CLIFF [Offstage.] WHAT?
SHERRI THEY LOOK LIKE WHITE TOOTSIE ROLLS!
[ANDY crosses to the window and stands behind SHERRI, who does not sense his presence. The sound of the snowplow fades away.]
ANDY [Finally.] It’s very pretty.
[SHERRI gasps and turns. ANDY steps back, equally startled.]
SHERRI Mr. Bowden—
ANDY Andy—
SHERRI Please don’t do that again.
ANDY I’m sorry.
SHERRI How’d you sleep?
ANDY I didn’t.
SHERRI Something wrong with the room?
ANDY Room’s fine.
SHERRI [Crossing to the stairs.] Let me get you an extra blanket.
ANDY You asked to see me?
SHERRI Pardon?
ANDY Young man said—
SHERRI I asked Clifford—
ANDY Didn’t even knock first.
SHERRI I’m sorry, Mr. Bowden, let’s start over. Would you care to sit down?
ANDY Not particularly.
SHERRI You know, with age, they say, comes wisdom, but for every year that passes I’d trade some of that wisdom for the strength I had back when I was young and dumb. Seems like every time I stand up, I need to sit down again. If you’ll excuse me...
[SHERRI crosses to the table and sits facing ANDY, who remains standing in the parlor. A long moment passes as each waits for the other to speak. Finally.]
Your first time in Baltimore?
[ANDY nods.]
It’s not usually this bad.
ANDY Snows in Cleveland too.
SHERRI That where you’re from?
ANDY Yep.
SHERRI Be some time yet before they clear the roads. Baltimore never could handle a snowstorm. I swear, you put a little snow on the ground, something slips inside us. Some of the sweetest people I know, I’ve seen go at it like pit bulls, and all for a parking spot.
ANDY It’s like that most places, in my experience.
SHERRI Well, I’m sorry for your experience.
ANDY Just human nature. Hey, you know something?
[Crossing to the mirror.]
I believe I’ve got this same mirror in my bedroom. Where’d you get it?
SHERRI Lou bought that for me...must be fifteen years ago. On the boardwalk in Ocean City.
ANDY Lou your husband?
SHERRI [Nodding.] Used to spend every summer down the ocean. Not so much the past few years.
ANDY Since he died, you mean?
SHERRI That’s right.
[ANDY crosses to the large portrait behind the table; he leans forward to study the grinning man.]
ANDY That him?
SHERRI Yes.
ANDY You look very happy together. I bet Lou made you very happy.
SHERRI Mr. Bowden...
ANDY Yep?
SHERRI I’m not sure this is a conversation we should be having.
ANDY I’m sorry.
SHERRI I don’t mean to sound unpleasant—
ANDY No, you’re right, I overstepped.
SHERRI What about you?
ANDY Me?
SHERRI Got a picture of your wife?
ANDY I say I was married?
SHERRI Aren’t you?
ANDY Don’t recall saying I was.
SHERRI Isn’t that a wedding band you’re wearing?
[ANDY glances at his ring finger and smiles, conceding the point. He sits at the table.]
ANDY Understand, this isn’t me pressing...not trying to press. I was just asking last night to know who else was living here—just making conversation, really, while you were checking me in—and you mentioned your husband had died. You said it kind of casual, if that makes sense—at least, you sounded so to me... but maybe you’ve had more time to come to terms. My wife, Karen—my deceased wife.
SHERRI I’m sorry.
ANDY Diagnosis was a lifetime ago, but she lingered, and weakened, and regained strength, and weakened some more....When did it happen for your husband?
SHERRI Three years ago November. It was a heart attack.
ANDY I can’t help thinking that suddenness would have been better.
SHERRI Better for you?
ANDY For us both. She died in March....I’m still not sure how to feel about it.
SHERRI Mr. Bowden...Andy. There’s no one way to feel.
ANDY For a long time I left everything just as it had been. Even now... haven’t thrown anything out. But with the new year—seemed I should at least get moving in that direction. I found a packet of old letters, back of one of her drawers, letters I hadn’t written her...from another man. See, I traveled a lot. I was a reporter—no longer—laid off. I was on the road a lot, and during one of my trips, it seems, about fifteen years back, she took a lover. That sounds tawdry. I don’t know why I’m telling you.
[He stands and wanders back upstage. SHERRI watches him but says nothing.]
Technically I’m not laid off. They call it a voluntary buyout. If you say no, then they lay you off.
SHERRI That must have been—
ANDY Awful. Shocking. Got his address from his letters. That’s why I’m in Baltimore. I’m here to confront him.
SHERRI What do you mean?
ANDY Knock on his door. Look him in the eye. Say, “That was my wife you were fucking all these years.”
SHERRI Why?
ANDY I can’t confront her.
SHERRI I don’t think—
ANDY Anyway, doesn’t matter. Can’t do it now.
SHERRI The snow’s going to stop, Mr. Bowden. And when it does, if you take my advice, you’ll get back in your car and drive home to Cleveland.
ANDY Why is that your advice?
SHERRI What do you think this man will say to you? I’m sorry? What if he’s not? What will you do then?
ANDY Punch him.
SHERRI You ever punch a man?
ANDY No.
SHERRI What if he’s sorry? What do you gain?
ANDY Nothing much to lose.
SHERRI Lou and me—we were together thirty-three years, and in that time we learned things about each other neither of us wanted to know. You accept that as a part of what it means to be married. You learned a terrible thing about your wife, but what’s worse is you don’t know if your marriage would have survived the learning. Confronting this man won’t change that.
ANDY Neither will driving home.
[CLIFF enters from the second floor, carrying an armful of books.]
CLIFF Sorry—couldn’t find it.
SHERRI What?
CLIFF The book.
SHERRI Looks to me you found plenty.
CLIFF You wouldn’t like these.
[CLIFF dumps the books on the table, pulls a pen from his pocket, and sits down to read. For a long moment there is silence. Finally he looks up.]
Am I interrupting?
ANDY I was just explaining to your mother why I’m here.
CLIFF Mother?
SHERRI He’s not my son.
CLIFF Just another boarder, man.
SHERRI Going on four years.
CLIFF No shit? Sorry.
SHERRI I’m not your mother.
CLIFF Be strange when I finally move out.
SHERRI Clifford is studying to be a doctor of philosophy.
CLIFF I also do home repairs.
SHERRI He’s very handy.
ANDY What are you studying?
CLIFF Philosophy.
SHERRI Boy, he’s asking about your thesis.
CLIFF It’s not very interesting.
[Standing.]
I can go back upstairs if I’m interrupting.
SHERRI We were just having a conversation. Reason the Lord made snowy days. You just sit back down and tell us what you’re studying.
CLIFF You’ve heard it a million times.
SHERRI Well, Mr. Bowden hasn’t heard it once.
ANDY Really, it’s fine—
SHERRI He’s modest too. Tell you what—I’m going to mak
e tea. So nobody needs concern themselves with what I’ve heard a million times.
[Crossing to the kitchen door.]
Anyone else for tea?
ANDY The power’s out.
SHERRI Gas range. What kind of unsophisticate do you take me for?
CLIFF I’ll have a coffee.
SHERRI Your coffee’s disgusting. Mr. Bowden?
ANDY No. Thank you.
[SHERRI exits into the kitchen. CLIFF sits and continues to read, glancing occasionally at his cell phone as he works. ANDY paces, then crosses into the vestibule. We hear him open the door.]
CLIFF Can you shut that?
ANDY [From the vestibule.] Can’t even see the street.
CLIFF It’s cold.
ANDY Goddamnit!
[He slams the door and re-enters the parlor.]
Isn’t there someplace I could walk to?
CLIFF Not dressed like that.
ANDY I’m sorry—wasn’t expecting a blizzard when I packed.
CLIFF There’s probably spare boots and a coat somewhere upstairs.
ANDY I’ll manage. Look, I can’t sit here all day.
CLIFF You could check out the avenue. They got restaurants, bars, funky shops—
ANDY They open?
CLIFF Probably not.
ANDY Then why bother telling me?
[CLIFF shrugs and returns to his book. ANDY joins him at the table.]
I’m sorry. I hate rude people. What are you reading?
CLIFF Nothing that’s interesting.
ANDY You make it a habit to read and write about what you don’t find interesting?
CLIFF Don’t have much choice. I want to get my degree.
ANDY Must have been interested at the start.
CLIFF Sure. You know that song “Buffalo Gals”?
ANDY I guess.
CLIFF Sure you do. What’s it about?
ANDY Prostitutes?
CLIFF You see?
ANDY No.
CLIFF How do you know that?
ANDY Buffalo gals are prostitutes from Buffalo....They’re not?
CLIFF Not to my mother singing it to me every night at bedtime—it’s cute and it’s harmless and it’s about dancing women who look like buffaloes.
ANDY I think you’re being too literal.
CLIFF But where in the song is the evidence they’re whores?
[Singing tunelessly.]
“Buffalo gals won’t you come out tonight
Come out tonight
Come out tonight
Buffalo gals won’t you come out tonight
And dance by the light of the moon”
ANDY There’s other verses. You’re the one brought it up.
CLIFF My point is, I went my whole life thinking that song was about what it says it’s about—why can’t there be buffalo gals without someone having to turn it into something dirty?
ANDY Who’s turning it into anything? Didn’t anyone just ask the guy who wrote the song?
CLIFF Suppose they did. And suppose he said, actually, I was writing about Bigfoot. Or space aliens? Or prairie dogs? Are we obligated to interpret the song as an ode to prairie dogs just because that’s what the writer intended?
ANDY He intended to write about prairie dogs?
CLIFF I’m just thinking aloud. Anyway, lots of smart people have already exhausted the question of author’s intent. I decided to tackle the more fundamental question of how to verify interpretation itself.
ANDY I don’t know what that means.
CLIFF Is there anything we can point to in a work of art that proves conclusively that my interpretation is true and yours is false? Or at least that mine is more true than yours is? Or is every interpretation in fact equally good? Or bad? Or neither?
ANDY This is what you’re studying?
CLIFF More or less. Only it didn’t take me long to realize that lots of smart people have already considered that question too.
ANDY In my line of work, what’s on the page should match what you’re trying to say, and what you’re trying to say better match what’s on the page.
CLIFF [Nodding toward the kitchen.] You sound just like her.
ANDY Sherri?
CLIFF She takes everything so literally. You can’t do that with poetry or literature. You can’t take a symphony literally. You religious?
ANDY What?
CLIFF Word to the wise, don’t get her started on the Bible.
ANDY She one of those?
CLIFF Crazies?
ANDY Doesn’t seem it.
CLIFF She’s not crazy. She’s a sweet old woman.
ANDY How old is old?
CLIFF She just has no imagination when it comes to religion. You said you’re a writer?
ANDY I wrote for a newspaper.
CLIFF Oh. Well, that makes sense.
ANDY What?
CLIFF Newspapers you should take literally.
ANDY For a time I tried writing fiction. Don’t quite know what happened. Most things, it seems, the learning curve rises quickly at first, and it sucks you in—you imagine it’ll rise like that forever; instead it plateaus. You have to be honest with yourself—are you content being a hobbyist?
CLIFF What’s the problem with being a hobbyist?
ANDY It’s not what I imagined for myself.
CLIFF There’s what you do for a living, and there’s what you do to live. This philosophy of art stuff—I can teach it, but I’m finding my true interests lie elsewhere. Which is only to be expected.
ANDY Why is that?
CLIFF [Gesturing toward his books.] I’ve put something like six years into this. Eventually you run out of questions to ask. You want to know the best thing about living here?
ANDY The weather?
CLIFF With Sherri, I mean? She’s genuinely interested in what you’re doing.
ANDY What I’m doing?
CLIFF Anyone! Half the reason I can’t finish this damn thing is I keep explaining to her what it’s about. It’s a mystery to me how someone that’s so interested in some things can be so set in her ways for others.
ANDY Meaning religion?
CLIFF I should probably shut up before I offend someone.
ANDY I don’t offend easily.
CLIFF Neither does Sherri!
[Gesturing toward the portrait behind him.]
Now that guy right there—I bet there wasn’t a day went by he didn’t tell me to shut it. Amazing they got along. Course, to be fair, he was pretty sick at the end.
ANDY You knew the husband?
CLIFF Not well. Only reason they got a boarder was to help cover the medical bills. Then when he died, I guess she didn’t want to be lonely.
ANDY Thought it was a heart attack.
CLIFF There were a couple smaller ones before the big one. Actually, it was Mr. Blount’s death that got me thinking about God.
ANDY Pretty common, I hear.
CLIFF She’s convinced they’re going to meet again in heaven. You believe in heaven?
ANDY No idea.
CLIFF Well, she’s positive. Not that it’s unusual...and it really does seem to help. Which is also not unusual. Doesn’t make it true, but it got me thinking....
[Looking hard at ANDY.]
I didn’t ask if there is a heaven—I asked what you believe.
ANDY Honestly haven’t given it much thought.
CLIFF It’s not something we’re encouraged to do, you know? Heaven, God—we hear the words constantly, and we absorb them or we don’t. But not being a believer, anymore than I was a disbeliever, left me free just to think. Until eventually I concluded I do believe in heaven. And God. Within the proper context, of course.
ANDY What context?
CLIFF Love.
ANDY What?
CLIFF I think the key is love.
ANDY You met a girl?
CLIFF No. That’s my whole point.
ANDY You met a guy?
CLIFF I can think about this rationally. I have no allegiance to
any side but the truth.
[SHERRI enters from the kitchen, carrying three cups of tea on a serving tray. She sets the tray on the table and distributes cups to CLIFF and ANDY.]
SHERRI Forewarned is forearmed—I’m not one to add milk and sugar.
ANDY Why not?
SHERRI It’s excessive. Like mixing chocolate and peanut butter.
CLIFF I wanted coffee.
SHERRI I don’t know how to work that thing.
[To ANDY.]
This blend is perfect as is.
CLIFF He didn’t want anything.
SHERRI He was just being polite.
[ANDY brings the cup to his lips. SHERRI stays his hand.]
Mr. Bowden, you’ll burn yourself.
ANDY Oh...
SHERRI You should blow on it first.
CLIFF This isn’t the man’s first cup of tea.
SHERRI Hush.
ANDY Really wasn’t thinking either way....
[ANDY moves to put down the cup. SHERRI stays his hand again.]
SHERRI Mr. Bowden!
ANDY What?
SHERRI Please use a coaster.
ANDY You didn’t give me a coaster.
SHERRI Lord, you’re right! Clifford, I believe there’s another in the kitchen.
CLIFF You want I should...?
SHERRI Grab one for yourself while you’re in there. Thank you, Cliff.
[CLIFF shrugs and exits into the kitchen. SHERRI sits beside ANDY.]
You give any more thought to my advice?
ANDY Not really. Too busy learning about Buffalo gals.
SHERRI I never knew they were prostitutes either.
ANDY I have a dirty mind, apparently.
SHERRI I’m sure your mind is fine. So Clifford told you his thesis?
ANDY A bit. Seems he’s more interested in love.
SHERRI If only that were true.
ANDY Sounded that way to me.
[CLIFF re-enters with two coasters. He hands one to ANDY and keeps the other for himself.]
CLIFF Where do you buy coasters, anyway? I’m only asking out of curiosity.
ANDY You tell her God is love?
CLIFF I didn’t say God is love—the key is love.
[Sitting.]
Ain’t that right, Sherri?
SHERRI Is this your theory of soul mates?
CLIFF I would never speak of something as trite as “soul mates.”
SHERRI I don’t understand how you believe in souls without God.
CLIFF If God is love, when people love each other, we can say they’re in the presence of God.
SHERRI Now there’s no ifs about it.
CLIFF [To ANDY.] You see?
SHERRI Don’t talk to him—talk to me.
The Best American Short Plays 2010-2011 Page 16
