The Bears Sleep at Last

Geneviève Billette, Nadine Desrochers

• Publisher: Playwrights Canada Press
• Year: 2019
• Print ISBN: 9781770919952
• eBook ISBN: 9780369100047
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: Canadian Drama
• Index: Literature

Their whole bodies are ready for sleep, but sleep doesn't come.

The cold has deserted winter, causing the polar bears in the zoo to pace in an endless quest for sleep. Their caretaker, Sasha, will do anything to bring them slumber. But when a boy named Marcus suddenly appears at his window, bringing a different outlook on the meaning of family, Sasha finds himself buried under new responsibilities—such as packing lunches and reading bedtime stories—rather than snow. And so he keeps going back to the bears, believing that he'll find relief by the day that's circled on the calendar, but missing Marcus's pleas for attention and care.

Woven through a delicate and charming balance of the unique and familiar, this ethereal, melancholy play for young audiences brings light and warmth to wintering hearts.

— 1 —

Sasha’s apartment. Clearly displayed, an enormous calendar. A date is circled in thick red ink. Sasha enters in a rush. Marcus runs to him. Sasha hurriedly begins to make Marcus’s bed.

Marcus: Did the ice work?

Sasha: Almost.

Marcus: Did they yawn? Did they bat their eyelids?

Sasha: Not yet, but I have hope. I’ve just received the first delivery. I never would have thought that ice would be so heavy to transport. That being said, those blocks are enormous . . .

Marcus: Sir . . . do you think it’s my fault?

Sasha: What?

Marcus: That the bears are not sleeping?

Sasha: Why would it be your fault?

Marcus: I always have the feeling that everything’s my fault.

Sasha: It’s winter’s fault, Marcus. It’s winter’s fault for being late. The bears need the cold of winter to fall asleep. Mid-January! And you would swear this warmth is autumnal. Temperatures should have dropped weeks ago. They should have been asleep weeks ago.

Marcus: They must be tired . . .

. . .

Sasha: They look like ghosts. They breathe slowly, their hearts have slowed their pace. Even hunger has left them . . . Their whole bodies are ready for sleep, but sleep doesn’t come. They walk around in circles, eyes wide open.

Marcus: Do you think they’re suffering?

Sasha: I have never seen such a look in their eyes. Come on, off to bed.

Marcus: Sir . . . are you really sure it’s not my fault?

Sasha: I said so, didn’t I?

Marcus: Then why aren’t you making your bed next to mine, like yesterday? That’s a bad sign.

Sasha: I have to go back to the zoo, Marcus. Tons of ice blocks are waiting for me. I would like to get my bears to sleep tonight.

Marcus: In a way, it’s a big bed of ice that you will make for them.

Sasha: You could say that.

Marcus: You made my bed. You go make the bears’ bed. Then you come back to make yours . . . next to mine.

Sasha: Deal. I’m off before the ice melts. The ice!

Sasha runs to his bag. He takes out a piece of ice, already liquefying, and hands it to Marcus.

Quick, take it, it’s for you . . . Come on, take it!

Marcus: It’s . . . it’s a very nice gift, sir.

Sasha: Quick! Go to a corner of the apartment where you feel good and rub the ice on your bum.

Marcus doesn’t react.

Don’t be shy, I won’t look. It will be cold, but it will make you feel better. It’s not normal for a bum to be blue.

Marcus: You can give it to the bears, sir.

Sasha: I took the smallest piece. This one is for you. Hurry! It’s already melting.

Marcus: My bum is not blue anymore.

Sasha: What?

Marcus: I waited for you all day. You don’t even have a TV. I had nothing else to do but look at my bum. It’s not blue anymore.

Sasha: You’re sure?

Marcus: I looked at it every hour on the hour. Pink at nine o’clock, pink at noon, pink still when the sun went down.

Sasha: It doesn’t hurt anymore?

Marcus: Not at all. I was healed in one day!

Sasha: That’s true — it’s incredible, you only just got here yesterday . . .

Marcus: Did it seem longer to you? That’s also a bad sign, sir.

Sasha: I’m just a little lost in time, that’s all. Actually, it’s more like time is toying with me.

Marcus: You should have written the date of my arrival on the calendar. That’s what people do with important events . . . if I’m an important event for you.

Sasha: You can say that again.

Marcus: Oh!

Sasha: But I never write anything on the calendar.

Marcus: There is a date that’s circled. In red.

Sasha: I circled it, and I will not circle any other.

Marcus: Why?

Sasha: Because.

Marcus: Got it, sir, it’s none of my business.

Sasha: Marcus, I’ve got an idea. What if, to celebrate your recovery, you stopped calling me “sir”?

Marcus: You don’t like it? I thought it sounded polite, that you thought, “Oh, this boy is as refined as sugar . . . ” That with each “sir” I earned more points.

Sasha: Every time you say it, for a second I wonder who you’re talking to.

Marcus: Nobody calls you “sir”?

Sasha: I work with bears, Marcus. They are not so formal.

Marcus: How would you like me to address you?

Sasha: You could try using my name . . .

Marcus: That would make sense.

Sasha extends a hand towards Marcus.

Sasha: Good night, Marcus.

Marcus: Good night, Sasha.

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Table of contents

• The Characters
• The Bears Sleep at Last
• Translator’s Acknowledgements
• About the Author
• About the Translator