ACT I



It's two AM. She's putting on some clothes to go downstairs and get us both some water. Above her on the wall is the sign she hung up that says "Life is not a mistake."

One pant leg is in and she pauses and speaks.

The woman named after a spring month -- she's an accountant; her father is a pyschiatrist.

She looks up at me laying on the bed and asks, "Have you ever had an STD?"

I'm not ready. It was asked and I'm not ready. There was a plan. I had an answer. It was in development for weeks, years really.

Honesty wrestles with wit and the match ends in a draw.

I look at her cheeks because I can't really look at her in the eyes.

"I've never had anything that can be cured."

That's it. That's what I say. The damage is done and the truth is out.

"I have herpes."