CLOUDLET

vered with glory, I have no family three for sixty generations back. I am a part time economist, more of the time unemployed. I doubt I can fetch a hefty price on the market. (smiles)

OLDMAC: The question is not at how much you are priced but for how much and with what you can be bought.

ENYO: Why would you need me? (laughs) I will drive you to the airport anyway and after that you don’t need me.

OLDMAC: About this we will see. Tell me, are you ready to slave for another three years? I may consider selling the house to you but I want you to pay me with time. It is not going even to be like Jacob who slaved for nine years per wife. Don’t jump, I have not lost my marbles completely. I would like to offer you a deal. For three years.

ENYO: Three years are a lot of time.

OLDMAC: You have served it once.

ENYO: Then I was younger and less clever.

OLDMAC: Exactly. Now with the luggage of the wisdom gathered you will do two good things. I am providing you a decent salary, good lodging and few other perks. After three years you are free if you want to be.

ENYO: It will be interesting to read the small script in this offer. I bet there will be surprises in it. (looks at his wristwatch) Time to go!

OLDMAC: (laughs) About the surprises you can take this to the bank sonny. (they get up)

 

Scene VIII

The stage is hidden by a semitransparent curtain creating the illusion of castle ballroom. OldMac in full Scottish attire comes out from one side of the stage in front of the curtain. On the other side young woman comes out dressed equivalently to his costume, with bridal veil, but sprinkled with white powder the same as Grandma Tsona and Valko’s wife. Somewhere invisible bagpipe is playing. OldMac and the young woman dance. When they leave the stage still dancing, the curtain rises).

 

The village pub is deserted. The radio continues to play the bagpipe tune. At one table Tsranka is kneading dough. She has rolled her sleeves and one can see she is not at all old.

TSRANKA: I won’t manage, I won’t, help me, Holy Mother, the dough will not rise and there will be no bread for memorial service. Not that so much was needed, but as I know it from the old days the same I mix, and now there is nobody to eat it, there is only Tsvetan and he is going today. He will come, will utter “What’s the rush Tsranka?” Tsranka, Tsranka, as if I have no name, as if I am not named after you and to you am I given to, to keep that chapel. And alongside all the work has to be done, work, work, work, the woman’s work is never done. Help give birth, baptize, teach, marry, help give birth again, this time to their children, read the last rites, bury and then all over again, like a domestic spirit. If it were yarn, one would have untangled it, if it were water, one would have brought it, if it were grain one would have milled it, but no it isn’t… If everyone goes, I will remain,