A Play
(The Director's office. The Director sits at his desk, a phone receiver in his left hand.)
Monsieur. I am calling with devastating news.
Did he fail again?
It is terrible news and I do not quite know how to —
What could be more terrible?
I am afraid to say he passed.
He passed the exam?
No. He passed in an incident yesterday.
(A beat.)
On the lake.
I am not following and I do not have much time.
I am afraid to say, your son passed into the next realm.
You found a place for him at another institute?
Monsieur. He is, um, dead.
Is he?
He took his own life.
By jumping into the lake? He was always a bad swimmer.
He, um, slashed his throat with a knife.
Did he?
I am so sorry.
I wouldn't have thought that he had the guts.
We will reimburse the fees you paid for the current semester.
Do you also take sixteen-year olds?
Why wouldn't we.
Then do keep your fees. And I will send you my younger son. He is made of different mettle.
We would be most happy to receive him.
I will ask his mother to book a ticket to Geneva straightaway.