A Mexican woman maintains a vigil beside the body of a young man. As the piece begins, SHE lights a candle near the man's head.

MARISELLA

I cannot sleep tonight. This might not interest you, but I say it should. Please, listen to what I say, about what happened here today, quite early.

I need to tell you about the cries from the swimming pool. We will talk, you and me. Maybe our talk will deepen. I can tell you things about myself. You can tell me whatever you like. I will tell you about my husband, Marcello. And maybe about unhappiness, but it doesn't have to be that way.

We can talk about anything we like. We will do this because, wherever you are, night is long. Some nights have lives all their own. This night, for instance. But first, this morning.

(SHE stands, lights another candle which she places at the man's feet. SHE mumbles a prayer in Spanish)

I cannot sleep because of what happened this morning in the hotel pool. So early that I was still asleep. I was dreaming of a better Marcello. Of a world still able to change. Sleeping and dreaming. That's why I didn't know what happened. (Slight pause) The drowning. A death by drowning.

Stay with me, won't you? Help me forget about the cries I heard from the pool.                                                                       

(SHE walks around body slowly)

They arrived two days ago, the young American and his wife. Newlyweds. They came to this town on the Bay of Banderas to celebrate their wedding. I watched them register in the hotel lobby. They were shy, like all newlyweds. We see so many of them here.

They were from St. Louis. I don't know that place. It is far from here. Maybe you are nearer to it than I am. (Gestures to body) Than he is tonight.

Did I envy them? (Smiles) I did. They had a joy about them. A kind of bliss. To be naive is still a kind of bliss, isn't it? (Waits for response) Oh, yes. I think so too.

Yesterday, I went to their room. Not to visit, but to clean. I should tell you that I am the best maid at the Posada Bougainvillea. (Brightly) I have never stolen a thing. I am trusted here. Completely. (Confiding) I take special care in the rooms of newlyweds. There is a special feeling in those rooms. An awkward feeling. A delicacy. A feeling of things beginning.

(SHE pantomimes the following actions) I gathered the towels. I pulled the sheets from the bed. I straightened the room. I opened the shutters and saw the entire Bay of Banderas.

(Happy) I make a room new. No matter how many people have stayed there, I must make a room new again. That is why I am the best maid here. Oh, honesty makes a good maid, I know. But magic makes for the best. Yes, magic. I always hope for magic.

(Serious) But standing in their room, I could feel that something was wrong. I sat on their bed and knew there was nothing good in their future.

There was sadness in that room. The way their things were scattered. The way their clothes touched in the closet. Even opening the shutters could not change this.

(SHE pretends to see a mirror) Then, I saw why. In the large mirror over the bed, I saw a gathering of ghosts. Old men ghosts. They were standing in a circle, talking. Planning, I knew.

(Earnest) Even if I wanted to warn the couple from St. Louis, I couldn't. What's a maid's magic compared to the magic that really controls things? Maybe many of you would not have seen the ghosts. It is a gift I have. But I don't have the gift to change the plans of ghosts.

(SHE takes her time circling the body, singing a soft lullaby in Spanish. A ritual. Then SHE returns to her chair and sits)

Maybe I've been weakened in my own house. Marcello was so kind and good to me when he was younger. (Agonizing) He's become nasty with time. He hurts me. (SHE shows her bruised arm) I wear his anger. But worse, I feel broken inside. I know my spirit has been damaged.

That is why I stayed in the hotel last night. I was afraid to go home. Here, I am safe. (A pause,    then remembering) Until I heard the cries from the swimming pool. They awakened me. I put on a robe and ran to the pool.

(SHE pretends to be looking in the pool) I saw him, the young man from St. Louis. Still, so very still, in the water. His wife was crying. She had tried to help, but it was no use. Someone, I think the hotel manager, took her away.

Do not think it is all bad. I promise, there is some good in this. When I'm finished, maybe you will feel better about the man from St. Louis.

Some men removed the body from the water. When they were gone, I looked down into the pool. The cries were coming from there, I was sure.

I realized something. No one else could hear the cries. No one but me. I knew the cries were from all the small souls who were waiting to be born. They hoped that the couple from St. Louis would set them free, would bring them to life. Now they were crying because they knew they would have to wait some more. For another couple. For chance. Some of them, I knew, would wait forever.

(SHE pretends to hold a baby in her arms and rocks it slowly, back and forth. Then SHE walks beside the body, speaking to it as well as the audience)

Here, Marcello seems far away. Here, I am keeping a vigil. This man, this new husband from St. Louis, is beyond this room. (SHE touches his hair) Beyond sleep. Beyond so many things. He hasn't a care in the world.

He doesn't hear the cries from the pool. He is not thinking of being closed in a coffin. Or going home. How many friends will be at his funeral. How many flowers on his grave. Now, he's not even thinking of his misfortune.

(To audience) And this is the good. Look at him. He is like a photograph. Forever young, and pure. Blessed. And, in a way, lucky. (To body) You were so happy. If you had waited, if you had gone later in life...

(SHE caresses his face)

(To audience) He trusts me. I am the one who cleaned him, who prepared him for the long trip home. And I have worked magic. He no longer looks like someone who has drowned. He looks like an innocent. For this night, for all the nights to come.

(SHE takes his hand from beneath the sheet and holds it)

I can tell him about myself. About Marcello. (To audience) You can talk to him too. About yourself. About your Marcello. About anything you like.

I will hold his hand until morning, when they come to take him away. And even when he is flying across the sky, I will not let go.

BLACKOUT