Drawn Up From Deep Places

JACK

(Freezes)

I—I don’t . . .

MRS. BENTHAM

. . . Wish it known? Understandable, given the circumstances—

JACK

No, what I mean is—I don’t believe I know it myself.

MRS. BENTHAM

Not at all?

JACK

(Not really answering)

Mmm. And yet . . . my mind’s so clean, suddenly. So clear.

MRS. BENTHAM

That would be a result of Dr. Purl’s treatment. Well, it will all

come back, I promise you.

JACK

Must it? Perhaps I don’t want it to.

MRS. BENTHAM

You will, soon enough. Go to sleep now.

(Puts the cloth back in the basin)

Stephen—that was my husband’s name. I’ll call you that for

now, shall I? How does it sound?

JACK

(Falling asleep)

Very . . . nice.

As MRS. BENTHAM squeezes out the cloth once more, water in the bowl SLOSHES back and forth. OVER WHICH WE—

BRING UP the SOUND OF WAVES LAPPING GENTLY, drowning out the BIRDS. HOLD for a moment.

OVER, as before:

JACK

I remember that.