by Neil LaBute
Table of Contents
Title Page
Epigraph
Preface - This Is How It Went
Characters
Setting
Neil LaBute - This Is How It Goes
Other works by Neil LaBute
Praise for the plays of Neil LaBute
Copyright Page
For Harold Pinter
I hate the place. I hate the people.
I hate the bloody niggers.
Mustn’t call ’em that, you know.
—GRAHAM GREENE
Nothing fuels a good flirtation
Like need and anger and desperation.
—AIMEE MANN
I keep a close watch on this heart of mine,
I keep my eyes wide open all the time.
—JOHNNY CASH
Preface
This Is How It Went
I’m not sure where this one came from. This is one of those plays that just sort of dropped out onto the page and I figure it’s best not to ask too many questions; it’s here now, so we’ll just have to live with it.
I started with the title this time, I know that much. This Is How It Goes. I had been listening to Aimee Mann a lot before I started writing, and I can remember seeing that title on her Lost in Space CD and knowing, almost instantly, that I wanted to use it. It wasn’t the specifics of the song itself, the lyrics or anything like that, that attracted me to it, but the implied promise of a truth revealed—knowing full well just how subjective truth can be—and the gorgeous plaintiveness of the music. Ms. Mann’s work can be very inspiring. So, I took the name and ran with it. Not that I knew where I was headed, mind you, not at all, but that’s rarely stopped me before. No, I simply threw two characters together—as I often enjoy doing—at a Sears in an outlet mall (I had a long history with that department store chain in my youth) and waited to see what happened. Out of that impulse grew a third character—in this case, someone who was both husband and friend—and with him a meditation on truth (the many versions of it that we offer up to different people) and some notion about how racism still affects all of us on a simple, daily level. In fact, during those initial fifteen pages or so of the first scene, I don’t think I had any idea that I was going to create a “mixed” marriage—sometimes these things just sneak up on you as a writer and present themselves. Pretty diverse ingredients, I’ll admit, but that’s how this particular play began. I promise.
I sprinkled a number of Ms. Mann’s lyrics throughout the piece, punctuating the action and dialogue with many of her clever turns of phrase—although hopefully not so many that I owe her any royalties! Again, it wasn’t that any specific moment or title spoke directly to the action, but rather I used them more as a tribute to her and her work, a way of saying, “Yes, I’m out here and I’m listening.” As a songwriter, Ms. Mann has a particularly acute insight into human foibles and I thank her for that. Plus, she sings so damn beautifully that it made the hours pass quickly when I had her music playing in the background. If you want, go searching for the passages yourself; they’re easy enough to find. Even if you don’t though, please note how deeply her voice and spirit have seeped into the fabric of this work. It’s true.
I dedicated the play itself to Harold Pinter because, besides being a terrific writer and director, he continues to inspire me by his fearless examination of men and women while searching for answers, hoping for change, raging for equality—but never ducking for cover. Who can ask for more? What I really admire about Mr. Pinter’s work—and strive for in my own—is that the point of it is not merely to upset people, but that what’s being addressed is worth getting upset over. His numerous plays and screenplays have also been extremely instrumental in teaching me a thing or two about structure, along with the cardinal rule of writing (and cocktail parties): be interesting rather than well liked. Achieving both would be great, of course, but if you can only choose one, go for the former.
With This Is How It Goes I continue to dissect small communities in the Midwest, mostly because I know the territory, the people, and the mindset. I appreciate the quality of life while remaining suspicious of the notion that everything is better in a small town. Often everything is just smaller, not better. After all, it’s hard to appreciate diversity in a controlled environment, but maybe that’s a role that the theater can continue to foster for itself—as an oracle of truth, no matter the size or location of the given venue. I honestly hope so. I suppose it’s ironic that we must gather together in the dark around a little stage to hear the truth rather than tell each other face to face on our front lawns, but that is how it goes. No pun intended.
I also quote from Graham Greene and Johnny Cash at the beginning of this volume for good reason—each man, in his own manner, is a serious chronicler of the heart and moves me in various and profound ways. I myself am as unreliable as my own narrator when it comes to matters of that particular muscle and so I continue to work, continue to search, continue to hope. As the writer of this particular play, I utilized everything I could get my hands on to help tell the truth or at least one side of it—the shifting sands of a narrator’s voice, the repetition of scenes from different perspectives, a set of stage directions that has more asides than a borsht belt comedian. Hey, whatever works. Regardless of my literary instincts, I’ve always found it much easier to mean well than to do well—like the main character of This Is How It Goes, I do my best to be a good person, but I’m completely at ease with being “pretty good.” Or not. Maybe all of this is just crap and I’m alone somewhere, cackling into my soup. Who knows? That’s for you to figure out. Besides, the worst offense a writer of fiction can precipitate on his unsuspecting readers is this old chestnut: “Trust me.” I mean, where’s the fun in that?
Characters
MAN
WOMAN Three people in their thirties
CODY
WAITRESS A woman in her twenties
Setting
Yesterday—a smallish town in the Midwest
NOTE: The text that follows represents the script used as the play went into rehearsals for the New York production.
Silence. Darkness.
A MAN walks onstage. Let’s give him a little light. There, that’s better. Now what? Wait—I think he’s going to say something. Yes, he is. Good.
MAN … okay. This Is how it goes. I mean, went. This is the way it all played out, or is going to. Or is … right now. Doesn’t matter, you’ll figure it out. I think. No, you will … sure you will! No problem. (Beat.) What you need to know for now, I mean, right at this moment, is that there was a girl. ‘Course there always is, isn’t there? I mean, unless there isn’t. Then there’s not … but that’s pretty self-explanatory. In this one, there’s a girl. There’s definitely a girl.
Another light up. We need it—a WOMAN has just appeared. Sitting all alone. For now. The MAN glances at her.
MAN Huh. I think I’m gonna go talk to her, because … well, girls are nice. Basically. And that would be enough, but I need to—talk with her, I mean. To get this started. Or keep it going … or whatever. You know what I’m saying! Sort of. And which is okay, because I only sort of know, too, at this point. (Beat.) Geez, I think I might end up being an unreliable narrator here …
The MAN starts to approach the WOMAN, who is seated on a bench. Moves next to her.
MAN … hello.
The WOMAN doesn’t react, and the MAN snaps his fingers, jumping back to his light spot. What’s up? Let’s find out.
MAN Just one other thing … I know her. From before. Like, before now. So, whether this is happening or, umm, has happened, is all in my head—however that works out—I know her already. From school. Okay? Good … I just wanted you to know.
The MAN mov
es back over to the WOMAN. Taps her on the shoulder.
MAN … hello.
The WOMAN turns, looks at him. It takes a moment, then she reacts. A lot. She even stands up.
WOMAN Yes? (Beat.) Oh my God … oh-my-God! Hey, hello. Hi!
MAN Hello. Again.
WOMAN Yeah, again! Way-way-back again. Wow. Hi!
Out of nowhere, a hug. Nice. Now we’re getting somewhere. The MAN hugs her right back. Of course.
MAN I just … saw you. Saw you sitting there and thought, “Hey.” I mean, more than that, more than just “Hey,” but that was first. “Hey.” You know? “I know her.”
WOMAN Well, good. God, I hope it was more than that!
MAN No, it was, yeah, it totally was!
WOMAN Good, because I can’t believe it! I can’t believe you’re just … I mean, standing there. Right outside of …
MAN … Sears. I know, funny, right?
WOMAN No, more than! It’s weird … after, what, like, ten years? To see …
MAN It’s twelve. Yeah. Almost twelve years.
The WOMAN looks at him again. We might need more light now—some “Sears” light. She gives him another hug.
WOMAN Wow. Really? It’s just … wow. About twelve years.
MAN Yep. A dozen of ’em.
WOMAN That’s … kinda weird.
MAN Yeah, but not so weird, right? Not like we knew each other super well or anything …
They stand looking at each other for a moment. A voice on the mall intercom interrupts them. They look up, waiting. Then talk again.
MAN … I just mean … it’s okay, too, isn’t it? To meet again.
WOMAN Oh, God, of course, yes. It’s good! It is. It’s fantastic, but, you know … yeah. It is weird.
MAN Uh-huh. It definitely has a “weird” flavor. There’s a little weirdness sprinkled in there …
They stop again for a second, looking at each other. That’s okay—give ’em some time.
WOMAN … you look so … I dunno.
MAN Different?
WOMAN No, not so much different, ’cause I could recognize you, like, almost instantly. But you’re, I dunno …
MAN What?
WOMAN Kind of … I mean, you were a lot …
MAN I was bigger.
WOMAN … yes. You were a bigger guy then. In high school.
MAN I know. I was, wasn’t I? Yep. Big boy back then!
They laugh—what the hell, let’s have another hug.
MAN I did some … well, I did ROTC in college, and that was cool. And then, I dunno, I just sort of stopped acting like 7-Eleven was my kitchen!
WOMAN Right … right! You always used to, at lunch, you’d walk down and get those hot dogs, the—
MAN Two-for-a-dollar ones, exactly! I was, like, you know … that little kid at the movies, remember? The commercial at the drive-in … (He demonstrates.) “Two-fisted style!”
WOMAN I remember that … yes!
MAN Yeah, it was always right after the dancing candy and soda pop one … (Beat.) I mean … I think we even went to the movies once, there at the outdoor place that one time. Didn’t we?
WOMAN … did we?
MAN Yeah, I think. Remember? Over at the … with the paddlewheel ship out front—what was that called? The …
WOMAN … Showboat?
MAN Yes! That’s it … some crazy double feature that we all went to. This group of us. You don’t recall that?
WOMAN Ummmm, no, I do … I think I do.
The WOMAN stops, working to remember this. The MAN steps away for a minute. Toward us.
MAN … I don’t think she does. Not really. I mean, she may say she can, remember us going there, but I don’t believe it. Girls generally go on more dates and stuff than us guys do at that age, sixteen or so, and that’s probably why it’s harder to dredge up specific memories. That might be it. ’Cause it really is like yesterday for me. Seriously. It is …
The MAN walks back over to her—she’s still thinking. Looks kind of lost while she does this.
WOMAN Yeah, I think I do, actually. Yes. It was, like, a comedy or some … wasn’t it?
MAN Ahh, it was, no. It was Dances with Wolves, I think. And then another one …
WOMAN Oh … (frowns) Well, that had some funny parts … didn’t it?
MAN A couple. Maybe the other one was a comedy, I don’t remember.
WOMAN Yeah, that could be it.
MAN Right, sure … (Beat.) So, is that place still open?
WOMAN What … the Showboat?
MAN Yeah.
WOMAN Oh, no … no way! There’s, like, a mall there now or something. Strip mall—where they have stores but you walk outside. Is that what they call ’em?
MAN Uh-huh. I think so … I mean, sometimes they come up with a fancier name—Oakbrook Commons or whatnot—but that’s basically what they are. Strip malls. This long “strip” of stores …
WOMAN Huh. Well, that was maybe eight years ago they did that. Put in the strip there. (Beat.) How long since you’ve been back?
MAN Oh, you know …
WOMAN Umm, no, not really.
MAN No, I mean, I wasn’t finished … sorry. I guess, around, ahh, maybe five years. Well, one time about three months ago, just out at the airport—missed a connection, so I was there for a couple hours—but five years, more or less.
WOMAN … wow. (smiles) Hmmm.
MAN What? What’s so funny?
WOMAN That was a lot of answer for, you know, that one question.
MAN Sorry! God, yeah, I can go on a little bit …
WOMAN No, don’t be …
MAN I guess I’m kinda thorough … it’s the law school in me.
WOMAN Oh … great! So, you’re, I mean … is that your job? “Lawyer”?
MAN No … ‘fraid not. That’s my ex-job. Ex-lawyer. Ex-husband, ex-military. (Beat.) I’m great at “used to be.”
The WOMAN laughs at this. An easy laugh. She’s loosening up a bit. That’s nice.
WOMAN That’s funny … I remember now. You were always pretty funny.
MAN Yeah? Good. Glad you thought that.
WOMAN Oh, yeah … everybody thought you were funny.
MAN Yep … that’s me. Mr. Comedy. (Beat.) Anyhow, sorry about going on like that before … blah-blah-blah!
WOMAN No, I wasn’t saying … I mean, it’s nice.
MAN Yeah?
WOMAN To talk, I mean. About, you know … whatever. Just have a five-minute conversation with a person …
MAN Why, is your husband a mute?
The WOMAN looks at him strangely for a moment, without speaking. The MAN clears his throat.
MAN I just … God, I hope not! I was kidding. I saw your ring, noticed it, and … that’s all. (Beat.) He can speak, can’t he?
WOMAN … rumor has it. Not to me, of course, but I know he must. Every so often …
MAN Ahh. One of those, huh?
WOMAN Yep. He’s a classic. Classic guy …
MAN Ouch. From all of us.
WOMAN No, sorry, I didn’t mean … gosh, listen to me! Listen to me go on like one of those people that you run into … at, like …
MAN … Sears.
WOMAN Exactly!
The WOMAN laughs again—it’s a good sound. Then another hug.
MAN People’re gonna start to talk …
WOMAN That’s okay. Let ’em! Haven’t seen you in ten years, so let them say stuff if they want to …
MAN Twelve. It was twelve years.
WOMAN Right. Even better …
The WOMAN lets this thought hang, glancing at her watch. She reacts.
WOMAN Oh, damn … can you hold on a sec? I need to … I’m getting a couple keys cut, I need to grab them before five. Just one minute …
Before the MAN can respond, the WOMAN scurries off. Just disappears. Let’s leave the lights up for a bit. I think she’ll be back—I think we can trust her.
MAN … how great is that? Huh? I came in here for the baseball card shop,
and I run into her. That’s pretty damn nice, I mean … am I being too obvious? ’Cause I really liked her back in school, junior year—hell, even as a senior, she was in my honors English class. And civics, too, I think. Yeah. God, she was something else … (remembering) I used to sit there and watch her, watch her lips moving as she read along with the teacher when we were doing The Scarlet Letter. (Beat.) I know she’s married and all, probably got kids, even, but … hey, I’m just saying. Whatever. ’S just a little history.
And then the WOMAN returns. I told you she would. A small envelope of keys in one hand.
WOMAN … hi. Sorry about that.
MAN Not a problem. (points) You lock yourself out or something?
WOMAN What, these? No … it’s for a, we have an apartment. Over the garage. A garage apartment … you know what I mean?
MAN Ummm … like, an apartment that’s above your garage?
WOMAN Sorry! Yes … now look who’s being thorough! And obvious …
