HANNAH AT THE WINDOW

HANNAH:

I’ve lived in Lenox Hill for twenty-seven years. I’ve been a widow for thirteen of those twenty-seven years. And, because my Buddy had moved us out here for business from Ohio (he was in advertising or real estate or something – it’s hard to remember -) and we didn’t have any children, I was a bit shocked by all this... excitement. My Buddy would say it was all “too much for Hannah”. And, I suppose it was.

I began counting ambulances after my Buddy’s first heart attack. That was in, oh, 1995, I think. I’d run to the window, watch it go by, wonder who it was, what was wrong, were they a good person? And this morning – would you believe? – this morning I heard my [with great care] forty-third thousand, seven hundred and ninety sixth siren. [Whistles.] S’alot. You figure roughly twenty-percent of that is just a broken limb, maybe – what? – ten percent is a gunshot? Thirty for strokes, I’d say. And the rest? That forty? Heart attacks. [Beat.] These are just speculations, of course.

I enjoyed my ride in the ambulance with my Buddy during each of his heart attacks. I know this must confuse you, because it confuses everyone. But the truth is that it was comforting. No matter what happened, there were four walls and people who knew what they were doing to take care of my Buddy. So, when I see an ambulance go by, I take notice. Some one is getting taken care of.

[We hear a siren. She reacts. Goes to the window. Looks.]

Who are you?

What do you need?

Bless you.

[It is long gone. She’s forgotten what she’s doing. She goes back to the chair. Looks around for a moment. And then,]

Forty-third thousand, seven hundred and ninety seventh siren. [Whistles.] S’alot.

It’s funny that I can remember that. I can remember a few things – my Friend brings groceries on Tuesdays and Fridays and my Pal checks in on Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays and I was married to my Buddy and I live in Lenox Hill but don’t ask me the address, I couldn’t tell you, it’s been years since I’ve had to know, and I have heard forty-three thousand, seven hundred and ninety seven ambulances go by my apartment window since my Buddy had his very first heart attack.

They say that you have to be consistent. Your days need to be full, busy, consistent. That’s what they say. So I count.

[A siren. She runs to it. BLACKOUT.]