(A dressing table and stool at CS on an otherwise bare stage. Lights up
on ANDREW DS in a suit, briefcase in hand, gaping at MERCY as she enters
USR, happy to see him, and crosses towards him. She is in shorts and a
tank top and her skin is bright orange. She stops before him. He stares
at her coldly, arms immobile. Her smile fades. She steps back, resisting
the impulse to cross her arms and cover her shoulders with her hands;
then she does it. Pause.)

ANDREW
(flat, factual)
You’re orange.
(She takes her hands from her shoulders and holds them defiantly at her
sides. Pause.)

How’d you get orange?
MERCY
(pause; falls back on irony)
Hi!
(He nods as if returning the greeting but continues to scrutinize her.
Following his gaze she scrutinizes herself, then looks up at him.)

Am I too grotesque to kiss?
ANDREW
What is it, make-up?
MERCY
Don’t worry, I’m not in any danger.
ANDREW
You’re sick?
MERCY
(shakes her head)
The doctor says it’s that diet I went on. Carrots and water. It turned
me orange.
ANDREW
(incredulous)
You’re not carrot-orange, you’re orange-orange!
MERCY
(shrugging)
That’s what he says.
(He puts down his briefcase, takes her arm with both hands and examines
it as if it were inanimate.)

You can kiss me. It’s not contagious.
ANDREW
(looks up at her)
How long will it last?
MERCY
I don’t know. A while.
ANDREW
(irritated)
You’re going to be orange indefinitely?
MERCY
Is it so bad?
ANDREW
(controlling himself)
I mean you’re so--orange!
MERCY
(pause; sarcastic)
How was your trip?
(Still holding her arm he rubs her skin with his thumb.)
ANDREW
It doesn’t come off!
MERCY
It’s in the pigment.
ANDREW
You mean your--whatever--your--
MERCY
Dermis.
(He examines it frantically.)

Look, could you find room for a little sympathy?
ANDREW
How did you do this to yourself?
MERCY
I didn’t do it to myself--I’m on a diet!
ANDREW
A diet. Carrots and water. You know how boring it is to eat with
somebody on carrots and water?
(stands back from her)
If you don’t eat fats your skin wrinkles.
MERCY
Andrew, I’m orange! My appearance has changed! That’s enough to handle!
Don’t attack me! I need a little--I need a lot of sympathy! Don’t you
love me?
(Pause. He looks at her, hands in his pockets; then goes to her,
embraces her.)
ANDREW
Of course I love you. I love you. We can lick this.
MERCY
(stands back from him)
Lick this! What is it, a disease?
ANDREW
What would you call it?
MERCY
I’d call it being orange! Temporarily! Okay?
ANDREW
Well it’s not exactly an ease, is it. It’s a dis-ease, no? A condition,
let’s say. You can’t go to work like that.
MERCY
Of course I can go to work like that.
ANDREW
Mercedes, you’re orange! You haven’t been out on the street!
(pause)
Have you? What did people do?
MERCY
You didn’t even notice before you left!
ANDREW
Well I’m noticing now!
(stares at her)
We’ll get you some tanning dye.
MERCY
(turns away and folds her arms)
I’ve tried that. It streaks. And the tan part still looks orange.
ANDREW
Can’t you put make-up on it?
MERCY
You want me to cover my arms and legs with make-up base?
ANDREW
Wear long sleeves!
MERCY
(turning to him)
In this heat?
ANDREW
Jeans! Blue jeans--you can put make-up on your ankles!
MERCY
(pause)
You know, this marriage is important to me.
ANDREW
You don’t think it’s important to me?
MERCY
I don’t think I’m important to you. You don’t have the least concern for
my feelings about this!
(pause)
There’s no love in you for me!
ANDREW
(moves toward her)
Mercy, don’t say that.
(She moves away and turns from him. His hands are open, helpless.)

Mercy, it’s just--I mean it’s so vivid. It’s uncompromising! I didn’t
think anyone could be so orange! Not naturally! I was just shocked! I
mean I love you, it’s just--Everything I feel about you, everything you
are, it’s all still there--You’re still there. My love for you is still
there. You’re my life, and suddenly my life is orange! You’re part of
me!
(pause)
The orange part.
MERCY
This is not funny!
(He goes to her, embraces her from behind. Her arms hang straight.)

Did you sleep with anyone else there?
ANDREW
You don’t have to ask that.
MERCY
It’s not that I have to ask, it’s that I want you to say it. It’s a way
of saying you love me.
(pause)
You can say it, can’t you?
ANDREW
You don’t believe me.
MERCY
I just want you to say it.
ANDREW
I’d never do that. I don’t want anyone but you anyway.
MERCY
Even now? Even like this?
ANDREW
Sure, it’s--
(backs off, looks at her)
--it’s just different. I mean I’ve had brown women. Black women. Yellow
women. Red. But never orange.
MERCY
(pause)
I didn’t know you’d had all those women.
ANDREW
(shrugging)
One each. One or two.
MERCY
What about my skin?
ANDREW
Well, it’s--
(pause)
MERCY
Different.
(pause)
You’re disappointed. I’m sorry.
ANDREW
Look, this happened to both of us. It’s not just about you!
MERCY
I had no idea. Even this morning. I mean I saw it coming--I thought it
was funny! Cute. Endearing. It won’t last forever. It didn’t seem so
bad!
(turns to him)
I disgust you.
ANDREW
(rushes to embrace her)
No you don’t! Don’t say that!
MERCY
(responds to his embrace)
You don’t lie. That’s why I love you. With you, honesty is the whole
thing, no matter what it costs. It hurts me sometimes, but I love it. I
love our imperfect love. I love us.
(breaks away from him, walks, turns)
But lat’s face it, I’m orange. I don’t glow in the dark exactly but
moonlight gives me an aura that’s brighter than sunburn.
(sits at the dressing table)
Long skirts, I thought--
(crosses her legs to demonstrate)
--but they make me look like I’m wearing orange stockings. Long sleeves
make these--
(shows her hands)
--look like rubber gloves. Make-up becomes a mask. No, the only thing to
do is challenge life with the entire orange fact. Sunhats, dark shoes,
dark eyelashes.
(She holds up two crescents of dark eyelashes like halves of a
mustache.)

They give depth to the gaze.
ANDREW
(incredulous)
You’re not going to the office!
(pause)
Look, I’m going to level with you, okay?
MERCY
No. Levelling is what you do when you’re afraid and you want to hit out
at someone. Level with yourself. I need a man, not a leveller.
ANDREW
(raises his hands, backs off)
Okay. You don’t look like an Easter egg. You don’t look like you screwed
up some pledge prank and now you’re stuck with the results. You don’t
look tattooed. You look fine. You won’t distract anybody at work. No one
will stare at you. They’ll think you’re perfectly normal. You won’t
disrupt your own business. It’s fine. You shouldn’t take a few weeks off
and wait for this to clear up. Go ahead and put your client list at
risk.
(pause)
MERCY
There’s nothing wrong with me! I’m just orange!
ANDREW
A man in a bue suit, a white shirt and a polkadot tie is a citizen
walking down the street. A man in a bue shirt, a white tie and a
polkadot shirt is a clown.
(Lights down; up on orange MERCY in business clothes and glasses seated
CS at a desk facing DSL. On the desk, a manuscript and desk articles.
RALPH, tieless, enters DSL.)
RALPH
(immediately)
Hey! I like it! What is it, food dye?
MERCY
(coldly, not rising)
It’s a condition.
RALPH
(apologetic)
Is it fatal?
MERCY
Only to my pride.
RALPH
(sitting)
It looks like a statement. You should cut your hair shorter and dye it
the same color.
MERCY
It’s giving me enough trouble this way. I have to take a taxi to work.
My colleagues give me glances that don’t quite become questions.
Everyone else just stares.
RALPH
(pause; refuses to lower his eyes)
There are enough Arabs in town. You could go veiled.
(Pause. She considers this; then opens the manuscript at random.)
MERCY
Simon and Schuster got back to us. It’s not a rejection but they’re
having trouble with your sense of character--or lack of it.
RALPH
So am I. Even my own. Character is order, and order--suffers.  I don’t
know why I do what I do. I don’t know how my will is married to what
happens. The book writes me, I don’t write the book. I’m too old to be
clever about it any more. You want to fuck?
(Pause. She rearranges the things on her desk.)
MERCY
(tactfully)
You talk like one of your characters.
RALPH
Yah, he can get away with it. I write better-looking than I actually am.
It’s a humiliating fantasy, especially to have it in public. I wish it
were in public. Writing is an act of publicity. One is seduced by the
mere order of words on the page but one writes to be read, you know what
I’m saying? My lack of success is poisoning my life. Everything stands
in the shadow of my lack of success.
MERCY
You should have been a movie star.
RALPH
Think so? I don’t like the things they make them say. I want to do my
own dialogue. Okay, what about just kissing? Just a deep swooning kiss.
Remember kissing? Remember the magic spell of kissing? That’s all we
have to do! How’s your breath?
(Pause. She is arranging a stockade of desk implements around her.)
MERCY
I’m using you to make myself feel better about this.
RALPH
(nodding)
You’re in a negative mood. You can’t sell my books if you’re going to be
negative.
MERCY
Is that why you’re saying these things? So I’ll work harder for you?
RALPH
You want everything black and white. That’s why God turned you orange.
I’m saying these things so you’ll get me a nice fat advance so I can
take you away with me, make that steal you away with me to an island
where I can have you and do my work and do my work and have you. Can you
find a consistent pattern of motive in that?
MERCY
(pause)
Me? Why me?
RALPH
Because you have fine orange armpits. You look like a space creature!
MERCY
(smiling for the first time)
What happens when my skin goes back to normal?
RALPH
(mock-serious)
We’ll cope with that.
(gestures around at the office)
You can do all this by email.
MERCY
But I have to schmooze with editors over lunch!
RALPH
Not once the deal is made.
MERCY
(amused)
You mean you’d be my only client.
RALPH
(shrugging)
You’d be my only agent!
MERCY
In other words--
(pause)
--you’d be counting on my fidelity.
(Pause. Lights down; up on MERCY in shorts and tank top sitting at her
dressing table CS, chin in hand, pondering
her orange face in the mirror. A speaker-phone on the table and a second
chair beside. ANDREW enters DSL and stands over her. Pause.)
ANDREW
The kids are coming over.
MERCY
(staring into the mirror)
I’ll make something to eat.
ANDREW
(pause)
Is that all you’re wearing? Donald’s fourteen, you know.
MERCY
Andrew, I’m an agent. I don’t have sex, I negotiate it.
ANDREW
Yah, but you’re--They won’t know what to--
MERCY
(pause; looks up at him)
You pity me, don’t you? There’s something--
(pause)
--objective in the way you look at me.
(takes his hands, sits him down)
Andrew, what we share--one of the things we share--is a certain honesty.
When we ask each other what we’re thinking about, we always say! We take
pride in it!
(pause)
And now suddenly, there are things I’m not telling you.
(pause)
It’s because I’m orange. Being orange is moving me away from you.
(Pause. The phone rings three times. Neither moves.)
MERCY’S RECORDED VOICE
You’ve reached Andrew and Mercedes. Please leave us a message and we’ll
get back to you.
RALPH’S VOICE
Hey! Agent Orange! It’s Ralph the writer! You and Mr. Orange are hereby
invited to dinner manana chez moi with me and Vera, at which I will not
once mention my career crisis. Repondez, s’il vous plait.
ANDREW
(pause)
Who’s that?
(pause)
You’re right. We live in the holy state of frankness. There’s
something--
(pause)
I’ve been thinking of asking the kids--
(pause)
--to move in.
(Pause.)

MERCY
(expressionless)
Ah.
ANDREW
I mean, what do you think?
(Pause.)
MERCY
I hadn’t thought about it at all.
ANDREW
Do you think it can work?
MERCY
I don’t know.
(pause)
Let me sleep on it.
ANDREW
Don’t you like them?
MERCY
Yes, Andrew, I like them.
(Pause.)
ANDREW
So?
(Pause.)
MERCY
Don’t they need their mother right now?
ANDREW
She’ll see them, she’ll--
(Pause.)
MERCY
Is she moving in too?
(Pause.)
ANDREW
She’s got things she wants to do. She needs a break. And I miss them!
MERCY
How long have you been thinking about this?
ANDREW
I don’t know. A while.
(Pause.)
MERCY
You might have told me.
(Lights down; up on VERA, CS, heading for USL. DSL are a couch, chair
and coffee table with wine, corkscrew, four glasses, peeled carrots and
dip; DSR, a table set for dinner and four chairs. RALPH in an apron
enters USR running toward USL. He passes VERA and exits USL.)
RALPH
(OFF)
Hey! Black and orange!
(MERCY and ANDREW enter, shepherded by RALPH. She is in a tiny black
dress and black heels.)
MERCY
(smiles, shrugs)
Hallowe’en.
VERA
(shaking her hand)
You look good!
MERCY
Thank you. So do you!
(She gives RALPH a glance over this as ANDREW shakes with VERA, then
with RALPH, who herds them to the couch.)
RALPH
Come on, come on, come on.
(He takes the chair as they sit, and opens the wine. To ANDREW:)

May I say how lovely your wife looks?
(pouring)
She has a kind of beta-carrotine warmth.
ANDREW
You have a way with a phrase.
RALPH
That’s me.
VERA
(to MERCY, a tad catty)
The eyelashes are spectacular!
(MERCY bats her huge black lashes sarcastically at ANDREW; he does not
smile. Pause. RALPH lifts his glass;  the others lift theirs.)
RALPH
(to MERCY)
Are you dealing with it?
MERCY
(to RALPH)
I miss wearing green.
(to VERA)
It makes me look like a carrot.
(Pause.)
RALPH
(to MERCY)
No new developments?
MERCY
(baldly)
Andrew wants to bring his children to live with us and I’m not sure I
agree. I like his kids, in fact I love them, in fact I love kids in
general, but I’m not sure I want to raise a family right now, and it was
never something we were going to do. So I’m doubtful about it and
there’s a lot of strain between us.
(Deadly silence: all, even MERCY are embarrassed by her outburst.)
VERA
(to the rescue, turns to ANDREW)
Did you have any trouble finding the place?
(Pause.)
RALPH
(to MERCY)
Ever think of having children?
(Pause.)
MERCY
I suppose it’s time. If the choice were out of my hands I’d be happier.
If a doctor said it was impossible--
(Pause. ANDREW looks at her. She avoids his gaze.)
ANDREW
(attempting a joke)
They might come out orange.
(Pause. MERCY reaches for an ors d’oeuvre.)
MERCY
Are these carrots?
(She crunches into one and chews loudly and sarcastically at ANDREW.
Pause. RALPH rises.)
RALPH
Soup’s ready. Carrot soup!
(He exits USR while the others take seats at the table:  ANDREW at the
left end, MERCY beside him facing forward, RALPH’S empty chair by hers
and VERA at the right end.  RALPH enters USR and ladles it to MERCY, to
VERA, to ANDREW.)

Yah, it’s getting late for me, too. My skin’s getting grainy. My muscles
fit like loose clothes.
VERA
Don’t tell everybody!
MERCY
(to VERA)
He says it in his books.
ANDREW
You’ve got a philosophy about it?
RALPH
Yah, it sucks.
(sitting)
Philosophy is steps in a certain direction. Art isn’t.
ANDREW
So you think of yourself as an artist.
RALPH
Calling yourself an artist is like calling yourself a gentleman. It
isn’t really done. Besides, I have an agent who does that.
(They laugh.)
ANDREW
(eating)
I hope she does something for you.
RALPH
(glancing at MERCY)
Yah.
(rubbing his hands)
Now for the main course: roasted carrots in fresh olive oil and parsley!

(Pause. ANDREW looks distressed.)
MERCY
(enthusiastic)
What’s for dessert?
VERA
I made a carrot cake.
(Pause.)
RALPH
(to ANDREW)
Is something wrong?
ANDREW
Could I--You don’t have a--you know, a sausage or something? Something
cold.
RALPH
Oh! I didn’t buy anything in! This is not good?
ANDREW
It’s great, it’s great. But I’m--It doesn’t matter.
RALPH
I thought this was a family thing!
ANDREW
No, Mercy’s the orange one.
RALPH
Oh, I’m really sorry.
(to VERA)
What can we get him?
VERA
I’ll go down to the deli and get some liverwurst.
(to ANDREW)
You like pickles?
ANDREW
No no. No no. That’s okay.
VERA
It’s right here on the block!
ANDREW
(rising)
No, okay. I’ll go.
VERA
(rising)
I’ll go with you. You won’t find it.
RALPH
(rising)
What is this? I’m the host--I’ll go.
ANDREW
(leaving)
Talk with your agent.
VERA
(leaving with him)
We’re going. You want anything?
RALPH
We don’t want to talk business!
ANDREW
We’ll be right back.
(They exit USL. RALPH pulls MERCY toward DSL.)
RALPH
Now’s our chance.
MERCY
(up but resisting)
What’s our chance?
(stopping)
Ralph! No!
RALPH
(hauling)
Don’t resist, it only excites me.
MERCY
(stopping them)
No! I’d just be running away! It’s too easy to run away from him now!
I’d be punishing him! And I’ll tell you something else--
RALPH
(dragging her)
No don’t tell me anything else--
MERCY
(digging her heels in)
I have no moral comfort about this! It solves nothing!
(He picks her up and carries her DSL.)

What about Vera?
RALPH
We have nothing to hide from Vera!
MERCY
This is wrong! They’ll be here!
(He exits running with her. A bed OFF creaks rhythmically.)
MERCY
(OFF)
This is ridiculous!
RALPH
Don’t say that!
MERCY AND RALPH
Oh! Ah! Oh! Ah! Oo! Oh! Ah! Yah! Oh! Go! Yah! Uh!
(building to crescendo)
No! Yah! Go! Yah! Uh!
ANDREW
(OFF)
Here we are.
VERA
(OFF)
Hold this while I get the door.
(MERCY and RALPH enter DSL, she hurrying to her place at the table and
sitting, he racing across to USR and exiting. ANDREW and VERA enter USL
with bags from which they take deli cartons and arrange the table. As
ANDREW sits and VERA spoons chopped liver onto his plate, MERCY, between
them, checks her face in her compact mirror--smooths her lipstick,
touches her cheeks, then gapes and feels for her eyelashes: the false
ones are gone.)
ANDREW
Ralph, I apologize, I’m ruining your dinner.
(RALPH enters USR with the carrot casserole and carries it to the table
as MERCY checks her dress and under it for the eyelashes.)
RALPH
(to ANDREW)
Considering the risks of orange-itis I can’t exactly blame you.
(He sits and serves MERCY roast carrots. The false eyelashes are stuck
to his cheeks--a black hairy crescent on each side of his nose as if the
halves of a Foreign Legionnaire’s mustache had parted and migrated
upward. MERCY stares at him. He returns the stare for a moment,
oblivious, then serves VERA, who stares at him.)
RALPH
(to VERA)
What?
(He checks his nostrils; looks at ANDREW, also staring at him. To
ANDREW:)

What is it?
(MERCY and ANDREW look at each other. Pause. RALPH looks at VERA; then
at MERCY.)

What?
(Pause.)
VERA
Oh, well.
(Lights down.)
THE END