Six months later.
The dining table, a couple of chairs.
Much of the furniture gone. The rest of the room covered with the detritus of moving. Boxes, etc.
The painting above the mantel is gone.
Along one wall leans a smaller, partially wrapped canvas. It is turned away from the audience.
As the lights come up, Amir is on stage. Quietly going about the process of packing. There should be something muted about his movement/presence. As if a man chastened by life, perhaps even crippled inwardly.
He has a thought and heads for the kitchen. Just as he exits, there is a KNOCKING at the front door…
He reemerges. Crossing and going to the door. He opens to find:
Emily. And, to one side, Abe. Abe is wearing a Muslim skullcap. And his wardrobe is muted. Unlike the vibrant colors of the first scene.
AMIR: Em?
AMIR: Of course.
They enter.
Abe appears reluctant. Not meeting Amir’s gaze.
AMIR (CONT’D): What’s going on here? Everything all right?
EMILY: Not really.
AMIR: What?
Emily looks at Abe, but Abe doesn’t respond.
AMIR (CONT’D): Huss?
No response.
Amir turns to Emily, making a gesture toward her, not even realizing it…
AMIR (CONT’D): Em?
EMILY (Recoiling): No, please.
(Beat)
He’s been coming to me. You need to hear this.
(To Abe)
Tell him.
ABE: He’s not going to understand.
EMILY: He got stopped by the FBI.
AMIR: What?
ABE: I didn’t get stopped.
AMIR: What happened?
EMILY: Just sit down and tell him.
AMIR: What happened?
ABE: I didn’t get stopped. All I was doing was sitting in Starbucks…
EMILY: With your friend…
AMIR: Don’t tell me… Tariq?
ABE: Yeah.
AMIR: Hasn’t everybody been telling you—
EMILY (Coming in): Let him speak.
ABE: My parents are wrong about him.
AMIR: Okay.
ABE: We were at Starbucks. Just drinking coffee. Tariq starts talking to this barista who’s on break. I can tell she’s not into him. He’s not getting the message… She starts asking about our kufi hats and are we Muslims. And then she asks us how we feel about Al-Qaeda. So Tariq tells her. Americans are the ones who created Al-Qaeda.
(Off Amir’s look)
You don’t believe me?
AMIR: That’s not really the—
ABE: The CIA trained the mujahideen in Afghanistan. Those are the guys that became Al-Qaeda.
AMIR: I mean, it’s a little more complicated than that—
ABE: Actually, it’s not, Uncle. Not really.
AMIR: Okay. What happened?
ABE: So she got snippy. And Tariq got pissed. He told her this country deserved what it got and what it was going to get.
(Pause)
She goes back to work, and before we know it, the police are there. She called them. They cuff us. Take us in. Two guys from the FBI are at the station, waiting.
(Beat)
We sit through this ridiculous interrogation.
AMIR: What did they ask you?
ABE: Do we believe in jihad? Do we want to blow stuff up? How often did I read the Koran?
AMIR: Okay…
ABE: Do we have girlfriends? Had I ever had sex? Do I watch porn? Do I hate America?
(Beat)
They knew a lot about me. Where I’d gone to school. About Mom and Dad, where they were born. Like they already had a file.
They brought up my immigration status.
AMIR: What about it?
EMILY: It’s up for renewal.
ABE: When they said that…
(Hesitating)
… I laughed.
AMIR: You laughed?
ABE: I didn’t mean to. It just happened.
AMIR: Were you trying to antagonize them?
ABE: No.
I mean…
(Pause)
Look. I know what they’re doing.
AMIR: What are they doing?
ABE: They’re going into our community and looking for people whose immigration status is vulnerable. Then they push us to start doing stuff for them.
AMIR: Okay…
ABE: So what? You don’t believe that either?
Pause.
EMILY (Suddenly moving off): I’m gonna go. He needed to talk to you…
AMIR: Where are you going?
ABE (Standing): Aunt Emily. Stay. Please.
She stops.
Beat.
Finally nods, still reluctant.
EMILY: I’m gonna get some… water.
Emily crosses to the kitchen. Exits.
Beat.
AMIR: Is she okay?
ABE: I don’t want to talk about that.
Amir starts dialing on his phone.
ABE (CONT’D): Who are you calling? You can’t call Mom. She’s gonna freak out.
AMIR: I’m calling Ken.
ABE: Ken?
AMIR: The lawyer on Imam Fareed’s case…
(Into the phone)
Hi, Ken, it’s Amir. Please call me back when you get this. It’s urgent. Thanks.
(Pause, then to Abe)
When you step out of your parents’ house, you need to understand that it’s not a neutral world out there. Not right now. Not for you. You have to be mindful about sending a different message.
ABE: Than what?
AMIR: Than the one that landed you in an interrogation with the FBI.
Pause.
ABE: So now what?
AMIR: Let’s hear what Ken has to say. I mean, it’s not good. But at least they let you go.
ABE: If he tells me that I have to go into our mosque and pretend I’m planning some bullshit attack just to stay in this country—
AMIR: You don’t know that’s what’s going to happen.
ABE: If you spent any time with your own people…
AMIR: Excuse me?
Beat.
ABE: What would you do? If the FBI asked you to work for them? Hmm?
AMIR: We’re not there yet…
ABE (Cutting him off): What would you do?
AMIR (Considering): There are ways… to let the authorities know that… you’re on their side…
ABE: But I’m not on their side.
AMIR: You might want to rethink that. Because they make the rules.
ABE: I knew this was a mistake.
AMIR: It’s not a mistake. If you’re not smarter about this, you are going to get deported.
ABE: Yeah, well, maybe that wouldn’t be the worst thing.
AMIR: To a country you haven’t known since you were eight years old.
ABE: Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe we never should’ve left. Maybe we never should have come to this one.
AMIR: There’s a reason your father came here. Same reason my father did. They wanted to make a better life for themselves and their families—
ABE (Over): A better life?!?
AMIR (Continuing): —and to do it honestly. Which isn’t an option in Pakistan.
ABE (Exploding): You don’t have a better life!
AMIR: What are you talking about?
ABE: I know you were fired!
AMIR: I don’t know what you think you know—
ABE (Quiet, intense): I know what you did to her. How could you?
Beat.
AMIR: I don’t know.
Beat.
ABE: You want something from these people you will never get.
AMIR: I’m still your elder. You need to show me a little respect.
ABE: Just because I’m telling you the truth doesn’t mean I’m not showing you respect.
(Beat)
AMIR (Triggered): Really? Abe Jensen?!
ABE: I changed it back!
AMIR: So now you think running around with a kufi on your head, shooting your mouth off in Starbucks, or sitting in a mosque and bemoaning the plight of Muslims around the world is going to—
ABE (Interrupting): It’s disgusting. The one thing I can be sure about with you? You’ll always turn on your own people. You think it makes these people like you more when you do that? They don’t. They just think you hate yourself. And they’re right! You do!
I looked up to you. You have no idea—
AMIR: No. I know.
ABE: No! You have no idea what it did to me!
(Beat)
I mean, if you can’t make it with them…?
(Having a dawning thought)
The Prophet wouldn’t be trying to be like one of them. He didn’t conquer the world by copying other people. He made the world copy him.
AMIR: Conquer the world?
ABE: That’s what they’ve done.
They’ve conquered the world.
We’re gonna get it back.
That’s our destiny. It’s in the Quran.
We see Emily appear at the swinging door, listening.
Abe doesn’t notice her.
ABE (CONT’D): For three hundred years they’ve been taking our land, drawing new borders, replacing our laws, making us want be like them. Look like them. Marry their women.
They disgraced us.
They disgraced us.
And then they pretend they don’t understand the rage we’ve got?
Emily emerges.
Abe realizing she has heard him.
Abe moves to the door. Stops. Looks back at Emily.
ABE (CONT’D): I’m sorry.
AMIR: Hussein…
ABE: I’ll handle it myself, Uncle.
Abe exits.
Leaving Amir and Emily.
Silence.
AMIR: My sister’s been telling me about him… I didn’t realize…
(More silence)
Are you reading my letters?
EMILY: Amir…
AMIR: I got the painting.
EMILY: I didn’t want to throw it out.
AMIR: There was no note…
(Beat)
Look, I told your lawyer I wanted you to have the apartment. I mean, I wrote you that, but I have no idea if—
EMILY: The apartment’s not mine.
Beat.
AMIR: If you hate me so much, why did you drop charges?
EMILY: I don’t hate you, Amir.
Pause.
AMIR: I saw the write-up in The New Yorker. I was so proud of you.
EMILY: Oh.
Pause.
AMIR: I don’t know if you’ve read any of my letters… There’s a lot you were right about me.
I’m finally seeing what you were seeing.
I’m finally understanding your work.
EMILY: My work was naive.
AMIR: No, it wasn’t. Why are you saying that?
EMILY: Because it’s true.
AMIR: God. If you had any idea how sorry I am.
EMILY: I know.
Emily crosses. Stopping when she gets to the door.
EMILY (CONT’D): I had a part in what happened.
AMIR: Em. No.
EMILY: It’s true.
(Beat)
I was selfish.
My work…
It made me blind.
(Long pause, Amir emotional)
I just want you to be proud of me.
I want you to be proud you were with me.
Beat.
EMILY: Good-bye, Amir.
Please. Don’t write me anymore.
She exits.
Long beat.
As Amir walks over to return to packing, he notices…
The partially wrapped canvas against the wall.
He walks over to it, picks it up. Then tears the rest of the wrapping off. From his position on stage, we will only see enough of the painting to realize:
It is Emily’s portrait of him. Study After Velázquez’s Moor.
He takes a searching long look.
Lights Out.