Time Line for a Character.

User Generated

Zven1

Humanities

Description

2 pages, in August Osage County, Bill is an important character. make a time line for the character since birth. for example, what shaped their character? Living in Oklahoma, how does this made their way of living? The next 3 pages, need the overall of the play and the characters.

Unformatted Attachment Preview

AUGUST: OSAGE COUNTY BY TRACY LETTS The Weston Family: Beverly Weston, sixty-nine years old Violet Weston, Bev's wife, sixty~five years ,old Barbara Fordham, Bev and Violet's daughter, forty-six years old Bill Fordham, her husband, forty-nine years old Jean Fordham, their daughter, fourteen years old Ivy Weston, Bev and Violet's daughter, forty-four years old Karen Weston, Bev and Violet's daughter, forty years old Mattie Fae Aiken, Violet's sister, fifty-seven years old Charlie Aiken, Mattie Fay's husband, sixty years old Little Charles Aiken .. their son, thirty-seven years old Others: Johnna Monevata, housekeeper, twenty-six years old Steve Heidebrecht, Karen's fiance, fifty years old Sheriff Deon Gilbeau, forty-seven years old Place A large country home outside Pawhuska, Oklahoma, sixty miles northwest of Tulsa. Time August 2007 Prologue A rambling country house outside Pawhuska, Oklahoma, sixty miles northwest of Tulsa. More than a century old, the house was probably built by a clan of successful Irish homesteaders. Additions, renovations and repairs have essentially modernized the house until I972 or so, when all structural care ceased. The First Floor: The three main playing areas are separated by entryways. Stage-right, the dining room. The Mission-style table seats eight; the matching sideboard holds the fine china. A tatty crystal-tiered chandelier hangs over the table and casts a gloomy yellow light. An archway upstage leads to a sitting room. A rotary-dial telephone rests on a small side table, beside an upholstered chair. Further upstage, a doorway leads to a hallway, off. Downstage-center, the living room. Hide-a-bed, TV, hi-fi turntable, Wurlitzer electric piano. Left, the study. A medium-sized desk is piled with books, legal pads, manila folders, notepaper. An archway upstage leads to the house's front door, landing, and a stairway to the second floor. Further upstage, a doorway opens onto a partial view of the kitchen. Far left, the front porch, strewn with dead grass and a few rolled-up small-town newspapers. The Second Floor: The stairway arrives at a landing (above the sitting room on the first floor). A cushioned window seat, a hallway leading to the bedrooms, off, and another stairway leading to ... The Attic: A single chamber, center, with peaked roof and slanted walls, inexpensively modeled into a bedroom. The house is filled with books. All the windows in the house have been covered with cheap plastic shades. Black duct tape seals the edge of the shades, effecting a complete absence of outside light. At rise: Lit dimly by his desk lamp, BEVERLY Weston, drunk, nurses a glass of whiskey as he “interviews” JOHNNA Monevata. BEVERLY. "Life is very long ..." T. S. Eliot. I mean ... he's given credit for it because he bothered to write it down. He's not the first person to say it ... certainly not the first person to think it. Feel it. But he wrote the words on a sheet of paper and signed it and the four-eyed prick was a genius ... so if you say it, you have to say his name after it. "Life is very long": T. S. Eliot. Absolutely goddarnn right. Especially in his case, since he lived to be seventy-six or something, a very long life, especially in those days. And he was only in his thirties when he wrote it so he must've had some inside dope. Give the devil his due. Very few poets could've made it through his ... his trial and come out on the other side, brilliantined and double-breasted and Anglican. Not hard to imagine, faced with Eliot's first wife, lovely Viv, how Hart Crane or John Berryman might've reacted, just foot-raced to the nearest bridge, Olympian Suicidalists. Not Eliot: following sufficient years of ecclesiastical guilt, plop her in the nearest asylum and get on with the day. God a-mighty. You have to admire the purity of the survivor's instinct. Berryman, the old goat: "The world is gradually becoming a place where I do not care to be anymore." I don't know what it says about me that I have a greater affinity with the damaged. Probably nothing good. I admire the hell out of Eliot the poet, but the person? I can't identify. VIOLET. (Offstage.): ... son-of-a-bitch . . . . BEVERLY. Violet. My wife. She takes pills, sometimes a great many. And they affect ... among other things, her equilibrium. Fortunately the pills she takes eliminate her need for equilibrium. So she falls when she rambles ... but she doesn't ramble much. My wife takes pills and I drink. That's the bargain we've struck ... one of the bargains, just one paragraph of our marriage contract ... cruel covenant. She takes pills and I drink. I don't drink because she takes pills. As to whether she takes pills because I drink . . . I learned long ago not to speak for my wife. The reasons why we partake are anymore inconsequential. The facts are: my wife takes pills and I drink. And these facts have over time made burdensome the maintenance of traditional American routine: paying of BILLs, purchase of goods, cleaning of clothes or carpets or crappers. Rather than once more assume the mantle of guilt ... vow abstinence with my fingers crossed in the queasy hope of righting our ship, I've chosen to turn my life over to a Higher Power ... (Hoists his glass) ... and join the ranks of the Hiring Class. It's not a decision with which I'm entirely comfortable. I know how to launder my dirty undies . . . done it all my life, me or my wife, but I'm finding it's getting in the way of my drinking. "Something has been said for sobriety but very little." (Berryman again.) And now you are here. The place isn't in such bad shape, not yet. I've done all right. I've managed. And just last night, I burned an awful lot of ... debris … Y'know ... a simple utility BILL can mean so much to a living person. Once they've passed, though ... after they've passed, the words and numbers just seem like ... otherworldly symbols. It's only paper. Worse. Worse than blank paper. (JOHNNA wipes sweat from her brow. Beverly takes a folded handkerchief from his pocket and hands it to her.) This is clean. JOHNNA. (Wiping her forehead) Thank you. BEVERLY. I apologize for the temperature in here. My wife is cold-blooded and not just in the metaphorical sense. She does not believe in air-conditioning ... as if it is a thing to be disbelieved. JOHNNA. My daddy was the same way. I'm used to it. BEVERLY. I knew Mr. Youngbird, you know. JOHNNA. You knew Daddy? BEVERLY. Small town. Bought many a watermelon from his fruit stand. Some summers he sold fireworks too, right? JOHNNA. Yes, sir. BEVERLY. I bought roman candles for my children. He did pass didn't he? JOHNNA. Yes, sir. BEVERLY. May I ask how? JOHNNA. He had a heart attack. Fell into a flatbed truck full of wine grapes. BEVERLY. Wine grapes. In Oklahoma. I'm sorry. JOHNNA. Thank you. (He finishes his drink, pours another.) BEVERLY. May I ask about the name? JOHNNA. Hm? BEVERLY. He was Youngbird and you are... JOHNNA. Monevata. BEVERLY. "Monevata." JOHNNA. I went back to the original language. BEVERLY. And does it mean "young bird"? JOHNNA. Yes. BEVERLY. And taking the name, that was your choice? JOHNNA. Mm-hm. BEVERLY. (Raising his glass). Cheers. (Violet calls from offstage.) VIOLET. (Offstage). Bev ...? BEVERLY. (To himself) By night within that ancient house Immense, black, damned, anonymous. (Lights up, dimly, on the second-floor landing. Just out of bed, wearing wrinkled clothes, smoking a Winston, Violet squints down the darkened stairway.) VIOLET: Bev! BEVERLY: Yes? VIOLET: Did you pullish ... ? BEVERLY: What? VIOLET: Did you ... (Long pause. VIOLET stares, waiting for an answer. BEVERLY stares, waiting for her to complete her question.) BEVERLY; What, dear? VIOLET: Oh, goddarnn it ... did. You. Are the police here? BEVERLY: No. VIOLET: Is this a window? Am I looking through window? A window? BEVERLY: Can you come here? (VIOLET considers, then clomps down the stairs, into the study, nonplussed by JOHNNA.) VIOLET: Oh. (Vaguely) Hello. JOHNNA: Hello. VIOLET (To BEVERLY): I didn't know you were entertaaaaaaining. BEVERLY: This is Johnna, the young woman I told you about. VIOLET; You're tell me's a woman. BEVERLY: Pardon? VIOLET: A woman. Wo-man. Whoa~man. BEVERLY: Yes, dear, the young woman I'm hiring. To watch the place. VIOLET: Oh! You're hiring women's now the thing. I thought you meant the other woman. BEVERLY: What other woman? VIOLET (Pause; then, ugly): Huh?! BEVERLY: I hope to hire her to cook and clean and take you to the clinic and to theVIOLET (Attempting to over-articulate): In the int'rest of ... civil action ... your par-ticu-lars ways of speak-king, I thought you meant you had thought a whoa-man to be HIRED! BEVERLY: I don't understand you. VIOLET (Suddenly winsome, to JOHNNA): Hello. JOHNNA: Hello. VIOLET: I'm sorry. (Curtsies) Like this. JOHNNA: Yes, ma'am. VIOLET: I'm Violet, What's your name? JOHNNA: Johnna. VIOLET: You're very pretty. JOHNNA: Thank you. VIOLET: Are you an Indian? JOHNNA: Yes, ma'am. VIOLET: What kind? JOHNNA: Cheyenne. VIOLET: Do you think I'm pretty? JOHNNA: Yes, ma'am. VIOLET (Curtsies again.) Like ... this? (Curtsies again.) Like this ... (Curtsies lower, stumbles, catches herself) BEVERLY: Careful. VIOLET (Still to Johnna.) You're the house now. I'm sorry, I ... I took some medicine for my musssss ... muscular. BEVERLY: Why don't you go back to bed, sweetheart? VIOLET: Why don't you go fuck a fucking sow's ass? BEVERLY: All right. VIOLET (To Johnna.) I'm sorry. I'll be sickly sweet. I'm sooooooooooo sweet. In-elabrially sweet. (She stubs Out her cigarette on BEVERLY's desk ashtray ... stares at JOHNNA as if she might say something else ... then suddenly exits.) BEVERLY: I think I mentioned on the phone that Dr. Burke recommended you. He feels you're qualified to handle the needs of our household. JOHNNA: I have a year toward my nursing certificate at Tulsa Community College, but I had to drop out when Daddy died. And I saw my mom and grandma through bad times. BEVERLY: Dr. Burke says you've been struggling for work. JOHNNA: I've been cleaning houses and babysitting. BEVERLY: He did tell you we wanted a live-in. JOHNNA: Yes, sir. BEVERLY: We keep unusual hours here. Try not to differentiate between night and day. I doubt you'll be able to maintain any sort of a healthy routine. . JOHNNA: I need the work. BEVERLY: The work itself ... pretty mundane. I myself require very little personal attention. Thrive without it, in fact, sort of a human cactus. My wife has been diagnosed with a touch of cancer, so she'll need to be driven to Tulsa for her final chemotherapy treatments. You're welcome to use that American-made behemoth parked in the carport. You're welcome to make use of anything, everything, all this garbage we've acquired, our life's work. If you're going to live here, I want you to live here. You understand? JOHNNA: Yes, sir. BEVERLY: Please call me Beverly. Do you have any questions? JOHNNA: What kind of cancer? BEVERLY: I didn't say? My God, I nearly neglected the punch line: mouth cancer. JOHNNA: What pills does she take? MATTIE FAE: I'm saying if you did, you better believe I'm gonna give you about three days to get your head straight and then it's all going up in a blaze of glory. CHARLIE: I'm not going anywhere! MATTIE FAE: If you did! CHARLIE: I'm not! MATTIE FAE: Not that Charlie has any books lying around. I don't think I've ever seen Charlie read a book in my life. CHARLIE: Is that a criticism? Does that bother you? MATTIE FAE: Well, I haven't. What's the last book you read? CHARLIE: Goddamn itMATTIE FAE: Just tell me the last book you read. CHARLIE: Beverly was a teacher; teachers read books. I'm in the upholstery business; people in the upholstery businessMATTIE FAE: You can't tell me the last book you read. CHARLIE: This girl is concerned about her daddy's whereabouts. She doesn't need to sit here and listen to usMATTIE FAE: I think we're all concerned about Beverly. CHARLIE: Then what the hell are you needling me for? MATTIE FAE: He came back though, you know, and they worked things out, and he'll come back again, I know he will. IVY: I think this time is different. MATTIE FAE: I think so too. CHARLIE: Why? MATTIE FAE: Because back thenCHARLIE: I'm not asking you. (To IVY) Why do you think this time is different? IVY: Because I think back then they were trying. MATTIE FAE (To CHARLIE): Which is what I was gonna say. (To IVY) Beverly was a very complicated man. IVY: I know. CHARLIE: Stop saying "was." MATTIE FAE: Well, he was. He is, very complicated. CHARLIE: But in a kind-y quiet way. IVY: Kind of like Charles. CHARLIE: Yes, like Little Charles. ExactlyMATTIE FAE: Oh. He's nothing like Little Charles. CHARLIE: She just means in their sort of quiet complicated waysMATTIE FAE: Little Charles isn't complicated. CHARLIE: I thinkMATTIE FAE: No, Little Charles isn't complicated, he's just unemployed. CHARLIE: He's an observer. MATTIE FAE: All he observes is the television. CHARLIE: So you can't even see Ivy's point? MATTIE FAE: No. CHARLIE: That Little Charles and Beverly share some kind of … complication. MATTIE FAE: Honey, you have to be smart to be complicated. CHARLIE: That's our boy. Are you saying our boy isn't smart? MATTIE FAE: Yes that's what I'm saying. CHARLIE: What's the matter with you? (To IVY) Your cousin is very smart. MATTIE FAE: I'm sweating. Are you sweating? CHARLIE: Hell, yes, I'm sweating, it's ninety degrees in here. MATTIE FAE: Feel my back. CHARLIE: I don't want to feel your back. MATTIE FAE: Feel it. Sweat is just dripping down my back. CHARLIE: I believe you. MATTIE FAE: Feel it. CHARLIE: No. MATTIE FAE: Come on, put your hand hereCHARLIE: Goddamn itMATTIE FAE: Sweat's just drippingCHARLIE: Ivy. Let me ask you something. When did this start? This business with the shades, taping the shades? IVY: That's been a couple of years now. MATTIE FAE: My gosh, has it been that long since we've been here? CHARLIE: Do you know its purpose? MATTIE FAE: You can't tell if it's night or day. IVY: I think that's the purpose. CHARLIE: Well, I don't know, but I don't think that's healthy. MATTIE FAE: It's not. You need sunlight. CHARLIE: Do you know which one of them decided on this? IVY: I can't really see Dad taking the initiative. CHARLIE: No, I suppose not. I don't know about you, but I find this whole setup depressing. Y'know, a person's environment ... (Points to the stereo) And what the hell, is that an Eric Clapton album? Vi's a Clapton fan? (MATTIE FAE starts to peel the tape from one of the shades.) Don't do that. MATTIE FAE: The body needs sunlight. CHARLIE: It's nighttime. And this isn't your place, you can't come into somebody else's home and start changingMATTIE FAE: Do you believe we haven't been here in two years? (VIOLET enters.) VIOLET: He said they checked the hospitals but no Beverly. MATTIE FAE: This is the highway patrol? VIOLET: No, not the highway patrol, the sheriff, the Gilbeau boy. MATTIE FAE: Gilbeau. Don't tell me C. J. Gilbeau is the sheriff here now. VIOLET: Not C. J., his boy Deon. MATTIE FAE: I was gonna sayVIOLET: He went to school with the girls, Deon did. Was he in your class, Ivy? IVY: Barbara's class, I think. MATTIE FAE: Is that right? CHARLIE: Who's this now? MATTIE FAE: C. J. Gilbeau was a boy we grew up with. Mean little son-of-a-bitch, juvenile delinquentVIOLET: His boy Deon's the sheriff now. MATTIE FAE: C. J. was the preacher's son and you knowCHARLIE: Say no more. MATTIE FAE: -and you know how they are. VIOLET: You remember he went to the penitentiary. MATTIE FAE: Yes, I remember that, for killing what was it? VIOLET: A boxer. MATTIE FAE: Right, for killing this man's boxer dog. VIOLET: His boy Deon's the sheriff. I sent you that subscription to the Pawhuska Journal-Capital. Don't you read it? MATTIE FAE: No, I don't read-it. VIOLET: So you Tulsa big shots could keep up with us small-town folks. MATTIE FAE: No, I don't read it. VIOLET: Well, if you read it you'd know that his boy Deon is the sheriff here now. IVY: What hospitals did they check? VIOLET: He rattled off a bunch of them. IVY: What else did he say? VIOLET: The boat's missing. (Pause.) IVY: Mom? VIOLET: He sent a patrolman out to the dock to check if anybody had seen him and Beverly's pontoon boat is gone. MATTIE FAE: Oh, no. VIOLET: He said they've had a couple of boats stolen in the last little while so he didn't think it proved anything, but he was worried about it. (VIOLET starts to ascend the stairs.) CHARLIE: Vi, you think there's a chance Bev loaded that boat onto his trailer and took it out of there? I mean if he was going somewhere's else. MATTIE FAE: Trailer's out by the shed, I saw it when we pulled up. (VIOLET exits. IVY follows her. JOHNNA enters, occupied with housework. CHARLIE holds up his empty beer bottle.) CHARLIE: 'Scuse me, dear ... could I trouble you for another beer? MATTIE FAE: Goddamn it, she's not a waitress. CHARLIE: I know that. MATTIE FAE: Then get your own beer. (Johnna crosses, takes the empty ...) JOHNNA: I'll get it. (... and goes.) MATTIE FAE: I don't believe you. Watchin' the baseball game and drinkin' beers. Don't you have any sense of what's going on around you? This situation is fraught. CHARLIE: Am I supposed to sit here like a statue? You're drinking whiskey. MATTIE FAE: I'm having a cocktail. CHARLIE: You're drinking straight whiskey. MATTIE FAE: Just ... show a little class. CHARLIE: I don't think we need to sit here crying in the dark. MATTIE FAE: Oh well, since you got everything all figured out, let's party down. CHARLIE: Mattie FaeMATTIE FAE: Get that Indian gal to whip us up some cheese Coneys and let's call a few friends. CHARLIE: Ooo, a cheese Coney sounds good. MATTIE FAE: It does, doesn't it? You smell something cooking? CHARLIE: Yeah. MATTIE FAE: Come with me to the kitchen, let's see what it is. CHARLIE: What do you need me for? I've got the Royals on. MATTIE FAE: Just come with me. (She takes his hand, pulls him from the couch.) CHARLIE: That's not good news about that boat. (As CHARLIE follows MATTIE FAE to the kitchen, and intercepts his beer from JOHNNA, the lights crossfade to VIOLET and IVY on the second-floor landing. During the following, they descend the stairs and enter the dining room.) VIOLET: Did you call Barb? IVY: Yes. VIOLET: When'd you call her? IVY: This morning. VIOLET: What'd she say? IVY: She's on her way. VIOLET: How's she getting here? IVY: She and Bill are coming. VIOLET: Is she driving? IVY: I doubt it. VIOLET: Why? IVY: Boulder's a long way. VIOLET: Is she bringing Jean? IVY: I don't know. VIOLET: When did she say she'd be here? IVY: She didn't say. She just said she was on her way. VIOLET: What'd you tell her? IVY: I told her Dad was missing. VIOLET: That's all. IVY: Is there anything else? VIOLET: Did you tell her how long he'd been missing? IVY: Five days. VIOLET: Did you tell her that? IVY: I think so. VIOLET: What did she say? IVY: She said she was on her way. VIOLET: Goddamn it, Ivy, what did she say? Was she irritated? Was she amused? Tell me what she said. IVY: She said she was on her way. VIOLET: You're hopeless. (Takes a pill) Goddamn your father for putting me through this. For leaving me to handle this. You seen that office of his, all that paperwork, that mess? I can't make heads or tails of it. He hired this Indian a week ago to look after the place for some goddamn reason and now I have a stranger in my house. I don't know what to say to that girl. What's her name? IVY: Johnna. VIOLET: He's always paid the bills and made the phone calls and now suddenly I'm supposed to handle it? You know this house is falling apart, something about the basement or the sump pump or the foundation. I don't know anything about it. I can't do all this by myself. IVY: I called Karen. VIOLET: What did she say? IVY: She said she'd try to get here. VIOLET: She'll be a big fat help, just like you. (Takes another pill.) I need Barb. IVY: I don't know what Barb's going to be able to do. VIOLET: What did you do to your hair? IVY: I had it straightened. VIOLET: You had it straightened. Why would anybody do that? IVY: I don't know. VIOLET: Why did you do it? IVY: I Just wanted a change. VIOLET: You're a pretty girl. You're the prettiest of my three girls, but you always look like such a schlub. Why don't you wear any makeup? IVY: Do I need makeup? VIOLET: All women need makeup. Don't let anybody tell you different. The only woman who was pretty enough to go without makeup was Elizabeth Taylor and she wore a ton. Sit up straight. IVY: Mom. VIOLET: Your shoulders are slumped and your hair's all straight and you don't wear makeup. You look like a lesbian. You're a pretty enough girl you could get a decent man if you spruced up. A bit, that's all I'm saying. IVY: I'm not looking for a man. VIOLET: You should be. Everybody needs somebody. IVY: I'm not looking for a man. VIOLET: Listen, there are a lot of losers out there, don't think I don't know it. But just because you got a bad one doesn't meanIVY: Barry wasn’t a loser. VIOLET: Barry was an asshole. And I warned you from the start, didn't I? First time you brought him over here in his ridiculous little electric car, with that stupid orange beard and that turban. IVY: It wasn't a turbanVIOLET: I just don't understand some of the choices you make. You're forty-three years old IVY: Forty-four. VIOLET: Forty-four years old. Maybe you're past the point of having children, and that's all right if you don't want them, but aren't you interested in finding a husband? IVY: A husband. In Pawhuska. VIOLET: You don't meet people where you live, you meet them where you work. You work at a college. Don't tell me there aren't people coming through the door of that library every day. IVY: You want me to marry a student, some eighteen-year-old boy from one of these hick towns? VIOLET: They still have teachers on the Tulsa campus, don't they? They did when your father taught thereIVY: Barry was a teacher at TU. VIOLET: Yeah, "Environmental Studies." Barry was a loser. IVY: He wasn't a loserVIOLET: He dumped you, didn't he? To my mind, that makes himIVY: He did not dump me. It just didn't work out between us. VIOLET: All right, yes, dear, I'm sorry. I'll get it straight. I'm sorry. But maybe it would've worked out between you if you'd worn some makeup. (Takes another pill) How many was that? IVY: I wasn't counting. (VIOLET takes another pill.) Is your mouth burning? VIOLET: Like a son-of-a-bitch. My tongue is on fire. IVY: Are you supposed to be smoking? VIOLET: Is anybody supposed to smoke? IVY: You have cancer of the mouth. VIOLET: Ivy. I have enough to worry about right this minute without you getting on me about my smoking. IVY: I’m not getting on you. VIOLET: Just leave it alone. IVY: Are you scared? VIOLET: 'Course I'm scared. And you are a comfort, sweetheart. Thank God one of my girls stayed close to home. My generation, families stayed together. IVY: That was a different time. VIOLET: No kidding. Did you call Mattie Fae? IVY: Aunt Mattie Fae's here. VIOLET: I know that, dummy, did you call her? IVY: I thought you called her. VIOLET: I guess I did. I don't remember. IVY: You've got a lot on your mind. VIOLET: She means to come in here and tell me what's what. IVY: I don't know how Uncle Charlie puts up with it. VIOLET: He smokes a lot of grass. IVY: He does? VIOLET: He smokes a lot of grass. (They laugh.) IVY: "Grass"? You say "grass"? VIOLET: What do you call it? IVY: Hey, are you into Clapton now? VIOLET: What? IVY: Eric Clapton, you have an Eric Clapton album. VIOLET: I've had it forever. IVY: I've never seen it. VIOLET: I like it. It's got a good beat. I'm not old, you know. (Lights down on the dining room and up on the front porch as BARBARA and BILL arrive, carrying suitcases. VIOLET and IVY exit and, during the following, MATTIE FAE and CHARLIE enter from the kitchen and cross to the dining room with plates of hot apple pie.) BARBARA: What's Jean doing? BILL: Smoking. BARBARA: I wish you wouldn't encourage that. BILL: I haven't encouraged anything. BARBARA: I don't know, there's just something a little funny about the way you say, "smoking," like you admire her for getting hooked at fourteen . BILL: Are you ready for this? BARBARA: No. No way. BILL: Well. Take a second. (They stand, taking in the night, breathing the air.) BARBARA: Goddamn, it's hot. BILL: Wimp. BARBARA: I know it. Colorado spoiled me. BILL: That's one of the reasons we got out of here. BARBARA: No, it's not. BILL: You suppose your mom's turned on the air conditioner? BARBARA: Are you kidding? Remember the patakeets? BILL: The patakeets. BARBARA: I didn't tell you about the patakeets? She got a patakeet, for some insane reason, and the little fucker croaked after about two days. So she went to the pet store and raised hell and they gave her another patakeet. That one died after just one day. So she went back and they gave her a third patakeet and that one died, too. So the chick from the pet store carne out here to see just what in hell this serial patakeet killer was doing to bump off these birds. BILL: And? BARBARA: The heat. It was too hot. They were dying from the heat. BILL: Jesus. BARBARA: These are tropical birds, all right? They live in the fucking tropics. (Beat. She looks out.) What were these people thinking? BILL: What people? BARBARA: The jokers who settled this place. The Germans and the Dutch and the Irish. Who was the asshole who saw this flat hot nothing and planted his flag? I mean, we fucked the Indians for this? BILL: Well, genocide always seems like such a good idea at the time. BARBARA: Right, you need a little hindsight. BILL: Anyway, if you want me to explain the creepy character of the Midwest, you're asking the wrongBARBARA: Hey. Please. This is not the Midwest. All right? Michigan is the Midwest, God knows why. This is the Plains: a state of mind, right, some spiritual affliction, like the Blues. BILL: "Are you okay?" "I'm fine. Just got the Plains." (They laugh. He reaches up and touches her neck tenderly.) BARBARA: Don't. (She pulls away. They look away from one another, an uncomfortable moment. Regarding JEAN) What, is she smoking a fucking cigar? BILL: She's coming. (Jean arrives on the front porch carrying a suitcase.) You ready, kiddo? JEAN: Yeah, sure. BARBARA: All right. (Gives Jean a quick kiss.) You’re precious. I’m having a hot flash. All right…here goes. (Lights up on the entryway as Barbara, Bill and Jean enter.) Mom?! (Lights up on the dining room. Mattie Fae and Charlie travel from the dining room to the entryway. The following salutations are quick and overlapping, and they range from forte [Mattie Fae] to piano [Ivy].) MATTIE FAE: Oh my God, Barbara!Barbara: Hi, Aunt Mattie FaeMATTIE FAE: You give me some sugar! (BARBARA and MATTIE FAE hug. Over BARBARA's shoulder) Hi, BILL! Look how skinny you are! BILL: Hi, Mattie Fae. MATTIE FAE: Oh my gosh, will you look at this one? Come here and give your Aunt Mattie Fae some sugar! (MATTIE FAE and JEAN hug. BILL and CHARLIE shake hands.) BILL: Hi, Charlie. CHARLIE: 'Lo, BILL. Man, you have dropped some weight, haven't you? MATTIE FAE (Still to JEAN): My gosh, you're so big! And look at your big boobs! They're so big! Last time I saw you, you looked just like a little boy! (BARBARA and CHARLIE hug.) CHARLIE: Hello, sweetheart. BARBARA: Good to see you, Uncle Charlie. CHARLIE: You too. MATTIE FAE: Oh, I can't get over that one, she's just too much. Come here, Bill, and give me some sugar! (CHARLIE mushes JEAN's shoulder, kisses her on the temple.) CHARLIE: Lovely to see you, dear. JEAN: Yeah, same here. CHARLIE (Gently mocking): Same here, same here. (VIOLET appears on the stairway, followed by IVY. VIOLET bursts into tears, rushes to BARBARA, clenches her. IVY watches from the stairs.) BARBARA: It's okay, Mom. I'm here, I'm here. (VIOLET weeps. The others are awkwardly respectful of the moment.) Shhh, it's okay, I'm here. BILL (To CHARLIE): No word then? CHARLIE: No. MATTIE FAE: No, huh-uh. BARBARA: It's okay, Mom. VIOLET: What am I going to do? What am I going to do? BARBARA: Well, we can talk about that. Did you see Bill and Jean? (VIOLET takes them in, disoriented.) VIOLET: Yes. Hi, Bill. BILL: Hello, Violet. (VIOLET and BILL kiss.) I'm sorry you're going through this. (Violet holds BILL, cries.) VIOLET: I'm just so scared. (MATTIE FAE reaches out, strokes VIOLET's back) MATTIE FAE: Of course you are, poor thing. VIOLET: You're too thin. ' BILL: Hardly. VIOLET: Yes, you are. (VIOLET sees JEAN.) Well, look at you. MATTIE FAE: I know, isn't she something else? Look at her boobs! JEAN: O-kay, we've all stared at my tits now. MATTIE FAE: They're just so darn big. CHARLIE: Mattie Fae ... (VIOLET hugs JEAN.) VIOLET: You're just the prettiest thing. Thank you for coming to see me. JEAN: No problem. BARBARA: Ivy, I didn't see you up there. IVY (Descending the stairs): It looked crowded. BARBARA: God, you look good. Doesn't she look good, Bill? BILL: Yes, she does. BARBARA: I love your hair, that looks great. VIOLET: She had it straightened. BARBARA: I know, it looks great. (IVY and JEAN wave.) IVY: Hi, Jean. JEAN: Hi. (VIOLET pulls BARBARA into the living room. The others follow.) VIOLET: Barbara, or Bill, it doesn't matter, I need you to go through Beverly's things and help me with some of this paperwork. BARBARA: Well ... we can do that, IVY: I was going to help with that. Mom, we’re here for a while VIOLET: No, now that desk of his is such a mess and I get confusedBILL: I'll take care of it, VioletBARBARA (To CHARLIE): Which room are you in? MATTIE FAE: We're headed back tonight. VIOLET: You're going back? MATTIE FAE: We have to, Vi, we left in such a rush we didn't get anyone to take care of those damn dogs. VIOLET: You want to drive that hour and a half tonight? MATTIE FAE: Not the way Charlie drives. Anyway, I know you want to spend some time with these girls. VIOLET: Can't you call someone about the dogs? Or how about Little Charles, can't he take care of them? CHARLIE: Well, yeah, I guess he couldMATTIE FAE: No, he can't, either. We have to get back. CHARLIE: Maybe we should call him, Mattie FaeMATTIE FAE: We talked about this. CHARLIE: I know, butMATTIE FAE (To VIOLET): You've got all these people here and not enough bedsVIOLET: You can stay at Ivy's place. IVY (Beat): Yeah, sure. I've got room. MATTIE FAE (To CHARLIE): We talked about this. BARBARA: You all can figure that out on your own. So, Mom? Jean can stay in the attic? VIOLET: No, that's where what's-her-name lives. IVY: Johnna. BARBARA: Who's Johnna VIOLET: She's the Indian who lives in my attic. BARBARA: She's the what? (Johnna enters.) JOHNNA: Hi, I'm Johnna. Welcome home. Scene 2 BARBARA, BILL and VIOLET are in the dining room with coffee and pie. VIOLET's pills are starting to kick in. Elsewhere in the house: JOHNNA reads a book in her attic bedroom; JEAN listens to an iPod on the second-floor landing. VIOLET: Saturday. Saturday morning. That girl, the Indian girl made us biscuits and gravy. We ate some, we …he walked out the door, that door right there. And that was it. BARBARA: That was the last time you saw him. VIOLET: I went to bed Saturday night and got up Sunday morning ... still no Beverly. I didn't make much of it, thought he'd gone out on a bender. BARBARA: Why would he do that? Not like he couldn't drink at home. Unless you were riding his ass. VIOLET: I never said anything to him about his drinking, never got on him about it. BARBARA: Really. VIOLET: Barbara, I swear. He could drink himself into obliv-uh, obliv-en-en ... BARBARA: Oblivion. BILL: So Sunday, still no sign of him ... VIOLET: Yes, Sunday, no sign. I started getting worried, don'tcha know, and that's when I got so worked up about that safety deposit box. We kept an awful lot of cash in that box, some jewelry, expensive jewelry. I had a diamond ring in that box appraised at over seven thousand dollarsBARBARA: Wait, wait, wait, I'm missing something, why do you care about the safety deposit box? VIOLET: Well, I know what you'll say about this, but. Your father and I had a urgement-arrangement. If something were to ever happen to one of us, the other one would go empty that safety deposit box. BARBARA: Because ... BILL: It gets rolled into the estate, then goes to probate. VIOLET: Right, that's right BARBARA: You're such a fucking cynic. VIOLET: I knew you would disapproveBARBARA. (Impatient): Okay, fine, so what about the safety deposit box?VIOLET: I had to wait for the bank to open on Monday. And after I emptied that box, I called the police and reported him missing. Monday morning. BARBARA: And you're just now calling me, today, on Thursday. VIOLET: I didn't call you. BARBARA: You had Ivy call me. Five days later. VIOLET: I didn't want to worry you, honeyBARBARA: Jesus Christ. BILL: Vi, you sure there wasn't some event that triggered his leaving, some incident? VIOLET: You mean like a fight. BILL: Yes. . VIOLET: No. And we fought enough ... you know ... but no, he just left. BARBARA: Maybe he just needed some time away from you. VIOLET: That's nice of you to say. BARBARA: Hey, that's no crime. Being married is hard. BILL: Under the best of circumstances. BARBARA: But nothing. Not. "See you later," or "I'm taking a walk." (VIOLET shakes her head.) Good old unfathomable Dad. VIOLET: Oh. That man. What I first fell in with-fell in love with, you know, was his mystery. I thought it was sexy as hell. You knew he was the smartest one in the room, knew if he'd just say something ... knock you out. But he'd just stand there, little smile on his face ... not say a word. Sexy. BARBARA: Yeah, that "mystery" can cut both ways. BILL: And you can't think of anything different or unusual, orVIOLET: He hired this woman. He didn't ask me, just hired this woman to come here and live in our house. Few days before he left. BARBARA: You don't want her here. VIOLET: I don't know what she's doing here. She's stranger in my house. There's an Indian in my house. BILL (Laughing): You have some problem with Indians, Violet? VIOLET: I don't know what to say to an Indian. BARBARA: They're called Native Americans now, Mom. VIOLET: Who calls them that? Who makes that decision? BARBARA: It's what they like to be called. VIOLET: They aren't any more native than me. BARBARA: In fact, they are. VIOLET: What's wrong with "Indian"? BARBARA: Why is it so hard to just call people what they want?VIOLET: Let's just call the dinosaurs "Native Americans" while we're at it. BARBARA: She may be an Indian, but she makes the best goddamn apple pie I ever ate in my life. BILL: It is good, isn't it? BARBARA: Oh, manVIOLET: A cook? So he hired a cook? It doesn't make any sense. We don't eat. BARBARA: That sounds healthy. VIOLET: We eat, cheese and saltines, or a ham sandwich. But I can't tell you the last time that stove, oh ... turned on. Years. BARBARA: And now you get biscuits and gravy. Kind of nice, huh? VIOLET: Nice for you, now. But you'll be gone soon enough, never to return. BARBARA (A warning): Mom. VIOLET: When was the last time you were here? BARBARA: Don't get started on that VIOLET: Really, I don't even remember. BARBARA: I'm very dutiful, Mom, I call, I write, I send presentsVIOLET: You do not writeBARBARA: I send presents on birthdays and Mother's DayVIOLET: Because you're "dutiful." BARBARA: Don't you quote me. BILL: All right, nowVIOLET: You're grown-up people, growed-ups. You go where you wantBARBARA: I have a lot of obligations, I have a daughter starting high school in a couple ofVIOLET: That right? Last time I saw her she's grade schoolBARBARA: I won't talk about thisVIOLET: I don't care about you two, really. I'd just like to see my granddaughter every now and again. BARBARA: Well, you're seeing her now. VIOLET: But your father. You broke his heart when you moved away. BARBARA: That is wildly unfair. BILL: Am I going to have to separate you two? VIOLET: You know you were Beverly’s favorite; don't pretend you don’t know that. BARBARA: I don't want to know that. I'd prefer to think my parents loved all their children equally. VIOLET: I'm sure you'd prefer to think that Santy Claus brought you presents at Christmas, too, but it just isn't so. If you'd had more than one child, you'd realize a parent always has favorites. Mattie Fae was my mother's favorite. Big deal. I got used to it. You were your daddy's favorite. BARBARA: Great. Thanks. (Pause.) VIOLET: Broke his heart. BARBARA: What was I supposed to do?! Colorado offered Bill twice the money he was making at TUBILL: Why are you even getting into this? BARBARA: -and they were willing to hire me, too. Daddy knew we had to take those jobs. You think he wouldn't have jumped at the chance Bill got? VIOLET: Now you're wrong there. You never would've gotten Beverly Weston out of Oklahoma. And don't think he didn't have his opportunities, either, after Meadowlark came out. BILL: I'm sure. VIOLET: After Meadowlark was published, he got offers from everywhere in the country, lots better places than Colorado. BARBARA: Now you want to knock Colorado. VIOLET: It's not hard to do. BILL: Barbara, JesusBARBARA: Daddy's book came out forty years ago. Academia's very different now, it's extremely competitive. VIOLET: Please, tell me all about academia. BARBARA: Daddy gave me his blessing, and I didn't even ask for it. VIOLET: 'Swhat he told you. BARBARA: Now you're going to tell me the true Story, some terrible shit Daddy said behind my back? BILL: Hey, enough. Everybody's a little on edgeVIOLET: Beverly didn't say terrible things behind your backBILL: Vi, come onVIOLET: He just told me he's disappointed in you because you settled. BARBARA: Is that supposed to be a comment on Bill? Daddy never said anything like that to youVIOLET: Your father thought you had talent, as a writer. BARBARA: If he thought that, and I doubt he did, he was wrong. Anyway, what difference does it make? It's my life. I can do what I want. So he was disappointed in me because I settled for a beautiful family and a teaching career, is that what you're saying? What a load of absolute horseshit. VIOLET: Oh, horseshit, horseshit, let’s all say horseshit. Say horseshit, Bill. BILL: Horseshit. (BILL exits to the kitchen.) BARBARA: Are you high? VIOLET: No. BARBARA: No, are you high? I mean literally. Are you taking something? VIOLET: A muscle relaxer. BARBARA: Listen to me: I will not go through this with you again. VIOLET: Go through what? BARBARA: These fucking pills. VIOLET: They're muscle relaxers— BARBARA: I will not do this again. VIOLET: I don't know what you're talking about. BARBARA: The psych ward? Calls at three A.M. about people in your backyard? VIOLET: You're so much dramaBARBARA: The police, all the rest of it? You do know what I'm talking about. You spent a goddamn fortune on these fucking pills. VIOLET: Stop yelling at me! BARBARA: -and then you spent another fortune getting off them. VIOLET: It's not the same thing, I didn't have a reason. BARBARA: So now it's okay to get hooked because you have a reason. VIOLET: I'm not hooked on anything. BARBARA: I don't know if you are or not, I'm just saying I won't go-VIOLET: I'm not. I'm in pain. BARBARA: Because of your mouth. VIOLET: Yes, because my mouth burns from the chemotheeeahh. BARBARA: Are you in a lot of pain? VIOLET (Starting to cry): Yes, I'm in pain. I have got ... gotten cancer. In my mouth. And it burns like a ... bullshit. And Beverly's disappeared and you're yelling at me. BARBARA: I'm not yelling at you. (BILL returns.) VIOLET: You couldn't come home when I got cancer but as soon as Beverly disappeared you rushed backBARBARA: I'm sorry, I ... you're right. I'm sorry. (VIOLET cries. BARBARA kneels in front of her , takes her hand.) You know where I think he is? I think he got some whiskey ... a carton of cigarettes, couple of good spy novels ... aannnd I think he got out on the boat, steered it to a nice spot, somewhere in the shade, close to shore ... and he's fishing, and reading, and drinking, and if the mood strikes him, maybe even writing a little. I think he's safe. And I think he'll walk through that door ... any time. (Lights down on the dining room, and up on the attic, where JOHNNA is reading. JEAN has put away her iPod and now ascends the stairs.) JEAN: Hi. JOHNNA: Hello. JEAN: Am I bugging you? JOHNNA: No, do you need something? JEAN: No, I thought maybe you'd like to smoke a bowl with me? JOHNNA: No, thank you. JEAN: Okay. I didn't know. (Jean stands, looking at her.) Am I bugging you? JOHNNA: No, huh-uh. JEAN: Okay. Do you mind if I smoke a bowl? JOHNNA: I. No, IJEAN: 'Cause there's no place I can go. Y'know, I'm staying right by Grandma's room, and if I go outside, they're gonna wonderJOHNNA: RightJEAN: Mom and Dad don't mind. You won't get into trouble or anything. JOHNNA: Okay. JEAN: Okay. You sure? (Johnna nods. From her pocket, JEAN takes a small glass pipe and a clear cigarette wrapper holding a bud of marijuana. She fixes the pipe.) I say they don't mind. If they knew I stuck this bud under the cap of Dad's deodorant before our flight and then sat there sweating like in that movie Maria Full of Grace. Did you see that? JOHNNA: I don't think so. JEAN: I just mean they don't mind that I smoke pot. Dad doesn't. Mom kind of does. She thinks it's bad for me. I think the real reason if bugs her is 'cause Dad smokes pot, too, and she wishes he didn't. Dad's much cooler than Mom, really. Well, that's not true. He's just cooler in that way, I guess. (Jean smokes. She offers the smoldering pipe to JOHNNA. Holding her breath) You sure? JOHNNA: Yes. No. I'm fine. JEAN: No, he's really not cooler. (Exhales smoke) He and Mom are separated right now. JOHNNA: I'm sorry. JEAN: He's fucking one of his students which is pretty uncool, if you ask me. Some people would think that's cool, like those dicks who teach with him in the Humanities Department because they're all fucking their students or wish they were fucking their students. "L.o-liii-ta." I mean, I don't care and all, he can fuck whoever he wants and he's a teacher and that's who teachers meet, students. He was just a turd the way he went about it and didn't give Mom a. chance to respond or anything. What sucks now is that Mom's watching me like a hawk, like, she's afraid I’ll have some post-divorce freak-out and become some heroin addict or shoot everybody at school. Or God forbid, lose my virginity. I don't know what it is about Dad splitting that put Mom on hymen patrol. Do you have a boyfriend? JOHNNA: No, not these days. JEAN: Me neither. I did go with this boy Josh for like almost a year but he was retarded. Are your parents still together? JOHNNA: They passed away. JEAN: Oh. I'm sorry. JOHNNA: That's okay. Thank you. JEAN: Oh, fuck, no, I'm really sorry, I feel fucking terrible now . JOHNNA: It's okay. JEAN: Oh God. Okay. Were you close with them? JOHNNA: Yeah. JEAN: Okay, another stupid question there, Jean, real good. Wow. Like: "Are you close to your parents?” JOHNNA: Not everybody is. JEAN: Yeah, right? So that's what I meant. Thanks. (Johnna takes a framed photograph from her nightstand and hands it to JEAN.) Oh, wow. This is them. JOHNNA: Mm-hm, their wedding picture. JEAN: That's sweet. Their costumes are fantastic. (Johnna smiles. JEAN hands the photograph back, walks around the room.) This is a great room. Very Night of the Hunter. This used to be my room when we'd come and stay. JOHNNA: I'm sorry. JEAN: Oh. No, I ... it doesn't matter to me. It's just a room. (Beat) What are you reading? JOHNNA: T. S. Eliot. JEAN: That's cool. JOHNNA: Your grandfather loaned it to me. JEAN: Grandpa's weird. Mom freaked when she got the call from Aunt Ivy this morning, just like ... freaked. I've never seen her like that. I couldn't get her to calm down. It was weird. I guess it's not weird that she freaked out, but like, to see your mom freak like that, like you've never seen before, y'know? And we're real close. Did you ever see your parents freak out? JOHNNA: They weren't really the type. JEAN: Yeah, right? So like imagine if you did just one day see them like totally lose their shit, just like, "Whoa." (Jean reaches, touches a beaded pouch in the shape of a turtle hanging from Jobnna's neck.) I like your necklace. JOHNNA: Thank you. JEAN: Did you make that? JOHNNA: My grandma. JEAN: It's a turtle, right? JOHNNA: Mm-hm. JEAN: It feels like there's something in it. JOHNNA: My umbilical cord. (Jean recoils, wipes her hand on her pant leg. JOHNNA laughs.) JEAN: Ewww, are you serious? JOHNNA: Yes. JEAN: Oh my God. That's kind of gross. JOHNNA: It's not unsanitary. JEAN: Why would you do that, is it some kind of... ? JOHNNA: It's a Cheyenne tradition. JEAN: You're Cheyenne. JOHNNA: Mm-hm. JEAN: Like that movie Powwow Highway. Did you see that? JOHNNA: When a Cheyenne baby is born, their umbilical cord is dried and sewn into this pouch. Turtles for girls, lizards for boys. And we wear it for the rest of our lives. JEAN: Wow. JOHNNA: Because if we lose it, our souls belong nowhere and after we die our souls will walk the Earth looking for where we belong. JEAN: Don't say anything about Mom and Dad splitting up, okay? They're trying to play this kind of low-key. Scene 3 BARBARA unfolds the hide-a-bed in the living room. BILL enters from the study, carrying a thin hardback book. BILL: Look what I found. Isn't that great? BARBARA: We have copies. BILL: I don't think I remember a hardback edition. I forgot there was ever a time they published poetry in hardback. Hell, I forgot there was ever a time they published poetry at all. BARBARA: I'm not going to be able to sleep in this heat. BILL: I wonder if this is worth something. BARBARA: I'm sure it's not. BILL: You never know. First edition, hardback, mint condition? Academy Fellowship, uh ... Wallace Stevens Award? That's right, isn't it? BARBARA: Mm-hm. BILL: This book was a big deal. BARBARA: It wasn't that big a deal. BILL: In those circles, it was. BARBARA: Those are small circles. BILL (Reads from the book): "Dedicated to my Violet." That's nice. Christ ... I can't imagine the kind of pressure he must've felt after this came out. Probably every word he wrote after this, he had to be thinking, "What are they going to say about this? Are they going to compare it to Meadowlark?" BARBARA: Did Jean go to bed? BILL: She just turned out the light. You would think, though, at some point, you just say, "To hell with this," and you write something anyway and who cares what they say about it. I mean I don't know, myselfBARBARA: Will you please shut up about that fucking book?! BILL: What's the matter? BARBARA: You are just dripping with envy over these ... thirty poems my father wrote back in the fucking sixties, for God's sake. Don't you hear yourself? BILL: You're mistaken. I have great admiration for these poems, not envyBARBARA: Reciting his list of awardsBILL: I was merely talking about the valueBARBARA: My father didn't write anymore for a lot of reasons, but critical opinion was not one of them, hard as that may be for you to believe. I know how important that stuff is to you. BILL: What are you attacking me for? I haven’t done anything. BARBARA: I'm sure that's what you tell Sissy, too, so she can comfort you, reassure you: "No, Billy, you haven't done anything." BILL: What does that have to do--why are you bringing that up? BARBARA: They're all symptoms of your male menopause, whether it's you struggling with the "creative question," or screwing a girl who still wears a retainer. BILL: All right, look. I'm here for you. Because I want to be with you, in a difficult time. But I'm not going to be held hostage in this room so you can attack meBARBARA: I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hold you hostage. You really should go then. BILL: I'm not going anywhere. I flew to Oklahoma to be here with you and now you're stuck with me. And her name is Cindy. BARBARA: I know her stupid name. At least do me the courtesy of recognizing when I'm demeaning you. BILL: Violet really has a way of putting you in attack mode, you know it? BARBARA: She doesn't have anything to do with it. BILL: Don't you believe it. You feel such rage for her that you can't help dishing it my directionBARBARA: I swear to God, you psychoanalyze me right now, I skin you. BILL: You may not agree with my methods, but you know I'm right. BARBARA: Your "methods." Thank you, Doctor, but I actually don't need any help from my mother to feel rage. BILL: You want to argue? Is that what you need to do? Well, pick a subject, all right, and let me know what it is, so I can have a fighting chanceBARBARA: The subject is me! I am the subject, you narcissistic motherfucker! I am in pain! I need help! (JEAN enters from the second-floor hallway, sits on the stairway, listens.) BILL: I've copped to being a narcissist. We're the products of a narcissistic generation. BARBARA: You can't do it, can you? You can't talk about me for two seconds- BILL: You called me a narcissist! And when I try to talk about you, you accuse me of psychoanalyzing you-! BARBARA: You do understand that it hurts, to go from sharing a bed with you for twenty-three years to sleeping by myself. BILL: I'm here, now. BARBARA: Men always say shit like that, as if the past and the future don't exist. BILL: Can we not make this a gender discussion? BARBARA: Do men really believe that here and now is enough? It's just horseshit, to avoid talking about the things they're afraid to say. BILL: I'm not necessarily keen on the notion of saying things that would hurt you. BARBARA: Like what? BILL: Don't. BARBARA: What? Say it. You must realize there's nothing you can say that would hurt me any more than I'm already hurting. The damage is done. BILL: I think you're wrong. I think you get in this masochistic frame of mind that actually desires to be hurt more than BARBARA: What?! BILL: Barbara, please, we have enough on our hands with your parents right now. Let's not revisit all this. BARBARA: Revisit, when did we visit this to begin with? You pulled the rug out from under me. I still don't know what happened. Do I bore you, intimidate you, disgust you? Is this just about the pleasures of young flesh, teenage pussy? I really need to know. BILL: You need to know now? You want to have this discussion with Beverly missing, and your mother as crazy as a loon, and our daughter twenty feet away? Do you really want to do this now? BARBARA: No. You're right. I'll just hunker down for a cozy night's sleep. Next to my husband. (She calmly gets under the covers.) BILL: This discussion deserves our care. And patience. We'll both be in a better frame of mind to talk about this once your father's come home. BARBARA: My father's dead, Bill. (She rolls onto her side, her back to BILL.) Scene 4 Red and blue police flashers bounce across the exterior of the house. SHERIFF GILBEAU stands on the front porch. The rest of the house is dark. JOHNNA, wearing a robe, quietly knocks on the stereo cabinet in the living room. BARBARA: Mm ... what! JOHNNA: Excuse me ... it's Johnna. BARBARA: What? JOHNNA: Excuse meBARBARA: What is it? JOHNNA: The sheriff's here. BILL: Turn on the light. (Johnna turns on a lamp, temporarily blinding BILL and BARBARA.) JOHNNA: The sheriff is here. (Pause. This sinks in. Then BILL and BARBARA scramble out of bed.) Should I wake Mrs. Weston? BARBARA: I don't know. Bill? BILL: Yeah, you better get her up. (Johnna leaves the room. Jean enters the secondfloor landing, bleary-eyed, as BILL and BARBARA scurry into clothes. BARBARA climbs the stairs.) JEAN: What's going on? BARBARA: The sheriff is here. JEAN: What? BARBARA: Go back to bed, honey. JEAN: Why are the police here? BARBARA: I don't know, sweetheart, please go back to bed. (Offstage, an attempt to alert VIOLET. JOHNNA knocks on VIOLET's bedroom door.) JOHNNA: Mrs. Weston? (Knocks again) Mrs. Weston. (BARBARA knocks loudly.) BARBARA: Mom? ... Mom, wake up. VIOLET: Huh? BARBARA: Wake up, the sheriff's here. VIOLET: Did you call them? BARBARA: No. VIOLET: I dig in call them. BARBARA: Mom. The sheriff is here. You need to wake up and come downstairs. VIOLET: Inna esther? BARBARA: What? VIOLET: Inna esther broke. 'N' pays me 'em ... sturck ... struck. BILL (From the bottom of the stairs): Come on. BARBARA (To BILL): What ... ? BILL: Come on. Leave her there. (BARBARA halfway descends the stairs, trailed by JOHNNA, as BILL admits SHERIFF GILBEAU, shakes hands.) Bill Fordham, Barbara's husband. SHERIFF GILBEAU: Hello. Hi, Barbara. BARBARA: Oh my God, I know you. Oh my God, Deon ... SHERIFF GILBEAU: Yes, ma'am. I'm afraid I have some bad news for you folks. BARBARA; OkaySHERIFF GILBEAU: We found your father. He's dead. BILL: Oh dear God. (BARBARA keens immediately, sinks to her knees on the stairway. JOHNNA wraps one hand around BARBARA's middle, places the other hand firmly on BARBARA's forehead. JEAN sits down all a step.) SHERIFF GILBEAU: I am sorry. BILL: What happened? SHERIFF GILBEAU: We got a call from the lake patrol a few hours ago that Mr. Weston's boat was found washed up on a sandbar. We were planning to drag the lake this morning around that area, southeast, when we got another call. Couple old boys running jug lines in the cove, uh ... hooked ... Mr. Weston. And pulled him up. BILL: Now? This time of night? SHERIFF GILBEAU: These guys run those lines early. BILL: He drowned. That's how he died, from drowning. SHERIFF GILBEAU: Yes, sir. BILL: Is there any possibility ... any possibility that it's not him? SHERIFF GILBEAU: Given the proximity of the boat to where the body was found, we're pretty sure it's Mr. Weston. (BARBARA suddenly dries her eyes, shrugs JOHNNA's grasp, stands.) BARBARA: All right. Okay. So what happens? What do we do now? SHERIFF GILBEAU: I need a relative to come with me to positively identify the body. BILL: To your station house. SHERIFF GILBEAU: No, sir, he's still at the lake. BARBARA: Oh God, I don't think I can do this. SHERIFF GILBEAU: I'm sorry. BILL: I'll go. Can I go? Can I do it? SHERIFF GILBEAU: I need a blood relative. But if Barbara is the one to identify him, I suggest you come along. BARBARA: Bill, I can't do it. BILL: Honey, what choice do we have? JEAN: I can do it. I'm a blood relative. BARBARA: No, no. No, I'll do it. I will. (Johnna exits to the kitchen, turns on the lights, starts a pot of coffee.} BILL: Can we have a couple of minutes to get ready? SHERIFF GILBEAU: Yes, sir. Barbara? (She turns to him.) I'm very sorry. This is the hardest part of my job. And I'm ... to do it for someone you know ...I'm just .. very sorry. (She nods.) BILL: What do you want to do about your mother? BARBARA: I ... I ... fuck it. (Laughs) Fuck it. I'll go ... put some clothes on. BILL: I'll be right up. Jean, help your mother, okay? (BARBARA and JEAN exit down the second-floor hallway. Bill pulls SHERIFF GILBEAU into the study.) Is there any way to determine if he-I mean, is this an accident, or suicide? SHERIFF GILBEAU: There's really no way to tell. BILL: What do you think happened? I mean ... what's your guess? SHERIFF GILBEAU: Suicide. I would guess suicide. But the official cause of death is "drowning." And that's the extent of it. BILL: I understand. SHERIFF GILBEAU: I should warn you. That body has been in the water for all of three days. BILL: Right. SHERIFF GILBEAU: I think you should try to prepare your wife, if you can. BILL: "Prepare her ..." SHERIFF GILBEAU: What happens to a body. It's very bloated. It's an ugly color. And fish have eaten the eyes. BILL: Oh Christ. How does a person jump in the water ... and choose not to swim? SHERIFF GILBEAU: I don't think you do unless you really mean business. BILL: Choose not to swim. (Lights shift to the second-floor landing as BARBARA and JEAN enter. JEAN sits on the window seat as BARBARA takes a brush through her hair.) JEAN: What about Aunt Ivy? BARBARA: I guess we'll stop there on the way back and tell her. Christ, I need to call Karen, too. What the fuck am I brushing my hair for? (She throws the brush. She slumps on the window seat next to JEAN.) I used to go out with that boy. With that man. JEAN: What man? BARBARA: The sheriff. JEAN: You did? BARBARA: Yeah, in high school. He was my prom date. JEAN: You're kidding. BARBARA: The day of the prom, his father got drunk and stole his car. Stole his own son's car and went somewhere. Mexico. Deon showed up at the door, wearing this awful tuxedo. He'd been crying, I could tell. And he confessed he didn't have a way to take me to the prom. I just felt awful for him, so I told him we'd walk. About three miles. I busted a heel and we both got so sweaty and dirty. We gave up... got a six-pack and broke into the chapel, stayed up all night talking and kissing. And now he's here telling me . . . oh, it's just surreal. Thank God we can't tell the future. We'd never get out of bed. (She fixes JEAN with a look) Listen to me: die after me, all right? I don't care what else you do, where you go, how you screw up your life, just ... survive. Outlive me, please. JEAN: I'll do my best. (BILL enters.) BILL: You ready? BARBARA: Give me a second. (Lights shift to the study, where SHERIFF GILBEAU waits. VIOLET, wearing silk pajamas, shakily descends the stairs, crosses into the study.) VIOLET: Izza story. SHERIFF GILBEAU: Hello, Violet. VIOLET: Barely's back. SHERIFF GILBEAU: I beg your pardon? VIOLET: Did sum Beer-ley come home? SHERIFF GILBEAU: Ma'am. (VIOLET shuffles up to SHERIFF GILBEAU.) VIOLET: Gizza cig ... some cigezze? Cig-zezz, cig-zizz. cig-uhzzz. (She laughs at her own inability to speak. SHERIFF GILBEAU takes a Pall Mall from his shirt pocket, hands it to her. She stands, sways, holding the cigarette in her mouth. He lights it.) In the archa, archa-tex? I'm in the bottom. Izza bottom of them. Inna ... ell. (She shuffles to the stereo in the living room ... ) His master's voice. (... and plays a song: "Lay Down, Sally,” by Clapton. SHERIFF GILBEAU trails her into the living room.) Mm, good beat. Right? SHERIFF GILBEAU: Yes, ma'am. (She does a jerky little dance, puffing on her cigarette.) VIOLET: Barbara?! Is Barbara here?! SHERIFF GILBEAU: She's upstairs. VIOLET: Barbara?! Izza time in duhh ... izza time? What's time?! SHERIFF GILBEAU: It's about 5:45. VIOLET: BARB'RA! BARB'RA! (BARBARA, Bill, JEAN and JOHNNA enter from various points in the house. VIOLET sees them, continues her tight little dance.) Idn't it's good beat? Inna good beats. Mmm, I been on the music ... pell-man onna sheriff. C. J.'s boy. Right? Donna two inna school? Armen in tandel s'lossle, s'lost? Lost?! From the day, the days. Am Beerly ... and Beverly lost? (VIOLET abandons her dance, separates invisible threads in the air. The others stand frozen, staring at her.) And then you’re here. And Barbara, and then you're here, and Beverly, and then you're here, and then you're here, and then you're here, and then you're here, and then you're here, and then you're here, and then you're here, and then you're here, and then you're here, and then you're here, and then you're here, and then you're here, and then you're here, and then you're here, and then you're here, and then you're here ... (Blackout.) End of Act One ACT TWO The house has been manifestly refreshed, presumably by Johnna' s hand. The dull, dusty finish has been replaced by the transparent gleam of function. Of note: The study has been reorganized. Stacks of paper arc neater, books are shelved. The dining room table is set with the fine china, candles, a floral centerpiece. In a corner of the dining room, a "kid's table," with seating for two, is also set. The warm, clean kitchen now bubbles and steams, redolent of collard and kale. At rise: Three o'clock of an eternal Oklahoma afternoon. The body of BEVERLY Weston has just been buried. VIOLET, relatively sober now, in a handsome modern black dress, stands in Beverly's study, a bottle of pills in her hand. Elsewhere in the house: KAREN and BARBARA are in the dining room. Johnna is in the kitchen. VIOLET: August ... your month. Locusts are raging. "Summer psalm become summer wrath." 'Course it's only August out there. In here ... who knows? All right ... okay. “The Carriage held but just Ourselves," dum-de-dum . . . mm, best I got . . . Emily Dickinson's all I got . . . something something, "Horse's Heads Were Toward Eternity ..." (She takes a pill.) That's for me ... one for me ... (She picks up the hardback copy of Meadowlark, flips to the dedication.) "Dedicated to my VIOLET." Put that one in marble. (She drops the book on the desk. She takes a pill.) For the girls, God love 'em. That's all I can dedicate to you, sorry to say. Other than them ... not one thing. Nothing. You think I'll weep for you? Think I'll play that part, like we played the others? (She takes a pill.) You made your choice. You made this happen. You answer for this ... not me. Not me. This is not mine. (Lights crossfade to the dining room. BARBARA and KAREN, wearing black dresses, fold napkins, munch food from a relish tray, etc.) KAREN: The present. Today, here and now. I think I spent so much of my early life thinking about what's to come, y'know, who would I marry, would he be a lawyer or a football player, would he be dark-haired and good-looking and broad-shouldered. I spent a lot of time in that bedroom upstairs pretending my pillow was my husband and I'd ask him about his day at work and what was happening at the office, and did he like the dinner I made for him and where were we going to vacation that winter and he'd surprise me with tickets to Belize and we'd kiss-I mean I'd kiss my pillow, make out with my pillow, and then I'd tell him I'd been to the doctor that day and I'd found out I was pregnant. I know how pathetic all that sounds now, but it was innocent enough ... Then real life takes over because it always doesBARBARA: -uh-huh KAREN: -and things work out differently than you'd planned. That pillow was a better husband than any real man I'd ever met; this parade of men fails to live up to your expectations, all of them so much less than Daddy or Bill (you know I always envied you finding Bill). And you punish yourself, tell yourself it's your fault you can't find a good one, you've only deluded yourself into thinking they're better than they are. I don't know how well you remember Andrew. . . BARBARA: No, I remember. KAREN: That's the best example: here's a guy I loved so intensely, and all the things he did wrong were just opportunities for me to make things right. So if he cheated on me or he called me a cunt, I'd think to myself, "No, you love him, you love him forever, and here's an opportunity to make an adjustment in the way you view the world." And I can't say when the precise moment was that I looked in the mirror and said, "Okay, moron," and walked out, but it kicked off this whole period of reflection, just swamped in this sticky recollection. How had I screwed it up, where'd I go wrong, and before you know it you can't move forward, you're just suspended there, you can't move forward because you can't stop thinking backward, I mean, you know ... years! Years of punishment, self-loathing. And that's when I got into all those books and discussion groupsBARBARA: And Scientology, too, right, or something like that?KAREN: Yes, exactly, and finally one day, I threw it all out, I just said, "No, it's me. It's just me, here and now, with my music on the stereo and my glass of wine and Bloomers my cat; and I don't need anything else, I can live my life with myself." And I got my license, threw myself into my work, sold a lot of houses, and that's when I met Steve. That's how it happens, of course, you only really find it when you're not looking for it, suddenly you turn around and there it is. And then the things you thought were so important aren't really important. I mean, when I made out with my pillow, I never imagined Steve! Here he is, you know, this kinda country club Chamber of Commerce guy, ten years older than me, but a thinker, you know, someone who's been around, and he's just so good. He's a good man and he's good to me and he's good for me. BARBARA: That's great, KarenKAREN: He's got this great business and it's because he has these great ideas and he's unafraid to make his ideas realities, you know, he's not afraid of doing. I think men on the whole are better at that than women, don't you? Doing, just jumping in and doing, right or wrong, we'll figure out what it all means later. And the best thing about him, the best thing about him for me, is that now what I think about is now. I live now. My focus, my life, my world is now. I don't give a care about the past anymore, the mistakes I made, the way I thought, I won't go back there. And I've realized you can't plan the future, because as soon as you do, you know, something happens, some terrible thing happensBARBARA: Like your father drowning himself. KAREN: Exactly! Exactly, that's exactly what I mean! That's not something you plan for! There's no contingency; you take it as it comes, here and now! Steve had a very important presentation today, for some bigwig government guys who could be very important for his business, something he's been putting together for months, and as soon as we heard about Daddy, he called and canceled his meeting. He has his priorities straight. And you know what the kicker is? (BARBARA waits.) Do you know what the kicker is? BARBARA: What's the kicker? KAREN: We're going to Belize on our honeymoon. (Johnna enters from the kitchen, bringing in a pitcher of iced tea.) BARBARA: Sorry. Hot flash. KAREN: I never told him my little Belize fantasy, he just up and surprised me with tickets for after the wedding. BARBARA (To JOHNNA): God, that smells good, what are we having? JOHNNA: Urn ... baked chicken, fried potatoes, green bean casserole ... some greens ... BARBARA: Did Mattie Fae bring her green bean casserole? JOHNNA: Oh. I don't know. Should I not have made it? BARBARA: No, it's good you did, hers is inedible. (Johnna exits.) KAREN: I rnean, can you believe that about Belize? BARBARA: That's terrific. KAREN: I know you only just met him, but did you get a read off him? Did you like him? BARBARA: We said two words to each other KAREN: But you still get a feel, don't you? Did you get a feel? BARBARA: He seemed very nice, sweetheart KAREN: He is, andBARBARA: -but what I think about him doesn't matter. I'm not marrying himKAREN: You'll come to the wedding, won't you? BARBARA: Yeah, when is it again? KAREN: New Year's Day. One reason we chose New Year's is because I know you and Bill have a break from school and it's important to me that you're there. BARBARA: It's in Sarasota? KAREN: Miami. Didn't you know I moved to Miami? BARBARA: Wait, yes, I did know thatKAREN: That's where Steve's businessBARBARA: -right, right. KAREN: I guess what I'm telling you is that I'm finally happy. I've been really unhappy for most of my life, my adult life. I doubt you've been aware of that. I know our lives have led us apart, you, me and Ivy, and maybe we're not as close as we ... as close as some familiesBARBARA: Yeah, we really need to talk about Mom, what to do about MomKAREN: -but I think at least one reason for that is that I haven't wanted to live my unhappiness in full view of my family. But now I'm ... well, I'm just really happy. And I'd really like us to maybe get to know each other a little better. BARBARA: Yes. Yes. (KAREN wraps her arms around BARBARA.) Okay. Yes. (They separate.) Christ, where are they with the wine already? KAREN: And see, there's another example, Steve doesn't know a soul here, but he jumped right in the car with Bill and Jean to go get the wine. He's family! (Lights crossfade to the second-floor landing. IVY enters, pursued by VIOLET, who carries a dress and a pair of high heels. MATTIE FAE follows, rooting through a box of photographs. Like VIOLET, MATTIE FAE wears a black dress; IVY wears a black suit. During the following, BARBARA and KAREN exit to the kitchen.) IVY: I really don't want to. VIOLET: It won't kill you to try it onMATTIE FAE (Regarding photographs): Oh, this is a sweet one, ViIVY: I find all this a tidge morbid, quite franklyMATTIE FAE: Look at this, IvyVIOLET: What's morbid about it? IVY: -and I'm really not prepared to look at these photographs right nowVIOLET: This is a beautiful dress and it's very modern. IVY: It's not my style, MomMATTIE FAE: Where was this taken?VIOLET: You don't have a style, that's the whole pointMATTIE FAE: Vi? VIOLET (Glancing at the photo): New York City. That's from the first book tour, New York. IVY: You mean I don't have your style. I have a style of my ownMATTIE FAE: "New York City, I964"VIOLET: Honey, you wore a suit to your father's funeral. A woman doesn't wear a suit to a funeralIVY: God, you're weird; it's a black suit. VIOLET: You look like a magician's assistant. IVY: You knowMATTIE FAE: Little Charles has been talking about moving to New York. IVY: -why do you feel it necessary to-? MATTIE FAE: Can you picture that? VIOLET: Don't discourage him nowMATTIE FAE: He wouldn't last a day in that city. They'd tear him apart. IVY: Why do you feel it-? MATTIE FAE: I could kill that kidIVY: Why do you feel it necessary to insult me? VIOLET: Stop being so sensitive. MATTIE FAE: He overslept? For my brother-in-law's funeral? A noon service? IVY: I’m sure there's more to the story thanMATTIE FAE: You shouldn't make excuses for him. That's what Charlie does, has always done. Just, "Oh, he overslept, la-di-da, I'll go pick him up at the bus station." IVY: You're so hard on him. MATTIE FAE: Boy's thirty-seven years old and can't drive? VIOLET: He's a little different, I'll give you that. IVY: I think you're beingMATTIE FAE: Who can't drive? IVY: I don't think you're veryMATTIE FAE: I've seen a chimp drive. VIOLET: Will you take off that cheap suit and try this on for me, please? IVY: Cheap?! Did you call this-?! MATTIE FAE: Is this the kind of thing you had in mind, Vi? VIOLET: No, it's to go on the sideboard for the meal, so it should be something we easily recognize. MATTIE FAE: You mean something big. VIOLET: Yes. I have a frame we canIVY: This is the most expensive item of clothing I own. VIOLET: I don't see what difference that matters, how much you paid for it. A suit of armor is expensive, too, but that doesn't make it appropriateMATTIE FAE: Well, this one's big, but it's of the two of youIVY: Why are you trying to give away your clothes? MATTIE FAE: Do you mind if it's of the two of you? VIOLET: All this shit's going. I'm downgrading. IVY: "Downgrading.” VIOLET: Downsizing, I'm downsizing. IVY: You're "downsizing"MATTIE FAE: Vi, do you think this is-? VIOLET: I'm serious, it's all going. I don't plan to spend the rest of my days walking around and looking at what used to be. I want that shit in the office gone, I want all these clothes I'm never going to wear gone, I want it all gone! I mean look at these fucking shoes. (Holds up the high heels) Can you picture me in these? Even if I didn't fall on my face, can you imagine anything less attractive, my swollen ankles and varicose veins? And my toenails, good God, anymore they could dig through cement. (MATTIE FAE holds a photograph in front of VIOLET.) MATTIE FAE: Is this the idea? VIOLET (Takes the photograph): Look at me. (Shows the photograph to IVY) Look at me. IVY: You're beautiful, Mom. VIOLET: I was beautiful. Not anymore. MATTIE FAE: Oh, nowIVY: You're still beautiful. VIOLET: No. One of those lies we tell to give us comfort, but don't you believe it. Women are beautiful when they're young, and not after. Men can still preserve their sex appeal well into old age. I don't mean those men like you see with shorts and those little purses around their waists. Some men can maintain, if they embrace it ... cragginess, weary masculinity. Women just get old and fat and wrinkly. MATTIE FAE: I beg your pardon. VIOLET: Think about what makes a young woman sexy. Think about the last time you went to the mall and saw some sweet little gal and thought, "She's a cute trick." What makes her that way? Taut skin, firm boobs, an ass above her kneesMATTIE FAE: I'm still very sexy, thank you very much. VIOLET: You're about as sexy as a wet cardboard box, Mattie Fae, you and me both. Don't kid yourself. Look…can we all just stop kidding ourselves? Wouldn't we be better off, all of us, if we stopped lying about these things and told the truth? ''Women aren't sexy when they're old." I can live with that. Can you live with that? MATTIE FAE: I can live with it, but I disagree. What about Sophia Loren? What about Lena Horne? She stayed sexy until she was eighty. VIOLET: The world is round. Get over it. Now try this dress on. IVY: I'm sorry, I won't. VIOLET: Ivy. IVY: All right, the heat in here is getting just stupid nowVIOLET: Now listen to me: you don't know how to attract a man. I do. That's something I've alwaysIVY: It's a funeral! We just buried my father, I'm not trying to attract-! VIOLET: I'm not talking about today, dummy, this is something you can wear someIVY: I have a man. All right? I have a man. (MATTIE FAE turns her attention to IVY.) VIOLET: You said ... you told me you weren't looking for a manIVY: And I'm not. Because I have one. Okay? Now will you leave it alone? (Pause.) VIOLET: No. I won't leave it alone. MATTIE FAE: No, let's not leave it alone. IVY: I wish you both could see the brainsick looks on your faces VIOLET: Who is it? IVY: Nobody. Forget itVIOLET: No, no you don't, I want to know who you'reIVY: I'm not talking about thisMATTIE FAE: Ivy, please tell usIVY: No. MATTIE FAE: Is he someone from school? VIOLET: Tell me you're not back with Loser Barry. IVY: No, it isn't Barry. VIOLET: Thank you, Jesus. MATTIE FAE: Tell us something, how old is he, what does he do?IVY: I'm not telling you anything, either of you, so you might as wellMATTIE FAE: You have to tell us something! IVY: No, I really don't. VIOLET: Are you in love, Ivy? IVY (Stunned): I ... I don't ... I'm ... (She bursts into awkward laughter and exits down the second-floor hallway. VIOLET and MATTIE FAE squeal and follow IVY off. Lights crossfade to the front porch as JEAN zips inside. She races to the TV, turns it on, finds a channel, and sits improbably close. BILL and STEVE Heidebrecht follow, dressed in dark suits and laden with paper grocery bags.) STEVE: No, we maintain the accounts offshore, just until we get approvals. BILL: To get around approvals? STEVE: To get around approvals until we get approvals. There's a lot of red tape, a lot of bureaucracy. I don't know how much you know about Florida, Florida politicsBILL: Only what I read and that'sSTEVE: Right, right, and this kind of business in particularBILL: I'm sorry, what is the business again? I don'tSTEVE: You know, it's essentially security work. The situation in the Middle East is perpetually dangerous, so there's a tremendous amount of money involvedBILL: Security work. You mean ... mercenary? (BARBARA enters from the kitchen.) BARBARA: Give. Me. The wine. (She pulls a bottle of wine from BILL's grocery bag.) STEVE: I think of it more like "missionary',' than "mercenary." BARBARA (To JEAN, regarding the TV): Is that what you were in such a hurry to get home for? JEAN: Yeah. BARBARA: What the hell is on TV that's so important you can't-? JEAN: Phantom of the Opera, I925. Lon Chaney. BILL: Cool. BARBARA: For God's sake, Jean, you can get it at any video store. JEAN: No, but they're showing it with the scene in color restored. BILL: Oh, no kidding, from the ... what's that scene called again, sweetie? "The Masked Ball"? JEAN: Yeah. BARBARA: Let me make sure I've got this: when you threw a fit about going to the store with your father-hey. Look at me. (She does.) And you were so very distraught over the start time of your grandpa's funeral. Was this your concern? Getting back here in time to watch the Phantom of the Fucking Opera? JEAN: I guess. (BARBARA gives JEAN a withering look, exits.) BILL (To STEVE): I'll take these into the kitchen. STEVE: No, I can. BILL: I've got it. (BILL takes STEVE's grocery bag and follows BARBARA into the kitchen.) STEVE: Movie buff? JEAN: Yeah. STEVE: Right, right, me too. You ever seen this? JEAN: Huh-uh. STEVE: It's a great one. You know Chaney designed his own makeup. JEAN: I know. STEVE: Apparently very painful. He ran these fishing lines from under his nostrils and pulled them up under hisJEAN: Yeah, I know. , STEVE: You see any of the remakes? They're pretty bad. JEAN: I've seen the one with Claude Rains. STEVE: Right, right, pretty bad, right? Phantom's queer. That's a problem. JEAN: I don't remember it so hot, I was just a kid. STEVE: Yeah ... (STEVE sits on the couch behind her. They watch the movie for a moment.) You're not a kid anymore, I guess. JEAN: What? STEVE: I say you're not a kid anymore. JEAN: No. I mean, yeah. STEVE: How old are you, about, seventeen? JEAN: Fifteen . STEVE: Right, right. Fifteen. That's no kid. (They watch TV.) You're no kid. (Beat) You know what I was doing when I was fifteen? JEAN: What? STEVE: Cattle processing. You know what that is? JEAN: It doesn't sound good. STEVE: Slaughterhouse. Sanitation. Slaughterhouse sanitation. JEAN: That's disgusting. STEVE: I don't recommend it. But hey. Put food on the table. Get it? (He sniffs; the air.) Whoa, whoa. Wait now. What's that smell? JEAN: Food, from the kitchen. STEVE: Nah, that's not what I'm smelling. (He continues to sniff the air, follows his nose, until he is on the floor, above her. He smells her.) JEAN: What are you doing? STEVE: Do I smell what I think I smell? JEAN: What do you smell? STEVE: What do you think I smell? JEAN: I think you smell food from the kitchen. STEVE: Guess again. (He whiffs, hard, breathing her in.) JEAN: What are you-? STEVE: Is that-is that pot? JEAN: Oh. I don't know. (She smells her sleeve.) STEVE: You smoking pot? JEAN: No. STEVE: You can tell me. JEAN: No. STEVE: Is it just me, or is it getting hot in here? JEAN: It's hot. STEVE: You're hot? JEAN: Yeah ... STEVE: How hot are you? JEAN: Really hot. STEVE: Really hot. JEAN: Yeah. STEVE: Yeah ... you a little dope smoker? (No response.) Well then you are in luck. Because I just happen to have some really tasty shit. Because I just happen to have some really good connects. And I am going to hook you up. JEAN: That would be great 'cause I just smoked my last bowl, and I really need to get fucked up. STEVE: You what? JEAN: I really need to get fucked upSTEVE: You need to get what? JEAN: Fucked upSTEVE: What? You need to get fucked what? (She snort-laughs, pushes him away.) JEAN: You're bad. STEVE: I'm just goofin' with you. (KAREN enters from the kitchen, finds STEVE on the floor, looming over JEAN.) Hi, sweetheart. KAREN: What are you doing? STEVE: Goofin' with your niece. KAREN: I think we're getting ready to eat. STEVE: Right, right, I’m starving. KAREN: Did you remember to get cigarettes? STEVE: Damn it. (To JEAN) Didn't, I ask you what I was forgetting? I knew I was forgetting something. KAREN: I'll have to borrow from Momma. JEAN: I've got cigarettes. KAREN: You've got cigarettes. JEAN: Camel Lights? STEVE: She's got our brand. KAREN: Jean, honey, you're too young to smoke. STEVE (Faux stern): Yeah. KAREN (Whacks him playfully): Stop it now, don't encourage herSTEVE: Hey, she's no kidKAREN: Can we borrow a couple of cigarettes? JEAN: Yep-per. (Jean gets cigarettes from her purse.) STEVE: Now let's not encourage herKAREN: Oh, hush. (Takes cigarettes) Thanks, doll. Now stop smoking. (Jean watches TV. KAREN snuggles with STEVE, speaks in a baby voice.) Hi, doodle. STEVE: Hey, baby. KAREN (In a super baby voice): Hi, doodle! (STEVE embraces her. They kiss. His hands wander, squeeze her ass. She giggles, then breaks it.) Come into the backyard, I want to show you our old fort. Man, the air in here just doesn't move ... (She goes ahead of him. He follows, but stops ...) STEVE (Privately, to Jean): Hook you up, later. (... rubs his hand over the entirety of Jean's face. He exits. Lights crossfade to the front porch as CHARLIE and LITTLE CHARLES arrive.) LITTLE CHARLES: I'm sorry, Dad. CHARLIE: Stop apologizing to me. Hold on a second, comb your hair. (CHARLIE gives LITTLE CHARLES a comb.) LITTLE CHARLES: I know Mom's mad at me. CHARLIE: Don't worry about her. LITTLE CHARLES: What did she say? CHARLIE: You know your mother, she says what she says. LITTLE CHARLES: I set the alarm. I did.. CHARLIE: I know you did. LITTLE CHARLES: I wanted to be there. CHARLIE: You're here now. LITTLE CHARLES: I loved Uncle Bev, you know that CHARLIE: Stop apologizing. LITTLE CHARLES: The power must've gone out. I woke up and the clock was blinking noon. That means the power went out, right? CHARLIE: It's okay. LITTLE CHARLES: I missed his funeral! CHARLIE: It's a ceremony. It's ceremonial. It doesn't mean anything compared to what you have in your heart. LITTLE CHARLES: Uncle Bev must be disappointed in me. CHARLIE: Your Uncle Bev has got bigger and better things ahead of him. He doesn't have time for spite. He wasn't that kind of man anyway. (LITTLE CHARLES weeps.) Hey. Little Charles. Hey. It's okay. It's okay, now ... LITTLE CHARLES: Just ... it's just ... you know, I know how things are. I know how they feel about me, and when, something like this ... you want to be there for people, andCHARLIE: -shhhhLITTLE CHARLES: -I missed Uncle Bev's funeral, and I know how they feel about meCHARLIE: Who, how who feels about you? Feels what about you? LITTLE CHARLES: All of them. I know what they say. CHARLIE: They don't say things about you-, LITTLE CHARLES: I see how they ate. I don't blame them. I'm sorry I let you down", Dad. CHARLIE: You haven't let me down. You never let me down. Now listen here ... you're wrong about these people, they love you. Some of them haven't gotten a chance to see what I see: a fine man, very loving, with a lot to offer. Now take this ... (Gives LITTLE CHARLES a handkerchief) Give me my comb. Stand up straight. Look folks in the eye. And stop being so hard on yourself. LITTLE CHARLES: I love you, Dad. CHARLIE: Love you too, son. (CHARLIE claps LITTLE CHARLES on the back as they enter the living room. Lights crossfade to the dining room as BARBARA and BILL enter from the kitchen. Johnna occasionally interrupts as she moves between the kitchen and the dining room, setting the table with food.) BILL: Jean doesn't understand all this. You think she has any concept-? BARBARA: Phantom of the OperaBILL: Do you remember what it was like to be fourteen? BARBARA: She's old enough to exhibit a little character. But then I guess that's something you normally learn from your parents. BILL: That's a shot across my bow, right? I missed something. BARBARA: Really? Instilling character: our burden, as parents. BILL: I got that part. BARBARA: And you really haven't been much of a parent lately, so it's tough to expectBILL: Just because you and I are struggling with this Gordian knot doesn't make me any less of aBARBARA: Nice, "Gordian knot," but her little fourteen-year-old self might view it differently, might consider it "abandonment"BILL: Oh, come onBARBARA: Maybe she views her father as "absent," or maybe "not present," or perhaps even "a son-of-a-bitch." BILL: Jean's a little more sophisticated than that, don't you think? BARBARA: Pretty fucking sophisticated, the restored whatever from Phantom of the Opera, I know that makes your dick hardBILL: BarbaraBARBARA: Precocious little shitBILL: I'm not defending her. BARBARA (Voice rising): I'm not blaming her BILL (Voice rising): I'm on your side. How because I don't expect her to act any can we fight when I'm on your side? differently when her father is a selfish son-of Barbara... Barbara, settle down! a-bitch! BARBARA: Be a father! Help me! BILL: I am her father, goddamn it! BARBARA: Her father in absentia, her father in name only!BILL: I have not forsook my responsibilities!BARBARA: It's "forsaken," big shot! BILL: Actually, "forsook" is also an acceptable usage!BARBARA: Oh, "forsook" you and the horse you rode in on! BILL: So we need to fight on your terms then: on topic one moment, and whimsical insults the next, all of it when it suits youBARBARA: We covered this around Year Three, Bill: that you're the Master of Space and Time and I'm a spastic Pomeranian. BILL: That's not fair. . BARBARA: I'm sick of being fair! I've seen where being fair gets me! I'm sick of the whole notion of the enduring female. GROW UP! 'Cause while you're going through your fifth puberty, the world is falling apart and I can't handle it! More importantly, your kid can't handle it! BILL: Our kid is just trying to deal with this goddamn madhouse you've dragged her into. BARBARA: This madhouse is my home. BILL: Think about that statement for a second, why don't you? BARBARA: Jean is here with me because this is a family event. BILL: Jean's here with you because she's a buffer between you and the shrill insanity of your mother. BARBARA: Y'know, you'd have a lot more credibility if you had any credibility. BILL: You can't resist, can you? BARBARA: You're a pretty easy mark. BILL: You' re so goddamn self-righteous, you know? You're soBARBARA: Surely you must've known when you started porking Pippi Longstocking you were due for a little self-righteousness, just a smidgen of indignation on my partBILL: Maybe I split because of it. BARBARA: Is this your confession, then, when you finally unload all-? BILL: You're thoughtful, Barbara, but you're not open. You're passionate, but you're hard. You're a good, decent, funny, wonderful woman, and I love you, but you're a pain in the ass. (Lights up on the entire house: BILL exits to the porch, gathers himself KAREN and STEVE reenter, run into BARBARA in the sitting room. MATTIE FAE descends the stairs to the living room where JEAN, CHARLIE and LITTLE CHARLES watch TV. VIOLET and IVY reenter the second-floor landing.) JOHNNA: Dinner's ready. STEVE: I told you, smoke MATTIE FAE: Well, look IVY: I’m serious, if you a cigarette and the food who decided to show up. say anythingcomesSorry we woke you, VIOLET: You didn’t say I KAREN: (To Barbara) sweetheart. Couldn’t tell peopleWhen’s the last time LITTLE CHARLES: Mom, IVY: I’m telling you now. someone mowed the yard I’m so sorryVIOLET: Why are you so around here? MATTIE FAE: I’m sure you areworked up? You’re seeing BARBARA: Hm? CHARLIE: He’s here now and someone, I think that’s greatKAREN: I just showed that’s all that matters. IVY: Don’t you dareSteve our old fort, have MATTI FAE: That’s really not VIOLET: I think you might be you been out there? all that matterhappy to tell your family some BARBARA: No, I haven’t- LITTLE CHARLES: The electricity good news on a day like today?STEVE: Barb, would you must have gone out, I woke up and IVY: It’s nobody’s business. consider me uncouth if I the clockVIOLET: Folks only want what’s removed my suit jacket? MATTIE FAE: Don’t go through best for you. KAREN: Are you okay? it all, Little Charles. There’s no IVY: It’s nobody’s business! BARBARA: Yeah,I’m Need to go through allVIOLET: Why should I do you fine. CHARLIE: Honey, the boy’s any favors? STEVE: Barbara, can I…? trying to tell you he’s sorryIVY: Why Not? Why BARBARA: Yeah, sure. MATTIE FAE: Stop making wouldn’t you? KAREN: Poor thing, you’ve excuses for him, he’s thirtyVIOLET: You wouldn’t even had a long few days, seven years oldtry on my dresshaven’t you? CHARLIE: Please let’s not have IVY: I’m not bargaining with STEVE: Sure she has. this argument now. you! KAREN: I know how I get MATTIE FAE: I’m not arguing. VIOLET: You’re so melodramaticduring these times, I think, LITTLE CHARLES: I know I let IVY: I’m going downstairs to eat “I couldn’t eat a bite,” but you down. Momnow because you are impossible. then you put a plate of hot MATTIE FAE: What else is new? VIOLET: (Sarcastic.) I’m sorry in front of me and suddenly CHARLIE: You behave yourself, to be so impossible, it’s been kind I’m starving. (A pause, as there’s more important thingsof a tough dayBarbara seems to take them MATTIE FAE: I’m not talking IVY: Tough on everybody, Mom. in for the first time.) about this anymore, I’m ready BARBARA: You’re right. Let’s eat. STEVE: Let’s eat! (They cross from the kitchen into the dining room.) To eat. Did you bring my casserole in from-? CHARLIE: No, I’ll get it now. MATTIE FAE: You let my casserole sit for an hour inside a hot car?CHARLIE: I’ll get it, I’ll get itLITTLE CHARLES: I’ll get it. (Little Charles exits the house.) (Ivy heads downstairs, enters the living room as Matte Fae and Charlie join Barara, Karen, Steve and Johnna in the dining room. They gradually take their seats. Bill reenters from the porch, crosses into the living room.) KAREN: This just looks BILL: Jean. Time to eat. lovely. (To Johnna.) Did you MATTIE FAE: What a pretty table! JEAN: I don’t suppose it would be okay do all this? BILL: You suppose right. IVY: Did I hear Little Charles? JOHNNA: Mm-hm. BARBARA: She does it all, this BILL: Yeah, I think soone. JEAN: You’re just gonna stick me at STEVE: The chicken looks tasty, doesn’t it?the kid’s table anyway. MATTIE FAE: Do we have enough seats? BILL: I’m not in the mood for this right now, okay? IVY: Is he-do you know where he is? BILL: I think he went outside for somethingBARBARA: I think so… CHARLIE: Where do you want to (Ivy exits to the front porch. Jean stomps sit? toward the dining room. Bill stops her.) MATTIE FAE: This’ll be fine, right hereWhy are you giving me all this attitude? KAREN: Sit by me, honey. JEAN: I’m not. STEVE: Okie-dokie. BILL: You do realize your mother needs BARBARA: Who gets stuck with Jean at the kid’s table? you at your best right now. MATTIE FAE: We’ll put Mr. Little Charles there. JEAN: Mom’s not the one crawling up my CHARLIE: Are you serious? BILL: Never mind. Wash up for dinner KAREN: Nooo, nowJEAN: “Wash up”? I’m not performing MATTIE FAE: Who else is going to sit there? surgery. (Jean and Bill enter the dining Do you want to sit there? room.) CHARLIE: He’s going to know you’re trying to punish himJOHNNA: I can sit there, it’s okay. MATTIE FAE: After you went to all the trouble of cooking this fabulous meal-? JOHNNA: I don’t mind. (As the family continues to settle in for the meal, lights shift again: up on the front porch. IVY greets LITTLE CHARLES as he returns with MATTIE FAE's casserole.) IVY: Hey. LITTLE CHARLES: Hi. IVY: Are you okay? LITTLE CHARLES: Not really. IVY: They said you overslept. LITTLE CHARLES: I don’t know, maybe I purposely accidentally overslept. I don't know. I'm so sorryIVY: Please. LITTLE CHARLES: I know you've had one of the worst days of your life and I'm just sorry if I made it anyIVY: Stop. We don't have to do that with each other. (She embraces him, kisses him ...) LITTLE CHARLES: You're breaking our rule. IVY: They're on to me. LITTLE CHARLES: What? IVY: Not us, just me. I told them I was seeing someone. I didn't tell them who. I just wanted you to know, in case there were questions... LITTLE CHARLES: All right ... I mentioned New York to Mom. Only, you know, that I was considering a move. IVY: She told me. LITTLE CHARLES: She was typically approving, I bet... IVY: But you know what? I think it helps, just letting them know, piece by piece. (He stares at her.) What? (He stares, smiles.) Charles ... LITTLE CHARLES: I adore you. (Lights crossfade to the dining room. Seated around the table: BARBARA, BILL, MATTIE FAE, CHARLIE, KAREN and STEVE. JEAN and JOHNNA sit at the kid's cable. The men have all removed their suit coats.) MATTIE FAE: This food's going to get cold. BARBARA (Calling out): Mom?! Let's eat. CHARLIE: Will you pass the casserole, please? MATTIE FAE: My casserole's coming. CHARLIE: I'll eat some of yours, tooBILL: Can I pour anyone some wine? KAREN: Yes, please. STEVE: Sure. I'll have some (LITTLE CHARLES enters with MATTIE FAE's casserole.) MATTIE FAE: There he is. I wanted to put you at the kid's table, but they wouldn't let me. LITTLE CHARLES: That would've been okay. Where do you want this? MATTIE FAE: Anywhere's fine. (Ad-lib greetings, hugs, handshakes, KAREN's introduction of STEVE, etc. IVY slips in and takes her seat. LITTLE CHARLES drops MATTIE FAE's casserole. It lands with a sickening "splat" on the dining room floor.) LITTLE CHARLES: Oh Jesus!BILL: Whoops. MATTIE FAE: Goddamn it!BARBARA: That's too badLITTLE CHARLES: Oh Jesus no!STEVE: O-pah! MATTIE FAE: You goofball! KAREN: Can it be saved? (Johnna goes to the kitchen for paper towels, a wet rag, etc.) MATTIE FAE: You goddamn clumsy goofball! LITTLE CHARLES: Mom, I'm so sorryCHARLIE: All right, all right, nobody's hurt. (LITTLE CHARLES helps JOHNNA clean up the mess.) MATTIE FAE: What about me? I'm hurt. CHARLIE:You're not hurt. LITTLE CHARLES: Mom, Jesus, I'm sorryIVY: It's just an accident. MATTIE FAE: That's my casserole! CHARLIE: Let it go, Mattie Fae. STEVE: It's not a party until someone spills something. CHARLIE: Jean, you didn't get any chicken. BARBARA: No, she won'tJEAN: I don't eat meat. CHARLIE: You don't eat meat. STEVE: Good for you. CHARLIE: "Don't eat meat.” Okay. Who wants chicken? Here, Little Charles, get some chicken. MATTIE FAE: Just put it on his plate for him or he's liable to burn the house down. CHARLIE: All right, Mattie Fae. (VIOLET enters with the framed photograph of her and BEVERLY.) VIOLET: Barb ... will you put this-? BARBARA: Yeah, sure ... (BARBARA takes the photograph, places it on the sideboard.) MATTIE FAE: That's nice. KAREN: That's sweet. STEVE: Very nice, yes. IVY: The table's lovely. BARBARA: Johnna did it all. JEAN: Yayyy, JohnnaVIOLET: I see you gentlemen have all stripped down to your shirt fronts. I thought we were having a funeral dinner, not a cockfight. (An awkward moment. The men glumly put their suit coats back on. Taking her seat) Someone should probably say grace. (All look to one another.) Barbara? Will you ... ? BARBARA: No, I don't think so. VIOLET Oh now, it's no bigBARBARA: Uncle Charlie should say grace. He's the patriarch around here now. CHARLIE: I am? Oh, I guess I am. VIOLET: By default. CHARLIE: Okay. (Clears his throat) Dear Lord ...(All bow their heads, clasp hands.) We ask that you watch over this family in this sad time, O Lord ... that you bless this good woman and keep her in your, in your ... grace. (A cell phone rings, playing the theme from Sanford and Son. STEVE quickly digs through his pockets, finds the phone, checks the caller ID.) STEVE: I'm sorry, I have to take this. (STEVE hustles out to talk on the phone.) CHARLIE: We ask that you watch over Beverly, too, as he, as he ... as he, as he, as he makes his journey. We thank thee, O Lord, that we are able to join together to pay tribute to this fine man, in his house, with his beautiful family, his three beautiful daughters. We are truly blessed in our, our fellowship, our togetherness, our ... our fellowship. Thank thee for the food, O Lord, that we can share this food and replenish our bodies with ... with nourishment. We ask that you help us ... get better. Be better. Be better people. (STEVE reenters, snapping his phone shut.) We recognize, now more than ever, the power, the, the ... joy of family. And we ask that you bless and watch over this family. Amen. MATTIE FAE: Amen . . STEVE: Amen. Sorry, folks. BILL: Let's eat. (They begin to eat.) VIOLET: Barbara, you have any use for that sideboard. BARBARA: Hm? VIOLET: That sideboard there, you have any interest in that? BARBARA: This? Well ... no. I mean, why? VIOLET: I'm getting rid of a lot of this stuff and I thought you might want that sideboard. BARBARA: No, Mom, I ... I KAREN: Really pretty. wouldn't have any way to get that to Boulder. VIOLET: Mm. Maybe Ivy'll take it. IVY: No, I have something like that, remember, from theBARBARA: What are you getting rid of? VIOLET: All of it, I'm clearing all this stuff out of here. I want to have a brand-new everything. BARBARA: I. I guess I'm just sort of. .. not prepared to talk about your stuff. . VIOLET: Suit yourself. STEVE: This food is just spectacular. KAREN: It's so goodLITTLE CHARLES: Yes, it isIVY: You like your food, Mom? VIOLET: I haven't tried much of it, yet BARBARA: Johnna cooked this whole meal by herself. VIOLET: Hm? What? BARBARA: I say Johnna cooked this whole meal byVIOLET: 'Swhat she's paid for. (A silent moment.) You all did know she's getting paid, right? CHARLIE: Jean, so I’m curious, when you say you don't eat meat ... JEAN: Yeah? CHARLIE: You mean you don't eat meat of any kind? JEAN: Right. BARBARA: No, she, hm-mm ... CHARLIE: And is that for health reasons, or ... ? JEAN: When you eat meat, you ingest an animal's fear. VIOLET: Ingest what? Its fur? JEAN: Fear. VIOLET (Snickers): I thought she said CHARLIE: Its fear. How do you do that? You can't eat fear. JEAN: Sure you can. I mean even if you don't sort of think of it spiritually, what happens to you, when you feel afraid? Doesn't your body produce all sorts of chemical reactions? CHARLIE: Does it? LITTLE CHARLES: It does. IVY: Yes. LITTLE CHARLES: Adrenaline, and, andJEAN: Your body goes through this whole chemical process when it experiences fearLITTLE CHARLES: -yep, and cortisolJEAN: -particularly like strong mortal fear, you know when you sweat and your heart racesLITTLE CHARLES: -oh yeah CHARLIE: Okay, sure. JEAN: Do you think an animal experiences fear? STEVE: You bet it does. JEAN: So when you eat an animal, you're eating all that fear it felt when it was slaughtered to make food. CHARLIE: Wow. STEVE: Right, right, I used to work in a processing factory and there’s a lot of fear flying around that placeCHARLIE: God, you mean I've been eating fear, what, three times a day for sixty years? MATTIE FAE: This one won't have a meal unless there's meat in it. CHARLIE: I guess it was the way I was raised, but it just doesn't seem like a legitimate meal unless it has some meat somewhereMATTIE FAE: If I make a pasta dish of some kind, he'll just be like, "Okay, that was good for an appetizer, now where's the meat?" VIOLET:" "Where's the meat?" Isn't that some TV commercial, the old lady says, "Where's the meat?" KAREN: "Beef" "Where's the beef?" VIOLET (Screeching): "Where's the meat?!" "Where's the meat?!" "Where's the meat?!" (Everyone freezes, a little stunned.) CHARLIE: I sure thought the services were lovely. KAREN: Yes, weren't they?STEVE: Preacher did a fine job. VIOLET (Sticking her hand out, flat, waggling it back and forth): Ehhhhh! I give it a ... (Repeats gesture) Ehhhhh! KAREN: Really? I thought it wasBARBARA: Great, now we get some dramatic criticismVIOLET: I would've preferred an open casket. BARBARA: That just wasn't possible, Mom. VIOLET: That today’s the send-off Bev should've got if he died around 1974. Lots of talk about poetry, teaching. Well, he hadn't written any poetry to speak of since '65 and he never liked teaching worth a damn. Nobody talked about the good stuff. Man was a world-class alcoholic, more'n fifty years. Nobody told the story about that night he got wrangled into giving a talk at a TV alumni dinner ... (Laughs) Drank a whole bottle of rum, Ron Bocoy White Rum-I don't know why I remember that-and got up to give this talk ... and he fouled himself Comes back to our table with this hugeBARBARA: Yeah, I can't imagine why no one told that story. VIOLET: He didn't get invited back to any more alumni dinners, I'll tell you that! (She cracks up.) STEVE: You know, I don't know much about poetry, but I t...
Purchase answer to see full attachment
User generated content is uploaded by users for the purposes of learning and should be used following Studypool's honor code & terms of service.

Explanation & Answer

please find attached

Bill Fordham is the husband to Barbara Weston who is the eldest of Beverly and Violet Weston.
He has a daughter Jean Fordham who is fourteen years old. He holds his family together and
shows love to his daughter Jean when the mother tries to confront her on her smoking behavior
for she is at a tender age fourteen.
One of the key characters is Beverly and the play revolves around him. Beverly is a charming
person and appreciates the efforts of R.S Eliot in writing about life. He surely is a reader and he
talks about novels with Johnna before Violet intervenes. He is a responsible person and loves his
wife Violet. He realizes that he is getting old and has decided to hire a house help who stays with
them to take care of his wife needs as he goes on with other businesses. They have a pact with
the wife that he would drink while the wife was taking pills. The wife suffers from mouth cancer
and she is in her final stages of chemotherapy. Due to life pressures, he drinks a lot and loves his
drink. He later on decides to take his boat and disappear and leaves the rest of the family looking
for him.
On the other hand Johnna went through bad times together with her mum and grandma after the
death of his father. She also struggled for work after a nursing certificate from Tulsa Community
College, of which she did not finish after the death of her dad. To make a way of life, she worked
as household help, cleaning houses and babysitting. Another character Violet is jealous and
definitely loves her husband Beverly, this she dis...


Anonymous
Awesome! Perfect study aid.

Studypool
4.7
Trustpilot
4.5
Sitejabber
4.4

Similar Content

Related Tags