The Best American Short Plays 2010-2011 Page 26
STARS (TWINKLING)
A gift. To them all. But the factor the older brother had failed to account for was the sheer disorientation that occurs when one is submerged underwater with no air and no light. Meaning that, once he slipped under the tarp, the younger boy had no way to judge which direction to swim in toward safety.
Slide: PICTURES IN YOUR HEAD:
HANDS (SUBMERGING)
FINGERS (GRASPING)
TARP (RISING)
So when it came time to lift the corner and pull it back, to expose the younger brother to the darkness and stars and above all air, when he finally pulled it back...his brother wasn’t there.
Slide: SOUNDS IN YOUR HEAD:
AS BEFORE, BUT SUBSIDING
He reached into the black water then, frantically searching for something, a blond head of hair, a goofy ear, a gloved fist.
Slide: SOUNDS IN YOUR HEAD:
SUBSIDING
He strained until it hurt, until every fiber of his arm, from the shoulder blade to the fingertips, was alight with what all but perhaps the lobster would recognize and categorize as pain. Nothing.
Slide: SOUNDS IN YOUR HEAD:
. . .
There was nothing he could reach.
[Slide out.]
Slide: A PAUSE
[A pause. No water this time. Slide out.]
In studies of the subject, the distinction is often made between two different components of pain: the physical and the emotional. The physical component is where the sensation comes from, but it is the emotional component that makes the sensation a bad one. A lobster in a pot may struggle and slam itself repeatedly against the sides, the lid...but we do not know whether the slamming and struggling comes from the experience of a bad sensation, or simply from the automatic response of its muscle fiber to a substance that is rapidly enveloping and destroying it. You will notice that nowhere in there does anyone so much as mention the third possibility: that the lobster might actually be afraid.
Slide: PICTURES IN YOUR HEAD:
POOL
POLICE
POLICE LIGHTS
This is what the older boy reminded himself as the police hauled back the black tarp and shone their lights down on the body of his little brother, floating facedown, gloved hands red and weirdly reminiscent of those of a smaller, more chitinous animal with whom he seemed to share a few things in common.
Slide: PICTURE IN YOUR HEAD:
BOXING GLOVES
The older brother reminded himself that he had almost certainly failed. That his kid brother, who had always been so brave, so reckless, moving through the world with the eager abandon of a child giant...that his brother probably didn’t feel a thing. And was, up to and including the final moment of his life, almost certainly not scared.
[Slide out.]
Remarkably (or perhaps not so) the word “deliberate” was never used.
Slide: accident (ak•si•dent) n. an unfortunate incident that happens unexpectedly and unintentionally, usually resulting in damage or injury
The older brother was assumed not to have committed the crime on purpose, in much the same way that he was assumed not to have written an opera. And the events of that autumn fell away, brushed slowly aside to rest beneath the category of “neighborhood tragedy.” Which all had a strange effect on the older brother.
Slide: PICTURE IN YOUR HEAD:
A LOBSTER
He found himself unable to feel anything about the situation. One way or the other. He recognized the absence of his brother. He recognized that at one time he had both adored and despised the little boy in an ever-shifting, ever-churning mixture. But now, he could feel nothing. No guilt. No sadness. And though it probably goes without saying, certainly no pain.
[Slide out.]
The older brother grew up to be a teacher, and now, in a choice bit of irony, works in the very same high school he attended back in those days. He stands in a classroom all day, five days a week, and lectures on mathematics to a group of bored and vaguely angry-looking kids. Sometimes for complicated equations, he uses slides or an overhead. But lately. Lately, he’s started doing something new. Something probably not quite legal, though it would be difficult to define the crime in it exactly. Lately, he sneaks in at night.
Slide: PICTURE IN YOUR HEAD:
STARS (TWINKLING)
When all but the janitors are gone. Sneaks into the classroom he’d sat in long ago when that magical plan had unfolded itself inside his mind. He sets up his slides, fills a glass of water...and he lectures. The lecture he gives at night is to nobody at all, and concerns nothing anyone would understand. Pots and lobsters and a pair of young boys. If pressed, he could not adequately explain why he does it. If pressed, he would simply stare at you, silently, with a pair of eyes not quite his own.
Slide: A FOURTEEN-YEAR-OLD BOY WITH AN OPERA IN HIS EYES
Slide: AN OPERA IN HIS EYES
Slide: HIS EYES
[Slide out.]
If you ask me, though...if you want to know what I think...I’d say he is actively attempting, on a nightly basis, to scare the complete and thorough Jesus out of himself.
[The final few moments of Mozart’s “Nel sen mi palpita dolente il core” rush in to fill our ears. The MAN simply stares at us, expressionless.]
Slide: BLACKOUT
[Everything, including the slide, cuts out.]
• • •
You’re Invited!
Darren Canady
You’re Invited! by Darren Canady. Copyright © 2012 by Darren Canady. All rights reserved. Reprinted by permission of the author.
CAUTION/ADVICE: Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned that performance of You’re Invited! is subject to a royalty. It is fully protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America, and of all countries covered by the International Copyright Union (including the Dominion of Canada and the rest of the British Commonwealth), and of all countries covered by the Pan-American Copyright Convention and the Universal Copyright Convention, the Berne Convention, and of all countries with which the United States has reciprocal copyright relations. All rights, including professional and amateur stage performing rights, motion picture, recitation, lecturing, public reading, radio broadcasting, television, video or sound recording, all other forms of mechanical or electronic reproduction, such as CD-ROM, DVD-ROM, information storage and retrieval systems, and photocopying, and the rights of translation into foreign languages, are strictly reserved. Particular emphasis is placed upon the matter of readings, permission for which must be secured from the author’s agent in writing.
Inquiries concerning rights should be addressed to Darren Canady at dmc425@nyu.edu.
Darren Canady
Darren Canady hails from Topeka, Kansas. His play False Creeds was named the winner of the Alliance Theater’s Kendeda Graduate Playwriting Competition and was also workshopped at the O’Neill Playwrights Conference in 2006. False Creeds was also a finalist for the Abingdon Theatre Company’s Christopher Brian Wolk Award and the Goldberg Prize in Playwriting. Another play, Brothers of the Dust, has received recognition in the Lorraine Hansberry Playwriting Competition, the Theodore Ward Prize for African American Playwriting, and the James W. Rodgers Playwriting Competition, and will be produced by Congo Square Theatre in Spring 2011 (Black Excellence Award, BTAA Award, Jeff Award nomination). His ten-minute play He Was Mine but Then You Took Him received a production at NYU and competed at the Region II Festival of the Kennedy Center American College Theatre Festival. He Was Mine was also a finalist for the Actors Theatre of Louisville’s 2006 Heideman Playwriting Award. How Theo Changed His Name, an opera for which Canady provided the libretto, had its premiere through the Pittsburgh (Pennsylvania) Symphony Orchestra. His work has been seen at the Quo Vadimus Arts’ ID America Festival, the Fremont Centre Theatre, Chicago’s Congo Square Theatre, and the BE Company. Canady holds a BA in creative writing from Carnegie Mellon University and an MFA in dramatic writing from New York U
niversity. He was a 2006–2007 fellow in the Juilliard School’s Lila Acheson Wallace American Playwrights Program, and is a former member of Primary Stages’ Dorothy Strelsin New Writers Group. He is a member of the Old Vic Theatre’s Old Vic New Voices Network, where he participated in the 2010 T. S. Eliot US/UK Exchange. He currently teaches playwriting at the University of Kansas.
• • • Production History • • •
You’re Invited! was originally developed as part of the Old Vic Theatre’s 2010 T. S. Eliot US/UK Exchange partnership with the Public Theatre. It was subsequently produced in May 2010 at the Old Vic in London, UK.
Characters
PAUL
JEREMY
WILL , Paul’s partner
TERRI , Jeremy’s wife, black
MAGGIE
All characters are late 20s/early 30s.
Setting
The kitchen of PAUL and WILL’s upscale home. An upscale kitchen.
• • •
[From offstage, we hear “Happy Birthday to You” being sung. Mid-song, the voices suddenly cut off. Quick moment of silence, then shouts of “Mikey!” “Ohmigod!” “Stop! Stop!” Kids crying. Moments later, PAUL enters carrying the remnants of a birthday cake. JEREMY is fast behind him.]
JEREMY Paul! Oh my God, I—I—I—I’m so sorry!
PAUL Look. You didn’t do it. It’s...it’s fine.
JEREMY No, no, no—it’s not. Oh God. I’m so really sorry—I don’t know what got into him!
[WILL enters carrying the rest of the cake.]
PAUL Too much punch, I guess.
JEREMY Really. I’m really sorry!
PAUL Listen. It’s fine.
WILL Are you nuts?! His kid pissed on Logan’s birthday cake!
PAUL Will. Please.
JEREMY Will. I’m really sorry—
WILL I mean, what the hell are we supposed to do with chocolate ice cream piss cake?!
JEREMY We’ll make it up to you. I swear.
WILL Are you gonna make it up to my kid?
PAUL Okay Will, you can dial down the dramatics.
[TERRI enters, checkbook in hand.]
TERRI Okay. How much was the cake?
JEREMY Right, right. The least we can do is pay for the cake.
WILL Well, I mean, you gonna pay for the entire party? ’Cuz the whole thing is ruined!
JEREMY Sure, sure, just name a price—
TERRI Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait a minute, Jeremy. Look, I’m sorry for Mikey’s accident—
WILL “Accident”?!
TERRI But I’m not footing the entire bill for this Prada and Gucci dog-and-pony show you’re passing off as a toddler’s birthday party.
JEREMY Terri—
WILL Excuse us for having a little class. We didn’t know we were inviting the neighborhood golden shower machine to our son’s birthday party.
PAUL Will!
TERRI Hold up—what did you just call our son?!
PAUL The party is not ruined, Will. There’s still the—balloon artist guy coming—and that magician—
WILL Of course it’s ruined! I mean, do you hear that out there?! We’ve got a fucking Mormon Tabernacle Choir’s worth of crying kids ’cuz there’s no cake. Correction: there’s a cake—it’s just marinating in piss at the moment.
JEREMY Where’d you get it from? Cold Stone Creamery or something? We can run down right now and get another...
PAUL No, it was a special order. That new bakery downtown. Listen—
TERRI Well, we won’t be running anywhere until I get an apology from Will.
JEREMY C’mon, Terri.
WILL Apologize for what?!
TERRI “Golden shower machine”?! Let me tell you something—
[MAGGIE enters. She’s carrying a bottle of beer with her.]
MAGGIE Hey, guys, just wanted to let you know, it’s gettin’ a little tense out there between Logan and the pee-pee kid—
TERRI His name is Mikey.
PAUL Umm—is that a beer?
MAGGIE Oh. Yeah. I brought it in my cooler, if you guys want—
PAUL No, thanks. Uh, Maggie, we don’t allow drinking around Logan.
MAGGIE Oh. Okay. Just so you know, I’m not, like, giving it to him.
PAUL It’s just a rule we have—
MAGGIE Cool, whatever, but you’ve got bigger problems. Logan’s trying to mow Mikey down with the tricycle you bought him.
JEREMY What?!
TERRI Great. Now he’s trying to kill my son.
WILL He was clearly provoked. I’ll go break it up.
[WILL dashes out.]
JEREMY I better go help.
[JEREMY exits.]
PAUL Listen, Terri, I’m sorry about what Will said. He just—wanted this to be a good time for Logan.
TERRI I get that, but the kid’s four years old. He won’t even remember half of it.
MAGGIE He sure will remember the fresh smell of piss and chocolate ice cream, though.
TERRI You’re not helping.
MAGGIE Aw, c’mon—laugh a little. I mean, did you see Logan’s face?! That shit’s a YouTube sensation waiting to happen.
PAUL Okay, I’m all for not blowing this out of proportion, but I don’t find anything funny about it.
MAGGIE My kid laughed.
PAUL And don’t you think that was pretty mean?
MAGGIE Eh, Brian’s a little prick—I never take it personal.
PAUL My God, he’s a toddler.
TERRI Exactly. Which means they’re going to cry and pee at parties and pick fights, and we just come behind and clean up. So, anyway, this check for the cake. How much was it?
PAUL Don’t worry about it.
TERRI No, lemme have it. If I don’t write this check, Jeremy will never let me hear the end of it.
PAUL No. It’s all right—
MAGGIE Dude. Just take the money.
PAUL Look, y’know, maybe you guys...can...have us over for dinner or something...
TERRI Or you can just tell me how much the cake was and we can be done with it.
PAUL Fine!...Four twenty-five.
[Beat.]
TERRI Shut the front door—!
MAGGIE Are you fucking kidding me?!
TERRI Tell me you mean four dollars and twenty-five cents.
PAUL I told you we wanted it to be special—
MAGGIE Ohmigod—you’re serious!
TERRI For four hundred and twenty-five dollars, that damn cake shoulda been able to wash off Mike’s pee and follow it up with a tap dance and a Vegas floor show!
PAUL Look! We just wanted to show Logan how much we love him—
MAGGIE Oh, and if you don’t spend money like water, you don’t love your kid?
PAUL That’s not what I’m saying—
TERRI Swear to God, that’s almost as much as our wedding cake! Do you seriously expect me to fork that over?
PAUL No, which is why I said to drop it!
[JEREMY and WILL re-enter.]
JEREMY Crisis averted—the magician’s here!
MAGGIE And what’re his rates—a grand an hour?
PAUL Great. This is why I didn’t want to say anything.
TERRI Well, I hope you’re happy, Jeremy. We now own a one-of-a-kind, three-tiered, chocolate pee-pee monument to Will and Paul’s love for Logan that’s only gonna set us back four hundred and twenty-five dollars.
JEREMY Four hundred and twenty-five dollars?!
WILL It was a special order.
JEREMY From where—the Magical Land of Fairy Cakes?
WILL “Fairy Cakes”?! What’s that supposed to mean?!
JEREMY Oh—oh—oh no—oh my God—n-n-no—that’s not what I—I would never! No, I just meant—oh God—my stupid mouth—
TERRI No, your stupid guilt! You keep it up, they’ll have us paying their mortgage too.
WILL Well, clearly you owe us something since you failed at potty training.
MAGGIE I’ll drink to that.
TERRI Why are you
even in here?!
MAGGIE Cheap entertainment.
PAUL Okay, look, look, look—we can settle this. Terri, if you don’t want to pay us, then don’t.
JEREMY No, no, I mean—we should—we have to give you something.
PAUL Fine, whatever, just write a random number on the check, hand it over, and we’ll be done.
TERRI Fine.
[She begins to write.]
Just so we’re clear, it’s not that we can’t afford it, y’know. We’re not broke. It’s—it’s principle. I mean, it’s a flippin’ cake. You can get one at Dairy Queen for like thirty bucks.
WILL Did it ever occur to you that maybe some people prefer their purchases to be slightly above bargain basement?
TERRI Are you calling me cheap?
PAUL No, no, that’s not what he meant—
TERRI Because clearly, I spend money on things that matter. That daycare our kids go to costs an arm and a leg!
WILL It sure does, but Mikey being there makes me think they’re not screening their candidates close enough.
TERRI Lucky for you, since no one would take a spoiled crybaby like Logan.
JEREMY Okay, okay, okay—that’s enough! This is supposed to be a party, right? I mean, we’re friends, right? Or—at least—our kids are. Not thirty minutes ago we were joking and having a good time. Can we please just...go back to that? We’re the adults here, okay? We’re cool. We can talk—or—chat—I mean, someday we’re gonna really laugh about this. This could be the beginning of a great—circle of friends! Yeah...?
[There is a pause. Perhaps this will work?]
MAGGIE Eh—I think you all are bitch-asses.
PAUL What?!
MAGGIE Yeah, y’know, I didn’t really want to come over here to the party in the first place, but I thought, what the hell—I’m goin’ bass-ackwards broke payin’ for my kid’s daycare, he oughta at least get to hang out with his friends. Tell ya the truth, as soon as I saw you guys lived over here I was like, “Shit man, that neighborhood’s crawling with rich snobs and their McClaren strollers and organic soy baby milk and hybrid cars.” And like, the piss cake was entertaining and all, but y’all really are douches.