

PHIL
A lot of them have river blindness.

MEENA
I don't want to know what that is.

PHIL
It's a parasitic disease carried by flies that breed in rivers.
It can inflame the eyes to the point of blindness.

MEENA
Is it treatable?

PHIL
There's a drug, yes. Mectizan. It works.

MEENA
So, go treat them, Phil. (She hands him back the little scrap
of paper.) I'll come with you.

Scene 12

Simons's office. Meena enters.

MEENA
Hey, Simon.
 SIMON
Hey, Meena.

MEENA
I got ahold of those USDA graphs.

SIMON
Spot market sales?

MEENA
Versus meat-market sales. They're exquisite, Simon. They
really make our point for us.

SIMON
Yeah?

MEENA
It's like I drew them myself.

SIMON
They go by carcass weight?

MEENA
They go by carcass weight.

SIMON
Awesome.

MEENA
Awesome, right?

Scene 13

Phil's bed. Night. Meena strokes Phil's cheek.

PHIL
I did my best. I tried to be very honest and forthright.

MEENA
Well, that's good. That was the right thing to do.

PHIL
I hope so. I told them there were a lot of problems at Hartnett.
Chicago is a big city. But I called the problems challenges.
Challenges to be met.

MEENA
That's good!

PHIL
And I said I thought those challenges were excellent preparation
for working in the countries Flying Physicians aims to help!

MEENA
You told the truth, but you found a way to make it positive.

PHIL
I also told them that I called that nine-year-old with the broken
arm a little fucker.

MEENA
Oh. You did?

PHIL
I wanted to be forthright about my past experiences. Even
though I don't think it really bothered the kid that much when
I called him a little fucker, so maybe I don't need to dwell
on it quite so much. Actually, maybe I didn't even need to bring
it up in the --

MEENA
No, I'm not really sure you did.

PHIL
But, you know, that was really the worst part about the whole
thing, that the kid didn't seem bothered by it! Like he was
totally used to being called a little fucker! This child. (He
shakes his head.) I told the Flying Physicians about you.

MEENA
Why?

PHIL
I told them that you said my heart was the eighth wonder of the
world. And that while that was of course an exaggeration, I
do feel different since I met you.(MEENA's Blackberry rings.)
I wanted them to know that my heart has changed since Hartnett.
 MEENA
Well, it sounds like you -- (Blackberry rings.) I guess we'll
have to just wait and see, huh?

PHIL
Yup.

MEENA
Phil, I have to take this for just one second. (Talks into the
phone) Hey! No. (She laughs.) Yes. Wow. Will you leave
them for me on my desk? Great. Hey, it's late. Go home. OK.
Yeah, I'll be in early. 'Night." (She turns to Phil) Did they
say when you would have to leave?

PHIL
Well, if they accept me.

MEENA
If they accept you.

PHIL
August.

MEENA
Wow. That's soon.

PHIL
You look a little --

MEENA
The timing might be -- Simon and I were throwing around ideas
today about this cover story for September.

PHIL
What kind of a story?

MEENA
Actually, this sort of interesting thing about the pork pricing
crisis in China. Lessons learned for the US market.

PHIL
You don't care about that, do you?

MEENA
Well, yes, Phil, I do. I mean, it's not saving the world, it's
not heroic, but if I've started a project, I'd like to see it
through.

PHIL
You haven't even started it, though.

MEENA
We've had the inspiration.

PHIL
What about writing? You said you were going to start writing
again in Africa.

MEENA
I write at work every day.

PHIL
What about prose poems?

MEENA
Let me tell you something about prose poems.

PHIL
What?

MEENA
I hate them.

PHIL
You don't mean that.

MEENA
Maybe I don't mean that I hate them. But I mean, what's the
point? You struggle and struggle to write them. You tear your
hair out, you wring your heart for blood with your hands. And
for what? My book sold 114 copies, Phil. Nobody wants to read
somebody else's prose poems.

PHIL
I love your prose poems.

MEENA
Well, thanks, Phil. Really. But I think it's time for me to
grow up a little now.

PHIL
If they offer me this post, will you come with me in August or
not? (MEENA is silent.) You're scared.

MEENA
You're not a little scared to go to deepest, darkest Africa,
Phil?
 PHIL
You're scared to write.

MEENA
I write every day at --

PHIL
You're scared to write another book because Douglas Bates wrote
in The New York Times that your poems were fat.

MEENA
He didn't call them fat!

PHIL
He called them corpulent creations that lumber where poetry
should leap!

MEENA
You memorized that?

PHIL
Well, it kind of sticks in your head, doesn't it? (A beat.
Meena's BlackBerry rings, but she doesn't answer it. Phil
reaches for her hand.) I don't want to go to Africa without
you.

MEENA
Then maybe you don't really want to go.

PHIL
Yes, I do.

MEENA
You didn't like Hartnett so much, remember?

PHIL
But I'm different since I met you, Meena! I've been reading
poetry. Hey! I wanted to tell you something funny -- the
metrical patterns in poems are called feet!

MEENA
I know, Phil.

PHIL
There's a chapter in American Poets and Poetry called "Poetic
Feet." Which I think is really nice, because I'm starting to
think that all feet, human feet, are sort of -- God's poetry.
 (The BlackBerry rings again. Meena
looks down, takes note of who it is, but
doesn't answer it.)

MEENA
I think I'm going to go home, OK?

PHIL
No, please.

MEENA
It's hard to sleep here sometimes. You roll around.

PHIL
Please stay.

MEENA
I have a big day at work tomorrow. I'm introducing new
editorial guidelines for my staff and I want to really sell them.
I don't want to be tired for this. It's a big deal. (She finds
her clothes.) Hey Phil. Have you been listening to me
tonight?

PHIL
Yes.

MEENA
I think it's working. The SP-925 is finally working on me!

PHIL
It might be.

MEENA
Well, isn't that sort of exciting? I mean, Phil! Your drug
works!

PHIL
I knew it worked already.

MEENA
You did?

PHIL
The loss mitigation specialist from Citibank called to tell me
she had fun at her foreclosure meetings this morning.

MEENA
Phil. This could be big. For you. For me. God, I don't know
how to thank you.
 PHIL
Stay here with me tonight.

MEENA
OK. Yes. Of course.

PHIL
And come to Africa with me.

MEENA
Well, that's kind of a bigger -- I mean. I might, Phil.

PHIL
Will you?

MEENA
Let's see what happens.

(She strokes his cheek again.)

PHIL
If you don't come with me, my heart won't be the eighth wonder
of the world while I'm there. My heart will almost certainly
be insufficient to meet the task at hand.

MEENA
If I don't scrap my pork pricing story and come with you, you're
going to call some kid with river blindness a little fucker?
Is that what you're saying?

PHIL
I don't want to, but I might.

MEENA
That really isn't fair.

PHIL
I don't think the changes in my heart are necessarily permanent.
I don't know that I can maintain them without you.

MEENA
I'm going to go home, OK? I have a big day tomorrow.

PHIL
You said you were going to stay.

MEENA
I'm sorry, Phil. I have a big day at work.
Scene 15

Meena's office. Meena looks up when Simon comes in.

SIMON
Did you do your new guidelines meeting?

MEENA
Yup.

SIMON
How'd they take it?

MEENA
Oh, you know, fine. People don't like change. They'll get
over it.

SIMON
"Whoever desires constant success must change his conduct with
the times." Tell them that. That's Machiavelli.

MEENA
I'll tell them.

SIMON
I took a whole management seminar on change. I'll find you the
list of quotes they gave us. Machiavelli has a lot of 'em.

MEENA
"We would rather be ruined than changed."

SIMON
Who said that?

MEENA
"We would rather die in our dread/Than climb the cross of the
moment/And let our illusions die." That's Auden. The poet.

SIMON
Didn't you write a book about poetry?

MEENA
I wrote a collection of 27 prose poems.

SIMON
But it was published, right?

MEENA
Yes.

SIMON
I always thought that was really cool.

MEENA
Thanks.

SIMON
I'm glad you didn't get rich and famous and miss your calling
as a managing editor, though.

MEENA
Do you think I have a calling as a managing editor?

SIMON
Well, you're pretty damn good at it, MEENA. Sorry if I don't
say that enough.

MEENA
You think I'm good at my job?

SIMON
Honestly? I think you kick ass as a managing editor.

MEENA
Thanks. I think you kick ass as an editorial director. (A
beat.) I'm really excited about our cover story, Simon.

SIMON
Me, too.

(They stare at each other. Meena

swallows.)

MEENA
Hey, Simon?

SIMON
Yeah?

MEENA
Could you maybe come over here?

SIMON
Yeah, sure.

(Meena and Simon have fabulous sex on the

ugly desk. Meena gets Post-It Notes
 stuck in her hair. Simon cums loudly
with a fax cover sheet stuck to his bare,
sweaty buttocks. He pulls up his pants,
she straightens her skirt, he buckles his
belt, she smoothes her hair.)

MEENA
Let's get back to work.

SIMON
Yeah. Let's work.

Scene 16

The Schmidt Pharma examining room. Phil is making notes on a

chart when Meena comes in.

MEENA
Hi.

PHIL
Hello.

MEENA
How are you?

PHIL
I've been trying to call you all day.

MEENA
I know. I'm sorry. Things have been crazy. At the office.

(He takes a step toward her.)

PHIL
Are we still, you know -- ? (She doesn't answer.) Meena!

MEENA
What?

PHIL
Answer me!

MEENA
I don't know what the question is.

PHIL
 (frantic)
The question is -- are we still, you know -- ?

MEENA
I don't --

PHIL
Meena!

MEENA
Yes! Yes, I think we are. But, Phil, this thing between us
is only going to work if you can find it in your heart to have
a little respect for my job.

PHIL
You hate your job.

MEENA
I love my job! I mean, I don't love my job. I'm an educated,
cultured person. I don't love working for a magazine about
factory farming. But I'm finding ways to make the best of
things, and I would have thought you would support that. I
thought you wanted to help me, Phil.

PHIL
I love you.

MEENA
Doesn't that mean you want me to be happy?

PHIL
It doesn't seem to be turning out that way, no.

(A silence.)

MEENA
Are you going to examine me?

PHIL
I don't know. How do you feel?

MEENA
I feel pretty good, Phil.

PHIL
Then I don't think I'll bother. (He takes a syringe out of a
drawer.) I have to take blood today, though.

MEENA
OK. Is that my refill on the counter?

PHIL
Yes.

MEENA
Can I have it?

(He hands her the bottle of SP-925.)

PHIL
I need your arm.

(He attaches the syringe to a collection

vial. She offers up her arm. The vial
begins to fill. She looks at the bottle
of pills in her hand.)

MEENA
Phil, you wouldn't ever…?

PHIL
Wouldn't ever what?

MEENA
You wouldn't ever switch my drug to some kind of placebo, would
you?

PHIL
Why would I do that?

MEENA
So that I'd go back to feeling the way I felt about my job, and
we could go back to being the way we were.

PHIL
I wouldn't do that. I have ethical standards as a scientist.

(Meena smiles.)

PHIL (CONT'D)
Do you think that's a joke?

MEENA
No, it's just -- you're fucking one of your study subjects, Phil.

PHIL
Get out of here.
 MEENA
I'm sorry, it just struck me as funny.

PHIL
Take your SP-925 and get out.

MEENA
I have this thing in my --

(Phil yanks the needle out.)

MEENA
Ouch. (She rubs her arm.) OK.

(Meena leaves. Phil stands holding the vial of her blood. Then
he goes to the counter and puts a drop of the blood on a little
glass slide. He puts the slide under his microscope and looks
into the eyepiece. The room darkens. We see, as projections in
the darkness, what Phil sees on the slide: Meena's erythrocytes
bumping around, carrying her oxygen. Phil's heart hurts. There
is music to accompany the erythrocytes' dance: loud, sad,
disorienting. Suddenly, it stops. The lights snap back on. Phil
has his head in his arms on the counter. Allison is there,
peering at him.)

ALLISON
Are you feeling OK?

PHIL
My head hurts a little, I guess.

ALLISON
Did you smack it again in your office?

PHIL
I don't remember.

ALLISON
I'll get you some Releevium.

PHIL
No, it's OK. I'm just a little down, that's all.

ALLISON
Do you want to talk about it?

PHIL
It's secret. I mean private.
 ALLISON
Spill it, Phil.

PHIL
I need to ask you a favor. There's a trial I need to enroll
in.

ALLISON
You mean a Schmidt Pharma trial?

PHIL
Yes.

ALLISON
You want to enroll as a patient?

PHIL
Yes.

ALLISON
You can't.

PHIL
I wouldn't be asking you if I weren't totally desperate.

ALLISON
Jesus. You're sick.

PHIL
Yes, I am. I'm sick.

ALLISON
What is it? Cancer? You want in on that pancreatic cancer
trial they're running out of Philadelphia, don't you? Fuck,
Phil. I don't know what to --

PHIL
No, it's not that. (A beat.) I heard Ed Morgan and his team
are running a trial of a single-isomer version of
thienobenzodiazapine to treat -- heartbreak.

ALLISON
You want to enroll as a patient in Ed Morgan's heartbreak trial?
(She laughs.)

PHIL
It's not funny. My heart hurts so much I almost went to the
emergency room last night.
 ALLISON
Even aside from the fact that we can't enroll a Schmidt Pharma
employee in a Schmidt Pharma trial, as your friend, I wouldn't
let you near that project in a Hazmat suit. Ed Morgan may think
he's exactly like Einstein because he can't spell, but really
he's just a moron.

PHIL
On a scale of one to 10, I would put this pain at a 9.5.

ALLISON
Anyway, they're going to pull the plug on that study and I'll
tell you why: because there's no long-term revenue stream. Ed
Morgan has no foresight. Those heartbreak patients are going
to take that goddamn drug for two weeks until they meet some
cute blonde in a bar and forget all about old what's-her-face
who they loved so much, and that's the end of the revenue stream.
Whereas, you look at a condition like workplace depression --
those patients are going to be on Thriveon every day of their
lives, with their employers begging to pay for it no less, until
they get old and retire and we start them on Intimex for their
erectile dysfunction, and in fact I am already, Phil, already
working with urology to think about how to make sure that the
Thriveon-Intimex transition happens for our patients. My
point being that Ed Morgan is no Einstein and I am no Ed Morgan.
Are you absolutely sure you don't want some Releevium? Oh, my
god, Phil, are you crying? Stop. Who broke your heart? I'll
wring her neck. Aw, Phil. C'mere. Buck up.

(Allison gives Phil a hug with a few good

slaps on the back. She notices the vial
in his hand.)
What's that?

(Phil looks at it, a little disoriented.)

PHIL
Oh, it's just a --

ALLISON
Is that a blood sample?

PHIL
Well, yes.

ALLISON
How long have you had that in your hot, moist little hand, Phil?
That should have an ID code on it and it should be in the fridge.
 PHIL
No, I know. I was just about to -- You know I'm normally very
-- I just am feeling really --

ALLISON
Phil, Phil, Phil. I know you feel like shit. I really do, but
listen to me. Now is not the time to get sloppy about your work.
Work is steadfast and loyal and fair, and it pays back what it
owes you. Don't turn your back on work, Phil. Not now when
you need its comforts the most. Where's the barcode sticker
for this sample?

(Phil takes a little ID sticker from a

sheet that's part of Meena's file.)
Put it on.

(Phil puts it on the vial.)

Now put the vial in the fridge.

(Phil puts the vial in a mini-fridge under

the counter.)
Now note it in the file.

(Phil notes in the file that he has

labeled and stored the blood sample.)

Don't you feel better already?

Scene 17

Ed Morgan's office, represented by the ugly desk. Phil sits

in the chair across from the desk, waiting for Ed. Ed enters.

ED
I'm late.

PHIL
Yes.

ED
Significantly late?

PHIL
Well, yes.

ED
The damndest thing happened. I plugged in the coffee pot this
morning and the whole thing burst into flames. No idea why.
Oh, well. Einstein said the most beautiful thing we can
experience is the mysterious. Sorry to hold you up, though.

PHIL
It's all right.

ED
You don't look well, Phil. What can I do for you?

PHIL
I need to enroll in the heartbreak trial. I know it's slightly
irregular, and I wouldn't dream of asking you except that --

ED
I can't enroll you in my trial. You're a Schmidt Pharma
employee. It's against the regulations, it would compromise
my data, invalidate the whole damn study.

PHIL
I think I may be dying, Ed.

ED
Someone really roughed you up, huh?

PHIL
Pretty badly, yes.

(Ed nods.)

ED
OK. Listen. I can't put you in the study. But if you want
to try the drug, I'll just give you some.

PHIL
You will?

ED
Why not? Who's to know? I'm pretty sure I've got some right
here in the drawer. (He opens the jam-packed desk drawer and
digs around.) Ha! This is that adrenaline derivative we tried
for psoriasis. Remember that? Gave everybody explosive
diarrhea. Oh, well. If we knew what we were doing, it wouldn't
be called research, would it? Aha! I thought I had some! I
put it in a baggie to bring it home for the dog because the German
Shepherd down the street screwed her and dumped her, but she
shook it off without the drug. Animals are resilient. (He
hands Phil the baggie.) SP-214. Take one every morning with
a big glass of water. Hell, take two if you want. We're still
playing around with the dosage.

PHIL
Do you mind if I take them right now?

ED
Be my guest. (Phil swallows two of the pills. Ed sits back
down in the desk chair and grunts as he pulls off his boots,
revealing his bare, hairy feet.) Einstein didn't wear socks,
either.

PHIL
I've never felt this bad before. This is the first time I've
ever been in love.

(Ed puts his feet up on the desk.)

ED
First time's the worst. Einstein's first wife was a Serbian
woman with tuberculosis and a limp. She thought it was his
fault she never had a great scientific career. Said she had
to spend all her time calculating his equations. (He shrugs.)
At least she didn't have to wash his socks. Anyway, it didn't
work out with her. She was a very unhappy person.

PHIL
Hey, Ed?

ED
Yes?

PHIL
I might need some assistance. I'm feeling a little -- Holy cow.
Do you mind if I just ---? I think what I probably need to do
is just lie down here on the rug.

(He lies on the rug. Ed stands over him.)

ED
Are you all right, Phil?

PHIL
My heart feels perfectly blank, like a white winter sky.

ED
So is that better?
 PHIL
It's much better.

ED
Well, great. That's the kind of thing we like to hear.

PHIL
Thanks for helping me, Ed.

ED
Glad to do it, Phil.

PHIL
You're loyal and kind. I can see it in the way your toes splay,
like a dog's.

ED
Hey. Actually, now that I'm thinking about it. What color
were those pills I gave you, Phil?

PHIL
Orange.

ED
Not red?

PHIL
No. Orange like blood.

ED
You mean red like blood?

PHIL
No, I meant. Holy cow. I'm really kind of. I think I was
thinking of a blood orange.

ED
OK. Well, my question is --

PHIL
The pills were bright orange. Like a -- Wow. Like an orange.

ED
Do you mean a blood orange, which is red inside, or a navel
orange, which is orange?

PHIL
They're in my pocket.
 (Ed leans down and takes the baggie out
of Phil's pocket. He examines the pills
through the plastic.)

ED
Hmmm. Now that I'm thinking about it. I may have gotten a
little bit confused.

PHIL
That's OK, Ed.

(Ed goes back to the big desk drawer.)

ED
There's a lot of stuff in here. I think what I gave you was
this thing we were trying out for blood pressure in the late
90s.

PHIL
Don't worry.

ED
It killed a chimp in a lab.

PHIL
That's OK.

ED
I'm afraid it could be fatal if we don't do something very
quickly.

PHIL
Just let me hold onto your toes.

ED
I'm going to call an ambulance. I think that's the right thing
to do.

Scene 18

The Schmidt Pharma examining room. MEENA sits waiting on the

paper-covered table in her paper gown. Allison enters and
extends her hand.

ALLISON
Allison B. Hardy, MBA.

MEENA
Meena Pierotti. Um. I have an MFA.

ALLISON
I'm told you have a question for me.

MEENA
I was just wondering what happened to Dr. Gray. The doctor
who's filling in for him said she didn't know.

ALLISON
Dr. Gray is taking a little time off.

MEENA
Is he OK?

ALLISON
My understanding is that he's going to be just fine.

MEENA
He's sick?

ALLISON
He's taking some well-deserved time off.

MEENA
But you just said --

ALLISON
I've said almost nothing about anything.

MEENA
You said that you think he's going to be fine.

ALLISON
I think he's going to have a fine time during his well-deserved
time off.

MEENA
Is he going to Africa?

ALLISON
I'm not at liberty to talk about --. Africa?

MEENA
Is he going away?

ALLISON
Why do you care?
 MEENA
Just, um, I don't know. I -- like him.

ALLISON
Do you have some sort of personal friendship with Dr. Gray
outside of the scope of this research project?

MEENA
Is that question part of the clinical trial?

ALLISON
Just answer it, Miss Pierotti.

MEENA
Do I have to answer it to get my SP-925 is what I'm asking?

ALLISON
Any sort of social bond between a clinical trial investigator
and a clinical trial subject is a bending of protocol if not
a total violation. There are very strict regulations governing
clinical trials, Miss Pierotti. We pay four people just to read
the FDA's rules and try to figure out what they mean. I don't
know what line of work you're in, but --

MEENA
I'm in journalism. I'm an editor.

ALLISON
Well, this isn't journalism. This is profitable business.
Multi-billion-dollar business. And I would ask you, if you are
a friend or family member of Dr. Gray's, to disclose that
information to me so that I can note it in your file at the very
very least.

Meena stands.

MEENA
I think I need to go. If you see Dr. Gray, will you just tell
him I -- Tell him I -- No, no message.

ALLISON
Oh, my god. You like him. You have a crush on Dr. Gray? Oh,
Miss Pierotti -- Listen. Girl to girl. I'm sure Phil is cute
if you like the big ears, glasses thing, but he is no one you
want to get mixed up with.

MEENA
Why not?
 ALLISON
Because he's head over heels in love with some hard-boiled bitch
who just smashed his heart to little pieces.

MEENA
Is he suffering very badly?

ALLISON
I think it's going to be a long, long time before he's any kind
of man again.

MEENA

Oh.

ALLISON
My friend Stephen in accounting has glasses and he's single.
I would be more than willing to set you up with him if you would
just absolutely promise --

MEENA
I won't bother Dr. Gray. I promise.

Meena leaves. Allison looks after her

for a moment, then picks up her file and
begins to turn the pages.

Scene 19

A hospital room. FRANCES, no longer looking resplendent, is

lying in the bed hooked up to an IV. MEENA enters and sits in
a chair beside her.

MEENA
Hi, Frances. How are you?

FRANCES
I have breast cancer all the way down to my uterus. Did you
know that that could happen?

MEENA
No.

FRANCES
It's very interesting, dying. You learn all kinds of things
about the world.
 MEENA
Are you in a lot of pain?

FRANCES
Not really, no. It's amazing what they can do with drugs. The
nurses here wear buttons on their blouses that say, "IF YOU'RE
IN PAIN, I NEED TO KNOW." I told them I was hurting and they
gave me this little button to push so that I can give myself
morphine whenever I need it.

MEENA
That's good.

(Frances pushes the button.)

FRANCES
It does make me sweat, though.

(Meena takes a tissue from a box on the

bedside table.)

MEENA
Can I?

(Frances nods, and Meena leans in and

wipes her face for her.)

Is that a little better?

FRANCES
Yes. (A beat.) If I had bought that underwear sooner, I would
have gotten that nice haircut earlier, and gone to the doctor
next door, maybe while I still only had breast cancer in my
breast, where it belongs. How much did those underpants cost
again?

MEENA
They were two for eleven dollars.

FRANCES
They weren't cheap. But still. They were good. (She puts her
hand on top of Meena's.) If I had a daughter, I would tell her
this --

MEENA
Yes?

FRANCES
Buy things.
 (Frances closes her eyes.
Meena looks at her carefully for
a long time, then pulls the
bedsheet up to cover the body.
The room is silent. White cotton
underwear rains softly from the
sky.)
Scene 20

Allison's office, represented by the ugly desk. Allison pours

herself a drink -- it's her third or fourth -- from a bottle
of Four Roses. She looks up when Phil comes in.

ALLISON
You didn't die.

PHIL
Well, I haven't died yet. My heart is still -- (He notes the
bottle and shotglass.) What's going on with you?

ALLISON
My heart, too, Phil.

PHIL
Really? Why?

ALLISON
They're pulling the plug on Thriveon.

PHIL
But the topline data was looking --

ALLISON
There was a setback.

PHIL
What kind of setback?

ALLISON
While you were in the hospital.

PHIL
I know this study better than anyone. If there's a problem,
they should let me try to solve it now that I'm back.

ALLISON
You can't solve the problem, Phil.
 PHIL
Why not?

ALLISON
Because you are the problem.

PHIL
I am?

ALLISON
They know about Meena Pierotti.

PHIL
They do?

ALLISON
I almost didn't tell them, but I knew I would never forgive
myself for violating the protocol.

PHIL
But how did you --

ALLISON
I read her file while you were in your coma, Phil. You drew
little hearts all over her glucose chart! You wrote a poem in
the explanatory notes section! I had to tell them, and now
they're shutting the whole thing down.

PHIL
Isn't that sort of an extreme reaction?

ALLISON
It's mandated in section 14A of volume 7 of the 1996 addendum
to the FDA's guidelines on human trials of psychotropic and
neurologic drugs. Apparently. Either that, or we have to have
all your study data reviewed by an independent panel, everything
you touched, all the way back to the beginning. That's a
17-million-dollar expense and a year-long delay even if they
don't find anything wrong. We fall behind, Merck launches
their workplace depression drug first, and we're a me-too
product with mediocre sales.

PHIL
I'm sorry.

ALLISON
Sorry doesn't feed the bulldog. (She takes a slug of Four
Roses.) As a drug, alcohol is not really very effective. It
makes you feel worse and worse. I don't understand why it's
such a money-maker.

PHIL
You should probably go home, don't you think?

ALLISON
This is my home, Phil. That house is a little yellow box where
I take off my shoes and wait for it to be time to come back here.
(She drinks) I'm not supposed to talk about this, but what's
the difference now? Dolly was going to do the song. She was
90 percent on board. I talked to her agent myself.

PHIL
Dolly?

ALLISON
Parton. (She sings) "Work can make you/Happy if you let it!"

PHIL
Oh. Right.

ALLISON
Phil.

PHIL
What?

ALLISON
My heart hurts so much.

PHIL
God, Allison. I don't know --

ALLISON
I love that drug.

PHIL
I love Meena Pierotti. So I know.

ALLISON
I feel like there should be a funeral.

PHIL
I know.

ALLISON
People should come and pay their respects and acknowledge our
grief.
 PHIL
"Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come." That's Auden.
I've been reading poetry since I fell in love.

ALLISON
Oh, fuck you, Phil.

PHIL
I just mean to be saying, I acknowledge your grief. (A beat.)

ALLISON
Nobody wants you seeing study subjects anymore. I told them
I would transfer you down to patents and trademarks.

PHIL
OK.

ALLISON
But I don't want to do that.

PHIL
Thanks.

ALLISON
I want to fire you.

PHIL
Oh.

ALLISON
Then I want to sue you for the 49 million dollars Schmidt Pharma
wasted on Thriveon, and the 450 dollars I wasted on the shoes
I was going to wear to meet Dolly Parton. I want to break you.
I want to humiliate you. I want security to come and Taser you
right now and drag you out of here naked and screaming. (She
breathes.) You broke my heart.

PHIL
I'm sorry.

ALLISON
You're fired.

PHIL
OK.

Scene 21
The Schmidt Pharma examining room, the next day. Meena in her
paper gown sitting on the paper-covered table. Allison enters.

MEENA
Oh, it's you.

ALLISON
Yup.

MEENA
Do you know if anyone is coming in to examine me? I've been
sitting here for like 40 minutes.

ALLISON
Sorry to waste your time.

MEENA
No, it's OK, just do you know how much longer, because --

ALLISON
You can put your clothes on, Miss Pierotti. The study's all
over.

MEENA
Excuse me?

ALLISON
Schmidt Pharma is no longer in a position to offer you access
to the experimental therapy SP-925. (She hands Meena a Xeroxed
sheet of paper.) If you notice any of the symptoms on this list
during the withdrawal period, please go to the nearest emergency
room.

MEENA
What if I pay for the drug myself?

ALLISON
It's a study drug, Miss Pierotti. It's not approved for sale
by the FDA. No study, no study drug.

MEENA
I don't understand how you can just --

ALLISON
If you find yourself in severe psychological distress, there's
a suicide prevention hotline number on the bottom of that sheet.

MEENA
I want my SP-925.
 ALLISON
Can't have it. Sorry.

MEENA
The people in this study suffer from a serious medical
condition!

ALLISON
None of this is up to me, believe me.

MEENA
I'm going to do something!

ALLISON
I'm sorry, are you threatening a lawsuit, Miss Pierotti?

MEENA
No! Yes! I'm threatening a lawsuit! Can anybody hear me? A
great big lawsuit!

ALLISON
Miss Pierotti!

MEENA
Hello? Hello out there? (She leans out the doorway.) I am
threatening a lawsuit! With lawyers! I see you over there,
and I am going to sue you and you and you, and especially you
-- yes, you! -- unless you give me back my drug RIGHT NOW!

Scene 22

Phil's office, represented by the ugly desk. Phil is packing

his belongings into a cardboard box. Ed comes up behind him.

ED
Phil?

PHIL
Hi, Ed.

ED
How are you?

PHIL
I'm OK, I guess.

ED
I wanted to say that I'm so sorry about --
 PHIL
I didn't die.

ED
Yes. I see that. I'm glad.

PHIL
I did get fired, though.

ED
I see that. Yes. I'm sorry.

PHIL
For falling in love.

ED
Einstein said, "You cannot love a car the way you love a horse."
You see, the horse brings out human feelings, whereas a car is
mere machinery --

PHIL
I'm not sure what that actually has to do with --

ED
No. Sorry. Nothing probably. I'm nervous. You must be
furious with me.

PHIL
Not really.

ED
Listen, by way of apology, Phil, I brought you some SP-214.

(Ed holds out a little bottle of bright

red pills. Phil just looks at them.)

ED (CONT'D)
These are not from my big drawer. These are from a labeled
container in the climate-controlled storeroom in the lab. (He
puts the bottle on Phil's desk.) In case your heart still
hurts.

PHIL
Thanks.

ED
You're welcome.

(Phil picks up the bottle.)

 PHIL
It's been working for people?

ED
It has. It has been working.

PHIL
That's great. Congratulations.

ED
It has been working in certain patient populations to some
extent.

PHIL
Right, well. Just because it's not a silver bullet doesn't mean
--

ED
It does seem to cause some inflammation of the gums, some
loosening of the teeth. But I wanted you to have the option.
(Pulling some crumpled papers from his briefcase.) Here's the
data. You can make up your own mind.

Scene 23

MEENA on the stepladder in the underwear section with her head

in her hands. A rustling. She looks up.

MEENA
Oh, my god! What are you doing here?

SIMON
It's a store, Meena. I was --

MEENA
Nobody shops in this section!

SIMON
I was buying some socks over there, and my mother called on my
cell, and when I told her where I was --

MEENA
Did you follow me here?

SIMON
No. I had to buy some socks, and my mother said while I was
here, would I pick her up some --

MEENA
This is my private fucking space! What lengths does a person
need to go to to get a little private fucking space?

SIMON
My mom is a size 3x, Meena. This is one of the only places --

MEENA
Get the hell out of my underwear!

SIMON
What exactly is the matter with you? Is this because I took
Annabelle out to lunch?

MEENA
No.

SIMON
It was her performance review.

MEENA
You can fuck Anabelle in the supply closet for her performance
review for all I care. I just need you to get out of here.
Please, please, please.

SIMON
I knew this inter-office stuff was a bad idea. I can't have
you acting like this in the workplace.

MEENA
We're not in the workplace! You're in my underwear!

SIMON
I don't want trouble from you, Meena. I've worked really hard
to get where I am.

MEENA
Well, that's a crying shame, because where you are is really
lousy.

SIMON
Don't malign my position at the magazine just because you're
upset. I have a very good position. I'm VP, Editorial
Director!

MEENA
I know. It breaks my heart.

SIMON
Are you crying? Don't cry on my behalf.
 MEENA
I just can't pretend anymore that it's a normal, acceptable
thing that people should be penned up in little cubicles their
whole lives and tortured --

SIMON
I'm not being tortured. I just got a raise.

MEENA
I mean pigs -- that pigs should be penned up and tortured --
and I'm not going to eat pork anymore, Simon! Not unless it
was raised organically and allowed to roam free. You know what
those Greenfield employees were doing to those pigs.

(She dries her eyes. Simon takes two

pairs of underwear from a nearby rack and
checks the tags to make sure they're the
right size for his mother.)

MEENA
You should get her ones with a little decoration. A little
decoration on the waistband can be nice.

(Simon glances down at the underwear,

then looks back up at Meena.)

SIMON
I think you should see a doctor. Seriously. I'm going to make
a recommendation to HR that you get some kind of medical help.

(He leaves.)

MEENA
Help me, help me, help me.

(She pulls a pair of underwear off a rack

and covers her face with it. She pulls
off another and hugs it to her chest. She
breathes.)

MEENA (Cont'd)
That's much better. Thank you.

Scene 24
A waiting area in the legal department at Schmidt Pharma: two
chairs against a wall. Phil sits in one of them, with a folder
in his lap. Meena comes out from an office behind him.

PHIL
Meena.

MEENA
Phil. Hi.

PHIL
What are you doing in the Schmidt Pharma legal department?

MEENA
I had a meeting with Tom Lonner.

PHIL
Is Schmidt Pharma suing you?

MEENA
No.

PHIL
Tom Lonner is ruthless, MEENA. Don't say anything, don't sign
anything. You should have your own lawyer with you. Why don't
you have a lawyer with you?

MEENA
It's really OK, Phil, I promise.

PHIL
Because none of this is your fault! (He stands.) I'll go tell
them that right now.

MEENA
I don't think they think it's my fault. It's OK. Sit down.

(He sits.)

PHIL
I just want to help you however I can.

MEENA
You want to help me?

PHIL
Yeah.

MEENA
You do? Still?

PHIL
Yes.

MEENA
Can I ask you something?

(Phil leans forward.)

PHIL
Of course.

MEENA
Do you think you could get me some SP-925? There must be some
left somewhere, right? Lying around the lab?

(Phil pulls back.)

PHIL
I don't work in the lab anymore.

MEENA
You don't?

PHIL
No.

MEENA
Why not?

PHIL
I got fired.

MEENA
You did?

PHIL
Because of you.

MEENA
I didn't know that.

PHIL
That's why I'm up here. Paperwork.

MEENA
But would they still let you into the lab? Like if you said
you had left some files or something and then you went in and
-- (A beat.) I'm sorry. It's just, life was really good when
I liked my job.

PHIL
Not for me it wasn't.

MEENA
You resented seeing me happy.

PHIL
I didn't think it was really you. You're a prose poet.

MEENA
It's not up to you to decide who I am! I liked being happy.
I liked liking being a managing editor at American Cattle and
Swine and having meetings and writing e-mails and getting things
done! I really liked liking that.

PHIL
But you need to write prose poems.

MEENA
I don't want to need to write prose poems! Stop, Phil. Leave
me alone. The only thing I want from you is some SP-925.

PHIL
I don't have any.

MEENA
OK. Then I'll call you sometime. When things settle down.

PHIL
You could just take an aspirin, though.

MEENA
Excuse me?

PHIL
Or, you know, a Tic-Tac. I have some Tic-Tacs right here in
my pocket. Would you like a Tic-Tac, Meena? Would a Tic-Tac
help, do you think?

MEENA
What are you talking about?

PHIL
You were never taking SP-925. You were in the placebo group.

MEENA
You told me I wasn't in the placebo group.

PHIL
I lied.

MEENA
You specifically -- You said somebody owed you a favor --

PHIL
Yeah, I let Frank Durand sleep on my couch when he was going
through his divorce.

MEENA
And that he told you --

PHIL
He looked it up and he told me you were in the placebo group.

MEENA
Why did you lie to me?

PHIL
I wanted to help you. I wanted to be the one who could help
you. And I did, Meena. In a way that's perfectly medically
sound. A placebo is a legitimate medical treatment in cases
where --

MEENA
I felt so much better. Why did I feel so much better about my
job?

PHIL
The placebo effect is well documented.

MEENA
Maybe it was being with you.

PHIL
Did it feel like it was being with me?

MEENA
No, it felt like it was the drug.

PHIL
Right.

MEENA
But now I don't know for sure.
 PHIL
The way to find out would probably be to conduct an informal
experiment where you didn't have the drug anymore, but you and
I were still together. Just scientifically speaking, that
would be the way to tell.

(MEENA sinks into the chair next to

Phil's.)

MEENA
Tom Lonner gave me $500,000.

PHIL
Tom Lonner -- ?

MEENA
I guess I said I was going to sue Schmidt Pharma. I don't
remember saying that. I remember yelling a lot, but I don't
really remember what I said.

PHIL
They gave you half a million dollars?

MEENA
Yeah. I had to sign a piece of paper saying I wouldn't sue
anyone. Or yell anymore. And then they gave me half a million
dollars. So what do I do now?

PHIL
Holy cow, Meena. Anything!

MEENA
Are you going to Africa?

PHIL
No.

MEENA
You should.

PHIL
They didn't let me in. They said they had some reservations
about my bedside manner. So. I told you. I'm not a good
enough person for that kind of thing.

MEENA
I'm sorry.
 PHIL
Thanks.

MEENA
Remember how you said that Douglas Bates didn't read my prose
poems carefully enough to see what beautiful use I'd made of
the form?

PHIL
Yes.

MEENA
I don't think they read you carefully enough.

PHIL
That's nice of you to say.

MEENA
I got fired.

PHIL
You did?

MEENA
Yeah, everything went to hell after I lost the SP-925. Or what
I thought was the -- Also, Phil. I had sex with Simon, which
turned out not to be a very good idea.

PHIL
When did you have sex with Simon?

MEENA
When I was taking the SP-925. Or the, you know, what I thought
was the -- Near the end.

PHIL
Oh. (He stands.) Tom Lonner always keeps me waiting and it's
rude and I think I should leave.

MEENA
It wasn't really about Simon. It was like fucking my work when
I loved work. I was feeling all racy because of these
pork-pricing charts we'd been working on together. The SP-925
really sexualized that kind of thing for me.

PHIL
You were on a placebo.
 MEENA
But the placebo effect is well documented.

PHIL
I'm going to tell Lonner's secretary she can call me to
reschedule.

MEENA
It was always in the office, the sex with Simon. I never would
have done it with him in a bed.

PHIL
Meena --

MEENA
You know it's different. You remember what it was like lying
in bed together. (A beat.) I'm sorry, Phil. (A silence.)
I think I'm going to go to Kansas with the money. My
grandparents had a house on Lake Lovewell. It's been falling
apart since they died. I'm going to go and fix it up.

PHIL
And write prose poems?

MEENA
I don't know. Maybe. Yes, I guess so. Fuck! I hate my prose
poems.

PHIL
I love your prose poems.

MEENA
Do you want to come with me? To Kansas? Until you can apply
again for Africa?

PHIL
I can't apply again for Africa. They asked me not to.

MEENA
So will you come with me, then?

PHIL
Maybe. I don't know.

MEENA
They have an emergency room at Lake Lovewell Hospital. I took
my grandmother there once. It seemed kind of run down.

PHIL
Maybe.

MEENA
You'd have to try really hard not to tell any kids they were--

PHIL
No, I know. I would try not to.

MEENA
I could remind you.

PHIL
Meena, I have this heartbreak drug--

MEENA
What?

PHIL
This heartbreak drug. I've been carrying it around, but I'm
scared to take it because last time I took a drug, I almost died,
and anyway I looked at Ed Morgan's data in the cohort of healthy
men born after 1960 and it's garbage. There's no way it's even
worth the risk of losing my teeth. So if I came to Kansas and
you and I lay in bed together at night, you would really have
to promise not to break my heart again.

MEENA
I would promise to try very hard.

PHIL
That's not good enough!

MEENA
But Phil --

PHIL
There's no effective treatment! I have no remedy if my heart
gets broken!

MEENA
Neither do I.

PHIL
Right. Although actually there's some evidence in Ed's data
that this drug might work in women. The side-effect profile
for SP-214 is significantly better in women, too. So you may
have options where I have none.

MEENA
But do you want to come to Kansas? Anyway?

PHIL
OK, yes. I do.

MEENA
You do?

PHIL
Yes. (He takes the bright red pills out of his pocket.) I
would feel a lot better about it if SP-214 had shown any kind
of -- but I want my heart to be the eighth wonder of the world,
like that tower with the very fast elevator, and I seem to be
dependent on you for that. So I think I'd better come with
you.(He hands the pills to Meena, and she looks at them.) You
should keep those. The data in women is really sort of
promising.

(Meena curls her fingers around the

pills.)

MEENA
Thank you, Phil.

(She kisses him. It's a long kiss. Then

a blackout.)

END OF PLAY