A play by Bogdan Dumitrescu. Written around 2008. Revised edition, 2026.
The Romanian text was published on LinkedIn on 23 June 2014 under the title “El cu Ea și ea cu El?”. In May 2015, Trupa din Centru performed a scene from the play at the Florian Pittiș National Arts Festival for High School Students, at the Bulandra Theatre in Bucharest. Andrei Avram received the award for Best Actor in a Leading Role for his performance as He.
Characters
He — the man caught between two stories
She — the woman he meets again after nine years
she — the woman he lives with
Scene 1 – A reunion
He: So… how have you been? I barely recognised you in the bar.
She: I know. Fine.
He: You’ve lost weight.
She: Yes.
He: You look good. It suits you.
She: Thank you.
He: How are things?
She: Fine. You?
He: Fine.
She: That’s good!
(A fairly long silence.)
He and She: Yeeaah…
He: …that’s how it is…
She: That’s it. Yes.
He: Well, yes…
(A silence almost as long.)
He: And, if I’ve got this right, this is your place.
She: For now… I think I’m going to move. In a month.
He: It’s nice.
She: …I have to move. In a month. I’m moving.
He: I see. So… you’re moving.
She: In a month.
He: I got it.
(Pause.)
She: A beer?
He: Coffee! Is that possible?
She: Yes.
(Pause.)
He: I haven’t heard anything about you since then.
She: I saw you once.
He: When?
She: Not long afterwards. About a month later.
He: Where?
She: You were on a bus, near that bar—I don’t know if you remember it… Sky. I was on the pavement. Sometime in September… back then.
He: Yes… now I remember. I saw you too. I was on my way to the station. All the way there, I wanted to get off at every stop.
She: But you didn’t.
He: Yes. I mean, no. I know. Would it have been better?
She: I don’t know.
(She brings the coffee.)
She: Sugar?
He: Two, thank you.
She: How is it?
He: Good… and… what’s happened over the last nine years?
She: I got married, lived in London…
He: …that I know.
She: You do?
He: Yes. I ran into… there was a boy in ninth grade who used to talk to your sister… we called him the Kid. He met you in London.
She: Yes, yes… the Kid. He was there for a while. Played water polo, yes.
He: …and when he came back, he told me about you. Around three years ago.
She: Yes. Things have changed since then. We split up.
He: Maybe that’s for the best… I mean, I’m sorry.
She: Yes.
He: I called your old place too. I actually spoke to someone on the phone.
She: That’s crazy!
He: I mean, I spoke to someone else, who told me you’d moved.
She: About a year later, wasn’t it?
He: About that.
(Silence.)
He: I still go past there sometimes.
She: I don’t.
He: I like it.
She: I don’t.
(Silence.)
He: Yes. I think I’ll have that beer after all.
She: I’ll have one too.
He: Let’s have a drink instead. You have a nice place here.
She: I’m moving.
He: I know… What’s London like these days?
She: Not as good as it used to be.
He: I suppose.
She: I’ll put some music on.
(Silence.)
She: And you?
He: Fine.
She: Married?
He: No. Not yet.
She: Ah.
(His phone rings. He steps out to answer it. He comes back.)
He: I have to go.
She: Yes.
He: Maybe we’ll see each other again… in another nine years? In the same bar? Around five? Or just after five? Exactly.
She: It’s a date.
He: Well, all right… then…
She: You have to go.
He: Yes.
She: All right. Bye!
Scene 2 – At her place in the morning
(she is alone. She tries to light a cigarette. The lighter will not work.)
she: Life is full of signs that show you how stupid you are—or, let’s say, how poorly informed: simple things, ordinary gestures you thought you knew so well. And then one second, just a fraction of a second, suddenly makes you understand everything.
I’d had a Zippo lighter for two years. It worked perfectly well, but I always felt there was something missing. I don’t know what, but it never quite lit the way I wanted it to. The spark kept me waiting for a fraction of a second. No one but me noticed it, not even the lighter itself. After two years of owning it, one morning I pushed it a little deeper into its case—about half a millimetre. From then on, I no longer had to wait for that fraction of a second.
That was it! Only then, after two years, did it finally light the way I wanted it to.
It was the same with our love: after two years, one morning—yet another morning—I found a napkin in the room with a phone number on it, written in someone else’s hand. That was when I understood that there had always been a split-second delay between him and me. That fraction of a second kept the lighter… him… us?… from lighting the way I wanted. It made him answer “nothing” whenever I asked, “What are you thinking about?” It made him say, “We’ll talk tomorrow, I’m tired today.” It made him say only, “Me too.”
That was it! He’d got used to saying only “me too”… I’d got him used to hearing “I love you” only from me… He’d got used to it, I’d got him used to it, we’d got used to it…
Scene 3 – The phone call
she: Hello. I’d like to meet you. You don’t know me. It’s important! Believe me! Please! It’s about someone we both know. All right. Tomorrow morning I’ll be at… there’s a bar… it’s called Sky, you know… there. Yes. I’ll have a football beside the table. If you come, you can’t miss me. All right. Ten o’clock.
Scene 4 – The smell
she: He didn’t come home that night either. And ever since then, my hands have smelled of petrol. Zippo lighter fuel. That lighter. No matter how much I wash, I can’t get rid of the smell. Sometimes I like it; other times I want to cut my hands off. But I’d need someone else for that. Fucking hell! Why do my hands smell of him? Why can’t I get rid of this smell? One day—yet another morning—I’ll cut my hands off! I swear!
Scene 5 – The Sky bar
(she and She.)
She: Yes?
she: …
She: I’m here. What was so important?
she: I wanted to see you, to meet you. I’m…
She: I know who you are.
she: I wanted to know how it happened.
(Pause.)
She: He came to me, looked at me, and I didn’t let him leave again. He told me about you from the beginning.
she: And that didn’t bother you?
She: At first, yes. Later, no.
she: Later?
She: Yes. After the first night we made love, it didn’t bother me anymore. For the first time, I felt something different. He liked it too. Sorry, I don’t want to go into details. Sorry!
she: It’s all right. Tell me. I want to hear it. What was it like?
She: Stop it!
she: He held your head in his hands, looked deep into your eyes and told you that at that very second, in that fraction of a second, he was the happiest man on earth, didn’t he? Then he kissed you gently behind the ear, and it felt as if a butterfly were whispering something to you, and…
She: Stop!
she: …and then that damned butterfly floated down into your stomach, light as a breeze, and then between your legs—for one second, a fraction of a second, only passing through—it brushed against you and travelled farther down the inside of your thigh. Then it came back and nestled where it was warm and good. And that butterfly was his tongue, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it? It started very slowly, so slowly you didn’t even know whether it was still there. And all the while, he kept talking to you.
No? And the butterfly rose, and between whispers he began, and his hands were everywhere, and his lips were everywhere, and he was everywhere, and… and isn’t it true that…
She: No, it isn’t! It wasn’t like that at all, because none of it happened. Yes, we didn’t make love… even though we could have… the very first night we saw each other again, we could have, but we didn’t, and that’s what won me over. All this time, since we found each other again, nothing like that has happened! And that’s what I liked about him! If this is what’s eating away at you, then let me tell you: we didn’t fuck. Are you satisfied?
Scene 6 – At his place with her
He: How are you?
she: Fine. You?
He: Fine.
she: Where were you last night?
He: I had something to take care of.
she: Yesterday morning I saw Her. I met Her.
He: Who?
she: Her.
He: I have no idea what you’re talking about.
she: Yes, you do. You know exactly what I’m talking about.
He: We’ll talk tomorrow morning.
she: I want to talk now. Yesterday morning I met her. We got to know each other, we talked. In short: I saw her!
she: I want to know why.
He: I wish I could have told her that there are moments in life when you think you need a change, when after a while you feel the need to start over with someone, with that particular someone…
(she begins at the same time. Their voices overlap.)
she: I wish he had told me that there are moments in life when you think you need a change, when after a while you feel the need to start over with someone, with that particular someone…
He: …to see the world again through the eyes you had the first time you said “I love you.” I wish I could have told her that sometimes you need to prove to yourself that there could have been other women, but you chose her, that without her life would… fuck it all!… But all I said was: “Yes, I know what you’re talking about. Are you satisfied?”
she: …to see the world again through the eyes you had the first time you said “I love you.” I wish he had told me that sometimes you need to prove to yourself that there could have been other men, but you chose him, that without him life would… fuck it all!… But all he said was: “Yes, I know what you’re talking about. Are you satisfied?”
she: Please leave!
(He leaves.)
she: And he left. The door slamming, his footsteps to the lift, then the silence and, suddenly, another room. In one second, in a fraction of a second, you find yourself in another room; everything changes. The distance from the bed, where you were sitting, to the television is greater now, the wardrobe seems closer, the sounds from the street have disappeared… Everything changes… My phone lay alone where I had left it, silent on the bed. My only point of reference. I picked it up and called him. He didn’t answer. I tried again: nothing. And I began to cry.
I don’t know where those sobs came from, but I couldn’t stop. I collapsed on the carpet with my knees drawn up to my chest, sat there like that… and cried. All night.
He: I walked out and slammed the door. My footsteps carried me to the lift. I went downstairs and sat in the car for half an hour. I wanted to call her, but she called me. Twice. So I didn’t answer. I drove into the night. I wanted to run away somewhere far off and not know anything anymore. About an hour later, I stopped at a petrol station on the outskirts of the city. And I began to cry. I don’t know where those sobs came from, but I couldn’t stop. I sat there with my head on the steering wheel. And cried. All night. In the morning, I went to Her.
Scene 7 – He and She again
He: It’s over. Now it’s us again.
She: Is it?
He: Yes.
(Pause.)
She: Why do you love me?
He: I don’t know. What does it matter now? It’s just us.
She: It matters. Why did you love me? Why do you love me now?
He: Because you’re… the first… because you’re… beautiful.
She: Is that all?
He: I don’t know. Because… I love you. Because when I’m with you now, I’m different. I’m good.
She: Now? And one day you won’t be like that anymore?
He: I will. I’ll always be like this.
She: Why did you leave her?
He: Because it wasn’t working anymore. There was nothing left.
She: And what if the same thing happens to us?
He: It can’t. It’s different with us.
(He takes her head in his hands.)
He: At this very second, in this fraction of a second, I am the happiest man on earth.
(He kisses her gently behind the ear.)
She: The butterflies!
He: What?
She: Nothing.
Scene 8 – At the edge of the group
He: The worst part is the first time you find yourself in the same place as her, and it’s crowded, and her friends are there too—the people who, until yesterday, had been friends of both of you. The worst of the worst is when she’s already there with your old mutual friends, who at that very second belong only to her, and she’s having a good time. Then you wonder how she can be having a good time with your friends. And when she sees you coming, it’s as if she understands the question in your mind and starts having an even better fucking time with them. She jokes and laughs.
And you go over and say hello to everyone—to her as well—and then stand at the edge of the group, a frozen smile on your face, like a dog in the rain. You smoke just to give your hands something to do. And the silence turns icy until you leave—and you leave quickly, because there’s no way you can stay. That is the worst of the worst.
Scene 9 – The departure
(He and She.)
He: How are you?
She: Fine. You?
He: Fine.
She: I’m going to leave.
(Pause.)
He: When?
She: As soon as possible. Today.
(Pause.)
He: What happened?
She: It isn’t what it used to be. There are so many things we haven’t talked about for a long time. I don’t feel anything anymore. I need a break.
He: We can talk now.
She: It’s too late.
He: …
She: I don’t know how it happened. I don’t know, and I don’t think there’s anything we can do.
He: Are you sure?
She: Yes.
He: I know I’ve made mistakes. But we can start again.
She: I don’t feel anything anymore.
He: You should know that I… Please, let’s try one more time!
She: I’m leaving. Do you understand? I’m leaving.
He: …
He: When do you want to go?
She: Today. Now.
He: Do you want me to drive you?
She: There’s no need.
He: Do you really think you’ll be better off if you leave? Do you really believe that?
She: Yes.
He: All right.
She: That’s how I feel. I’m sorry. That’s how I feel.
He: Wait! Because I…
She: I left.
He: Because I… Let’s go for a drive. Just for a little while. Please!
She: A little while. Then I’ll leave. I’ll leave afterwards.
He: All right.
He: And we walked towards the car. Only then did I see how much like strangers we really were. We walked like two strangers towards a car that had become strange to me as well. We got in and set off. She didn’t say a word the entire way. She sat there on the right, silent and bent beneath a pain I knew nothing about. I drove far away, out of the city and then onto the motorway. All I wanted was to go as far as possible, to leave the city, with all its fears, as far behind us as I could.
But she liked the city. She loved that city, with all its terrors and neuroses, so after a while she said she wanted to go back. I know I began to shake. I could no longer feel my legs; only the engine’s calm, contented hum told me my right foot was still where it belonged, on the accelerator. I tried to say something, anything, but I couldn’t. My voice had got lost somewhere along the road. I pulled over, stopped, and sat down on a milestone marked 32.
I began counting the cars that passed me. When I reached number 157—a red BMW with two doors—I got back into the car and told her I couldn’t turn around here. I could turn around at the bridge. So I drove at fifty kilometres an hour all the way to the first bridge, turned around, and we arrived back in the evening. She got out, and the city swallowed her.
She: He stopped. I got out and disappeared into the city. And then I knew I was all right. I began to run. If I stopped, I started thinking. So I ran, and I was all right. And I’ve kept running ever since. It’s better this way. At least I no longer have to keep pace with anyone. I run alone. And I’m all right.
Scene 10 – A red BMW with two doors
He: Today I saw her in the street, holding hands with someone. An ordinary guy. What could she possibly see in him? I followed them. They went from shop to shop. They looked happy. They laughed. She had almost become ugly. She was fat and walked like a duck. She laughed loudly, vulgarly. They came to an ice-cream kiosk. They bought a single ice cream. Chocolate. The way she likes it. Then they both started eating from the same ice cream. Like two stupid children. They went into a cinema, and I stopped following them. I felt sick.
I sat down on the kerb and began counting the cars passing in front of me… 157… red BMW… two doors!
Scene 11 – The phone call and the voices
He: Hello!
she: Hello! How are you?
He: Fine… you?
she: Fine. I’ve been trying to reach you lately. Is this your number now?
He: Yes. I changed it.
she: I wanted to talk.
He: Yes?
she: Yes. I wanted to invite you to my wedding. Two months ago.
He: Oh, yes, I heard. Congratulations! I was out of the country.
she: Wow! Where?
He: In… far away… in Latvia.
she: Great!
He: Yes.
she: Maybe we could see each other sometime too?
He: I’d like that… Listen, I have to hang up now… you know…
she: All right. Bye!
He: Bye!
(He hangs up.)
He: And then you sit there, day after day. The television is your only friend. The problem is, it’s the only one that talks. You sit there telling yourself something has to happen. You manage to lie to yourself about it for no more than half an hour, and then you give up. All kinds of images appear in your mind—people who are comfortable in their own skin. They’re doing well. At first you resent them; then you become indifferent to them. You don’t even have anyone to be angry with. Not even someone you can scream your favourite obscenity at.
And then there’s nothing left to do but sit there… Just you and the television: two trips to the fridge every day; eight trips to the toilet—to piss seven times and shit once; and one more trip every other day—to take a shower. You used to do that more often! That’s all! No, wait. And Marlboro Lights—one pack a day.
(The voices of She and she are heard alternately and sometimes overlap. The fragments seek one another out and push one another away.)
She: He stopped. I got out and disappeared into the city.
she: The door slamming. His footsteps to the lift. Then the silence and, suddenly, another room.
She: I began to run. If I stopped, I started thinking.
she: In one second, in a fraction of a second, everything changes.
She: I’ve kept running ever since. At least I no longer have to keep pace with anyone.
she: My silent phone was my only point of reference. I called him. He didn’t answer.
She: And ever since then, my hands have smelled of petrol. Zippo lighter fuel.
she: I began to cry. I don’t know where the sobs came from, but I couldn’t stop.
She: No matter how much I wash, I can’t get rid of the smell.
she: I collapsed on the carpet with my knees drawn up to my chest and cried. All night.
She: One day—yet another morning—I’ll cut my hands off. I swear.
(Silence.)
End