Lucy & Mr. Belsar

“Well, but I thought I knew your name.”
“Nope. My name is Harry.”
“Your name is Lewis.”
“Not it’s not. My name is Harry.”
“Lewis, stop fucking around.”
“Who the fuck is Lewis?”
“Your name is Lewis Belsar.”
“My name is Harry Belsar. Are you on drugs?”
“Ha, ha, ha. Hilarious, Lewis.”
“Harry.”
“Shut up!”
“Lucy, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I’m Harry. Harry Belsar. My brother’s name is Michael, and I am Harry-”
“I know your brother’s name is Michael.”
“I’m not trying to upset you, you know.”
“I know. But. I am really confused right now.”
“I’m really sorry.”
“I’ve known you for, six months-"
“Well I’m not upset.”
“LEWIS!”
“My name is Harry.”
“LEWIS! Stop it! Why are you doing this to me?”
“Lucy. Lucy. Are you alright? I’m really sorry, but... I was never called Lewis. You’ve known me for a while, now.”
“Harry.”
“Harry.”
“Harry?”
“Harry.”
“Holy fuck, I feel so confused.”
“I’m sorry. I feel confused too. Who...? Why do you think my name is Lewis?”
“Lewis, everyone calls you Lewis. I’m not biting into this shit anymore.”
“Lucy...”
“You’ve really ruined my night.”
“I’m sorry. But. Uh, Lucy. Everyone calls me... Harry.”

Lucy starts crying.

“I’m so sorry. Did you take anything tonight?”
“Don’t touch me, you creep! Fuck off!”
“What the fuck...”
“You’re not Lewis! I don’t know you! I don’t know anyone called Harry! I mean I know someone called Harry, but I haven’t seen him in so long it doesn’t really-"
“Ahhhhhhhhh.”
“AHHHHHHHH! I should be saying that! I should be saying that! Fucking AHHHHHHHH!”
“This is so fucking frustrating.”
“It is, Harry.”
“There you go!”
“You have a sick, sick, twisted mind.”
“I don’t think you understand me very well tonight.”
“Yes I do. You... You sound very convincing but. You’re not. Really. Telling the truth.”
“Oh my God.”
“I’m sorry, Lewis.”
“I’m growing increasingly frustrated. And a little bit hurt.”
“I mean, Harry.”
“If you really mean that.”
“I’m sorry. Can we just drop this?”
“Yes. What’s my name though?”
“Can I just call you Larry?”
“Larry?”
“It’s mainly Harry if you think about it, but starting with an L.”
“Larry.”
“Yes, Larry.”
“But my name is Harry.”
“I refuse to call you Harry.”
“Okay, well, I’ll start calling you Joana then.”
“See, I wouldn’t mind that so much.”
“For the entire six months we have known each other, you thought my name was Lewis.”
“Your name is Lewis.”
“My name is Harry. I was born and my mother looked at me and said, ‘Hello, Harry. Welcome to planet Earth.’”
“But then she turned around to your father and he said, ‘Harry is such a plain name. Let’s call him Lewis, like my great-grandfather.’”
“My great-grandfather is not called Lewis.”
“As if you’d even know.”
“I have gone over my family tree a few times in my short lifespan. None of my great-grandfathers are called Lewis.”
“What are they called then?”
“I think one of them is called Frank, and on my mother’s side there’s this real character, and he’s called Pasquale... how is Harry a plain name?”
“The whole world is called Harry, Lewis.”
“Not it isn’t.”
“You just replied to me calling you Lewis! I knew it! I knew it!”
“Some good drugs you’re on, Lucy.”
“That’s it. I’m leaving.”
“Jesus Christ. This is insane.”
“Are you calling me mad? Are you saying I’ve gone mad? I’m not on drugs! I’ve had two drinks! Two drinks! I think I know what your name is, still!”
“And what is my name?”
“I refuse to answer to your nonsense. You’re the one that’s on drugs. You are. You are.”
“But I’m always on drugs. You know that.”
“Exactly.”
“You think I’d know the most basic information about myself in case I went in some sort of drug-induced coma in the middle of the street...”
“Ha, ha.”
“I mean, because I take such heavy drugs after all...”
“Don’t even start trying to shame me.”
“Shame you? You don’t know my first name and you think I’m trying to guilt you about telling me I do too many drugs?”
“Oh my fucking God. Shut up.”
“My first name! Harry. Harry, not Harrison - just plain fucking Harry. Harry Belsar. Harry fucking Belsar.”
“Nice to meet you, Harry fucking Belsar.”
“I think I’m done with this.”
“Good. So am I.”
“See you around, Lucy.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m going home. Weren’t we going home?”
“Yes. Until this.”
“Until what?”
“Until I found out you’re some other person.”
“I’m not some other person. My name is Harry, that’s all.”
“Suppose I can believe that.”
“As you should.”
“As you want me to believe. Suppose I call you Harry. But then suppose we get home and happen to find Michael awake in the lounge room.”
“Michael won’t be awake.”
“I’ll wake him up. I’ll make him say your name.”
“You’ll wake my eight-year old brother up so he can tell you what my name is.”
“Yes.”
“Good work!”
“Oh, shut up. You know he’ll call you Lewis, that’s why.”
“I feel like none of us is willing to give this up.”
“I feel the same way.”
“We seem equally as strong in our opinions of what my name should be.”
“But seeing as you are under the influence, I am the winning lot.”
“The insane are always saner.”
“Whatever. Shall we go?”
“Yes.”
“Wait! Do you have any I.D. on you?”
“Nope.”
“Liar. Where is your wallet?”
“I left it home. I only brought my drugs. That’s all I carry with me, you know.”
“Hilarious, Harry. Shall we go?”
“Yes. This way, miss.”