by Paula Vogel
THE VOICE (Cutting in): “THE WOMAN begins to breathe, quicker; THE MAN moves closer and presses against her, urgent now—”
V.O.
(Trying harder)
“CUT TO—CUT TO: EXTERIOR! We see THE WOMAN run from the house—”
THE VOICE: “THE WOMAN sighs; THE MAN reaches out and strokes her hair—”
V.O.
(Insistent)
“Get out of the house!”
THE VOICE: “LONG SHOT. EXTERIOR. THE BOY watches through the window.”
(There is a freeze: The Man and Woman on the sofa; The Boy, stretched on the window. The blue light changes to the normal lights, and then dims. The Man starts unbuttoning The Woman’s top.)
WOMAN: What about your—? —No, Wait—
MAN: Shh! Don’t talk. Not now.
(The Man and Woman resume. Just then the door flies open violently; The Boy flies into the room.)
BOY: I AM. GONNA. KILL YOU!!
MAN: What the fuck—?
(In a fury, The Boy throws himself on top of the couple. The Man and Boy roll onto the floor. The Man screams.)
MAN: SHIT! AAAAH!
WOMAN: CALVIN! NO! STOP! Watch out for his butt!
(The Man and Boy wrestle. They stand. The Boy, from behind, gets The Man in a lock, one hand pinned and twisted; The Boy’s arm is locked around The Man’s throat, choking him.)
MAN (In a squeezed voice): It’s getting harder to…be a…family man…these days.
BOY: You leave her alone. Understand?
WOMAN: Calvin. It’s not. As it looks.
BOY: You don’t live here anymore. Get it?
MAN (Appreciatively, in the same squeezed voice): You’re getting…mighty big, son.
(And just as quickly, The Man slips around and out of The Boy’s grip, quickly kneeing him in the groin. The Boy gasps and falls into a fetal position on the rug.)
WOMAN: Jesus Christ, Clyde!
MAN: He’s playing with the big boys now.
(The Boy says nothing. His face, beet red, presses into the rug.)
WOMAN: Calvin—
MAN: Don’t touch him. He’ll be all right.
(Pause)
Son? You all right?
(The Man offers his hand to The Boy, who refuses it, and slowly gets up.)
MAN: I’m sorry. Reflex action. No man likes to injure the family jewels.
WOMAN: Calvin—
BOY: What’s he doin’ here?
WOMAN: Your father…just…
MAN: Dropped in. For a little adult conversation.
BOY: That’s not what it looked like to me.
WOMAN: Honey, I can appreciate your concern, but he’s still your father—
BOY: What’s he doin’ here?—
MAN: Look, maybe I should just call it a night.
WOMAN: No, wait a minute, Clyde. No matter what’s happened between you and me, you and Calvin have to learn how to talk to one another. I will not be used as an excuse for getting in the middle of the two of you. Do you both hear me? I want you to both act civilized to each other in my living room for at least sixty seconds.
(Beat)
I’m putting on a fresh pot of coffee.
(The Woman exits.)
MAN: Whatta night, huh?
(As The Man hobbles past The Boy to sit on the sofa:)
BOY: Hey, what happened to your butt?
MAN: Your poor, defenseless mother shot me.
BOY: Mom? Mom? She shot you?
(The Boy starts to laugh.)
MAN: I don’t see anything particularly amusing about it. Men might hit you by the balls, but they do it to your face. Women—they shoot you in the butt.
BOY: You musta deserved it.
MAN: This is something private between your mother and me.
(Pause)
So—how’s school?
BOY: Okay.
MAN: And life? In general.
BOY: Okay.
(ANOTHER PAUSE.)
MAN: Aren’t you going to ask me how I’m doin’?
BOY: How are you, Dad?
MAN AND BOY (Together): I’m warmer than shit and tighter than mud.
(ANOTHER PAUSE.)
MAN: So—how’s your sister?
BOY: Okay, I guess.
MAN: You guess? You don’t know? You gotta keep an eye on her, son. She’s at…that age. Know what I mean?
(Man punches Boy in arm.)
BOY: Yeah, sure I do.
MAN: That’s right. You’re the man of the house, now. Best thing to do is just lock her up for a couple a years. She’s gonna cause a lot of men heartbreak. You gotta watch her, son.
BOY: I do. I watch her all the time.
MAN: I mean, it’s not her fault, right? But that body of her…you know what I mean?
BOY: Yeah.
MAN: That body of hers…your sister should be licensed.
(Blue light stage left of glass door. The Girl begins to work to the music. The Man and Boy stare appreciatively.)
MAN: Where is…your sister?
BOY: She said she was goin’ to some sleepover.
MAN: And your mother believes that crap? We don’t believe that crap, do we?
(The two share a laugh, settle back and watch with glazed attention.)
THE VOICE: “One of the things that made Cleo’s dance fascinating was the little pompon she wore in the center…it served to keep your eyes riveted to the spot. She could rotate it like a pinwheel or make it jump and quiver with little electric spasms. Sometimes it would subside with little gasps, like a swan coming to rest…It seemed to be part of her. Possibly she had acquired it in an Algerian whorehouse, from a French sailor. It was tantalizing, especially to the sixteen year old who had still to know what it feels like to make a grab for a woman’s bush.”9
(Blue Light out on The Girl. The Woman enters with a tray; a coffee pot, two mugs, a plate of cookies. And a tall glass of milk. The Woman pauses, watches them. She sets the tray down on the coffee table.)
WOMAN: You two are just…chattering away like magpies.
MAN: We’ve been talking. Right?
BOY: Yup.
MAN: Man talk.
BOY: You just caught us during the pause.
WOMAN: I’ve fixed us a late-night snack. A last cup of coffee before I drive your father to the hospital.
MAN: I don’t think that’s…necessary, Charlene.
WOMAN: This is nothing to fool around with, Clyde. Let me see how it’s doing. Turn over.
MAN: Not in front of the boy, goddamn it.
WOMAN: For Christ’s sake, he’s your own flesh and blood. Turn over.
(The Man turns his wounded cheek toward her. She carefully lowers his pants and examines the wound critically; The Boy peeks.)
BOY: Wow.
WOMAN: It’s still bleeding. Not as bad as before, though. It needs stitches and a fresh bandage.
(Pause.)
BOY: Mom? Didja really shoot Dad?
WOMAN: Yes.
BOY: Cool. Mom?
WOMAN: Calvin, we’re not going to discuss it.
MAN: Why don’t you just drink up your milk and go to bed…
(The Boy stares with disbelief and disgust at the glass of milk.)
BOY: You have got to be shittin’ me…
MAN: Lucky for you this is your mother’s house. I’d turn the strap on ya for language like that…
BOY: Mom! Milk?!! MILK!?
WOMAN: Well, sweetie, it’s too late for you to be drinking coffee, and I saved the last glass of milk to go with your cookies.
BOY: I’m not drinking that shit.
MAN: Growing boys need their milk? Right?
WOMAN: Let’s just drop it, Clyde.
MAN: Only wusses are scared of milk. A real man can drink milk.
BOY: You drink it.
MAN: Okay, son—I’ll show you how it’s done. How a real man drinks milk—
WOMAN: Stop it. Stop it. I hate this.
(The Man abruptly grabs the milk
, and guzzles half the glass. It dribbles down his chin and shirt.)
MAN: Num, num. A man who can’t drink milk can’t love women. Is that a problem for you, son? Are you that kind of man?
WOMAN: Why does everything turn into a nightmare around here?
MAN: Show your old man. Drink the milk.
(The Man presses the glass into The Boy’s face. They freeze.)
THE VOICE (Irish): “There’s the mark of his teeth still where he tried to bite the nipple I had to scream out aren’t they fearful trying to hurt you—”10
(End freeze.)
MAN: Drink the milk.
BOY: No. Shit! Get out of my face.
MAN: It’s just Milk. What are you scared of? Milk can’t hurt you—
(The two tussle with the milk; it splashes them both.)
BOY: You’re. An. Asshole!
(The Woman and The Boy instinctively flinch. A moment’s pause.)
MAN (Quietly): What.did.you.call.me?
WOMAN: —Enough!
(The Boy goes to The Woman, scared.)
BOY: You don’t scare me. This is not your house. You keep away from us. Stop thrusting yourself on Mom, You.Hear.Me?
MAN: I wasn’t thrusting myself on your mother. Quite the opposite. Did I thrust myself on you on the sofa, Charlene? Did I?
WOMAN: I’m taking you to the hospital.now.
MAN: Your mother kissed me. First.
WOMAN (Together with Boy): —This is getting ridiculous—
BOY (With Woman): —That’s a lie! Isn’t it, Mom?
WOMAN: We’re ending this conversation. Now.
MAN: Tell him. You kissed me.
BOY: Don’t be scared of him, Mom. I’m here.
MAN: I know it’s hard to believe, Calvin. She’s amazing when she kisses—
BOY: Did.You.Kiss.Him? Mom? After all he’s done?
THE VOICE: “…and his heart was going like mad and yes I said yes I—”11
WOMAN: Calvin—honey, it’s hard to explain, at your age—it was just…for old time’s sake!
BOY: I DON’T BELIEVE YOU!
MAN: Don’t raise your voice like that to your mother—
WOMAN: For God’s sake, Calvin, I’m a human being, too—I have needs—
BOY: I’m Getting Out.Of.Here—
MAN: When your mother kisses a man, it’s like your heart gets squeezed. Too bad she’s your mother and you’ll never know—
BOY: ARGHH!!
(Holding his head, The Boy rushes for the door, opens it and runs out into the night, screaming:)
BOY: I AM SO FUCKED UP! (Door slam)
THE VOICE: “She kissed me. I was kissed. All yielding she tossed my hair.
Kissed, she kissed me.
Me. And me now.”12
(The Man and Woman sit, weary and tense.)
WOMAN: Why do you always do that?
MAN: Do what?
WOMAN: Oh, you know. You know very well.
MAN (Getting angry): Christ!
(Man and Woman look at each other. Blue Light.)
V.O.
FLASHBACK—THREE YEARS AGO.
(The Man strikes The Woman hard on the face; in slow motion, it almost looks like a caress. The Woman falls on the sofa. The Man drags on cigarette and then moves it toward Woman’s face.)
THE VOICE: “Case 103 continued. Subject increasingly resorted to violence against wife as an erotic stimulus for erec—”
V.O.
CUT TO:—
(Abrupt lighting change: Back to bright stage lights. The Woman stands, scared.)
WOMAN (Trying to be composed): Calm down.
MAN: Calm down—I don’t have a job, I’ve got no fuckin’ family, no wife—I’ve got shit for a life!
WOMAN: Maybe you should go now.
THE VOICE: “We will have only a couple of hours together and then she will leave—to go to the dance hall where she still works as a taxi girl.”13
MAN: Christ, Charlene. I just wish—shit, I just wish we could go back, ya know? Before college, before I got fired, before everything started busting apart. I wish I could just close my eyes and you’d be coming home through the door in your uniform, after your night shift.
WOMAN: Oh, God. I hated that fucking uniform. It made my backside enormous. Made me into a tired, washed-out Cow in White.
MAN: You’d come in, tired but sweet. I’m under the covers. First you flip on the coffee in the kitchen, and the aroma comes up to me before you reach the bed. And then I feel your hands on my stubble, stroking it, and then I hear the sound of your shoes hitting the floor, one by one. And the zippers. The sound of the uniform sliding down your slip. And then the next thing I know, there’s your warmth in bed. And your voice urging me up to work. Already slipping into sleep.
And every morning, I went to work with a hard-on. It was great.
WOMAN: Great.
(The Woman stares into nothing as she slowly pours the coffee as a trickle into a cup.)
V.O.
And every night, she would stand in the middle of the ward and think, ‘I can’t do this any longer.’ Holding another bed pan, swimming with someone’s fluids. Urine, excreta, blood, infection, vomit, mucus. Bodies and mess.
Mess and food. Cleaning up messes. Cleaning up messes. This is where a high school diploma gets you, Charlene. Other people’s messes.
MAN: You’re going to spill that coffee.
(The Woman speaks, far away, holding the coffee.)
WOMAN: I hated that fucking job. I hated how I had to see human flesh.
MAN: But then you came home. To me and the children.
(The Woman laughs, but decides not to say what she’s thinking. Pause.)
WOMAN: This writing is…saving my sanity. I’ll never go back.
(Pause.)
MAN: So where’s Leslie Ann at tonight?
WOMAN: She’s spending the night with a friend.
MAN: A friend, huh.
WOMAN: Yes. A girlfriend. She asked my permission.
MAN: It’s your house.
WOMAN: Don’t you dare start implying—
MAN: What? Who? Who’s implying—
WOMAN: I work very hard at being a good mother.
MAN: You’re a great mother.
WOMAN: I try, that’s all.
MAN: Leslie Ann’s just at…that age, is all. You know.
WOMAN: No, I don’t know. What age is that?
MAN: You can’t be too careful. Look, I’m hardly the one to give you advice…seeing a how my backseat activities got me into messes.
WOMAN: I know exactly where my children are. I know exactly where Leslie Ann is, right now.
V.O.
“CUT TO: INTERIOR. In the rec room of Lisa’s house. Night.”
(On the ramp, The Girl, now in an oversized T-shirt, huddles in her sleeping bag, addressing her best friend Lisa. The Girl and Voice-Over speak to each other.)
GIRL: You’re my best friend, Lisa. You.know.that. Since Seventh Grade. And you’re gonna be my best friend long after I get married and have kids. If it wasn’t for the fact.that.I get to see you for homeroom and lunch, I woulda stopped goin’ to that stupid school a long time ago.
V.O.
Uh.huh. Is your sleeping bag warm enough?
GIRL: I feel like there’s nothin’ you couldn’t tell me. You know? I would die before one’a your secrets would roll out.of.my. mouth.
V.O.
Me too. You could tell me—anything.
GIRL: That’s good. Are the other girls…asleep?…Do you—do.you—
V.O.
What? Come on, you can tell me anything—
GIRL: And you won’t tell?
V.O.
I swear. I swear! Com.mon, what is it?
GIRL: I’ve never said this to anyone else before. I’ll kill you if you—
V.O.
—You can tell me. Anything.
GIRL: Well. Do you…do you…think of boys a lot?
V.O.
(Giggling)
All the time.
GIRL: I mean at night, when you turn the lights out?
V.O.
Especially at night. When the lights are out.
GIRL: But I mean do you think about…think about…
V.O.
What? What? About…doing it?
GIRL: Yeah, but not just that—
(In a rush) I mean, I think of that, too, but sometimes…do you think of them, like, “hurting” you? Well, I don’t mean like hurting you, but like, you’re tied down and you can’t stop them and they do things to you that hurt you, that make you scream but you can’t and you wouldn’t really want it to happen in real life, you would really get hurt, but when you close your eyes, you see it and it makes you get hot only it’s ’cause it’s not for real?
(Pause)
Lisa? Lisa? Are you asleep?
(Film slate clap. Lights back up on living room.)
WOMAN: Leslie Ann is still a child. And I want her to have every second of childhood that she can get.
MAN: A child, huh? Have you looked at your daughter lately?
WOMAN: I had a body like that when I was her age. Remember?—
MAN: —Now we’re talkin’ ancient history—
WOMAN: There’s too much pressure on her, already. Lectures on safe sex, birth control, condoms. The boys in the hall at school hitting on her, accusing her of being frigid. The married men on their way to work who leer and wink at her and her friends. I want her left.alone.
MAN: Okay, okay. You’re her mother. But have you walked out of your front door lately? Seen the world?
(Pause. Through the next beats, the tension escalates.)
WOMAN: It’s not the world outside I’m worried about her seeing.
MAN: What’s that supposed to mean?
(Pause.)
WOMAN: I think we should go now. I’ll drive you.
MAN: I can drive myself.
WOMAN: Let’s go, then.
MAN: I’m not ready.
THE VOICE: Cut! Take two.
WOMAN: It’s late. I want you out of here.
MAN: I just got here. I’m not ready to go.
WOMAN: Don’t.
MAN: What am I doing? Having a cup of coffee?
WOMAN: You can’t stay, Clyde. I need you out of here.
THE VOICE: Cut! Take three.
WOMAN: I want you out of here.
MAN: I’ll leave when I’m ready. Or are you going to make me?
WOMAN: If I have to.
MAN: Oooh. I’m scared.
WOMAN: Don’t mock me, goddamn you—
(There is the sound of door keys, loud heavy metal music and door slam. The Girl enters. They all blink at each other.)
