Writing the new ending to “Amour Americaine.” We will hew closer to reality and preserve the feminist heroine. We will not go the hyper Romantic route. We will not go the operatic route with the man and woman dying together. Now, he will just disappear and leave the heroine to lead her life. It all depends on how much power I can put into that moment, which in many ways, is much sadder. I am the Queen of Addictive Control Freaks. I want to rescue the unsalvageable. I want to cure the incurable.
Rose had to let go of Jack’s hand and let him drown and live her life.
I will never reveal the deepest secrets he told me (even if it hurts the play) or accuse him of confusing me by calling me every day for two months. I want to say, though, I did realize something about the real life inspiration and that was he was the first true man I had ever experienced, (and no, there was no physical consummation), but it was the first time that I felt cared for and protected. Holding my arm or opening my door, making a fire for me, or cooking a meal. He gave me the simple things I had never experienced before.
Here comes the waterworks.
My life is good and solid now, but there’s only room for one in it and just enough money and energy for me. I’m on Medicare, which is insurance with no family plan. I cannot help him. So, I never for one second had any romantic fantasies, but I worried far too much. I was too reassuring and comforting, even to the point of lying about my reactions to some of his postings and videos, but then, who else makes such postings and videos? The books and cartoons may not have been as good as I said, but who else does such things? This is a man of courage and conviction and even if I never see him again, as I say in the play, “God, watch over him and protect him. Make him happy. In the name of Erato and Terpsichore and all of the Muses of all the Arts. Amen.” Lights down. End of play.
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