The curtain rises. There are two men, on either side of the stage. One, very tall, with a neat gray beard. The other is older and walks with difficulty. To do so, he uses crutches. In front of each of them is a small table with a telephone on it. The scenery is almost non-existent. The darkness is absolute, except for two points of light that illuminate the bedside tables. Distantly, the voice of a muezzin is heard summoning the faithful to prayer from a mosque. The bearded man picks up the phone and dials a number. Across the stage, the other phone rings. The older man holds out his hand and picks up.
-Say it?
-How are you dad?
"Is that you, my son?" What a surprise! You never call me. How is everything?
-Good. I am here in Abu Dhabi.
-Cone! Have you come to see me?
"No, Dad, I've come to offer my condolences on the Sheikh's death."
"What sheikh?"
-The one who has died, Khalifa I don't know what.
"And there is no longer a sheikh?"
-Now send your son.
"Well, when you're done, stop by and we'll see each other." And then we went out for a drink. I know some really cool places.
"It can't be, Dad. We can't meet here.
-Well, your sisters come and nothing happens.
-It's just that things are very complicated, dad. See you in a few days, in Madrid.
-But can I go to the Zarzuela?
"To sleep, no."
-But to say hello yes, right? I am very excited. I swear I won't touch the cutlery.
-Then okay.
(The tall man hangs up the phone. The older man makes a rueful face and rings a bell. A waitress appears and pours him a glass of champagne.)
–Raise children... Hey, bring me some olives.
(The waitress nods. The curtain falls slowly.)
4
