by Tracy Letts
MATTIE FAE: Goddamn it, she’s not a waitress.
CHARLIE: I know that.
MATTIE FAE: Then get your own beer.
(Johnna crosses, takes the empty . . . )
JOHNNA: I’ll get it.
( . . . and goes.)
MATTIE FAE: I don’t believe you. Watchin’ the baseball game and drinkin’ beers. Don’t you have any sense of what’s going on around you? This situation is fraught.
CHARLIE: Am I supposed to sit here like a statue? You’re drinking whiskey.
MATTIE FAE: I’m having a cocktail.
CHARLIE: You’re drinking straight whiskey.
MATTIE FAE: Just . . . show a little class.
CHARLIE: I don’t think we need to sit here crying in the dark.
MATTIE FAE: Oh well, since you got everything all figured out, let’s party down.
CHARLIE: Mattie Fae—
MATTIE FAE: Get that Indian gal to whip us up some cheese Coneys and let’s call a few friends.
CHARLIE: Oooh, a cheese Coney sounds good.
MATTIE FAE: It does, doesn’t it? You smell something cooking?
CHARLIE: Yeah.
MATTIE FAE: Come with me to the kitchen, let’s see what it is.
CHARLIE: What do you need me for? I’ve got the Royals on.
MATTIE FAE: Just come with me.
(She takes his hand, pulls him from the couch.)
CHARLIE: That’s not good news about that boat.
(As Charlie follows Mattie Fae to the kitchen, and intercepts his beer from Johnna, the lights crossfade to Violet and Ivy on the second-floor landing. During the following, they descend the stairs and enter the dining room.)
VIOLET: Did you call Barb?
IVY: Yes.
VIOLET: When’d you call her?
IVY: This morning.
VIOLET: What’d she say?
IVY: She’s on her way.
VIOLET: How’s she getting here?
IVY: She and Bill are coming.
VIOLET: Is she driving?
IVY: I doubt it.
VIOLET: Why?
IVY: Boulder’s a long way.
VIOLET: Is she bringing Jean?
IVY: I don’t know.
VIOLET: When did she say she’d be here?
IVY: She didn’t say. She just said she was on her way.
VIOLET: What’d you tell her?
IVY: I told her Dad was missing.
VIOLET: That’s all.
IVY: Is there anything else?
VIOLET: Did you tell her how long he’d been missing?
IVY: Five days.
VIOLET: Did you tell her that?
IVY: I think so.
VIOLET: What did she say?
IVY: She said she was on her way.
VIOLET: Goddamn it, Ivy, what did she say? Was she irritated? Was she amused? Tell me what she said.
IVY: She said she was on her way.
VIOLET: You’re hopeless. (Takes a pill) Goddamn your father for putting me through this. For leaving me to handle this. You seen that office of his, all that paperwork, that mess? I can’t make heads or tails of it. He hired this Indian a week ago to look after the place for some goddamn reason and now I have a stranger in my house. I don’t know what to say to that girl. What’s her name?
IVY: Johnna.
VIOLET: He’s always paid the bills and made the phone calls and now suddenly I’m supposed to handle it? You know this house is falling apart, something about the basement or the sump pump or the foundation. I don’t know anything about it. I can’t do all this by myself.
IVY: I called Karen.
VIOLET: What did she say?
IVY: She said she’d try to get here.
VIOLET: She’ll be a big fat help, just like you. (Takes another pill) I need Barb.
IVY: I don’t know what Barb’s going to be able to do.
VIOLET: What did you do to your hair?
IVY: I had it straightened.
VIOLET: You had it straightened. Why would anybody do that?
IVY: I don’t know.
VIOLET: Why did you do it?
IVY: I just wanted a change.
VIOLET: You’re a pretty girl. You’re the prettiest of my three girls, but you always look like such a schlub. Why don’t you wear any makeup?
IVY: Do I need makeup?
VIOLET: All women need makeup. Don’t let anybody tell you different. The only woman who was pretty enough to go without makeup was Elizabeth Taylor and she wore a ton. Sit up straight.
IVY: Mom.
VIOLET: Your shoulders are slumped and your hair’s all straight and you don’t wear makeup. You look like a lesbian. You’re a pretty enough girl you could get a decent man if you spruced up. A bit, that’s all I’m saying.
IVY: I’m not looking for a man.
VIOLET: You should be. Everybody needs somebody.
IVY: I’m not looking for a man.
VIOLET: Listen, there are a lot of losers out there, don’t think I don’t know it. But just because you got a bad one doesn’t mean—
IVY: Barry wasn’t a loser.
VIOLET: Barry was an asshole. And I warned you from the start, didn’t I? First time you brought him over here in his ridiculous little electric car, with that stupid orange beard and that turban.
IVY: It wasn’t a turban—
VIOLET: I just don’t understand some of the choices you make. You’re forty-three years old—
IVY: Forty-four.
VIOLET: Forty-four years old. Maybe you’re past the point of having children, and that’s all right if you don’t want them, but aren’t you interested in finding a husband?
IVY: A husband. In Pawhuska.
VIOLET: You don’t meet people where you live, you meet them where you work. You work at a college. Don’t tell me there aren’t people coming through the door of that library every day.
IVY: You want me to marry a student, some eighteen-year-old boy from one of these hick towns?
VIOLET: They still have teachers on the Tulsa campus, don’t they? They did when your father taught there—
IVY: Barry was a teacher at TU.
VIOLET: Yeah, “Environmental Studies.” Barry was a loser.
IVY: He wasn’t a loser—
VIOLET: He dumped you, didn’t he? To my mind, that makes him—
IVY: He did not dump me. It just didn’t work out between us.
VIOLET: All right, yes, dear, I’m sorry. I’ll get it straight. I’m sorry. But maybe it would’ve worked out between you if you’d worn some makeup. (Takes another pill) How many was that?
IVY: I wasn’t counting.
(Violet takes another pill.)
Is your mouth burning?
VIOLET: Like a son-of-a-bitch. My tongue is on fire.
IVY: Are you supposed to be smoking?
VIOLET: Is anybody supposed to smoke?
IVY: You have cancer of the mouth.
VIOLET: Ivy. I have enough to worry about right this minute without you getting on me about my smoking.
IVY: I’m not getting on you.
VIOLET: Just leave it alone.
IVY: Are you scared?
VIOLET: ’Course I’m scared. And you are a comfort, sweetheart. Thank God one of my girls stayed close to home. My generation, families stayed together.
IVY: That was a different time.
VIOLET: No kidding. Did you call Mattie Fae?
IVY: Aunt Mattie Fae’s here.
VIOLET: I know that, dummy, did you call her?
IVY: I thought you called her.
VIOLET: I guess I did. I don’t remember.
IVY: You’ve got a lot on your mind.
VIOLET: She means to come in here and tell me what’s what.
IVY: I don’t know how Uncle Charlie puts up with it.
VIOLET: He smokes a lot of grass.
IVY: He does?
VIOLET: He smokes a lot of grass.
(They laugh.)
IVY: “Grass”? You sa
y “grass”?
VIOLET: What do you call it?
IVY: Hey, are you into Clapton now?
VIOLET: What?
IVY: Eric Clapton, you have an Eric Clapton album.
VIOLET: I’ve had it forever.
IVY: I’ve never seen it.
VIOLET: I like it. It’s got a good beat. I’m not old, you know.
(Lights down on the dining room and up on the front porch as Barbara and Bill arrive, carrying suitcases. Violet and Ivy exit and, during the following, Mattie Fae and Charlie enter from the kitchen and cross to the dining room with plates of hot apple pie.)
BARBARA: What’s Jean doing?
BILL: Smoking.
BARBARA: I wish you wouldn’t encourage that.
BILL: I haven’t encouraged anything.
BARBARA: I don’t know, there’s just something a little funny about the way you say, “smoking,” like you admire her for getting hooked at fourteen.
BILL: Are you ready for this?
BARBARA: No. No way.
BILL: Well. Take a second.
(They stand, taking in the night, breathing the air.)
BARBARA: Goddamn, it’s hot.
BILL: Wimp.
BARBARA: I know it. Colorado spoiled me.
BILL: That’s one of the reasons we got out of here.
BARBARA: No, it’s not.
BILL: You suppose your mom’s turned on the air conditioner?
BARBARA: Are you kidding? Remember the parakeets?
BILL: The parakeets.
BARBARA: I didn’t tell you about the parakeets? She got a parakeet, for some insane reason, and the little fucker croaked after about two days. So she went to the pet store and raised hell and they gave her another parakeet. That one died after just one day. So she went back and they gave her a third parakeet and that one died, too. So the chick from the pet store came out here to see just what in hell this serial parakeet killer was doing to bump off these birds.
BILL: And?
BARBARA: The heat. It was too hot. They were dying from the heat.
BILL: Jesus.
BARBARA: These are tropical birds, all right? They live in the fucking tropics.
(Beat. She looks out.)
What were these people thinking?
BILL: What people?
BARBARA: The jokers who settled this place. The Germans and the Dutch and the Irish. Who was the asshole who saw this flat hot nothing and planted his flag? I mean, we fucked the Indians for this?
BILL: Well, genocide always seems like such a good idea at the time.
BARBARA: Right, you need a little hindsight.
BILL: Anyway, if you want me to explain the creepy character of the Midwest, you’re asking the wrong—
BARBARA: Hey. Please. This is not the Midwest. All right? Michigan is the Midwest, God knows why. This is the Plains: a state of mind, right, some spiritual affliction, like the Blues.
BILL: “Are you okay?” “I’m fine. Just got the Plains.”
(They laugh. He reaches up and touches her neck tenderly.)
BARBARA: Don’t.
(She pulls away. They look away from one another, an uncomfortable moment.)
(Regarding Jean) What, is she smoking a fucking cigar?
BILL: She’s coming.
(Jean arrives on the front porch, carrying a suitcase.)
You ready, kiddo?
JEAN: Yeah, sure.
BARBARA: All right. (Gives Jean a quick kiss) You’re precious. I’m having a hot flash. All right . . . here goes.
(Lights up on the entryway as Barbara, Bill and Jean enter.)
Mom?!
(Lights up on the dining room. Mattie Fae and Charlie travel from the dining room to the entryway. The following salutations are quick and overlapping, and they range from forte [Mattie Fae] to piano [Ivy].)
MATTIE FAE: Oh my God, Barbara!— BARBARA: Hi, Aunt Mattie Fae—
MATTIE FAE: You give me some sugar!
(Barbara and Mattie Fae hug.)
(Over Barbara’s shoulder) Hi, Bill! Look how skinny you are!
BILL: Hi, Mattie Fae.
MATTIE FAE: Oh my gosh, will you look at this one? Come here and give your Aunt Mattie Fae some sugar!
(Mattie Fae and Jean hug. Bill and Charlie shake hands.)
BILL: Hi, Charlie.
CHARLIE: ’Lo, Bill. Man, you have dropped some weight, haven’t you?
MATTIE FAE (Still to Jean): My gosh, you’re so big! And look at your big boobs! They’re so big! Last time I saw you, you looked just like a little boy!
(Barbara and Charlie hug.)
CHARLIE: Hello, sweetheart.
BARBARA: Good to see you, Uncle Charlie.
CHARLIE: You too.
MATTIE FAE: Oh, I can’t get over that one, she’s just too much. Come here, Bill, and give me some sugar!
(Charlie mushes Jean’s shoulder, kisses her on the temple.)
CHARLIE: Lovely to see you, dear.
JEAN: Yeah, same here.
CHARLIE (Gently mocking): Same here, same here.
(Violet appears on the stairway, followed by Ivy. Violet bursts into tears, rushes to Barbara, clenches her. Ivy watches from the stairs.)
BARBARA: It’s okay, Mom. I’m here, I’m here.
(Violet weeps. The others are awkwardly respectful of the moment.)
Shhh, it’s okay, I’m here.
BILL (To Charlie): No word then?
CHARLIE: No. MATTIE FAE: No, huh-uh.
BARBARA: It’s okay, Mom.
VIOLET: What am I going to do? What am I going to do?
BARBARA: Well, we can talk about that. Did you see Bill and Jean?
(Violet takes them in, disoriented.)
VIOLET: Yes. Hi, Bill.
BILL: Hello, Violet.
(Violet and Bill kiss.)
I’m sorry you’re going through this.
(Violet holds Bill, cries.)
VIOLET: I’m just so scared.
(Mattie Fae reaches out, strokes Violet’s back.)
MATTIE FAE: Of course you are, poor thing.
VIOLET: You’re too thin.
BILL: Hardly.
VIOLET: Yes, you are.
(Violet sees Jean.)
Well, look at you.
MATTIE FAE: I know, isn’t she something else? Look at her boobs!
JEAN: O-kay, we’ve all stared at my tits now.
MATTIE FAE: They’re just so darn big.
CHARLIE: Mattie Fae . . .
(Violet hugs Jean.)
VIOLET: You’re just the prettiest thing. Thank you for coming to see me.
JEAN: No problem.
BARBARA: Ivy, I didn’t see you up there.
IVY (Descending the stairs): It looked crowded.
BARBARA: God, you look good. Doesn’t she look good, Bill?
BILL: Yes, she does.
