The Oath

(The living room of a house being emptied. Boxes labelled in black marker.)

CLARA

You’ve already labelled everything. “Anna.” “Clara.” “To give away.” As if a life could be filed.

ANNA

Someone had to deal with it. You weren’t here.

CLARA

I was six hours away by plane. That’s not the far side of death.

ANNA

You were six hours away by plane for eleven years, Clara. Eleven years.

CLARA

And you count. You always counted. The days, the wrongs, the absences.

ANNA

Because someone, in this house, had to keep the accounts. She’d stopped keeping them.

(Clara stops in front of a photo.)

CLARA

Did she ask for me? At the end?

ANNA

…

CLARA

Anna. Did she ask for me?

ANNA

Do you want the truth, or something you’ll be able to carry?

CLARA

I want the truth.

ANNA

Then no. At the end, she asked for nothing. She was saving her breath. You cost too much.

(A silence. Clara takes the blow.)

CLARA

You waited eleven years to tell me that. You kept it the way you keep a weapon.

ANNA

I kept it the way you keep a pain. I didn’t know it would be of use.

CLARA

We swore, as little girls. Remember? That we’d never become her. Cold. Counting.

ANNA

I swore that at nine, to a sister who never came back. The oath wore out on its own.

CLARA

Then break it for good. Tell me to leave and let’s say no more.

ANNA

I’m not telling you to leave.

CLARA

Then what are you telling me?

ANNA

That I’ve been alone. And that I can’t even hate you properly, because you’re the only one who remembers the same things I do.

(She pushes a box toward Clara.)

ANNA

That one says “Clara.” I made it anyway. My hands knew before I did that I wouldn’t turn you away.

CLARA

…Stay with me while I open it. I don’t want to be alone for that.

ANNA

That’s all I’ve wanted to hear for eleven years.

(They sit on the floor, on either side of the box.)