JS XV

Era uma vez um coelho.

JS XIV

- What are you thinking?
- I'm thinking that I'm very happy.
- You are?
- Yeah. And I can't believe that I'm so happy, while he hurts so much.
- Well, you deserve to be happy.
- You know, I have my, um, journals and my computer... And I was wondering if I could bring them here 'cause they wouldn't take up a lot of space.
- You wanna bring them here?
- Yes. I feel like I should be writing right now.
- I would feel honored.
- I think I could...
- You should move here.
- Really? 'Cause it's beautiful the way your - the light is coming in through the windows and... I feel very inspired.
- You do?
- I do.
- Yes, you could, um... you could write on the desk...
- Yes.
- ... and looking over at the canals,
- Yes.
- You could write great works of literature that would go down history.
- Yes.
- Don't you wish there was a parallel universe?
- Parallel universe?
- Yeah. Where we could live out this... fantasy.
- You would love to?
- You'll find that your life is richer, more full of possibilities and choices. I've opened up your world.
- Fuck you.

JS XIII

Jenny sits at her laptop, writing. As she writes, we hear her voice - and her voice in another tone that's deeper and more calm. The two voices overlap each other, echoing. 

- Jennifer I... am not too sure of who I am because there are several of me. They float up from me like phantoms. And slink off to commit acts for which I may or may not be responsible. Jennifer Diane Schecter is not at all sure whether any of this happened, or whether it was simply a tale as told to JDS, by JD, after a poem by J. I, JDS, Jennifer Schecter JDS have so many selves.

Jennifer
Jen
JD
JDS
a/k/a Sarah Schuster

- Jennifer. Jen. JD. JDS. Sarah Schuster. I don't know where I begin. Or if I end. Or if I end.

Eu tenho um melhor amigo.
Somos mais do que aquilo a que comummente se chama unha com carne.
Somos mais que irmãos de sangue, somos irmãos de espírito. Espíritos irmãos. Inseparáveis, aconteça o que acontecer.
Eu e o meu melhor amigo temos um hobbie.
Gostamos de raparigas de um certo signo. Elas costumam gostar de nós também. Não de mim, nem dele. De nós. Os dois. Juntos.
São coisas diferentes que as atraem. Ele é divertido e espontâneo, eu sou inteligente e tímida.
Mas os dois, juntos, é como uma dupla imparável. Sempre foi.
Ele fascina-as de uma maneira inexplicável e eu mantenho as coisas interessantes.
Há entre nós uma ligação metafísica que as deixa deslumbradas e que as faz querer ser assim, querer ter aquilo que nós temos.
O jogo é este.
Hoje, eu e o meu melhor amigo vamos estrear um brinquedo novo.
Óptimo, estava a precisar da diversão.

JS XII

Jenny walks up to the bus stop. Somewhere in the distance, we hear a car alarm and cats fighting. Finally the bus pulls up. Jenny gets on. She walks down the aisle, and stops when she sees a little girl sitting alone - it's her younger self. She smiles down at her.

- Hi.
We see short, confusing flashbacks of Jenny's rape. A young girl is thrown to the ground; a hand covers a mouth. We hear muffled screaming. Jenny sits down next to her younger self. Flashbacks of teenaged boys standing in a forest. One of them wears a t-shirt with a bizarre face of a laughing clown on it. Jenny holds her younger self, crying. Flashbacks. Three teenaged boys hold the girl down in the dirt. Jenny kisses her younger self on the head, and pets her hair. Flashbacks. We see wet feet running on wet pavement. Jenny holds her younger self, petting her hair. Flashback to young Jenny, standing alone in the woods, her clothes dirty and torn. Muffled screams and whooping are heard as one of the teenaged boys runs off in the background.

JS XI

- Why are you - why are you doing this?
- Because, when I'm in there, it's my fucking choice when I take off my top and I wanna show my breasts. And it's my fucking choice when I take off my pants and I show my pussy, and then I stop when I wanna stop and it makes me feel good because I'm in charge, and it helps me remember all this childhood shit that happens to me. You know, like, I have to. It's important. Do you remember what happened to you as a child that makes you not wanna..
-  Jenny, what - what do you mean?
- No, seriously, no, no, no, just hear me out. Do you remember the shit that happened to you as a child that makes you not wanna trust people as an adult?
- Yeah, I probably do.
- Well, then, you're fucking lucky.
- I don't know how that makes me so lucky.
- Because you're lucky, because you're... you can get on with your fucking life and you're not dogged down by these horrible, oppressive childhood memories, and you know, you stand a chance of being a normal, productive person.
- Well, do you know what happened to you?
- I don't know. You know, like, I remember things, and then, like, I think... "Is this true? Did this stuff really happen, or am I making it up?" Because, you know, the older I get, things - the memory sort of becomes a little blurry, and then, it's like, I can't... I don't know, but... you just don't know the truth anymore.

JS X

An ultra-bright light beats down on Jenny as she's on stage, half-naked. Mobs of men surround the stage. They shout, cheer, and beat the stage like animals. She takes off her bra and whips it at the crowd and they shout for more. Interspersed with shots of the crowd are instantaneous clips of other things, like tiny flashbacks: the drawings of shouting men; a boy in a clown t-shirt, angry at a little girl; many-armed Carmen and a fire juggler from the big top reverie; children running; young Jenny looking around; Jenny at the carnival, sitting in the duck shoot booth. Jenny pulls down her pants. The men in the crowd go wild, shouting maniacally and beating the stage with their fists. Jenny throws her pants into the audience. Wet running feet on rain-soaked pavement; young Jenny and companion shooting at older Jenny at the duck shoot booth; older Jenny bleeding at the duck shoot booth. Jenny pulls down her stockings. Drawing of the little girl, naked, looking sad; Jenny in the big top wearing clown makeup. Jenny touches herself in front of the mob, then pulls her underwear down. The men shout, cheer, and go wild. Older Jenny running away from the duck shoot booth; older Jenny looking at the blood stain on her sweater. Jenny stands on the stage with her arms out to her sides. She puts her head back, closes her eyes, and rests her hands on top.

JS IX

- Jennifer, I don't - I don't understand, here. Are you trying to punish me?
- No...
- I'm grateful. To you. You did a good job with me. And I'm not trying to punish you.
- Is this because of what happened when you were a little girl? Is that why you turned out this way?
- Why didn't you protect me?
- Oh... there... there was nothing I could do to change... what happened.
- I know - Mom, but you could have comforted me, you could've told me that it wasn't my fault.
- Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm sorry.
- Thank you.
- Thank you for what?
- Because. It's the first time that you've ever acknowledged what happened to me.

JS VIII

- What the hell do you think you're doing? How dare you treat us this way, after we opened our home to you. How dare you bring a man back into this house!
- I would never do that, Warren.
- Get out of here.
- That's what I'm doing, Warren, just give me a couple of minutes.
- Now. I want you out now.
- Actually... You've wanted me out of this house from the moment I set foot in here. What is it, Warren? Am I too fucked up for you? Am I too perverted? Look at me. Do I remind you of how messy and out of control your life is? Warren? I'm just... not the girl you wanted me to be.
- Jennifer, stop.
- No, you stop. When are you gonna start... being... an actual person? And not this silent slave to this man.
- Don't you dare disrespect your mother.
- That's a privilege that's reserved for you.
-  I - don't know what more we can do.
- Nothing. There's nothing more you can do for me to make me the person that you are comfortable with. Because I'm not gonna marry that nice Jewish boy. Not gonna have those nice Jewish kids. I'm not gonna shut up. And be subservient. I'm not gonna set the dinner table and pretend that bad things don't happen. Because when you don't talk about them, they getworse, Warren. Let's go.

JS VII

- I wanna wait until my parents are asleep, when I get my stuff, because I don't want to start a thing with them tonight.
- You mean, like a teenage runaway?
- Yes. 'Cause my mom still puts me in that place, you know? I don't think it's gonna take me more than, I don't know, 20 minutes to pack because I didn't bring a lot of stuff because I didn't think I'd be here for six months.
- I been planning on going to L.A.
- Are you thinking about having sex with me right now?
- It's crossed my mind. Who did that to you?
- I did it to myself.

JS VI

- Mom?
- Hello, darling.
- Now, we've really got to hurry, here. We've got one hour until sundown. So... here, can you take that in, and put that up there? And then I'm gonna get you to get the china down. Your father wants everyone to go to shul. He says this is your last dinner here in Skokie.
- I had my last therapy session with Dr. Peretz today.
- You know your father's invited the Cranes for dinner. Marshall's back from MIT. He's gonna be at shul.
- You know what would be really awesome, if you could please ask my step-father to stop setting me up with guys. Especially Marshall Crane.
- And what's wrong with Marshall? He's a mathematical genius.
- Nothing. Except for the fact that he's a man, and I -
- Don't start, Jenny. We all know you were sick.
- That's not part of my "sickness".
- Oh! And is that what Dr. Peretz has been telling you?
- Dr. Peretz doesn't have a problem with my sexual orientation, mom.
- Well, uh, then I have to tell you that I think Dr. Peretz is as sick as you are.

JS V

- Excellent. Well, your story, if you really want to know...
- Yes. I do.
- I thought was utter bullshit from beginning to end. I mean, beautifully written... you always write exquisitely, but... swans?
- They mate for life.
- Sure, and they have brains the size of ping-pong balls. I mean, where's your edge, Jennifer? Where's your nihilistic passion? Where's the girl that masturbated in church? I mean... "And he would've died for her, and she would've died for him." What's that about?
- It's about fucking commitment, you know.
- Really.
- Yes.
- Well, it reads like spackle. Now, I know you're marrying the coach, but if this is meant as a wedding present, I'd keep it between you and him. Because you're more complex than this. What did you think, just then? Where did you go?
- Nowhere.
- You're obfuscating.
- Nothing.
- Listen, Jennifer. Commitment is dreary. It's not your thing. You have to... dig deeper. (leans back) Tell me something interesting.
- I've been doing these really terrible things.

Há uma grande diferença entre não querer e não poder.
Sempre soube que não sabia dançar, a perna mais curta deixava-me em falta. Mas sempre pensei: um dia, quando eu quiser mesmo, vou fechar os olhos, ouvir o ritmo, e não vou desistir até acertar. Entretanto, recusava que os outros me vissem dançar, inventava passos tolos para distrair. Toda a gente dança, diziam. Mas eu não.
E a perna curta encurtou, e a coluna entortou, e as costelas atrofiaram. E dói. Simplesmente dói. Dói e continua a doer, dia após dia, mais e mais.
E eu não danço, nem nunca vou poder dançar. E isso dói ainda mais.
Porque de que me serve tocar piano e falar francês se eu só queria poder dançar?

JS IV

- Why would... Why would you do that? Are you trying to hurt me?
- How did I hurt you, Jenny?
- Because you told someone. Everybody knows.
- Some people guessed from the way you were behaving.
- Listen. I can't hurt him. Okay?
- I understand.
- I don't know what to do. Everytime I look at you, I feel so completely dismantled.

JS III

Every time I think everything’s going really well.. I mean, I try really hard.. It all fucks up. And I think that maybe I’m just one of those people that.. doesn’t deserve to be happy.

JS II

I'm sitting in the chair writhing in agony. A demon, a minor demon, is pinning me there, fucking with my head.
- Abraxas. 
He says.
- I'm Abraxas the demon of lies and deceit. So, what do you want to know about lies my dear?
I’m not a liar, I try again to get up, this time I’m flayed, splayed. I feel myself screaming.
- I will tell you about lies. There are white lies and black lies, and many shades of grey lies, but some lies are justified. Lies told out of kindness, lies that preserve dignity, lies that spare pain. Everyone’s a liar dear. Look at them. She is about to tell her lover something patently untrue. Look at their gestures, see how they touch each other too intimately, how they avert their eyes and cover their mouths. They lick their teeth and hold their chins. They embellish their stories with far too much detail.”

JS I

For you, my heart, ripped from my chest. Eviscerated, I am. And if I could, I would plunge my fingers through my chest and rip out my heart and give it to you. A pulpy mass of morbid diathesis. In addition to my heart, there are some small organs that want to give you: glands, sweetbreads, variety meats. I'm offering these gifts. Rare gifts. I know that they don't amount to much in the face of what you've given me. I've heard these organs can't survive outside the body for more than a few hours. But I'll try to get there as soon as I can. Whatever happens, it will be on me. On my heart.