Philemon wanders around the table, thinking about something.
Ivy comes out. She is wrapped in a large towel, it is clear that there is nothing under it.
Philemon. What are you doing? Not dressed…
Ivy. Do you understand that you like to undress yourself? Not a question. I'll go get dressed then.
Philemon. What did you understand there? I didn't understand anything, but she already understood… Well, explain it to me. I didn't understand.
Ivy. Go take a shower!
Philemon. Me?
Ivy.
Philemon is trying to understand the essence of the message. Then he carefully, as if imperceptibly, sniffs his armpits.
Philemon. Oh, I get it. Well, yes, I was sweating while I was hanging around with all these preparations. But, it seems, everything is not so sad that you drive me straight into the shower?
Ivy. Go on, go on!
Philemon. I can't argue with you much.
Ivy. Go ahead!
Ivy goes to get dressed.
Philemon reluctantly wanders to the closet, takes his robe, hesitantly crumples it in his hands, goes into the shower.
Ivy returns in full dress, with only her shoes off. Admires the donated painting. He goes to the table and pours himself a juice. He drinks, eats fruits.
Ivy (screaming). The artist! Don't stay there too long! Time is running out!
Philemon (shouting from the shower). Two minutes!
Ivy (softly). Come on, come on.
A voice message arrives on Ivy's phone. Turns it on, listens.
Voice message (nasty drunk male voice). Where are you, maramoyka! How long can I wait? Did you get the money on the card and decided to screw it up? This number won't work with me, I'll get you out of the ground! Are you holding the phone on silent? Look, there are seven missed ones from me. You don't have to joke with me like that. I'll wait another twenty minutes, then take the blame on yourself. I was dropping the address. The house, the entrance floor, you know everything. Apartment fifty-sixth. You have twenty minutes.
Ivy. What kind of nonsense is this?
Ivy puts the phone away, continues to eat fruit. She gets it.
Ivy. Stop it! Fifty-sixth! (SCREAMING) Artist, what kind of apartment do you have?
Philemon (shouting). Eh? What?
Ivy (screaming). What's your apartment number?
Philemon (shouting). Sixty-fifth. And what?
Ivy. Heck! I got it mixed up.
Picks up the phone, records the voice response.
Ivy (sends a voice message). Sorry, kitty, I was stuck in traffic. I'll be there in three minutes!
Ivy grabs her shoes and runs out of the apartment, forgetting about the painting she got as a gift.
The end of the first action.
Action 2
Scene 1
Philemon comes out of the shower in a bathrobe.
Philemon. That's all right. Ivy? Where are you?
Looking for a girl. He doesn't find it.
He gets a message on his phone. Includes. Listening to.
A voice message. Uncle Philemon, hello again. Listen, here's the deal. My Bunny has some problems there, we need to go urgently to solve them. I guess we're not getting to you today. I'm sorry, okay? Happy birthday. We'll come by sometime, for sure. Hello everyone
Philemon (to the empty table). Greetings to all of you, from Seryozha plemyasha.
He walks, thinks, scratches the back of his head.
Philemon. It turns out that we talked about different Sergeevs with her. I don't understand anything. So! Money, documents!
Rushes to the cabinets, shelves. Examines the apartment for theft. He runs around the rooms, checks everything.
Philemon. Everything seems to be in place, I didn't take anything. She even left the painting I gave her. Can someone explain to me what's going on here? Who was that girl? How did she end up here? So, just went to a random apartment for a drink, a snack and a wash? It's crazy. What the hell is going on. Just what the hell! What a day…
He slowly approaches the table, eats a few "grapes" without appetite, wistfully examines his bachelor apartment, looks sadly at the deserted table. He goes into the room with art supplies, returns with an easel. He puts a piece of paper there and starts drawing. He goes to the table several times, drinks wine, returns, finishes painting, then sits down at the table and falls asleep there.
Scene 2
A series of doorbells wakes Philemon up.
He's coming to open it.
Ivy enters.
Ivy. Hi.
Philemon. We've seen each other.
Ivy. Are you still alone?
Philemon. One.
Ivy. Can I come to you?
Philemon. Did you decide to ask permission this time?
Ivy. Is that okay?
Philemon. Come in. Do you want to eat?
Ivy. No, thanks.
Philemon. Would you like a drink? Wash up?
Ivy. You're kidding, aren't you?
Philemon. Yes.
Ivy. What for? You're not sharp-tongued, I like to cut it with a word. You're different.
Philemon. I don't know, you must have influenced me so much.
Ivy. M…
Philemon. May I ask?
Ivy. Go ahead.
Philemon. Who are you?
Ivy. Phew… Here, you know, sort of… You can't tell right away.
Philemon. Let's not do it all at once, in parts. Somehow tell me who you are. And then I broke my whole head, I can't understand anything, who Fate threw at my name day.
Ivy. Oh, cool, let's assume that I'm your gift of Fate and I'm not explaining anything!
Philemon. Ivy, put yourself in my shoes.
Ivy. No, whatever. It's tinny.
Philemon. That's what I'm talking about.
Ivy. Lan, let's sit down. I'll tell you what's what.
Philemon. Good girl, this is a conversation. Come in, sit down. Juice? Wine?
Ivy. Let me take care of you. It's your birthday after all. Juice? Wine?
Philemon. About how… Let's get some juice and something to chew on then.
Ivy takes care of Philemon, sits down next to him.
Philemon. Thanks And what about yourself?
Ivy. No, I don't want to.
Philemon eats, Ivy is silent. They look at each other. Time is passing.
Philemon. As you tell me interestingly, I was just listening.
Ivy. You've really learned something from me. Now I'm not going to call you Smartass, but Witty!
Philemon. I'll put up with that too.
Ivy. What a…
Philemon you are. Which one?
Ivy. Soft-bodied.
Philemon. You don't know me. I'm scary when I'm angry.
Ivy. Ha! Don't be ridiculous.
Philemon. Seriously.
Ivy. Interesting. And what will you do?
Philemon. I can draw an ugly portrait of my enemy.
Ivy. Oh, yes! It's just scary. I'm really scared right now! You wouldn't wish that on anyone. It is impossible to think of a worse fate!
Philemon. And you're being ironic for nothing, by the way. Everything has its own weight. Do you know what a Voodoo doll is?
Ivy. Are you saying that you're painting a portrait of your enemy and poking needles at him?
Philemon. No, it's not necessary, but the principle is the same. If I draw a man with a black eye or a cast on his leg, I wouldn't be surprised if this man gets slapped in the face or breaks somewhere in the foreseeable future. The information room, no matter how you turn it, is general. Space responds and binds all the available knots with its threads.
Ivy. You're not normal.
Philemon. I'm an artist.
Ivy. Well, that's what I'm saying.