by James Reston
Sometimes, I think she’s way ahead of me.
NADINE:I don’t know what I’m doing.
MARK: I can’t talk to you about Nadine.
NADINE:Oh, men. I have to take care of them.
And they’re all cripples.
It’s so depressing.
MARK: It’s like I know that I’m carrying a time bomb
and there are times that I just don’t know
if I’ll go off.
I don’t know that in the end
I won’t destroy myself.
NADINE:And yet, there’s that little voice inside me
that reminds me that even though it’s hopeless
I have little children that can’t survive without me.
MARK: Maybe because I just can’t comprehend war.
War that’s political enough in terms of
what you have and what you get out of it.
NADINE:I guess I could possibly be the most
vulnerable person of all of us.
But I’ve also built up all these other devices
which will overrule that.
MARK: I need to tell you what I did.
My wife knows it.
She’s come through times
when I got to the very edge of suicide.
She’s helped me through a couple of times
that without her help . . .
I’d be dead.
Now, I’ve been very honest with Nadine
except when she asked me about suicide.
I couldn’t tell her that.
NADINE:I couldn’t even think about suicide.
IV
The Spaghetti Story
CHERYL:I hate to cook.
Probably because he likes to cook.
I hate to cook.
I don’t know how to cook,
and I hate it.
Mark does this spaghetti dinner once a year.
Has he ever told you about that?
Holy Christ!
MARK: Excuse me.
(Leaves)
CHERYL:Every day before Thanksgiving
Mark does a spaghetti dinner, and this
is a traditional thing.
This is the one traditional bone Mark has in his body,
and I’d like to break it.
He has 20-45 people come to this thing.
He makes ravioli, lasagne, spaghetti, meatballs,
three different kinds of spaghetti sauce:
shrimp, plain, meat sauce.
Oh, he makes gnocchi! He makes his own noodles!
And it’s good.
He’s a damn good cook for Italian food.
But you can imagine what I go through
for three weeks for that party
to feed forty people.
Sit-down dinner.
He insists it’s a sit-down dinner.
So here I am running around
with no time to cook with him.
I’m trying to get enough shit in my house
to feed forty people sit-down dinner.
We heated the porch last year
because we did not have enough room to seat forty people.
And I run around serving all these slobs,
and this is the first year he’s really charged anyone.
And we lose on it every year.
I mean, we lose, first year we lost $300.
This dinner is a $500 deal.
I’m having a baby this November,
and if he thinks he’s having
any kind of spaghetti dinner,
he can get his butt out of here.
I can’t take it.
Pizzas! He makes homemade pizzas.
You should see my oven.
Oh my God! There’s pizza-shit everywhere.
Baked on.
And when it’s over with,
he just gets up and walks out.
He’s just done.
The cleanup is no big deal to him.
He won’t even help.
He rolls up the carpets for this dinner.
People get smashed!
He’s got wine everywhere, red wine.
It has to be red so if it gets on my rugs,
my rugs are ruined and my couch is ruined.
I’ve just said it so many times I hate it.
He knows I hate it.
My brother brought over some speed
to get me through that night.
My brother, Jack, who is a capitalist—
intelligent—makes me sick.
Never got into drugs. Was too old.
Missed that whole scene.
But he now has speed occasionally
on his bad day, you know, drink, two drinks one night,
speed to get him through the day.
Business man.
He brought me some speed to get me through the night
’cause he knew what a basket case I’d be.
And then Mark goes and invites my family.
And they’re the last people I want to see at this.
Sure, they love it.
I mean, they all sit around and they
stuff themselves to death.
I’m not kidding!
It is one big stuffing feast.
The first time, the first spaghetti dinner we had was
right after Danny was born.
Danny’s baby book got torn up.
I had to start a whole new one.
Mark’s crazy friends.
Drunk.
Broken dishes everywhere.
I’m not kidding.
It’s just a disaster.
Spaghetti on the walls.
Spaghetti pots dropped in the kitchen.
Spaghetti all over the sink.
That’s why I ask him.
I go: “Why?”
“It’s traditional. I have to do this every year.”
It was three years ago he started.
Tradition, my ass.
I’m telling you.
I mean, he wonders why I can’t sleep with him sometimes.
Because I just work up such a hate for him inside that . . .
(MARK reenters)
I’m a perfectionist.
My house has to be this way,
and before I go to sleep,
I’ll pick up after him.
I’m constantly picking up after him.
Christ Almighty!
In the morning, if he comes in late,
he’s read the newspaper
and there’s newspaper all over the room.
He throws it when he’s done with it.
I’ve broken toes on his shoes.
I broke this toe on his shoe.
He always leaves his shoes right out in walking space.
Every morning I trip on
either his tennis or his good shoes.
Whichever pair he doesn’t have on.
He’s so inconsiderate of other people.
He’s so selfish, he’s so self-centered.
And this is what I tell him.
I’m just tired of it.
He’s so selfish.
Because this spaghetti dinner just ruins me.
Baby or no baby,
it just completely ruins me.
And he’s showing off his,
his wonderful cooking that he does once a year.
And I suppose this is why I hate cooking.
V
MARK: (Shows us slide of wounded children)
This is a picture of some kids who were hurt.
I used to take care of them,
change their bandages and shit.
I loved these kids.
Oh, God
VI
CHERYL:What am I gonna do? I mean,
someday Danny’s gonna have to see Mark
for what he is.
And that just scares the piss right out of me.
NADINE:How do you tell your children their father is an asshole?
<
br /> CHERYL:I don’t wanna be here when Mark tells Danny
about the war.
I don’t trust him.
NADINE:How could I tell my children that their father is
in town and hasn’t called?
CHERYL: I don’t trust what he’s gonna tell the kid.
And the way I wanna bring the kid up,
you can’t tell him anything.
NADINE:You can’t tell your kids
they can’t have something they want
because their father has squandered their money.
CHERYL: You’re just better off not saying anything.
NADINE:What’m I going to do,
tell them he’s off somewhere getting drunk
and has forgotten all about them?
CHERYL:I’m just, you know,
when that sort of thing comes along,
I live from day to day.
NADINE:The counselors tell me and my lawyers tell me
that I should stop protecting them from him.
But it’s hard enough, don’t you think?
They hurt enough already.
CHERYL:Later on, you know—
there might not be a war going on.
I might not have to deal with that.
And maybe someday I can explain to him.
NADINE:One time I told them he was in town
because I couldn’t find a way
to cover up the fact that I knew.
They were depressed for weeks.
I have to protect them.
CHERYL:(Angry)
See, why do I have to do all this????
And I do.
I find myself doing everything.
Covering for him . . .
NADINE:I don’t protect Mark.
He doesn’t need it.
He judges himself all the time,
he’s devoted to his son.
CHERYL:Sure Mark plays with him.
But when it comes to discipline,
that kid’s a little brat,
I mean he is.
And Mark’s never around when it comes to discipline.
NADINE:He works hard at his shop. He is supporting his family.
CHERYL:He’s never around.
NADINE:He is working his way back into society.
He’s beginning to believe in himself
and do his work.
CHERYL:I’m past the sixties.
I want to go back to the Church.
And Mark just will not understand the importance of this for me.
I mean, when there’s no father around,
the Church shows some order, you know.
NADINE:He told me he’s discovering
who he always thought he was.
I think of him as an artist
and a lifelong friend.
VII
MARK: (Holding the picture HE has framed of the children)
I’m terrified . . .
I have a son . . .
There’s another child on the way . . .
I’m terrified for what I did now . . .
CHERYL:The war is the base of all our problems.
MARK: It’s guilt . . .
it’s a dumb thing . . .
it makes no sense logically . . .
but I’m afraid there’s this karma I built up
of hurting . . .
there are children involved . . .
like it’s all going to balance out
at the expense of my kids.
CHERYL:I get so scared when he says that.
I mean, I never did anything.
MARK: There’s no logic to it but it’s there.
I try . . .
I’m really intense with my boy.
I think what we’re beginning to see here is
that it was a different world I was in.
I’d like to be real academic about this . . .
closed case . . .
but this is an ongoing struggle.
NADINE:Mark!
MARK: I don’t know.
I just don’t know.
Sometimes I look at a news story.
I look at something someone goes to prison for here,
I think about it.
There’s no difference.
It’s just a different place.
This country had all these rules and regulations
and then all of a sudden they removed these things.
Then you came back and try to make your life
in that society where you had to deal with them.
You find that if you violate them,
which I found,
you go to jail,
which I did.
I sit back here sometimes and watch the news,
watch my mother,
watch my father.
My parents watch the news and say:
“Oh my God somebody did that!
Somebody went in there . . . and started shooting . . .
and killed all those people.
They ought to execute him.”
I look at them.
I want to say,
“Hell, what the fuck,
why didn’t you ever listen . . .
You want to hear what I did?”
It’s real confusion.
I’m guilty and I’m not guilty.
I still want to tell my folks.
I need to tell them what I did.
VIII
CHERYL:There was a time when a man would confess to me,
“I’m a jerk,”
at a private moment
and I would smile
sweetly
and try to comfort him.
Now I believe him.
IX
The Confession
MARK: I . . . I killed three children, a mother and father in cold blood.
(Crying)
CHERYL:Don’t.
MARK: I killed three children, a mother and father . . .
Long pause.
NADINE:Mark.
MARK: I killed them with a pistol in front of a lot of people.
I demanded something from the parents and then
systematically destroyed them.
And that’s . . .
that’s the heaviest part of what I’m carrying around.
You know about it now, a few other people know about it,
my wife knows about it, Nadine knows about it,
and nobody else knows about it.
For the rest of my life . . .
I have a son . . .
He’s going to die for what I’ve done.
This is what I’m carrying around;
that’s what this logic is about with my children.
A friend hit a booby-trap.
And these people knew about it.
I knew they knew.
I knew that they were working with the VC infrastructure.
I demanded that they tell me.
They wouldn’t say anything.
I just wanted them to confess before I killed them.
And they wouldn’t.
So I killed their children
and then I killed them.
I was angry.
I was angry with all the power I had.
I couldn’t beat them.
They beat me.
(Crying)
I lost friends in my unit . . .
I did wrong.
People in the unit watched me kill them.
Some of them tried to stop me.
I don’t know.
I can’t. . . . Oh, God . . .
A certain amount of stink
went all the way back to the rear.
I almost got into a certain amount of trouble.
It was all rationalized,
that there was a logic behind it.
But they knew.
And everybody who knew had a part in it.
There was enough evidence,
but it wasn’t a very good image to p
ut out
in terms of . . .
the marines overseas, so nothing happened.
I have a child . . .
a child who passed through the age
that the little child was.
My son . . . my son
wouldn’t know the difference between a VC and a marine.
The children were so little.
I suppose I could find a rationalization.
All that a person can do is try and find words
to try and excuse me,
but I know it’s the same damn thing
as lining Jews up.
It’s no different
than what the Nazis did.
It’s the same thing.
I know that I’m not alone.
I know that other people did it, too.
More people went through more hell than I did . . .
but they didn’t do this.
I don’t know . . .
I don’t know . . .
if it’s a terrible flaw of mine,
then I guess deep down I’m just everything that’s bad.
I guess there is a rationale that says
anyone who wants to live that bad
and gets in that situation . . .
(Long pause)
but I should have done better.
I mean, I really strove to be good.
I had a whole set of values.
I had ’em and I didn’t.
I don’t know.
I want to come to the point
where I tell myself that I’ve punished myself enough.
In spite of it all,
I don’t want to punish myself anymore.
I knew I would want to censor myself for you.
I didn’t want you to say:
What kind of a nut, what kind of a bad person is he?
And yet, it’s all right.
I’m not gonna lie.
My wife tries to censor me . . .
from people, from certain things.
I can’t watch war shows.
I can’t drive.
Certain things I can’t deal with.
She has to deal with the situation,
us sitting around, a car backfires,
and I hit the deck.
She knows about the graveyards, and R.J. and the woman.
She lives with all this still hanging out.
I’m shell shocked.
X
NADINE:Well, I’m going to look forward to the rest of my life
because of what I know.
I can’t wait to test myself.
See, I guess I’ve known what it is to feel hopeless
politically.
And I’ve known what it is to plunge
personally.
But Mark has become a conscience for me.
Through him—I’ve come to understand the violence
in myself . . . and in him, and in all of us.
And I think if we can stay aware of that,
hold on to that knowledge,
maybe we can protect ourselves
and come out on the other side.
MARK: (Mumbling)
I’m just a regular guy.
