BY CHARLIE KELSEY
Copyright © by Charlie Kelsey. All rights reserved. Published with permission from the author. Inquiries concerning rights should be addressed to Charlie Kelsey at charliekelsey12@gmail.com.
Presented October 23, 2015 | Kenan Theatre, UNC Department of Dramatic Art | Directed by David Henderson
Original cast members are in brackets.
CRAWFORD TYNE 36, male. A former mercenary in Somalia [Mark Jantzen].
ALAN TYNE 32, male, Crawford’s younger brother. A mercenary, recently returned from Somalia [Brook North].
LEYENNE TYNE 36, female, Crawford’s wife [A. C. Donohue].
HEN TYNE 29, female, Alan’s wife [Claire Koenig].
Present. A suburban home in a Midwestern city.
On a comfortable living room, with expertly hung CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS. CHEERY CHRISTMAS MUSIC plays from a TINNY RADIO. A fire crackles in the grate, and a warm light radiates throughout the room. Outside, the snow falls slowly and heavily. CRAWFORD TYNE is seated on a couch, flipping through a photo album. ALAN TYNE stands at the window, finishing up his drink, and staring out at the snow.
CRAWFORD Shit, man. Look at this.
[He holds up a photo to Alan, who turns around to look at it.]
ALAN [smiles sadly] I’m a fucking mess in that one. What was it, ten stitches to the dome? Christmas Eve in the ER?
CRAWFORD Woulda been a lot worse if I wasn’t there, thank Christ.
ALAN Thank Christ the motherfucker wasn’t too drunk to swerve.
[LEYENNE TYNE saunters into the room, clutching several beers. HEN TYNE FOLLOWS quietly behind her.]
LEYENNE Enough nostalgia for one day. The little bastard’s tucked up in your bed. [chuckling] It’s about twenty times his size. Mama needs to drink.
[Leyenne perches herself on the arm of the couch beside Crawford. Hen quietly sinks into an armchair.]
LEYENNE Only beer, but I thought we might want to consider easing into the swing. [beat] It’s been a long time since we had a boozy family Christmas in this house.
CRAWFORD [kisses Leyenne] Been a long time since we were all together, darling.
LEYENNE I’m just glad to have our heroes back. Did Crawford tell you the news yet, Alan?
[As Alan turns to her and CROSSES over, he drags his right leg behind him as if it’s heavier than the other. He sinks into the couch.]
ALAN What news?
CRAWFORD [nervously] I think we’re trying for another kid.
LEYENNE My husband is hopeless. We are trying for another kid. We want to give you a niece. Merry Christmas!
[Alan finishes his drink with a long swig and forces a smile.]
ALAN That’s fantastic. Congratulations. . . . [beat] . . . . to both of you.
LEYENNE Don’t toss around any commendations until the kid graduates high school with all its arms and legs. [pause] And might our gruesome twosome have a cousin, Hen? [carefully] It really can be a phenomenal experience for a family. . . .
ALAN [coldly] Not really the right time, Leyenne.
[CRACK. The SOUND OF A BRANCH SNAPPING can be heard from outside.]
ALAN [startled] What the fuck was that?
CRAWFORD It’s a branch or something.
LEYENNE [laughs] You’ve been gone too long. When you spend a couple of holiday seasons in a big house, all alone. . . . you realize the world can be a noisy place in the winter. Hen knows.
HEN [quietly] At least you had Crawford for the last one.
[It’s the first time she’s spoken, and it cuts through the room like a knife. Crawford and Alan fall silent.]
LEYENNE [picking up the conversation] Maybe some darker waters? [pauses] Vino Rojo for the bolder soul, perhaps?
CRAWFORD That’s a great idea. Hen?
HEN [quietly] I should start dinner. [beat] Maybe we should wait before we start pouring again.
LEYENNE It’s the holiday.
[Leyenne stands up and uncorks some wine. She pours three glasses. She holds one out to Hen. Alan, having put down his empty glass, grabs it instead, and takes a long swig. Leyenne looks at her husband, uneasy, but nobody says anything.]
ALAN You know what’s fucked up, Craw? [a long pause] It’s
Christmas. And I can’t even do my favorite thing. I can’t even build a goddamn snowman.
CRAWFORD That one we made when I was nine. . . . terrifying.
ALAN [smiles] Gave Mom nightmares.
[Crawford attempts to take the glass from Alan. Alan ignores him. No chance.]
LEYENNE [to Crawford, a warning] Let’s not, sweetheart.
[Leyenne stares Crawford down. He’s powerless. He sits back down, beaten.]
ALAN [chuckles] Don’t let the prison warden catch you out of bed after hours, brother. [ignoring Leyenne] She still runs a tight ship, doesn’t she?
CRAWFORD I always knew I’d end up with a disciplinarian.
ALAN The Tynes’ own Third Reich. [pauses] Wouldn’t you like that, Hen? You say “Jump,” I say “How fuckin’ high?”
CRAWFORD Alright, brother. Take it down a notch.
ALAN [laughs] I can’t even take the trash out.
HEN We should get to the table.
ALAN Bullshit. It’s only five.
[Alan finishes the wine and pours himself another glass. Then, RISING, he drags himself over to the coffee table, picks up a knife, and begins to HACK AWAY AT A HUNK OF CHEESE.]
CRAWFORD [quietly] Give the poor bastard a chance, Alan.
ALAN I missed having us together, Craw.
[Crawford’s expression is blank. He doesn’t understand.]
ALAN It just wasn’t the same over there without family.
[CRACK. That sound again. Alan FLINCHES VIOLENTLY, this time with the knife in his hand. Crawford quickly grabs his arm.]
CRAWFORD It’s the wind, Alan. Relax. [pleading] Please relax.
ALAN [angry] That isn’t the fucking wind. You wouldn’t know. [beat] You weren’t there. You were already home.
[Alan DROPS THE KNIFE TO THE PLATE, where it CLATTERS. He swallows the rest of his wine with one long swig. Then, becoming aware of a song on the radio, he CROSSES unsteadily to it, and turns up the volume. The song “A HOLLY JOLLY CHRISTMAS” rings out.]
ALAN I remember this from last year. [pauses] You missed a hell of a Christmas party, Craw. All the boys said you woulda loved it.
CRAWFORD [quietly] Don’t do this.
ALAN It was a Holly Jolly Christmas. Best time of the fucking year. All the guards getting drunk on Blackwater’s dime. That night, we heard all kinds of things. But we didn’t care. It was the holidays, man. We didn’t even notice when they came in the door.
[Suddenly, Hen bounds out of her seat and stares her husband down.]
HEN This is not the time. It’s our family holiday. Listen to your brother.
ALAN So what should we talk about, Hen?
HEN [quietly] Nothing. [beat] Let’s eat dinner.
ALAN It’s not time for dinner yet. Where’s the whiskey, Leyenne?
LEYENNE [coldly] I think Hen’s right. We should eat. Not drink.
ALAN [ fuming] This is my house. Between these walls, I’m free to do what I want. I asked you where the whiskey is.
[Leyenne hesitates, then pulls a bottle of whiskey from her bag. Alan snatches it from her aggressively and pours measures into four empty glasses. He drinks his, then passes the other glasses around. Hen rejects her glass.]
HEN It’s going to ruin dinner.
ALAN [slurred] Fuck dinner. Fuck this holiday. [taking a swig] All this goddamn commercialization. It’s bullshit. . . . some corporate bigwig extorting us to buy a poor, overstuffed turkey pumped with additives for seventy percent profit margins. When we were boys, this holiday used to mean something.
HEN Don’t ruin this, Alan. It’s tradition.
ALAN [contemptuous] People like you are even worse, Hen. Buying into all this stupid shit. [ gestures to room] All these fucking decorations. In Mogadishu, we didn’t decorate anything. We sat around, and drank. And we thanked the Lord we were still alive. It meant twice as much as all this shit. Craw remembers.
LEYENNE [coldly] Hen spent a lot of time on decorating, Alan. So did Crawford. He did our whole house. It’s tradition.
ALAN [scoffs] What a fucking surprise. Crawford doing your goddamn bidding. Haven’t you gotten tired of playing with your puppet in twenty years, Leyenne?
HEN [quietly] Stop it. Stop it now. Put the whiskey down.
ALAN I’m fine.
HEN Fine? People who are fine don’t ram into cars that cut them off. That kid’s parents have a heartbeat monitor as a Christmas carol.
ALAN [snarls] Go ahead and use that language on the stand, sweetie. You won’t have to watch me drink for a long stretch.
[Hen is transformed. She is on her feet and furious, staring down her husband.]
HEN You trapped yourself in this house! Don’t you dare blame me.
CRAWFORD [icily] C’mon, no more of this.
HEN We don’t need your sympathy, Crawford.
CRAWFORD [angry] This was never about sympathy. This was about celebration.
HEN [laughs coldly] Celebration? What exactly did we come here to celebrate? Is it that you made it out of that Somalian shithole before it did any permanent damage? Because not everyone was as goddamn lucky.
[CRACK. THE SOUND AGAIN. A furious Alan leaps up, STRIDES to the door, and YANKS IT OPEN.]
ALAN [yelling out] Come and get me, motherfuckers! I’m not guilty yet!
[Alan BURSTS onto the PORCH. A FURIOUS BEEPING, like an alarm, rings out from his leg. Crawford CHASES HIM DOWN and GRABS HIM.]
CRAWFORD [pleading] You have to stop this, Alan! We aren’t in Mogadishu anymore! You need to learn to trust this world. . . .
ALAN Christmas was about you and me. [verge of tears] They tortured me in that goddamn desert, Crawford. You were supposed to protect me.
CRAWFORD We shouldn’t have been there in the first place.
ALAN I needed the money.
CRAWFORD I thought I did too. But not as much as my wife needed me at home.
[Alan sinks to the ground. Slowly, he pulls the leg of his pants up to reveal a HEAVY METAL BRACELET. This is what’s BEEPING. Alan is on HOUSE ARREST. He massages his leg as the FAINT SOUNDS OF SIRENS can be heard.]
ALAN This thing is so heavy. [quietly] It was terrible. Being in that cell, waiting for them to come back. [beat] But nothing was as bad as being alone.
[A concerned Hen CROSSES TO THE DOORWAY.]
CRAWFORD [to Hen] I got him, Hen. I got him this time.
[Hen nods. Crawford WALKS OUT into the yard.]
ALAN [weakly] Where are you going?
CRAWFORD You’re already outside, Alan. [beat] Let’s go build a goddamn snowman.
[Alan slowly GETS TO HIS FEET and hobbles after his brother, who puts his arm around his shoulder and leads him on. As they DISAPPEAR INTO THE DARKNESS, the SOUND OF SIRENS becomes LOUDER.]
FADE TO BLACK
END OF PLAY