Man Walking Backward

Familiarity

© John M. Williams

 The Characters

                 Angela Quinn — the hostess, turning fifty

                Stephanie Quinn — her daughter, eighteen

                Howard Strang — longtime friend, late fifties

                Si Byrd — musician, sometime student, late twenties

                Gwendolyn Andrews — young woman, late twenties

                Rick Gould — professor, new in town, fifties

                Spencer Quinn — Angela’s ex-husband, Stephanie’s father,                                                                                                                         fifties

                Denise Ledbetter — Spencer’s companion, thirtyish

The Setting

                 Atlanta.  The family room of Angela Quinn’s house.  Downstage, the lower level has a large sofa facing out; upstage, the slightly higher level has a bar on one side, table and chairs on the other.  Behind and between them, French doors open onto a terrace, facing east, and a private back yard beyond.

 The Time

                 A pleasant September weekend, not long ago

                 Act 1 — mid Saturday afternoon

                 Act 2 — same evening, a few hours later

                 Act 3 — same evening, post-midnight

                 Act 4 — the following Sunday morning, towards noon

Short pieces of the songs “Vicksburg,” “A Man and a Guitar,” and “Barnyard Love” figure in the play; all copyright Ken Clark.

 Act 1

The plaintive guitar chords of “Vicksburg” as terrace lights rise, revealing Si on the sofa with his guitar.  He sings a bit of the song as Angela enters on the upper level; she brings a vase of flowers to the bar, gathers up some used glasses, and exits.  As she returns a moment later and comes onto the lower level, room lights rise.  Si stops singing, but continues toying with the chords as she tidies up the room.

ANGELA

Is that new?

SI

Must be.  I’ve never heard it before.

ANGELA

Are you playing tonight?

SI

No, they got the one-lesbian band again.

ANGELA

She’s good.

SI

So?  Why’s she better than me?

ANGELA

You can’t get in the place.  There’s a line outside the door.

SI

I mean, besides that.

ANGELA

I don’t think there is a besides that.  Plan to eat with us, then.

SI

(looks at her for a couple of beats)

Oh no.

ANGELA

God, you’re hopeless.

SI

Who is it?

ANGELA

Just a guest, Si, for crying out loud.  You sociopath.

SI

Male or female?

ANGELA

Male.  You know what I was just thinking about?

SI

Him, no doubt.

ANGELA

Well, yes, but more generally.

SI

No.

ANGELA

Our bar.

SI

Oh yeah, our bar.  I thought we decided it was an idea that called for further study.

ANGELA

Yeah, well, I’ve studied it further, and decided we should just do it.  We’re practically doing it anyway for free.

SI

There’s a lot less pressure that way.  Plus, it wouldn’t work.  You know, it’s a shame, Atlanta could have been one of the coolest places on earth.  Then they invented the highway contract.  Or the fat cat.  Which came first, the cream or the cat?

ANGELA

The excuse.

SI

Angela, I wouldn’t even go into business with me. So who is this guy?

Stephanie enters, eating potato chips.

STEPHANIE

Who’s who?

SI

I don’t care about that.  What is he?

STEPHANIE

Who?

ANGELA

Our guest.

STEPHANIE

(to Si)

New blood!

SI

I never mix new blood with dinner.

STEPHANIE

Gross!

ANGELA

He’s a professor in one of those things you can’t remember.

SI

Intercommunicable Transpersonal Heuristic Cognitive Development Rubric.

ANGELA

I think that was it.

STEPHANIE

Please.  Behavioral Psychology.

SI

So he’s harmless.

STEPHANIE

He’s handsome.  And divorced.

ANGELA

And very interesting.

SI

What’s so interesting about him?

ANGELA

He’s handsome and divorced.

STEPHANIE

You’ll like him, Si.

SI

What’s his name?

STEPHANIE

Dr. Rick Gould.

SI

“Just call me Rick.”  (turns to Angela)  What are we having?

ANGELA

Well, I think you’ll agree I’ve done something rather interesting with a duck.

SI

Yes, but what’s for dinner?

ANGELA

Ha, ha, ha.

Angela exits.  Stephanie comes to sit on the sofa arm beside Si; he leans his head against her.

STEPHANIE

Si, you have a morbid pish.

SI

A morbid what?

STEPHANIE

(suddenly not sure)

Pish?

SI

I think that’s pronounced “psyche,” Stephanie.

STEPHANIE

Whatever.  Yours is morbid.

SI

No it’s not.  It only appears that way.  I’m actually saving energy so that if I ever get a chance to escape, I can seize it.

STEPHANIE

That’s what Howard says.

SI

I know.  I got it from him.

STEPHANIE

That model of seizing and escaping.

SI

Look, Stephanie–you do realize there’s already a dangerous surplus of lawyers.

STEPHANIE

So?  It’s the other ones that are too many.

SI

God, what a nightmare.  They’re going to corrupt you.  When they’re done, the only thing you’ll ever use your sense of wonder on is loopholes.

STEPHANIE

But think of all the money I’ll make.

SI

Jesus, Stephanie.  Please listen to me.  Forget college–let’s move to Australia together.  Make a new start.

STEPHANIE

Sure, Si.  I’ll just go grab an old bag–

SI

No, she has to stay.

STEPHANIE

You’re such a barf head!

SI

She’s talking about “our bar” again.

STEPHANIE

So do it.

SI

Do you really not understand how bad I would be at that?

STEPHANIE

Okay, pick something else.

SI

I have picked something else.

STEPHANIE

Si, you’re thirty years old.  What are you going to do?

SI

I’m twenty-nine.  And why does it always have to be “what are you going to do”?  Why can’t it ever be “what are you doing”?

STEPHANIE

It can be.  If you’re doing something.

SI

Okay, okay.  I’ll cut my hair, work up a hot resume, start going to Job Fairs–

STEPHANIE

Well, you can’t stay in Mama’s garage the rest of your life.

SI

Why not?

STEPHANIE

(studies him)

Okay.  I guess you could.

Howard Strang appears on the terrace, wearing what seems to be a perpetual scowl.  He brings a bottle of whiskey to the bar, opens it and pours himself a drink, tosses it down, pours another, then, holding it, comes to the edge of the upper level, looking over the heads of the young people but addressing them.

HOWARD

Who is he?

STEPHANIE

Who?

HOWARD

The air-sniffer.  The leg-hiker.  The latest stray.  How many times have I told her not to feed them?

SI

Handsome and divorced–that’s all they’ll tell me.

HOWARD

Oh–it’s me?

SI

At least one stays divorced.

HOWARD

If one’s wise.  (coming down, approaching Stephanie)  Stephanie, sweetheart, you are the single dearest soul in the world to me, and you know I mean it.

STEPHANIE

Except for your own children.

HOWARD

No, not except for them.  They’re both grown and ignore me.  You know how hard this is going to be on your mother.

STEPHANIE

I can’t help it.

HOWARD

No, I know you can’t, darling.  And that’s what I wanted to tell you.  Life is for the young–it’s that simple.  You have no idea how irrelevant we’re going to be here.  And your mother, she’s going to have moments of panic–I know her.  Always keep your phone with you.

SI

And you said I was morbid.

HOWARD

It’s not morbid.  I just want you to remember us, but make the most of it.  Life is a walk across a stage.  All of a sudden you’re in the wings for fifty years going “how did I do?”

STEPHANIE

And tell me how fast it goes.

HOWARD

Okay.  You know how much I love winter.  Then one day I suddenly realized I wasn’t enjoying winter in the winter but dreading summer; and in the summer I was only looking forward to winter.  So I still love winter, but only in the summer, and I still hate summer, but only in the winter.  That’s how fast it goes.

SI

Howard, I think it’s considerate of you to put unpleasant truths in terms that don’t make any sense.

STEPHANIE

Isn’t that what poets do?

HOWARD

Yes, the good ones.  But that’s not really what I wanted to tell you.

SI

She’s only eighteen.  Make it abstruse.

HOWARD

Actually, it’s very struse.  Don’t join anything.  I don’t mean clubs–at least you can drink in those.  I mean ways of thinking that have names.  There is nothing more boring in the world than the need to be right.

SI

You’re right.

HOWARD

And when you find what you want–get it.  You don’t understand what regret is.  Young people never do.  It’s not just unpleasant–it can ruin your life.  It will ruin your life.

SI

You could end up irrelevant and full of advice.

HOWARD

Everybody’s full of something.  Where is your mother anyway?

STEPHANIE

I think in the kitchen.

Stephanie stands up, offers her potato chips to Howard, who grimaces and takes a drink.  She exits.  Si stands up with his guitar and stretches.

SI

You haven’t figured out anything to slow down time, have you?

HOWARD

Boredom.

SI

Other than that.

Howard shakes his head, takes a drink.  Si exits.  Howard stands for a moment looking ahead; then Angela enters behind him, bringing a pitcher of martinis to the bar.

ANGELA

Howard–martini?

HOWARD

(kills his whiskey)

Please.

Angela prepares two martinis and joins Howard.  She hands him one and sits down.  He keeps his empty whiskey glass in his other hand.

HOWARD

You know what the bummer about life is?  The worst part is last.  It’s a shame you can’t pay up front.

ANGELA

There’s no justice.

HOWARD

You know, the interesting thing about a cry for help–even those wails in the wilderness–is the assumption of two parts.

ANGELA

Are you crying for help?

HOWARD

Isn’t everybody?

ANGELA

If they’re turning fifty and losing their daughter they are.

HOWARD

You survive both.  After a fashion.  I keep seeing an image of boats–they look separate on the surface, but down below their nets are entangled.

ANGELA

Maybe somebody needs to go overboard with a knife.

HOWARD

Please.

ANGELA

Howard, why can’t you just say what you mean?

HOWARD

Because I’ve been paid too long not to.  (pause)  It’s a September thing.

ANGELA

Yeah?

HOWARD

It was September, Angela.

ANGELA

(sighs)

Howard–please.

HOWARD

I’m just saying–it was good.  Very good.

ANGELA

Okay.

HOWARD

What–you regret it?

ANGELA

No, Howard, I don’t regret it.

HOWARD

Well, I’m just asking you to see that it makes a lot of sense.  If you just look at the situation.

ANGELA

I’m having a little trouble with your verb tenses, Howard.  And the situation is bad enough without having to look at it.

HOWARD

It’s a shame.

ANGELA

Howard, I value your friendship enormously.  Way too much to lose it.  Why can’t you take that as the compliment it is?

HOWARD

Because it sounds like Betty Sue Bridges in the sixth grade.

ANGELA

Oh, for God’s sake, Howard.

HOWARD

If you’re trying to be cruel to be kind, you’re leaving out the kind part.

ANGELA

Howard, please–

HOWARD

I notice you seem to have plenty of energy for scouting out new blood.

ANGELA

You know something, Howard?  That’s really none of your business.  If you think I’m going to apologize for wanting to meet new people, you’re crazy.

HOWARD

So what do you need me here for?

ANGELA

I just do.

HOWARD

Like the wolves need the carcass.

He drains his martini and exits.  She watches him go, sighs, and takes a drink.  Stephanie enters.

STEPHANIE

Where’d Howard go?

ANGELA

Who knows?  Baby, you’re eighteen–why don’t you have a martini with me?

STEPHANIE

Because it tastes like the stuff they preserve frogs in?

ANGELA

Okay, except it’s not frogs that are preserved in it.

STEPHANIE

I know.

ANGELA

You know, baby, I’ve been thinking.  I’ve decided it would be better if you stayed here with me forever.

STEPHANIE

That’s a great idea, Mom!

ANGELA

I can just see us.  We’d be one of those mother-daughter teams.  You would drive me to the store every afternoon, and we wouldn’t look at men.

STEPHANIE

That sounds really appealing, Mom.

ANGELA

Actually, I’ve been thinking about the bar again.  Or, you know, a little cafe.  (dreamily contemplating it)

STEPHANIE

Si told me.

ANGELA

He’s on fire to do it.

STEPHANIE

I noticed.  Mom, you do know that going into business with him would be like going into water with concrete.

ANGELA

Yeah–maybe I’ll just hire him, with his little coterie of wastrels.  And a bartender who looks just like Dr. Rick Gould.

STEPHANIE

“Just call me Rick.”

ANGELA

I’ll approach him about it tonight.

STEPHANIE

Well, I’ve already told you what you ought to do.

ANGELA

Remind me.

STEPHANIE

Go back to college.

ANGELA

You know, you may be onto something.  We could sign up for classes together, dress in matching outfits like the Judds, sit next to each other, share notes, try out for plays together, double date–

STEPHANIE

Okay Mom, thank you.

ANGELA

Baby, if you could trade nervous systems with me for just five minutes you’d understand.

Gwendolyn Andrews appears on the terrace, dressed in a poncho-like garment and beret.  She crosses the terrace gingerly, holding an eccentric teacup in one hand and a cake dish in the other.

GWEN

(at the door)

Knock, knock.  (comes in)  Hide the evidence.

ANGELA

I wish I could.

GWEN

I wanted to drop this by.

ANGELA

Thanks.  Martini?

GWEN

Well, maybe just the proverbial quickie.

Gwen sets down the cake.  Angela hands her a martini.  She nods thanks, takes a drink, reacts to its potency.

GWEN

Mm!  (approaches Stephanie, teacup still in her other hand)  How’s our co-ed to be?

STEPHANIE

She be fine.

GWEN

God, it’s hard to believe.  I remember my grandmother’s yardman.  He was about a hundred years old and didn’t actually do any yard work–he would just look at you with those bloodshot eyes of his and say:  “Time will eat you up.”

ANGELA

Yard man slash philosopher.

GWEN

It saved money.

She drains her cup, sets it down.

ANGELA

What’s that you’re drinking, Gwen?

GWEN

Oh, it’s this Algerian tea.  It’s supposed to do something for your nerves.  It’s what Charlotte Roquette used to drink.

ANGELA

Who?

GWEN

You know.  Diary of a Parisian Deceiver.  Just read a few pages and you’ll see why it was banned for so long.

ANGELA

Never heard of her.  Is she dead?

GWEN

Of course she’s dead.

ANGELA

Oh God–the quiche.  Steph, could you go check?

STEPHANIE

Wilco.

She exits.  Gwen watches her go.

GWEN

(repeats amusedly)

Wilco.  (to Angela)  It’s going to be sort of different around here without her, I guess.

ANGELA

Gwen, please.

GWEN

The empty rooms, the long, silent afternoons . . .

ANGELA

Gwen!

GWEN

(sighs)

Oh well.  Why fight the inevitable?

Si has appeared on the terrace–now enters, regarding Gwen’s attire.

SI

They’ve landed.

GWEN

Just when you’d lost hope.

SI

(feeling her poncho)

Actually, I can see how this could have a number of practical uses.

GWEN

Practical.  You wouldn’t know an original woman if one came up and bit you.

SI

If one did that, I’d call her original.

GWEN

If you stood still long enough, one might.

Stephanie appears in the door to the kitchen.

STEPHANIE

Mom, it’s either ready or it’s not ready yet.

ANGELA

Is it brown on top?

STEPHANIE

It’s sort of green.

ANGELA

Green?  Okay, I’m coming.

She exits.

GWEN

(after watching them go)

Si, do you ever get the feeling we’re characters?

SI

Constantly.

GWEN

Should we be worried?

SI

I don’t think it would help.

GWEN

(takes a deep breath)

God, that smell.  What is it?

SI

September.

GWEN

(breathes for a moment)

September.  Remember when I was going through the divorce with Julio, and you dropped out of school, and you’d come over and we’d drink those big jugs of cheap wine?

SI

Yes.

GWEN

It’s funny.  We were so screwed up and everything–but looking back, there was something poetic about it.  That old house.  Those trees.  The breeze coming in the windows.  Getting an afternoon buzz.

SI

Yeah, one of those times you thought was in-between, then later you realize was it.

GWEN

And they tore the house down!  I cried for three days.  And those trees!  How could they do it?  They erased my life.

Angry voices off-stage.  Si and Gwen turn to look as Angela and Howard enter from the kitchen.

ANGELA

So what are you asking me to do, Howard–call him and tell him not to come?

HOWARD

Yes.

SI

Hey, I’ve got an idea.  Why don’t we have two parties?  One for the new guy, and one for us?

ANGELA

That’s a bad idea.

HOWARD

Why don’t we have a martini?

ANGELA

That’s a good idea.  Who says you don’t have good ideas, Howard?

HOWARD

No one.  That I know of.

GWEN

That you know of.

ANGELA

Who’s ready for a martini?

They all converge on the bar as Angela pours the drinks.

ANGELA

Oh my God, we’re going to run out of vermouth.  Howard, would you . . .

HOWARD

I’ll get some.

Stephanie enters, with a soft drink.

STEPHANIE

Clustered around the altar again.

SI

Are you saying we drink too much?

HOWARD

We don’t drink too much.  We each drink too much at the same time.

ANGELA

Baby, it’s a mistake to point out more vices than you commit.

SI

Moderation in everything.  Even the stupefaction that men seek, and the respite from it.

ANGELA

Cheers.

They drink. The phone rings.  They all turn to look at it.  It rings again.  They stare.  It rings again.

SI

Telephone.

Angela gives them a look, wipes her hands, then goes to answer it.  Everyone stares at her as she talks.

ANGELA

Hello?  Oh.  Hi.  (quick glance around the room)  Marvelous.  Yes, she’s fine.  Yeah, won’t be long.  Mm, sounds exciting.  Where are you?  No, not really.  Just having a few people over.  No, nobody special.  (The others glance at each other.)  She’s probably still accepting gifts.  No, don’t do that, you can eat with us, I’ve got plenty.  I know she’d like to see you.  Yes, I figured that.  Okay.  Okay.  Bye.

She hangs up, looks up into the collective stare.  Howard’s reaction is noticeably negative.

STEPHANIE

Was that Dad?

ANGELA

Yes.

STEPHANIE

Where is he?

ANGELA

At the airport.

STEPHANIE

Really?

ANGELA

Yes, really.

STEPHANIE

Is he coming over?

ANGELA

Yes.  He said he had a graduation present for you.

STEPHANIE

He already sent me five hundred dollars.

ANGELA

Maybe he was just warming up.

STEPHANIE

What’s he doing in Atlanta?

ANGELA

He said he’d been in Jamaica.  He’s on his way home.

STEPHANIE

Jamaica.

ANGELA

Yes, he’s got a flight in the morning.  I said he could just stay here.  And his–companion.

STEPHANIE

I wonder what he got me.

She exits.

SI

Okay, I’ve got to go think about this.

GWEN

Me too.

They exit.

ANGELA

(calling to them)

We need wine!

After they’re gone, an uncomfortable silence descends.  Howard looks away, grimly drinking.  Angela just stands for a moment.

ANGELA

Okay, Howard, I just don’t want to hear it.

HOWARD

I haven’t said a word.

ANGELA

It’s the ones you’re thinking.

HOWARD

How do you know what I’m thinking?

ANGELA

I just do.

HOWARD

(short sardonic laugh)

I guess it’s all just a little too modern for me.

ANGELA

Howard, he’s coming to see Stephanie.  He sees her, he spends the night, he leaves.  Why’s that such an issue?

HOWARD

Issue?  (laughs)  Who said anything about an issue?  I don’t care if the man pitches a tent on your lawn.  It’s just–all this coziness–

ANGELA

He’s Stephanie’s father, Howard.

HOWARD

Who never shows his face unless he happens to be breezing through from Jamaica–

ANGELA

He’s Spencer, Howard.  The most important thing in the world to him is Spencer.  I’ve known that for twenty-five years.  Why would I get myself worked up about it now?

HOWARD

And a companion?  In your house?

ANGELA

Howard, don’t you understand?  I don’t care.  I don’t care where he goes, what he does, who he sleeps with.  He’s just the man who happens to be Stephanie’s father.  Which is something I can’t change.

Howard kills his drink, sets down the glass.

HOWARD

Strange, strange, strange goings on.

He starts out.

ANGELA

Howard, are you coming back?

He stops, turns to her.

HOWARD

Dammit, I was here first!

He turns and exits.  Angela watches him, stands a moment in thought, then picks up the used glasses and exits to the kitchen.

Room lights die, then terrace lights fade to black-out.

Act 2

Lights rise to a somewhat tidier room, a couple of hours later.  We consider the comfortable scene–well-stocked bar, snack dishes, candles, soft music–for a moment; then Spencer Quinn appears on the terrace with an overnight bag and a boxed bottle of Scotch.  He comes to the doors and looks inside appraisingly.  Then he glances over his shoulder as Denise Ledbetter appears, also with a small bag.  He steps inside; she remains on the terrace.

SPENCER

Angela?

No answer.  He looks around curiously.

DENISE

Well, this is uncomfortable.

SPENCER

Relax.  I wouldn’t have brought you here if it wasn’t okay.

DENISE

We should have gotten a hotel.

SPENCER

She has room, don’t worry.  I paid for the house– I should know.

DENISE

(slight eye roll)

Yeah, you mentioned that.

He gives her just a glance.  She retreats a few steps and lights a cigarette.  Spencer continues inside, takes the Scotch to the bar.  Then Rick Gould appears on the terrace with a bottle of wine, looking tentative and unsure.  He stops and smiles at Denise; smoking, she smiles faintly back.

RICK

Is this Angela Quinn’s house?

DENISE

I think so

RICK

Oh, are you–

DENISE

I’ve never been here before.

RICK

Really?  So there are two of us.  (little laugh, offers his hand)  I’m Rick.

DENISE

Denise.

RICK

Angela said to come around to the back–you feel a little funny sneaking through somebody’s back yard.

DENISE

No kidding.

RICK

I sure hope we have the right house.

DENISE

You never know.  We may have found something better.

Rick laughs, looking at her with some interest.

SPENCER

(from inside)

It’s the right house, don’t worry.  Angela’s probably doing her yoga.  Why don’t we raid the bar while she’s not looking?

Rick turns quickly to him, laughs.

RICK

Oh.  Okay.

SPENCER

What’ll you have?

RICK

(coming inside)

Well, what have you got?

SPENCER

Looks like a little bit of everything.  And I picked up a bottle of Scotch at the duty-free shop at the airport. We could break into that.

RICK

(noting it admiringly)

Mm.  Nice.

SPENCER

(calling)

Denise?

She coolly shakes her head, smoking.  Spencer opens the bottle and pours two drinks, hands one to Rick.  He offers a toast.

SPENCER

Here’s to back doors and where they lead to.

They drink.

RICK

You must be Howard.

SPENCER

(considers him for an amused beat or two)

Now what would make you think that?

RICK

Oh, Angela told me you’d be here.  (little laugh)  I admit I googled you.  Seven books of poetry–wow.

SPENCER

Somebody’s got to write the stuff.

RICK

I’ve been putting a few thoughts down on paper myself lately.  Nothing like your level–just thoughts, feelings.  I was thinking I might ask you to take a look at some of them.

SPENCER

Sure.  And I’ll get you a copy of my latest.  It’s called Tepid Gems.

RICK

Ooh–sounds interesting.

SPENCER

You should think in terms of getting into print.  It’s not nearly as expensive as you might think.

Rick laughs; Spencer doesn’t.

SPENCER

Actually, I’m not Howard.  I’m Spencer Quinn.  (offers his hand)

RICK

Oh.  Rick Gould.  (shakes his hand, looking uncertain)  Well, I’m confused now.  Quinn?  I thought Angela–

SPENCER

I’m her ex.  I’m just here for the night.  To see my daughter.

RICK

Oh yes!  I met her.  Leaving for college, right?

SPENCER

That’s right.

RICK

Lovely girl.

SPENCER

She certainly is.

RICK

You live here in Atlanta?

SPENCER

No, no.  We’re on the way home to New York.  A little vacation.

RICK

Yeah, gotta have em.  You a fellow toiler in academe?

SPENCER

No, I discovered some years ago it wasn’t my cup of tea.

RICK

Escaped, huh?

SPENCER

Yes.

RICK

Into what?

SPENCER

Money management.  Investments.

RICK

Ah ha.  You don’t want my poems–you want my money.

SPENCER

Exactly.

RICK

Ask my ex-wives.

SPENCER

I know what you mean.  So, how about yourself–is it Dr. Gould?

RICK

Oh heavens.  Please call me Rick.  I’m going to be a colleague of Howard’s, actually.  Psychology.

SPENCER

Oh.  Well.  So you just moved here?

RICK

Yeah, about a month ago.  I’ve been getting acclimated.

SPENCER

Do you like it?

RICK

Yes.  So far.  I–well, let’s just say, I was ready for a change.

SPENCER

And you must have had the extreme good fortune of running into Angela somewhere.

RICK

Yes.  At the library.

SPENCER

She’s someone to know.

RICK

Yes, I got that impression.  And she–not that it’s any of my business–but what does she do?

SPENCER

Oh, she’s done a lot of things.  I believe she has some–means of her own.  And a generous ex-husband.

RICK

Never hurts.  You know, in Pennsylvania where I was, I dabbled a bit in rental property.  I actually did pretty well.  I was thinking about looking into something like that here.

SPENCER

Fortunes have been made.

RICK

Just an idea.  Oh!

He reacts to Stephanie, who has entered behind Spencer and paused.  Spencer turns around.

SPENCER

Ah–there she is!  My princess.  (They meet and embrace.)  How’s my not-a-little-girl-anymore?

STEPHANIE

Glad she’s not.  Dr. Gould!  I didn’t know you were here.  You should have yelled.

RICK

Just call me Rick.  And I just got here really.  I’ve been chatting with your dad.

SPENCER

Steph, I want you to meet Denise.

Denise comes into the room.  Stephanie takes a step or two to greet her.

DENISE

Hi.

STEPHANIE

Hi.

DENISE

You’re prettier than he said.

SPENCER

And you should have heard what I said.  Baby, I brought you a little graduation present.  I know it’s late but I didn’t want to mail it–I wanted to give it to you myself.

STEPHANIE

You just made the deadline

SPENCER

Good.

He takes a box from his pocket and hands it to her.  She opens it; it is a necklace with a diamond.

STEPHANIE

Oh!  It’s beautiful!

SPENCER

Do you realize how lucky you are to have diamond as your birthstone?

STEPHANIE

I’ve never thought about it.

SPENCER

Well, think about it.  Here, let me help you.  (He puts it on her.)  Do you like it?

Stephanie goes to a mirror on the wall behind her.

STEPHANIE

It’s gorgeous!

Rick gives a low, admiring whistle, and nods knowingly.

RICK

Very nice.

SPENCER

Denise, what do you think?

DENISE

Lovely.

Spencer feels in his coat pocket, feigns surprise.

SPENCER

Oh!  What’s this?  (brings out an envelope)  I almost forgot.  Your card.

Stephanie takes it, peeks inside, catches her breath.

STEPHANIE

Ah!

She looks up at Spencer.

SPENCER

Maybe you should put it away, sweetheart.

Stephanie embraces him.  Angela enters.  Stephanie pulls away, a bit awkwardly

STEPHANIE

Mom, look.

ANGELA

(only glances)

It’s pretty.

Stephanie lingers for a second, then exits to her room.

ANGELA

Well, a traveler from afar.  Bearing gifts.

SPENCER

You’re looking good.  As always.

ANGELA

Thank you.  Dr. Gould!  How long have you been here?  (offers her hand)

RICK

Please call me Rick.  And only a few minutes, really.

ANGELA

You didn’t have any trouble finding the house, I hope.

RICK

Well, let’s just say–I met your neighbor.

ANGELA

Mrs. Budenstein?

RICK

Over there.  (gestures)  Hair in a bun.  Not–the friendliest sort you’d ever meet.

ANGELA

Aren’t you diplomatic?  In fact, she hates us.  We have too much fun.  (Rick laughs.)  And you’ve met Spencer, I see.

RICK

(nodding)

Yes.

SPENCER

And Angela, this is Denise.

ANGELA

(offering her hand)

Welcome to the asylum.

DENISE

I know this is a huge inconvenience–

ANGELA

Not at all.  Who’s ready for a martini?

The men kill their drinks as Angela goes to the bar.  Gwen appears on the terrace, dressed more conservatively but carrying another cup of tea and a book.  She enters, exchanges a brief smile with Denise, an interested glance with Rick, then turns her attention to Spencer.

GWEN

Well, what do you know?  Our pinstripe man.

She approaches and carefully busses him, her hands full.

SPENCER

Gwen.  How are you?

GWEN

I’m upright and able to take nourishment.  You’ve weathered the years with courage yourself, I see.  (looks around)  And look at all the new faces.  I must be in the wrong house.

ANGELA

Not yet.  Let’s see.  Rick Gould–Gwendolyn Andrews.

RICK

(interestedly)

Hello.

Gwen sets down her cup, takes his hand.

GWEN

Hi.

ANGELA

And Spencer’s friend, Denise.

Gwen exchanges a woman-to-woman smile with her.

GWEN

Hi.  (turns to Angela)  Angela, I brought you that book.

ANGELA

What book?

GWEN

Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten.  Charlotte Roquette.

ANGELA

Who?

RICK

The Parisian Deceiver?

GWEN

(turns to him)

Yes!  Do you know her?

RICK

Not personally, no.

GWEN

I mean her diary.

RICK

Oh yes.  (grins)  I couldn’t put it down.

GWEN

See, Angela?  I told you it was gripping.

She hands her the book.  Angela takes it, considers it sceptically.

ANGELA

Thanks.

She opens in at random, reads a second, her eyes grow wide, closes it.

SPENCER

Angela, is there any chance of a shower?

ANGELA

(glancing outside)

I don’t think so.

SPENCER

I mean the other kind.

ANGELA

Oh.  I thought you could stay downstairs and use that bathroom.

SPENCER

Perfect.

Stephanie re-enters

ANGELA

Come on, let me round up some towels.  Stephanie, can you entertain the guests for a few minutes?

Stephanie nods.  Spencer and Denise take their bags and follow Angela out.  Gwen goes to the bar and pours a martini.

GWEN

So, what’s your field, Dr. Gould?

RICK

Call me Rick.  It’s Psychology.

GWEN

So that’s why you’re familiar with Madame Roquette.  Out of psychological interest.

RICK

(grins)

Of course.  Actually, to be specific, Behavioral Psychology.

GWEN

Does that mean I have to behave?  Now I’m going to imagine you analyzing everything I say and do.

RICK

Oh, don’t worry.  I never mix my intellectual life with my social.

GWEN

I can’t decide if that’s more intellectual of you, or more social.  (Rick laughs)  So–I can just be myself, then.

RICK

Absolutely.

GWEN

Good.  Now if I can just figure out what that is.

RICK

(laughs)

(to Stephanie)

So–off to college, is it?  (Stephanie nods)  What are you planning to major in?

STEPHANIE

History.

RICK

History!  That’s encouraging.  So many young people today seem consumed by popular culture and have no interest in the past.

GWEN

She wanted the future, but that’s all they had.

STEPHANIE

And then I’m going to law school.

RICK

Oh.

GWEN

See?  She’s predictably ambitious, after all.  So was I when I first left for school.  I wanted to study ornamental horticulture.  But my first semester I discovered it was only the ornamental part I liked.  So I dropped the horticulture and became an ornament.

RICK

(laughs loudly)

I’d like to hear more about that!

GWEN

Well then–I’ll just have to get busy and think up some fascinating details.

Angela returns to find Rick and Gwen laughing together.

ANGELA

Gwen, could you lend me a hand in the kitchen a minute?

GWEN

But we were just getting into anecdotes of my youth.

ANGELA

Then I’m just in time.  (to Rick)  We won’t be long.

RICK

Take your time, take your time.  (when they’re gone)  Is she married?

STEPHANIE

Who?

RICK

That Gwendolyn character.

STEPHANIE

She was once, a long time ago.

RICK

Everybody was once, a long time ago.

STEPHANIE

I wasn’t.

RICK

That’s only because you haven’t had time.  I’ll bet wherever you go, young men appear like magic.

Si appears on the terrace.

RICK

Your only problem will be picking one.

STEPHANIE

What fun.  I’ll line them up and hold a swimsuit and talent competition.

Si goes boldly to Rick.

SI

You must be Dr. Gould.

He offers his hand; they shake.

RICK

Rick.

SI

Just call me Si.

RICK

Glad to know you.  Are you–

SI

A regular around here?  I can’t deny it.  (turns to Stephanie, touches the necklace)  That’s a muchofa whichofa.  Where is he?

STEPHANIE

Taking a shower.  How much do you think it cost?

SI

Let’s see–(narrows his eyes, calculates)  A lot?

RICK

Hey–not to be crude, but–well, take my word for it.

SI

I will.

RICK

Are you a student, Si?

SI

Not anymore.

STEPHANIE

He’s a musician and housesitter.

RICK

A musician, really?  Professional?

SI

Supposedly.

STEPHANIE

He could use a supplement.

RICK

You ever consider real estate?

SI

I can honestly say I never have.

RICK

It can be very lucrative.

SI

I’m sure, but I don’t know any old widows whose houses I can bulldoze.

ANGELA

(from the kitchen)

Stephanie!

STEPHANIE

Don’t go away.

She exits.  Rick watches her go, then turns to Si.

RICK

Why would we do that?  (shakes his head)  Heartbreaker in training right there.

SI

Actually, I think she’s already mastered it.

RICK

Speaking of which, what’s the female market like around here?

SI

About average, I guess.

RICK

How about that other one?

SI

What other one?

RICK

That Gwen.  Skinny, electric sort of girl.

SI

What about her?

RICK

Well, what’s the scoop on her?  Not married, I understand.

SI

No, she’s not married.

RICK

In other words, she’s single.

SI

I’m pretty sure, yes.

RICK

I’m not encroaching on your territory, am I?

SI

(shrugs)

Ah–no.

RICK

Well, she’s not bad looking–and if you asked me, I’d say she’s hot to trot.

SI

Could be.

RICK

You know what I like about her?  She’s got zing.

SI

It’s a must in these hard economic times.

RICK

(sighs)

Women.  There are plenty who’ll scratch you where it itches–but to find one who’s also on a cognitive par–

SI

It’s challenging.  Oh damn!  I just remembered I left my guitar at home.

RICK

Oh, are you going to sing for us, Si?

SI

You never know.

RICK

(finishes his martini)

Hell, a couple more of these and I’ll join in.  Do you live far away?

SI

On top of Angela’s garage.

RICK

No kidding?  That’s convenient.

SI

And habit-forming.  I’ll be right back.

Si exits.  When he’s gone, Rick saunters behind the bar where he checks out the stock, then strolls around the room, looking appraisingly at the artwork, books, etc., finally stopping at the mirror where he checks his appearance and tries out a few poses.  As he’s doing this, Howard (with vermouth) comes across the terrace and enters the room.  Rick apparently sees him in the mirror and quickly turns around.

HOWARD

I’m not interrupting anything, am I?

RICK

No, no.  I was just sprucing up.

He recovers easily enough and approaches Howard.

RICK

No doubt you are Howard.

HOWARD

(taken aback)

As opposed to who?

RICK

Well, people who aren’t.

HOWARD

Yes.  Opposed to them, I am.

RICK

Rick Gould.  (offers his hand)  Pleased to meet you, Howard.

HOWARD

(shakes)

Likewise.  Where is everybody else?

RICK

Scattered about.  Everybody seems to have something to do at the moment except me.

HOWARD

I can see that.  So, are you the rental Lexus?

RICK

No–the Mazda.

HOWARD

Um huh.  Where is he?

RICK

Do you mean the ex-husband?

HOWARD

Yes.

RICK

He’s taking a shower.  He and his young thing.  I don’t mean together–well, actually, who knows?  (laughs)

HOWARD

Or cares.

RICK

Well, yes.  Exactly.  (takes a drink)  But you know, I gotta say–it’s extraordinary the way he and his ex have been able to maintain such an amicable relationship.

HOWARD

(going to the bar)

I guess that’s the word.

RICK

No doubt it’s the healthiest thing for the daughter.  But I could never pull something like that with either one of my ex-wives, I can tell you that.

HOWARD

I know what you mean.

RICK

Of course, I can’t really claim to have been a model husband either.  (laughs)

HOWARD

Neither can he.

RICK

Men.

HOWARD

Can’t trust em.

RICK

Jesus.  We find ourselves being lured into these black holes of irrationality, and we have two choices:  go in, or don’t get laid.

HOWARD

It’s rough.  How’s your drink?

RICK

Okay–thanks.

Howard pours himself a whiskey.

HOWARD

So, we’ll be colleagues, I understand.

RICK

Yes.  I’m very excited about being here.  There’s such energy in Atlanta.  You can feel it.

HOWARD

Actually, that’s carbon monoxide.

RICK

(laughs)

And I’m depending on you for a complete run-down on campus politics.

HOWARD

Oh, they’re like the politics anywhere.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  The battles fierce, the stakes small, as they say.

RICK

Well, in my experience, sometimes you have to fight.

HOWARD

Yes, that’s true.

Angela enters.

ANGELA

(to Howard)

Well, you made it back, I see.  (Howard shrugs.)  Did you remember– (Howard nods towards the bar)  Good.  And you’ve met Rick.

HOWARD

Yes, we were just getting acquainted.

ANGELA

Good.

RICK

Men-talk, Angela.  Confidential.  (laughs)

ANGELA

Oh, how interesting.  I’ve always been so intrigued by the things men say to each other.  Sort of like wondering what dogs talk about when no humans are around.

HOWARD

Cats, you mean.  And everybody knows it’s the cats who do all the talking.

ANGELA

And don’t the dogs wish they could know what the cats say?

HOWARD

No.  And if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll wade to the bathroom.

ANGELA

Just don’t wade downstairs.  It’s in use.

HOWARD

So I hear.

Howard exits.

ANGELA

I know it seems like I’m ignoring you, Rick.

RICK

Hey, don’t worry about me.

ANGELA

Your drink okay?

RICK

Fine.

ANGELA

You feel like a little walk?  The yard actually goes all the way to Holcombe Street–you’d never know it from the front.  It’s so pretty this time of year.

RICK

(kills his drink)

Sure.

Stephanie enters.

STEPHANIE

Mom, Gwen wants to know what all to put in the salad.

ANGELA

Tell her to use her imagination.

STEPHANIE

I think she’s saving that.

ANGELA

Then tell her anything in the refrigerator’s game.  And why don’t you help her, baby?  You know how dangerous she is with a knife.  Rick and I are going to take a little walk.

Angela and Rick exit.  Stephanie goes to the mirror to admire her necklace; Spencer enters, in different clothes, looking refreshed.

SPENCER

Ah, much better.  Hello, sweetheart.

STEPHANIE

Hi.

SPENCER

Looks absolutely stunning on you.

STEPHANIE

Thanks.

SPENCER

Of course it had better!  (gives her a kiss)  So, what have you been doing all summer–anything interesting?

STEPHANIE

No, I’ve been completely defracted.

SPENCER

(laughs)

Heavens!   Well, that’s about to change, don’t worry.  But I’ll tell you something:  it won’t be long before you’ll be looking back fondly on these defracted summers.

STEPHANIE

I doubt that.

SPENCER

Where is everybody?

STEPHANIE

Mom and Dr. Gould are out back.  Gwen’s in the kitchen.  And Howard and Si have disappeared.

SPENCER

The cast just doesn’t change around here, does it?

STEPHANIE

Not much.

SPENCER

What’s ol’ Si doing with himself these days?

STEPHANIE

What was he doing the last time you were here?

SPENCER

I couldn’t tell.

STEPHANIE

He’s still doing it.

Howard re-enters, goes to the bar.

HOWARD

Well, look what the trade winds have blown into our inlet.

SPENCER

No cause for alarm, Howard.  They’ll blow me back out tomorrow.

HOWARD

Hey, it was good of you to drop by.

SPENCER

My pleasure.

HOWARD

This has been a little junket to the Caribbean, I understand.

SPENCER

That’s right.

HOWARD

Well, I’m glad you could squeeze us in.  (touches the bottle of Scotch)  And it looks like you brought us a souvenir.

STEPHANIE

He brought me one too.

She touches the necklace, Howard glances at it, then tosses down a shot of bourbon.

HOWARD

Well, I believe I’ll get some fresh air–while it’s still relatively free–if you will excuse me.

He exits to the terrace.

STEPHANIE

(when he’s gone)

You two remind me of a couple of old women.

SPENCER

No, worse:  a couple of old men.

Stephanie, bored now, slumps on the sofa.

SPENCER

You seem so restless, baby.  I know you’re ready for life on your own.

STEPHANIE

So ready I’m about to pop.

SPENCER

Well, don’t pop–but I do remember the feeling:  pawing and snorting at the gate.  Just don’t take it too fast.

Denise, also looking refreshed, enters.

SPENCER

Isn’t that right, Denise?

DENISE

Isn’t what right?

SPENCER

I was telling Stephanie not to be in such a hurry.

DENISE

(shrugs)

Yeah–as long as you don’t get left behind.  What are you studying for?

STEPHANIE

(jaded)

Oh, I guess to be a lawyer.

SPENCER

(surprised)

I thought we had a burning ambition.

STEPHANIE

Yeah, I guess.  It’s just that it crams your head so full of junk, doesn’t it?  You lose your sense of wonder.

DENISE

Everything does that, honey.  Might as well get paid for it.

SPENCER

Oh, you’ll do fine, baby.  Now where is your mother?  I hate to be crude, but I’m starving.  I know her–it’ll be midnight if somebody doesn’t hurry her up.

He exits.

STEPHANIE

And I’m supposed to be helping Gwen.  (wearily rises)  You want to just relax, or–

DENISE

(smiles)

I’ll be fine.

Stephanie exits.  Denise looks around for a moment, exhales, steeling herself, at last picks up a magazine.  Si enters from the terrace with his guitar, sees her from behind, regards her curiously, then clears his throat. She turns.

SI

Hello.

DENISE

Hello.

SI

It’s funny–every time I come in here today, there’s somebody new.

DENISE

Lucky you.

SI

I guess so.  (approaching)  I’m Si.

DENISE

Denise.

They shake hands.

SI

You’re here with Spencer?  (Denise nods.)  How was your vacation?

DENISE

Too nice for words.

SI

That’ll be a relief to your friends.  Unless, of course, you took slides.

DENISE

It was too nice for slides.  (indicates his guitar)  So, do you play that?

SI

On special occasions.  How about you?

DENISE

No, no.

SI

You’re a career girl?

DENISE

I’ve been a girl my whole career, yes.

SI

Looks like you’ve gotten pretty good at it.  (She smiles ambivalently, holds his eye a moment.)  So, what exactly do you do?

DENISE

I sell fur patterns.

SI

(scowls, considering that)

Would those be patterns for furs?

DENISE

They would.

SI

For furs?

DENISE

For furs.

SI

Well, that’s all I need to know about it.

DENISE

That’s all there is to know about it.  It’s just another hustle in the jungle.

SI

You actually capture the furs yourself?

DENISE

The New York jungle.

SI

Ah.  I decided to move there once myself–but then my car broke down.

DENISE

Be glad it did before you got there.

SI

I am.  I was thinking about trying again.  Are there any openings for selling fur patterns?

DENISE

There are always openings–if you can sell fur patterns.

SI

I can’t.

DENISE

Well, besides playing guitar, what can you do?

SI

On a regular basis?

DENISE

Yes.

SI

Well–eat, drink, sleep, read, think, and sing.

DENISE

How about irregular?

SI

Whatever comes along.

They consider each other frankly for a couple of beats.

DENISE

Mm-mnh.

SI

You know, I’ve always been curious:  what exactly does Spencer do?

DENISE

He goes out and makes some money.  Then when he’s done with that, he goes out and makes some more.

SI

I see.

Spencer enters

SPENCER

Si!  My old friend.  Or is it my young friend?  Or my old young friend?  Or my young old friend?  I thought you’d be in Alaska or somewhere by now, being colorful.

SI

You know–my allergies.

They shake hands.

SPENCER

It’s probably just as well.  You’ve met Denise?

SI

Yes, she’s talked me into moving to New York to sell fur patterns.

SPENCER

You should!  Bring those funny songs.  I’ve told you before:  I know people.

Howard enters.

HOWARD

Another new face?  (approaches Denise)  This is asking too much of me.  (offers his hand)  I’m charmed.

DENISE

I’m Denise.

HOWARD

I’m Howard.

DENISE

I’m impressed.

SI

She’s heard the rumors, Howard.

HOWARD

(spreading his arms)

Well, here I am.  Thirsty as usual.  (goes to the bar)  Can I fix anyone anything?

Everyone declines.  Gwen, holding a kitchen knife, enters from the kitchen.  She stops near Howard, staring at Si and Denise.

GWEN

The ol’ stash-Gwen-in-the-kitchen routine, huh?

Angela and Rick enter from the terrace.

ANGELA

Gwendolyn, put that knife away!

GWEN

(raising it toward her)

Where?

ANGELA

Somewhere safe.

Stephanie enters behind Gwen.  Gwen turns around, the knife still raised.  Stephanie catches her breath and takes a step back.  Gwen lowers the knife, turns, as Stephanie comes warily around her.

ANGELA

Well?

STEPHANIE

We’re ready.

ANGELA

And the salad?

GWEN

It’s done.

STEPHANIE

And it’s not even ten yet.

ANGELA

Oh, don’t complain–at least it’s the same day.  (to the group)  This way, folks.

She takes Rick’s arm and leads the way off-stage.  Rick smiles at a glaring Gwen as they pass.  The light begins to dim as everyone follows:  Stephanie, Spencer and Denise, Si.  They all pass Gwen, and then she follows, leaving only Howard who stands frowning at the bar.  He takes a slow drink, then looks in the direction they took as their voices and bustle fade.  Black out.

Act 3

Somewhere after midnight.  Terrace lights rise, leaving the family room in semi-darkness.  The action having shifted, all remains as it was left:  glasses sitting about, etc.  From off-stage come the rising and falling sounds of the lingering diners, with occasional angry spikes, along with low music from the still-playing radio. Si enters, goes to the sofa and takes up his guitar.  He starts playing “A Man and a Guitar.”  After a moment, Stephanie enters, pauses, and yawns deeply.

SI

(still playing)

How she yawns.

She comes to the sofa and slumps wearily.  Si plays a bit more, then sets the guitar aside.  He emits a long, exaggerated sigh.

STEPHANIE

How he sighs.

SI

Howie Sighs?  Isn’t that a linebacker?

STEPHANIE

Probably.

SI

Played with Woes Aplenty.  And was noted for his size.

STEPHANIE

Too many Si’s.

SI

I’m maxxed out myself.

STEPHANIE

(sighs)

Si, do you think I’ll be homesick?

SI

Yeah, for about one night.

STEPHANIE

What do you think’s going to happen to her?

SI

She’ll grow old, and eventually die.

STEPHANIE

Jesus, Si.

SI

Well?  And so will I.  And so, though it’s impossible to conceive, will you.

STEPHANIE

What if I don’t make any friends?

SI

Don’t be ridiculous.

STEPHANIE

I’ve never made a lot of friends.  You’ve all ruined me–I can’t relate to people my age.

SI

You just have to find the good ones.  But what about me?  What am I going to do?  Losing the only girl I really love.

STEPHANIE

Like I’m not just the young thing who happens to be on the premises.

SI

Sadly about to be have been.  I’m not sure I can handle it.

STEPHANIE

Si, sooner or later–

SI

Yeah, yeah.

STEPHANIE

(reflects)

Do you think I’m like her?

SI

Yeah, I guess, in some ways.

STEPHANIE

Do you think I’ll end up like her?

SI

No, I think you’ll end up like you.

STEPHANIE

She probably needs somebody, doesn’t she?  In her life.

SI

We probably all do.

She sighs; it becomes a yawn.  She rises.

STEPHANIE

I’m going to bed.

SI

Can I come with you?

STEPHANIE

No.

She exits.  Si reflects for a moment, then takes up his guitar again.  He plays a bit, then begins to extemporize lyrics.

SI

“I’m in love with a sheep,/Our love is really quite deep./When I see her, I say ‘hi’–/When she sees me, she just says ‘ba-a-a-a’–”

We see, before Si, that Denise has entered and been listening.

DENISE

(coming downstage)

Yeah, I thought so.

Si turns to her, then sets his guitar aside.

SI

We all have our little quirks.

She takes out a cigarette.  Si picks up a candle from the end table and holds it for her to light it.

DENISE

Thanks.  (blows out smoke)  That kid leaving here–smart move.

SI

Yeah, for her.  It looks like the end of the world to the rest of us.

DENISE

Life goes on.

SI

Yeah, it does seem to.  But funny how when you’re somewhere you know’s not good enough to die in, your instinct is to stay there as long as you can.

DENISE

(digests this, smiles)

Is that some Southern bullshit?

She looks frankly at him; he looks frankly back at her for a couple of beats.

SI

I’d say universal.  So, how’s life with your Older Man?

DENISE

The way life is when somebody else is paying.

SI

Is that a Bullshit-Walks New York kind of thing?

She holds his eye for two or three beats.

DENISE

So, is that your real name–Si?

SI

Yes.

DENISE

Must be short for something.

SI

Silas.

DENISE

You don’t hear that often.

SI

It was my grandfather’s name.

DENISE

(nods)

So–is it a single or a double garage?

SI

What?

DENISE

Where you live.

SI

Oh.  (frank eye contact)  A double.

DENISE

So, do I get a tour?

SI

Yeah.  Sure.  (rises)  But there’s underwear on the floor.

DENISE

That’s where it should be.

She pulls him to her; they kiss.  He pulls away, looks uncertainly toward the dining room

DENISE

They’re drunk.

She begins to lead him away.

SI

Hey, he just took you on an expensive vacation.

DENISE

He got paid.

SI

I bet.

They hold each other’s gaze for a moment.

SI

But I think it’s only fair to tell you–I’ve only got one pair.

DENISE

You hick.

They exit.  The scene stays static for a few seconds, with the sounds of the remaining diners coming from off-stage.  Then an intoxicated Gwen enters.

GWEN

Si, you’re missing all my moments of glory.  Si?  (takes a few steps into the room, looks around, sighs)  How existential.  There’s nothing really there.  (tries to clear her head)  The cognac.  It was the cognac.  I tell you what, if there really is truth in wine, I must be getting close to seeing God.  And then I’ll be in high demand, my friend.

She stands wavering.  Rick enters.

RICK

So here you are.

GWEN

More or less.

RICK

Taking a break, huh?

GWEN

I had to do something–the room was twirling.

RICK

I’m getting pretty schnockered myself.  You folks are a pretty live group, aren’t you?

GWEN

Yeah, till the gas runs out.  Then we’re dull as all get-out.

RICK

I know all about dull.  I could write the book on dull.

GWEN

I think somebody already did.  It had a whale in it.

Angela enters.

ANGELA

Okay, if the party’s going to shift to another room while I’m in the bathroom, somebody needs to leave me a note.

GWEN

That was it!  The bathroom.

RICK

We were just getting some fresh air.

ANGELA

Where is everybody?

RICK

They seem to have drifted away.

ANGELA

Did Steph go to bed?

GWEN

Since she’s the only one here with any sense, I’m guessing yes.  And now, before there’s an incident–the bathroom.

She unsteadily exits.  Angela goes to the terrace doors.

ANGELA

Look!  A full moon.  Almost.

Rick steps over to look.  She takes his arm.

ANGELA

Rick, do you think the night is more dangerous with the moon, or without it?

RICK

Well, I’d say they’re each dangerous–in their own way.

ANGELA

Which do you prefer?

RICK

Well, I guess I prefer both.

ANGELA

You can’t prefer both.

RICK

(laughs)

I guess not.  (pauses, reflects)  But it’s just the moon, right?  Hanging there like a–molten tennis ball–sending all the poets into iambic overdrive–and it’s what?–just the moon.  Same old piece of rock it always was.

ANGELA

How romantic.

RICK

Ha!  I guess I left romantic behind with a lot of other things.  You look back one day and you realize–life is for the young.  Only the young can really believe anything matters.  That’s where anything any good in the world gets done–in that brief window where you actually give a damn.

ANGELA

That’s very inspiring.

RICK

Well?  Isn’t it true?  You run through everything life has, and then it’s just repeat business after that.  Diminishing returns.  I mean, sure, you get what you can–but it’s all a charade.

ANGELA

I’m wondering if this could be set to music.  Where’s Leonard Cohen?  (looks around)

RICK

(short laugh)

Do you realize all the stars in the universe will eventually burn out and everything will keep drifting away from everything else, and it will end up a completely dark, cold, silent, empty place forever?

ANGELA

I’ve heard that.

RICK

Look at the average guy.  Goes to work, comes home, has a couple of beers, orders a pizza, watches TV, yells at his kids, maybe has a roll in the hay, goes to sleep.  Tomorrow do it again.  His whole life is spent not thinking.  Never lets in any new ideas, never explores anything outside his own narrow little world, never exposes himself to anything different or challenging.  How’s that different from a dog–or a cow or anything else?

ANGELA

The pizza.

Spencer enters.

SPENCER

I’m not sure leaving me alone with Howard is the best idea.

ANGELA

I’m not sure leaving anybody alone with Howard is the best idea.  Where’s Denise?

SPENCER

(shrugs dismissively)

Who knows.  Probably taking a walk.  She’s a big walk-taker when the shit starts flying.

ANGELA

I’d call that smart.

SPENCER

While we re-plow the same old fields.  With the same old plows.

ANGELA

It’s so good to see old friends like you and Howard hashing out politics, metaphysics–

Spencer laughs.

RICK

(who has been staring at a point on the floor)

Ha!  You know, I look at myself–what do I see?  A guy who’s moved around a lot, climbing the ladder.  I’ve met people along the way, sure–they come, they go–but is that really what you’d call friends?

SPENCER

Well, what would you call friends, doctor?

RICK

Rick.  (exhales)  Friends.  The people you form an affective bond with–over a period of time.  Ha!  A period of time:  that’s the kicker.

ANGELA

No, they’re just what’s left over when you subtract your enemies.

GWEN

(re-entering)

Better be careful.

SPENCER

Aren’t they just the people who have to pretend they don’t enjoy seeing you fail?

ANGELA

No, the ones who have the perfect failings themselves.

SPENCER

That you can depend on to tell the secrets you secretly want known.

ANGELA

At the price of the ones you don’t.

GWEN

No, they’re just the people who won’t let you be anything but what you’ve been.

During this exchange, Howard has quietly appeared in the door, holding a whiskey glass, silhouetted, prophetic, and drunk.

HOWARD

You are what you get stuck with.

They all turn to look at him.  A beat or two.

GWEN

No shit.

HOWARD

What a bunch of jack-offs.

He comes a few steps into the room.

ANGELA

Howard, I’ve got an idea.  Why don’t you take this opportunity to go take a walk.  Like home.

HOWARD

I like this better.

GWEN

Go join the circus, Howard.

HOWARD

Why?  The clowns are all here, and the freaks are visiting.

GWEN

You would know.

HOWARD

You’re all just jacking off.  Jacking off.

ANGELA

And what do you call this you’re doing?

HOWARD

Social mixing.

ANGELA

Great.  Why don’t you go do it somewhere else?

HOWARD

Because then it wouldn’t be social.

He takes a drink; it doesn’t go down very well.

GWEN

Hey, Howard–guess what?  Nobody’s impressed that you’re drunk.  God, If you could see yourself for one second, you’d crawl home. Don’t you realize nobody’s taken you seriously for thirty years?

HOWARD

Is that my fault?

ANGELA

Howard, go home.

HOWARD

Why?

ANGELA

Because you’re a mean drunk and you won’t remember a word of this–so go home.

GWEN

We’re tired of you.

HOWARD

So am I, but I don’t see how going home’s going to help.

GWEN

Give it a try.  Then write a book about it.

HOWARD

Maybe I will.  Howard Heads Home.  Hubert Horatio Hornblower.  Then I’ll have eight.  Which is, I believe, eight more than anybody else in this room.

ANGELA

We already know you got all the talent, Howard.

HOWARD

Who the hell cares about talent?  All that matters is guts.

ANGELA

Yeah, you got all of those too.

GWEN

And it looks like we’re in for yet another view of them.

HOWARD

(appreciatively)

Ha!

GWEN

If you write a book and nobody cares, does it make a sound?

HOWARD

What do you know?  You can’t even get the local jack-off to take you to bed.

Gwen picks up a half-empty glass.

GWEN

Here, Howard–drink this.

She throws it in his face.  Howard laughs, smacks his lips, and wipes his face.

HOWARD

Nice.  Except you missed.

GWEN

Fuck off.

ANGELA

Howard, go home.

HOWARD

Angela, has it ever occurred to you I may be all you’ve got?

ANGELA

No.

Spencer at last laughs, looking at Howard.

SPENCER

I’ll say this for you, Howard.  You’re still good at your role.

HOWARD

Thanks.  Next I think I’ll try playing a man of affairs.  A shallow, philandering opportunist who saw through the world of ideas from the beginning.

SPENCER

As opposed to a washed-up, pompous drunk?

HOWARD

Yes.  I think I’ll be more convincing as a two-timing, bloodsucking fake.

SPENCER

(laughs)

You are good with words, Howard.  It’s the only thing you’re good at, but you are good at that.

HOWARD

Thank you.  Now what is it you’re good at?  (thinks exaggeratedly)  Nothing’s leaping to mind.  Maybe butt-sniffing your way through life like a poodle?

SPENCER

(laughs)

(to the group)

Did I tell you?

HOWARD

Or knowing your way around that sophomore tail?

ANGELA

Howard, shut up!

SPENCER

(laughs)

The man is living proof you can survive by talking if you’re good enough at it.

HOWARD

People will indeed pay good money to be told what they want to hear.  They might even name an airport after you or something.

SPENCER

They just might.  But isn’t it funny how they don’t seem to pay too much for what they don’t want to hear?

HOWARD

There’s nothing more annoying than people bleeding to death around you.

SPENCER

I know what you mean.

HOWARD

I hate Americans.

SPENCER

Mutual, apparently.

HOWARD

God, you’re a hypocrite.

SPENCER

Like you’re not hanging onto your tit for dear life?

HOWARD

I’ve always believed, if you find a tit, hang on.  (Spencer laughs.)  And I will say this for you: at least you’re willing to pay losers a little–but not too much–to stay in their trailers.

SPENCER

I like working twice as hard so more people can do nothing.

HOWARD

So do I, as long as I get to do nothing.

SPENCER

Who gets to decide what a loser is?

HOWARD

Me.

SPENCER

And what’s worse–a hypocrite or a loser?

HOWARD

Loser.

SPENCER

Not for me.

HOWARD

Well, that’s all you had to say.  It’s so hard to get people to say what they mean these days.  If you don’t like the idea of some welfare queen with indigestion waddling down to the clinic for a Cat-Scan on your tab, say so.

SPENCER

(laughs)

Do you?

HOWARD

Well, put it like this:  the man said the past is not even past, but he was wrong.  It’s a different dimension.  Where everything exists, but doesn’t.  Which is the aim of life–perfect pastness.  It’s like looking at a Norman Rockwell painting.

SPENCER

Howard, what in the hell are you talking about?

HOWARD

If you’ll let me finish.  It has steps–just hold your applause to the end.  That ache of nostalgia that you feel–

ANGELA

That you feel–

HOWARD

Yes.  It’s not for what’s depicted, but for the state of mind that could feel the nostalgia.  You see?

ANGELA

That fatal remove.

HOWARD

It’s not fatal.

GWEN

Howard.  You’re raving.

SPENCER

I waited to the end, Howard, and nothing happened.

HOWARD

Kind of reminds you of life.

SPENCER

Tell you what:  why don’t we all just wear polka dots and piss this country away?

HOWARD

It’d be worth it to see you in polka dots.

SPENCER

Don’t hold your breath.

HOWARD

I won’t.  You know what the problem with squares is?  They don’t have anything else to do so they think they should be running things.

ANGELA

I think it is better when they handle the money.

HOWARD

Yeah, but they try to get it all.

SPENCER

Beats blowing it on bean sprout research.

HOWARD

Nothing you could come up with beats bean sprout research.

SPENCER

It’s hard to compete with a snow job.

HOWARD

Thank you.

SPENCER

You’re amazing, Howard.

HOWARD

In some ways, yes.

SPENCER

Everything just soaks into you.

HOWARD

I’m an old soaker.

SPENCER

And you twist it and justify it away.

HOWARD

Well, that’s a little harsh, Spencer–it’s the art of life.

SPENCER

It’s the art of bullshit.  Talking about things that aren’t things.

HOWARD

I’m sorry.  I’m post-human–it can’t be helped.

SPENCER

Well, as they say, God appears to the wise as wise–

HOWARD

And the stupid appear to the stupid as God.  And once he exists, the most amazing thing he will have created is his own non-existence.  You just try that.

SPENCER

Once he exists?

HOWARD

Well, Spencer, obviously God didn’t create the universe–the universe is creating him.  Like I said–hold your applause to the end.

ANGELA

I think we’ve reached it.

GWEN

We grow weary of you, Howard.

HOWARD

I’ll take that as a compliment.

GWEN

Take it however you like–I’m going home.

RICK

Can I give you a lift?

GWEN

(wobbles for a second)

Sure.

ANGELA

Rick, thanks for coming.  Come again.

RICK

I will.  (looks around at the others)  See you.

He leads Gwen out.

SPENCER

One does reach a saturation point.  (He raises his hand, wallks away.)  Good night.  (as he exits)  Where the hell is that girl?

Howard has grown rather catatonic.  Angela stands looking at him; at last he mechanically takes a drink, which goes down even worse than the last.  He stands there, looking ill and swaying slightly, eyes closed–then with a grimace and groan drops his drink, clutches his chest, and doubles over in pain.

ANGELA

Howard!  (no answer)  Howard, don’t do that!  Are you faking?  Howard!

Howard takes several difficult breaths–finally seems to recover.

HOWARD

You think I’m faking?

ANGELA

No.  I don’t know.

He slowly gains control, stands upright.

ANGELA

Are you all right now?

HOWARD

Lovely.

ANGELA

Can you make it home?

HOWARD

I can waltz home.

ANGELA

Well, don’t.  (studies him for several beats)  I’m going to bed.  (looks at him; he is not very responsive)  What’s wrong with you?

HOWARD

I’m lonely, half desperate, and I have foul memories.

ANGELA

Don’t worry–they’ll go back in their box tomorrow.

HOWARD

The past has bad breath.

ANGELA

So brush your teeth and go to bed.  Good night.

Howard doesn’t look at her, but raises his hand in a good-night salute.  She exits.  He stares downward, swaying.

HOWARD

The last one standing.  As usual.  (wavers)  A dubious distinction.

He laughs an odd, rueful laugh–goes to the sofa, collapses, pulling the quilt draped across the back over himself.  Then his hand emerges, gropes for the light chain on the lamp.  He turns it off, leaving only the terrace lights.  The music keeps playing.  Slow fade to black-out.

Act 4

Late the next morning, flirting with noon.  The still-open terrace doors are admitting a bright wash of morning light, while the family room, cluttered from the night before, lies dim, quiet, and empty.  On the sofa the quilt is a motionless rumple, and the radio, surviving the night, plays softly on.  The static scene confronts the audience for a moment before Stephanie, in sweatsuit pajamas, enters and pauses at the doors.  She yawns and hugs herself in the slightly chilly air, then exits to the kitchen.  The radio stops, and she returns momentarily with a jug of fruit juice and a box of pastries.  She sits down at the table, pours a glass of juice, and takes a pastry.  She is eating it as Spencer, dressed and groomed, enters with his travel bag.

SPENCER

(approaching her)

Oh, good morning, angel.  I’m glad you’re up.

STEPHANIE

Are you leaving?

SPENCER

Yes, we’ve got a plane to catch.

Denise, hardly chipper, appears with her bag and keeps her distance.  He glances over his shoulder at her.

STEPHANIE

When are you coming back?

SPENCER

Oh, you never know.  When are you coming to New York?

STEPHANIE

Well, I guess I’m going to be tied up for a while.

SPENCER

(laughs)

I guess you are.  Maybe at Christmas.  (Stephanie gives an ambivalent nod.)  Well–we’re late.

STEPHANIE

Want something to eat?

SPENCER

Oh no, darling, we don’t have time.  We’ll grab something at the airport.  (She nods.)  Bye bye, angel.  (gives her a kiss; then over his shoulder, coldly)  Ready?

Denise shrugs.  Spencer exits without waiting.  She crosses the room and pauses beside Stephanie.

DENISE

Hey, good luck to you.  (Stephanie nods.)  You’ll do great.

STEPHANIE

Thanks.

Denise exits.  Stephanie only glances after them, then returns to her breakfast.  A few moments pass; then a hungover Angela enters, tying her dressing gown.  She reacts like Dracula to the morning light.

ANGELA

My God, is something on fire?  (turns to Stephanie)  You wouldn’t be an angel and pour me a glass of that, would you?

STEPHANIE

I wouldn’t, but I would.

ANGELA

What is it?

STEPHANIE

(reads the label)

“A medley of artificially-flavored fruit juices.”

ANGELA

Okay, I won’t argue.  (takes the proffered glass)  Thank you.  (takes a deep drink)  Ah-h!  God sends his rain to the just and the unjust.

She sits down.

STEPHANIE

Dad just left.

ANGELA

Did he?

STEPHANIE

And his–whatever.

ANGELA

Companion.  What are those?  (gestures at the pastries)

STEPHANIE

“Artificially-flavored Cinnamon Danish Breakfast Bars.”

She pushes them toward Angela, who takes one and inspects it.

ANGELA

Is it me buying this junk?  (takes a bite)

STEPHANIE

(after watching her for two or three beats)

Dad sort of invited me to visit him at Christmas.  (Angela stops chewing and her expression changes.)  But I’ll probably just come home.  (Angela begins to sniffle.)  Oh Mom, for God’s sake, please don’t do that.

ANGELA

I can’t help it.

STEPHANIE

Of course I’m coming home for Christmas.

ANGELA

(collecting herself)

Well–packing day today.  Everything you’re ashamed of, leave with me–including me.  Everything else, take with you.  As long as it fits in Howard’s car.

STEPHANIE

My roommate told me she’s bringing a 36” Sony.

ANGELA

Sony what?

STEPHANIE

TV, Mom.

ANGELA

You’d both be better off if she left it at home.

STEPHANIE

It’s only a TV–it’s not like it’s lethal.

ANGELA

Yes it is.  I’ve gone to a lot of trouble keeping you away from that thing and giving you a love of books.  You should be grateful you learned to read.

STEPHANIE

(in mock peevishness)

Yeah, and I bet I’ll be the only girl in the whole dorm who can!

Angela smiles, takes another drink as a disheveled and barefoot Si, in tee-shirt and sweat pants, enters from the terrace and sits down.  He pretends to sniff the air.

STEPHANIE

Hand me a glass.

He finds a coffee mug, blows in it, and sets it down.  Stephanie pours him some juice and pushes the pastries towards him.  He drinks the juice in one long swallow.

SI

Ah-h-h!  (leans over, reads the label)  Ah ha!  I thought I caught a hint of mango.  (takes a pastry)

ANGELA

Late night?

SI

Fairly.  (Angela regards him frankly for a moment; he takes a bite.)  What?  (Angela just looks at him.)  Okay.  She made me, I swear. She was like a shark and I was the blood in the water.

STEPHANIE

God, Si!  That’s so gross!

SI

Oh come on, Steph–it’s not gross.  It’s–sleazy, but it’s not gross.  Please.  I think she was making some kind of statement.

ANGELA

Who was the statementee?

SI

I’m not sure.

STEPHANIE

(turns away)

God.

SI

Stephanie, please.  What was I supposed to do?

ANGELA

Just drop it.  (shakes her head with a twinge of self-disgust)  At least you weren’t in front of everybody.

SI

Well, yes, I was adamant about that.

ANGELA

God–Dr. Gould.  Did I embarrass myself?

SI

Just call him Rick.

STEPHANIE

Yes.

SI

No.

ANGELA

(to Stephanie)

Did I really?

STEPHANIE

Well, just sort of.

ANGELA

Well, you know what?  I don’t care.  If there’s anything I can’t stand, it’s a grown man whining.

SI

Did he whine?

ANGELA

He whined.

SI

Well, somebody’s got to do it.  As Howard would say.

STEPHANIE

As one who gets paid for it.

SI

As your dad would say.

ANGELA

Howard says a lot of things.  Most of them designed to justify Howard being Howard.

SI

Somebody’s got to do it.

ANGELA

I don’t know why.

SI

Because, Angela, if Howard didn’t exist, it would be necessary to invent him.

ANGELA

And if he did exist, it would be necessary to shut him up.  Though nobody’s found a way to do that yet.

SI

Jack Daniels’ll do it.

ANGELA

Yeah, but it takes all night.

SI

Ah, what can you do?  You know, I think I detected a little nip of fall out there this morning.

ANGELA

No talk of fall, please.

SI

I thought you liked fall.

ANGELA

I used to.

STEPHANIE

I like fall.  And winter too.

SI

If I looked like you in a sweater, so would I.

Gwen appears on the terrace, worse for the wear, her head tied in a scarf.

GWEN

(entering)

How much are you charging?

STEPHANIE

A hundred dollars a glass.

GWEN

I’ll pay it.  (gets a glass; Stephanie pours her some juice; she drinks)  Ah-h-h.  (brief pause; she takes a pastry)  Okay, how bad was it?

SI

Totally minor.

GWEN

Are you sure?

ANGELA

You didn’t do anything.  Except leave with my date.

STEPHANIE

Mom, he wasn’t your date.

ANGELA

I know.  And I don’t care anyway.  You can have him.  (pause)  So what happened?

GWEN

Well, yes, he drove me home.  The entire hundred yards.  When we got there, he turned off the motor and tried to tell me his life story–beginning with the immigration of his great-grandparents.  It was sobering me up, so I had to do something.

ANGELA

Don’t tell me.

GWEN

Well, it was either that or listen to him.  He was only up to his first divorce.

STEPHANIE

I can’t believe it!  God, was there a full moon last night or something?

SI

Almost.  Actually the full moon is tonight.

STEPHANIE

That is so insane you know that.

SI

I think it’s more insane you don’t know it.

STEPHANIE

Then everybody’s insane–except you.

SI

That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.  How could somebody possibly not know what phase the moon is in at any given time?

STEPHANIE

(rolls her eyes)

God.  You people–

GWEN

Oh, don’t make more out of it than it was.  Let me tell you, nothing is romantic when your head is spinning.  I’m just wondering now how to get him out of the house.  But I’m relieved to learn, if I did make an ass out of myself, at least it wasn’t in front of everybody.

STEPHANIE

Why are you all so worried about making an ass out of yourself in front of everybody?

ANGELA

You have to ask that?

GWEN

However, I will say–when it comes to making an ass out of yourself in front of everybody, we’re just amateurs.

ANGELA

(beat pause)

Well–that’s hardly fair.

SI

You’re talking about a different dimension.

ANGELA

An art form.

They laugh.

STEPHANIE

I don’t think it’s funny.

ANGELA

Well, it’s really all there is for it to be, baby.

STEPHANIE

He hurts people.

ANGELA

But they hurt him too.

GWEN

Just call it a drinking problem.

SI

Compounded by a massive case of obnoxious personality disorder.

ANGELA

He had one of his spells last night.

GWEN

Oh please.

ANGELA

No, I think it might have been real.

SI

He’s been to the doctor, hasn’t he?

ANGELA

Of course not.

GWEN

He knows what they’ll tell him.  He’s the classic profile.  And–he’s that age.  Do you know how many people die in their late fifties?

Two hands appear at the upper end of the rumpled quilt on the sofa, out of view of the others, and slowly turn it down, revealing Howard’s head.  He is wide awake and listening intently.

ANGELA

No, and I don’t want to.

GWEN

It’s such and such a percent.  They’ve done studies.  I read it somewhere.  The first big wave of deaths in a generation is people in their late fifties.  They just drop dead.  The next wave is people in their seventies, and that gets most of the rest–which only leaves a few who actually survive to write their memoirs.

SI

And who wants to read about somebody who drank prune juice and jogged for ninety years?

ANGELA

Somebody who drank prune juice and jogged for ninety years.

GWEN

See?  The meek do inherit the earth.  They’re all that’s left in the end, passing around their memoirs, saying “do you remember that crazy woman–what was her name?”

SI

Kind of makes you want to die in your late fifties.

ANGELA

Unless you’re in your late fifties.

SI

Knowing God’s sense of humor, he’ll probably outlive us all.

GWEN

If there’s anything to the pickling theory.

ANGELA

Just don’t tell him that–he’d be so disappointed.

GWEN

Why?

ANGELA

Oh good Lord, that’s his fondest fantasy–imagining us all bawling at his funeral, talking about what a legend he was.

SI

We won’t be bawling–we’ll be too busy dividing up his stuff.

GWEN

And cleaning the empties out of his basement.

ANGELA

I don’t think we’ll be doing too much dividing.  He has two children, remember.

GWEN

Who haven’t been here for fifteen years.

ANGELA

They’ll be here for that.

SI

Why?  To fight over his ‘69 Buick Skylark, and try to get the deposit back on that roach-infested apartment?

ANGELA

No, I think they’ll be more interested in the will.

GWEN

The will?  What’s he got to will?

ANGELA

Ha!

SI

What’s that supposed to mean?

ANGELA

It means that not even God knows how much Howard is worth–but believe me, he could buy us all if he wanted to.

SI

Oh, come on.

ANGELA

You didn’t think he spent it all on whiskey, did you?

SI

Well, actually, yes, I did.

ANGELA

Well, guess again.  Just don’t tell him I told you–it embarrasses him.

GWEN

So–he’s going to be one of these they find shoeboxes crammed with money under his bed when he dies?

ANGELA

It’s not under his bed.

SI

So what’s he planning to do with it?

ANGELA

Well, I think that’s the very question that bothers him more than anything else.

GWEN

It’s not complicated.  His kids will get it.  And those of us who’ve entertained him all these years won’t get a dime.

SI

What else would he do?

ANGELA

Well, I don’t know.  Maybe an endowed chair or something like that.

Howard covers up his head again.

SI

(laughs)

An endowed chair?  Howard?

ANGELA

Or, I don’t know–a lecture series maybe.

SI

Oh, come on.  You’re talking about Howard giving money to that place?  All I’ve ever heard him say is what fools and morons they all are.

ANGELA

I’m not talking about what he says–I’m talking about what he thinks.

SI

That’s pretty hard to believe.

GWEN

A martini bar in the Student Center maybe.

SI

Or a statue of himself.  (reflects)  But, I don’t know.  I guess you would eventually reach a point where you’d start worrying about how they’re going to remember you.

GWEN

I’m going to remember him as a lasher and a weaver.

SI

A masher and a pee-er.

They laugh.  Two or three beats of reflection–then a groan issues from the sofa and Howard bestirs himself as though just awaking.  Everyone turns in astonishment and stares.  A few more seconds pass.  Howard groans again and sits up, still in his clothes, his hair outrageous.  He stares ahead groggily, rubs his face, and finally looks over his shoulder with a gesture of surprise at the thunderstruck group.

HOWARD

Who are you?  (No one answers.)  That’s okay, don’t tell me–let me piece it together for myself.  I’m in somebody’s house, right?  (still no response; he stands up, rubs his face again, turns on the lamp, looks at them)  Hm.  You’re still there.  I’m beginning to entertain the outrageous theory that you are real.  (no response; he approaches the table)  May I have some juice, or is this a full-fledged shunning?  (Stephanie pours him a glass.)  Thank you, dear.  (drinks a long swallow and sits down with a painful grunt; the table is silent; he takes a pastry, looks around at everyone, and rubs his face again; a few seconds pass)  Okay.  I’m sorry.  (pause)  Jesus, was it that bad?  (no response)  Look, why don’t we start with a clear, factual account of what I did–and then go from there?  (Everyone shifts a bit, but no one answers.)  Whew–it must have been bad.  (takes a drink)

ANGELA

We’re just surprised to see you, Howard.

HOWARD

I killed somebody and you’re worried about the body.  You’re trying to protect me; I’m touched.

ANGELA

No, you didn’t kill anybody.  You just offended and disgusted everybody in the house.

HOWARD

Is that all?

ANGELA

It’s enough.

HOWARD

I can only offer my heartfelt apology.  Offending people is one thing–but disgusting them–

He shakes his head, drinks, seems reflective.  Angela studies him for a moment.

ANGELA

How do you feel?

HOWARD

I feel bad.

ANGELA

Good.

HOWARD

Fortunately, I’ve found a clean, well-lighted place.

GWEN

We’ve decided you should see a doctor.

Howard turns to her in surprise.

HOWARD

A doctor?  My God, it’s only a hangover.

GWEN

We’re not talking about your hangover.

HOWARD

(waves it away)

Oh, what do doctors know anyway?  Fred Chambers went to a doctor once a week, and he died.

ANGELA

Fred Chambers had a serious heart disease, Howard.

HOWARD

Exactly.  So what good did it do him?

ANGELA

(considers him for a couple of beats)

I know there’s a Howardian logic in that, but it escapes me.

HOWARD

Yes, I know it does.  (reflectively)  God, I worked with the man for twenty-five years.  Drank with him.  Played poker with him.  Now there is no him.  I don’t get it.  (falls contemplative; everyone is looking at him)  Actually, I had a dream about him last night.

GWEN

You mean hallucination?

HOWARD

Well, possibly.  Actually, it wasn’t about him–he was just in it.  Briefly.  Sort of a cameo.

ANGELA

Dragging chains and warning you to go to the doctor.

HOWARD

(abstracted)

No.  He was just in it toward the end.  And he looked good.

ANGELA

The afterlife must agree with him.

HOWARD

I guess.  (deep in reflection)  I was in this–maze–like a library.  Shelves reaching up, disappearing overhead.  Corridors in every direction.  Every time you came to the end of one, there’d be another one.

SI

This is obvious metaphor for your pish.

STEPHANIE

Shut up, Si.

HOWARD

And the shelves had all these strange things on them.

GWEN

Not books?

HOWARD

Well, yes, some.  But other things.  Little silver tubes.  A glowing blue ball.  A container of lavender liquid with an orange fish swimming in it.  A piece of driftwood that looked like a different face from every angle.  A little tree made out of light.  Carvings.  Rocks.  A music box.  A slowly revolving feather.  That sort of thing.

SI

Mm.

HOWARD

And every now and then there’d be somebody sitting on the floor holding one of them–just sitting there in a sort of trance.

He imitates this, holding his hands apart.  Everyone looks at him as he remains this way, staring vacantly.  Angela stands it as long as she can.

ANGELA

Okay, Howard, thank you.

HOWARD

(bestirs himself)

I just kept walking.  Occasionally stepping over people.  Until finally I started to hear the sound of wind, and it got louder and louder, and I came to the end.

GWEN

(pause)

Of what?

HOWARD

Well–of everything.  It just stopped.  And it was all sort of flapping in the wind.

ANGELA

What was?

HOWARD

I don’t know.  Loose ends.  And the wind was cold–and I looked out into this deep blue endless void.

SI

Did you jump?

HOWARD

Oh no.  No, no.  It was such a lonely feeling.  Not scary–just lonely.  Primordially lonely.  And then I turned around and down the corridor there was this bear.  Looking at me.

GWEN

Oh, Howard, for God’s sake!

HOWARD

I’m just telling you my dream.

GWEN

You didn’t dream it, you’re making it up.

HOWARD

What’s the difference?

SI

Did the bear attack?

HOWARD

No.  Not at all.  In fact, he was quite a friendly bear.  He started towards me with an incredibly affectionate look on his face–a needful look.

GWEN

So this is autobiographical?

HOWARD

Perhaps.  I reached out and stroked his head, and he closed his eyes and sort of growled.  Then he rolled over on his back, and I rubbed his stomach, and he wiggled his paws and went “ur-r-r-r-r-.”

ANGELA

(laughs)

Howard, please.

HOWARD

And after that, he followed me.

SI

Where?

HOWARD

Well, we turned into this one corridor, and it seemed to lead down to an opening.  We went there, and it led into this enormous room, and do you know what it was?

SI

A banquet.

HOWARD

(looks at him in surprise)

How did you know?

SI

I just had a feeling.

HOWARD

It stretched forever in every direction–filled with tables–and people eating and drinking, but nobody talking to anybody else.  Just sitting there.  I didn’t recognize a soul, not a soul.  And I had to walk around a long time before I finally found an empty chair.  So I sat down, and the bear flopped down right beside me, and there was Fred Chambers sitting next to me, and he put a glass of sparkling red liquid in front of me.  I took a drink and it was very good.  Like, I don’t know, a medley of fruit juices.  And everybody just sat there, staring straight ahead, so I did too.  And I felt very happy.  In my place.

GWEN

So what happened?

HOWARD

Well–that was it.

GWEN

How anticlimactic.

HOWARD

Dreams don’t have climaxes.

SI

Some do.

GWEN

Well, I hate to tell you, Howard, but Hollywood’s not going to have anything to do with it.

SI

Not without a helicopter-based rescue at the end.

HOWARD

There was no need to be rescued.

GWEN

Well, you’re doomed to play the art-house circuit then.

ANGELA

He’s used to it.

Stephanie stands up, stretches.

STEPHANIE

I liked your dream, Howard.  I’m going to take a shower.

SI

Dream, then shower.  Sounds familiar.

STEPHANIE

If you say so.

She exits.

GWEN

I think she’s got the idea.  Oh, that sounds nice.  And then a nap.  A long Sunday afternoon nap.

She finishes her juice and stands up.

ANGELA

What about your guest?

GWEN

I’m hoping he took this opportunity to skulk out.  And if he didn’t, I’ll skulk in.  Ta ta.

She exits.

SI

So, how do you interpret your dream, Howard?

HOWARD

I don’t interpret anything on weekends.

SI

Well, that probably works out best for everybody.

HOWARD

No question.

SI

(finishes his juice)

Well, I think our work’s about done here.  (stands up and loudly stretches)  I’m foreseeing an afternoon on the couch with the crossword puzzle and golf.

ANGELA

It’s amazing to me how anybody could actually watch something so boring.

SI

I have the sound off.

ANGELA

Even more boring.

SI

Angela, you’ve never tried it.  It’s not boring at all.  It’s perfect.  If you don’t look at it, it doesn’t matter.  If you do look at it–

ANGELA

It doesn’t matter.

SI

Exactly.

ANGELA

Mm.

SI

There’s a Zen-like quality to it.  Nothing is more capable of inducing the transcendent state of mind than muted golf.

ANGELA

I’ll take the muted–you can have the golf.

SI

That’s called a nap.

ANGELA

I know.

SI

Well, in that case, I wish you pleasant dreams.

He exits.

ANGELA

(after a moment)

You know what scares me?

HOWARD

What?

ANGELA

How much you forget.

HOWARD

How much I forget?

ANGELA

No.  Anybody.

HOWARD

I don’t know why it would scare you.  It ought to make you happy.  I wish I could forget even more of it.

ANGELA

Well, it doesn’t.  Haven’t you ever had somebody remind you of something from years ago you had totally forgotten, and you know if they hadn’t said something it would have been gone forever?  Just–gone?

HOWARD

All the time.

ANGELA

Well, where does it go?

HOWARD

Same place deleted e-mails do.

ANGELA

Yes.  That’s what your whole life is.  A deleted e-mail.

HOWARD

Well, there’s the Akashic records.

ANGELA

The what?

HOWARD

Where everything is recorded.

ANGELA

Everything?

HOWARD

So they say.

ANGELA

(thinks)

I can’t decide if that’s comforting or not.

HOWARD

Might as well say it is.

ANGELA

(reflects briefly)

Okay.  It is.

She rouses herself, finishes her juice, gets to her feet.

ANGELA

Sunday afternoon, Howard.

HOWARD

In all its glory.

ANGELA

What are you going to do?

HOWARD

Oh God, there are a hundred things I need to do–

ANGELA

But you’re not going to do any of them, are you?

HOWARD

Of course not.

Angela yawns, and exits.  Howard, left alone, sits contemplatively for a moment, then finishes his juice, rises, and returns to the sofa.  He sits down, thinks some more, then reclines and pulls the quilt over him.  A few seconds pass; then he reaches up and turns off the lamp.  Lower room goes dim.  “Vicksburg” softly playing as the terrace lights slowly fade to black-out.