A Subtle Smile (A woman in her bedroom. The walls and curtains are white. There is a cage with a parakeet, a flower vase, a bed, and a mirror. Everything exudes a sense of freshness and coziness. It’s dimly lit.) What a beautiful day! I’ll have breakfast and then go for a walk. Lucy may be waiting for me. There’s no need to rush, though. There’s always time for some tea and crosswords. (She picks up the crossword and reads) «Tragic realization, five letters: Death always finds us (blank).» Desolate! No, it’s eight letters. So macabre! Anyway… I have more exciting things to do. What to wear? This blue dress matches perfectly with my hair. And my vintage handbag. Or perhaps not? No, I don’t want the white dress. In the trash, immediately. (She throws it on the floor.) My skin is so smooth and radiant. My face! It’s the most beautiful face in the whole world. (She puts makeup on her face) Eye cream, moisturizer. Makeup and just a touch of concealer to illuminate the eyes. A bit more. What were his words? «My lady, your eyes are captivating.» He was handsome in his tailored suit… that’s enough. My little bird sings a song and gives some melody to our day. Where is my red temptation lipstick? Perfect. Now, I am ready to leave the house. Ready to be admired. (To the mirror) My trusted mirror, who is the most beautiful in the world? (She smiles confidently at her reflection, yet the mirror’s image remains unsmiling.) My eyes betray me. (Silence) My dear mirror, show me the one I long for. (The woman smiles, but her reflection doesn’t. The woman utters a cry of horror). What’s happening? I need a moment to think. Logic has always been my ally. The figure in the mirror is my reflection. So, if I smile, she ought to smile. She must follow me wholly and faithfully. It’s out of the question. (Talking to herself) Remain calm. Take a deep breath. You’ll look in the mirror again, you’ll smile, and she’ll smile, too. (Hesitantly, she stands in front of her mirror. She smiles, but the reflection remains Why does she refuse to smile back at me? My lips curve a smile, yet hers remain still. (To the mirror) Why this silence? Why don’t you speak to me? Since my mother passed away, I thought you were my one and only friend. “Don’t cry; you are making this beautiful face look ugly. I am here for you. Give me a subtle smile.” But now you are betraying me. You are responsible for this. You showed this stranger, who is the same as me, but she doesn’t smile at me. It’s horrible. (To the idol) Who are you, awful creature? How dare you appear in my own mirror? Where the hell do you come from? Get out of my room and my life immediately. (Silence) (To the idol) Only my mirror makes me feel alive. And now you are stealing my mostintimate feelings. I’m becoming so weak (she falls to the floor herself). You’re a demon. That’s what you are. Don’t look at me like this. I don’t want to know anything about you. Get the hell out of here. (Silence) But why are you attracting me? I want to observe you. Why don’t you smile at me? Don’t you like me? Not even just a little? Do you want to tell me something? I am here to listen to you. But you’re not talking. Why aren’t you talking? Why do you deny me your smile? I’m very lonely. Smile at me, and we can be friends. I’ve always wanted to have a friend. If we become friends, we can share our joys and sorrows. If I rested my sadness upon yours, they would become lighter, making space in our chests for other emotions. Don’t you ever smile? It’s dreadful what you do. I can’t stay here anymore. Georgia is waiting for me. I want you to disappear right now. I can’t stand you anymore. (Silence) Why do you exist in my mirror? In your gaze, I see contempt. I won’t let you ruin my life. Get lost out of here—right now! (She closes the curtains. Silence. After a while.) No, no! I can’t stand the darkness; it’s suffocating me! Nor can I let my curtains become barbed wires. You have deprived me of certainty; I won’t let you steal the light from my life. (With a gesture, she opens the window slightly. It’s dimly lit as before.) I hate you! I don’t need a mirror to tell me how beautiful I am. I will prove it to you right now. (The woman breaks the mirror, forming many smaller images. She gets upset and throws the white dress to cover them. She holds only a tiny piece of glass in her hand.) Here you are again. Now you’re so small that you fit in my palm. You seem so tiny and fragile. I feel a kind of tenderness. Yes, for you, pretty girl. Now what? I wanted to make you disappear, but I ended up observing you. You’re an image, frozen in time, watching me. (Silence) How could I not have noticed it all this time? You’re not wearing the ring. Yes, the ring, this one with the gold heart I wear. That’s the one my mother gave me just before she passed away. Then, you must be Maria. There’s a difference between us. You’re Maria. (Silence) You know. Before changing my name to Mary, I was also Maria. My mother was alive then. When she died, I changed it. I couldn’t stand others calling me Maria, the name she used to call me. Whenever I listened to “Maria,” I would turn my head and crave seeing her. For years, when I walked outside, I searched for her face in the streets, in the buses, everywhere. One day, I hugged a woman in the supermarket. She looked very much like her. She kept me hugged and said nothing. Another time, I watched another, sitting on the bench and feeding pigeons, just like my mother did. “What’s your problem? I don’t bother anyone.” Sometimes I even see her face here, in my room. I form it with my fingers on the ceiling when I go to bed. (Silence) I was jealous of women walking on the streets with their mothers. An intimate part of mine started getting frozen, just like your face in the mirror. (Silence) I know you, Maria. I had been Maria, too, and then I became Mary. At some point, we must have been the same person. But what does it matter anyway? We are two different women; the more I observe you, the clearer it becomes. You’re Maria, and I’m Mary. You’re the echo of my past. That’s why you look at me so arrogantly. You’re so young. You don’t have the ring. Now, who am I? I thought… See what you’ve done. My head! My head! What a terrible headache! (Silence.) Anyway, if you smile at me, we can be friends. We can put it all behind us and get to know each other again. It doesn’t have to be a big smile. A subtle, almost faint movement of your lips could be enough. Like this. A subtle smile. (The idol does not react.) (To the mirror) My mirror, please don’t abandon me. We’ve spent so many nights together. You held me when there was no one to hold me. You made me feel safe when everything around me was falling apart. I have no other to turn to. Give me a sign; I am imploring you. (Silence) The mirror is silent. Maria doesn’t smile at me, and now I can’t say who I am. At least I wear the ring. It’s only mine. (Silence) It was tough for me to deal with her loss. It was Mother’s Day, and I was an orphan. I went to the cemetery with a little hoe to dig her up that day. They didn’t let me. I insisted. Every day, I went to the cemetery to dig her up and bring her to our home. The last time, they took me violently. “Take your dirty hands out of me. Take off me this white dress; it burns my flesh. Please, let my hands free, I want to hug my mother.” Then the hospitaliz… (Silence) Why the hell do others bother with what I do since no one really cares about me? (Silence) My mirror? (Silence) I’m going out. (She goes to open the door to leave but doesn’t leave). But if I’m not you, where can I go? There’s no one waiting for me outside—only you, mother. I know. Don’t worry about me. I’ll bring you flowers, Mother. I have nothing special to tell you; I don’t want to disturb your sleep. It’s all right, Mother. Everything is fine. I need to sleep well. I’m tired, so I go to sleep, too. (Silence) People living with others in the same house cry in secret. At least I can cry openly. I’m tired. I can’t deal with this. All I want is to surrender to a deep sleep and stop thinking. And my sleep would be so deep that no pain could disturb it. And my body starts shrinking and shrinking and shrinking and disappearing in the same loneliness it was born into. Why do you still gaze upon me? I’ll stay here. You won. (The darkness is complete.) Why don’t you smile at me? I understand why you’ve come. (Silence) If you smile at me, we can be friends, even now. After all, we’ve been the same person. Why do you stand here silent and look at me so seriously? Do you think it matters how many years separate us? If you believe that it does, you are fooling yourself. And I’m telling you this because only I am in the position to know it. I’m still young, as young as you are. And my name is Mary. You see, the tragic realization comes at the end, in five letters. Death always finds us young, Maria. (For the first time, she opens the curtains completely. The room appears fully lit, revealing a diametrically opposed reality. The walls have cracks, and the curtains are faded. The parakeet is plastic. The vase contains plastic flowers. The bed is in poor condition. The woman is standing at the center. Her face is old and poorly dressed,with terribly applied makeup). (While completing the word young in the crossword) It’s nice to have clarity, even for a few minutes in the morning. (She takes a pill) There is always time for my crossword. Definite article – three letters (the) These little glasses give birth to rainbows in my room. It’s amazing! Death, in other words – three letters (end). I should take a bath and refresh my makeup. My dear bird, sing a song for me! Heavy material used for separating the seen from the unseen – seven letters (curtain) What a beautiful day! About the Author Georgia Xanthopoulou is an Athens-based playwright and poet. With a background in English Literature, postgraduate studies in Ethics and PhD in Philosophy from the National and Kapodistrian University of Athens, she delves into questions of identity and meaning. Her writings reflect themes rooted in existentialism and the Theatre of the Absurd. Her work has appeared in English‑language literary magazines and bilingual art publications.
(She stands before her mirror. In the mirror, a beautiful reflection appears.)
still..)
Who is she?
