by Brad Fraser
TWYLA:
Joey stop—
JAKE:
Okay thank you for the discussion. Can I have my pill now? Please.
JOEY pushes the pill container on his chair tray toward his father.
TWYLA:
Let me.
TWYLA gets the pill and hands it to JAKE.
JAKE:
Thank you Joey for bringing this up. That tablet was quite the gift.
JAKE takes his pill.
JOEY:
Yuh. Ah luh tuh tuk tuh pupuh. Ah juh wus Ah cuh tup buduh. (Yeah. I like to talk to people. I just wish I could type better.)
TWYLA:
You do just fine.
JOEY:
Thush muh buduh shuv dah Muguh Wums ad puhn. (There’s much better stuff than Magic Worms and porn.)
JAKE:
You’re shush a good boy.
JOEY:
Yuh huh. (You’re high.)
JAKE:
Promish me shumthing.
TWYLA:
What?
JAKE:
Whudevuh happensh. I dunt want to go bag to the hoshpital. I don’t want to be in pain.
JOEY:
Uh kush.
TWYLA:
If that’s what you want.
JAKE moans softly, sinking back into the bed.
JOEY:
Ah hah huhwuk tuh duh. (I have homework to do.)
JAKE:
Homework?
JOEY:
Yeah.
JAKE and TWYLA share a look.
JAKE:
Goonight shun.
JOEY:
Nah Dah.
TWYLA:
Sleep well.
JAKE
: Uh wiw.
JAKE falls asleep, breathing heavily. JOEY and TWYLA watch him for a moment, until they’re sure he’s out.
TWYLA:
Joey I don’t know if this was the right time to bring all of that up.
JOEY:
Uh huh duh. Wuy huh stih ubuh tuh thuk. (I had to. While he’s still able to think.)
TWYLA:
I don’t believe in heaven and all that stuff. Who could in this family right? But I think like—you know—we don’t know everything even though we think we do. And we really don’t know what happens after we die. Maybe it all is just over but maybe—you know like—we become something else. We’re transformed into—energy or another state or—something else—some completely natural biological process we can’t understand any more than the caterpillar can understand it’s gonna someday be a butterfly or a tadpole knows it’s gonna be a frog. And maybe that thing we turn into is a really really great thing and it makes all of this shit happening now completely meaningless. But what happens if you don’t die the way you’re supposed to? What if interfering with that natural process somehow stops you from—achieving that next state and you really do just end in nothing when there’s a chance something else might’ve happened? He’s my big brother. I have to keep hoping—
JOEY:
Uh nuh. Bud id Dash luf. Id dunuh maduh wuh yuh thung. (I know. But it’s Dad’s life. It doesn’t matter what you think.)
TWYLA:
But he has times when he’s almost completely normal.
JOEY:
Nuh suh mh unuhmuh. (Not so much anymore.)
TWYLA:
Things can change so fast—
JOEY:
Eshagluh. Fuh buduh uh wush. Wuh hud duh nuh wuh huh wundsh. (Exactly. For better or worse. We had to know what he wants.)
TWYLA:
It was the drugs.
JOEY:
Ih wuh thuh pun. (It was the pain.)
Pause.
Un Un Tuluh. (And Aunt Twyla.)
TWYLA:
What?
JOEY:
Uh dun thung yuh shuh dwing und dwuf unuhmuh. (I don’t think you should drink and drive anymore.)
TWYLA:
Joey—
JOEY:
Wuh thuh unluh wus lufd. (We’re the only ones left.)
Pause.
TWYLA:
Come on. It’s time for bed.
Lights rise on the kitchen where ROWDY is going through the fridge checking the expiry dates on the food and tossing old stuff out, muttering to himself.
ROWDY:
Good. Good. Old. Good. Good. Good. (tastes something) Old. Old. Good.
There’s a knock at the door. ROWDY hollers without interrupting his work.
It’s open. Good. Old. Good.
ROBYN enters.
ROBYN:
Hello.
ROWDY:
Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?
ROBYN:
Robyn—
ROWDY:
Yeah yeah. The married lady who loves Mr. Sturdy.
ROBYN:
Who told you that?
ROWDY:
You did.
ROBYN:
I certainly did not.
ROWDY:
Well not with words but we all saw the way you looked at him. Also saw your wedding ring. Oh wait that’s not the kind of thing I’m supposed to say out loud is it?
ROBYN:
No it’s not.
ROWDY closes the fridge and ties up the trash bag.
ROWDY:
Mr. S took his pills about an hour ago so he’s out like a light.
ROBYN:
Don’t worry. I’m not here—
JOEY enters.
JOEY:
Huh. (Hey.)
ROBYN:
Hello Joey. How are you?
JOEY:
Wuh cuh wuh Dah ub. (We can’t wake Dad up.)
ROWDY:
He says we can’t wake his dad up.
ROBYN:
After Jake was in the hospital last time he asked me if I’d drop by and—you know—hang out on Tuesday nights.
JOEY:
Wuh?
ROBYN:
He said he thought everyone would like an evening off.
ROWDY:
That is so amazing! I can’t tell you how amazing that is! I really need a night off. No offence Joe but I gotta get out of here.
JOEY:
Shuh.
ROWDY:
Mam you are so damn excellent! I’m gonna grab a quick shower shave and shit—pardon my French—and get outa here and do some moon howling!
ROWDY exits.
ROBYN:
He’s very—enthusiastic.
JOEY:
Tuh muh ubuh ih. (Tell me about it.)
ROBYN:
How bad is it with Jake?
JOEY:
Sumtuh guh sumtuh buh. (Sometimes good sometimes bad.)
ROBYN:
I’m sorry.
JOEY:
Ih nuh yuh fuwd. (It’s not your fault.)
ROBYN:
I mean for not coming back. When you asked me to.
JOEY shrugs.
It was very hard for me to see your father like this and honestly Joey you frightened me a bit.
JOEY:
Wuh?
ROBYN:
Because I’ve never known anyone like you.
JOEY:
Ah nuh uh munshuh. (I’m not a monster.)
ROBYN:
Did you say I’m not a monster?
JOEY:
Yuh.
ROBYN:
I never thought you were. But I was concerned you might think I’m stupid if I couldn’t understand you as well as everybody else does.
JOEY:
Ih t
ush suh tum. (It takes some time.)
ROBYN:
Time right?
JOEY:
Yuh.
ROBYN:
Okay. So what would you normally do tonight?
JOEY:
Wush suh shoopuh tuhvuh wiv Wowdee uh pluh uh my pootah. (Watch some stupid TV with Rowdy or play on my computer.)
ROBYN:
I got watch TV play on computer.
JOEY:
Yuh. Wuh wooh ooh nuhmuhluh duh? (Yes. What would you normally do?)
ROBYN:
Well normally I’d see your father and we’d—
JOEY:
Pluh hukuh? (Play hockey?)
JOEY laughs.
ROBYN:
Are you trying to embarrass me?
JOEY:
Nuh. Yuh wuh pudeyuh thah uh hukuh gum. (No. You’re way prettier than a hockey game.)
ROBYN:
Flatterer.
JOEY:
Wowdee shez wuhmuh unuhstuh flutureh ih unuh lunwish. (Rowdy says women understand flattery in any language.)
ROBYN:
Sorry. That was a bit too complicated.
JOEY:
Yuh smuh nush. (You smell nice.)
ROBYN:
Thank you.
ROWDY enters, cleaned up.
ROWDY:
Aren’t I a spifter? Check it out.
ROBYN:
I have to go at ten thirty.
ROWDY:
I will return at that hour.
JOEY:
Yuh buduh. (You better.)
ROWDY:
And just so you know mam—we don’t judge people here.
ROBYN:
Judge people?
ROWDY:
No one’s gonna ask about your husband.
ROWDY exits. Pause.
JOEY:
Ah gush wuhl wash tuhvuh. (I guess we’ll watch TV.)
ROBYN:
I did bring a book—
JOEY:
(bored already) Uh bug?
ROBYN takes the book from her purse.
ROBYN:
Yes. I realize it’s not a computer game or whatever but I think you might be a little bit interested since your father wrote it.
JOEY:
Muh dah?
ROBYN:
Yes.
ROBYN sets the book on the tray of his chair. JOEY touches it.
JOEY:
Rod uh bug? (Wrote a book?)
ROBYN:
It was published when you were just a baby.
It’s dedicated to you—
JOEY:
Muh?
ROBYN:
And your mother.
JOEY:
Muh muhmuh?
ROBYN:
Yes. He never told you about it?
JOEY:
Nuh. Nufuh. (No. Never.)
Pause.
Ush ih uh guh bug? (Is it a good book?)
ROBYN:
Yes it is.
JOEY reads the title.
JOEY:
Wivuh Wuh Wapuh?
ROBYN:
I thought I could read you a few chapters when we get together. Would you like that?
JOEY:
(shocked) Yuh. Uh wud.
ROBYN:
Then that’s what we’ll do.
Lights rise on ROWDY and TWYLA in the park.
TWYLA:
Thank you for waiting outside. They get really uptight about personal interaction at work.
ROWDY:
I didn’t want to seem stalkery it’s just that I know you’ve been like avoiding me ever since that time—
TWYLA:
It just got me a bit confused.
ROWDY:
I’m a people pleaser. And all you do is take care of people—
TWYLA:
I don’t just take care of people—
ROWDY:
I’m just sayin’ you don’t have a lot of people in your life who look out for you.
TWYLA:
If you think this is going anywhere—
ROWDY:
Going anywhere?
TWYLA:
Romantic.
ROWDY:
Me?
TWYLA:
Yeah.
ROWDY:
No no no. You’re the one who’s falling in love with me.
TWYLA:
What?
ROWDY:
That’s why you’re uncomfortable.
TWYLA:
I’m uncomfortable because I don’t want to do anything that can be construed as leading you on.
ROWDY:
I’m a bad bet for romance.
TWYLA:
Then let’s not have a romance.
ROWDY:
Sure.
TWYLA:
Even if it were a possibility the situation is totally inappropriate—
ROWDY:
Yeah cuz there’s nothing inappropriate going on in either of our worlds.
TWYLA:
That’s sharkism right?
ROWDY:
Yeah. But y’know—
TWYLA:
What?
ROWDY:
You’re probably not going to meet a lot of guys who want to make sure you feel good over the next little while.
TWYLA:
So?
ROWDY:
If I know there’s no possibility of romance I don’t really care what you think of me so I’m not afraid to be a total fucking pig.
TWYLA:
That was really—not romantic.
ROWDY:
See—nuthin’ to be afraid of.
TWYLA:
When would we find all this time to be—not romantic?
ROWDY:
Well the adulterous lady says she wantsa spend Tuesday night’s with Joey so I’m figuring—
TWYLA:
I do have a place.
ROWDY:
Maybe you could take me there now so I can find it next Tuesday.
TWYLA:
No one can ever know.
ROWDY:
It’s just a couple hours of nothing but us.
TWYLA:
And if either of us meets someone else?
ROWDY:
We see what happens. Wait.
TWYLA:
What?
ROWDY:
Just so I don’t feel like a total whore.
ROWDY kisses her gently.
TWYLA:
I really shouldn’t—
ROWDY:
Yeah I know. But mildly retarded and well hung. Not many can resist.
Lights rise on the kitchen. JAKE sits at the table writing feverishly by hand in a notepad, drinking a glass of rye. He laughs quietly and mutters to himself.
JAKE:
The father’s story—and the son. Broken son. Dead mother. Sad—not sad—tired sister. Sad house. Pain. But funny. Funny. Dark funny.
ROWDY enters.
ROWDY:
Mr. S?
JAKE:
Wry observances.
ROWDY:
Mr. Sturdy?
JAKE:
Just getting in?
ROWDY:
Yeah. What’s going on?
JAKE:
Writing.
ROWDY:
It’s not your usual pill time.
JAKE:
I woke up and just got this urge to write. I don’t know why. I h
aven’t written anything in years.
ROWDY:
Do you need a pill?
JAKE:
Had some rye. Seems to be working.
ROWDY:
Where’s Joey?
JAKE:
Sleeping.
JAKE waves the bottle at ROWDY. ROWDY gets a glass.
ROWDY:
Sure.
JAKE:
Last one.
JAKE pours them drinks.
ROWDY:
Why you writing?
JAKE:
I’m a writer.
ROWDY:
You’re a teacher.
JAKE:
Before that. I wrote a novel. It was very promising. Sold some copies.
ROWDY:
Joey never told me.
JAKE:
He doesn’t know.
ROWDY:
Why not?
JAKE:
I don’t know—I just—after his mother died and it was just me and him and Twyla—my imagination—changed. I don’t know how to explain it. It was like—like the only thing I could imagine anymore was his future and it was just too fucking hard and sad and—
Pause.
ROWDY:
What did you write?
JAKE:
Want to read it?
ROWDY:
Your pages?
JAKE:
If you have a minute.
ROWDY:
You could read it to me.
JAKE:
Yeah?
ROWDY:
Sure. I read real slow.
JAKE:
You don’t mind?
ROWDY:
I’m here to keep the Sturdys happy. Go.
Pause.
Whenever.
Pause.
Mr. S?
JAKE:
Never mind.
ROWDY:
What’s wrong?
JAKE:
I can’t read my fucking handwriting.
ROWDY:
What?
JAKE:
It’s just scribbles.
ROWDY:
Let’s see.
JAKE hands ROWDY the papers. ROWDY examines them.
Scribbles.
JAKE:
I wrote it. I sat here and I—
Pause.
I wrote it.
ROWDY:
It’s okay.
Pause. JAKE downs his drink, grabs his cane, and stands.
JAKE:
I could use that pill now. We don’t need to—tell anyone else about this right?
ROWDY:
Right.
JAKE:
