KARLA and DON sit in their respective visitors’ chairs. They each have a styrofoam coffee cup near them, from the hospital cafeteria.
They have pulled the plastic curtain aside so that they can now see each other. GEENA and MARCIE lie in their beds, sleeping.
Today DON is wearing khakis which are not terribly flattering but which are definitely a vast improvement over the sweatpants. He wears nondescript sneakers and a worn tee-shirt. He still wears that very sad corduroy jacket. He has his feet up on the frame of his mother’s hospital bed and reads from The New Yorker.
KARLA wears skinny jeans and sneakers and a different colorful ironic sweater. She scribbles in her notebook.
Even though they are both in their own separate worlds, it is clear that DON and KARLA have developed a casual sort of ease in their dynamic—in this unusual situation in which they find themselves.
DON laughs as he reads something funny in his magazine.
DON
Heh.
DON
Ha. Ha!
(Beat.)
Heh heh heh heh heh …
He continues reading. It gets funnier. He tries to keep quiet so as not to wake the two sleeping women, but it’s hard.
DON
Hahaha! Hahahahahahahahaha!
KARLA
What’s so funny?
DON
Oh. Sorry. I. I didn’t mean to ah. Laugh. So loud. I’ll keep it down. Sorry.
KARLA
But what are you laughing at?
DON
You really wanna know?
KARLA
Yeah …
DON
Oh. I thought you were—I thought you were just saying “what’s so funny” as a, um. As one of your euphemisms, and what you really meant was … “shut up.”
(Beat.)
KARLA
(Slightly bemused.)
“One of my euphemisms”?
DON
You know, how you’ll say stuff like: “Hey Don, I’m gonna go get some coffee from the cafeteria, do you want anything?” When what you really mean is: “Hey Don, can you go get me some coffee from the cafeteria?”
KARLA laughs. DON smiles.
DON
Or how you’ll be like: “Hey Don, what time is it?” When what you really mean is: “Hey Don, it’s time for you to go get me some coffee from the cafeteria.”
KARLA laughs, louder. DON smiles, wider.
DON
Or how you’ll be like: “Hey Don, it’s nice to see you again,” when what you really mean is: “Why are you still here, Don? When is this whole thing going to be over so I never have to see your face again?”
Beat. Deadly silence. It gets superawkward. Then—
Embarrassed, DON returns to reading The New Yorker.
KARLA
So what’s so funny?
A beat. DON hesitates. Takes his feet off the bed. Looks around. Makes sure MARCIE and GEENA are asleep. Then—
DON
It’s this, ah. I’m just rereading this, um. It’s this … “Shouts & Murmurs” piece? In the … New Yorker? It’s about.…
(He considers.)
Ahm. It’s not a very … appropriate.…
(Beat.)
I’m not sure I should—it’s sort of, um …
(Choosing words carefully.)
… blue … humor …?
(Beat.)
KARLA
Are you fucking kidding me, Don.
(Beat.)
DON
Okay it’s about, um. It’s about the life of a, uh. Of a … condom?
(Feels humiliated, but continues.)
It’s. Ahmmm … It’s from the point of view of a condom, but it’s funny because you don’t know?
(Beat.)
That it’s a … condom …? At first you can’t tell? What it …is?
(Beat.)
That’s why it’s … so funny?
He hopes he can just finish the conversation here. She doesn’t give him anything.
A beat. Then—he continues, with great reluctance.
DON
So you don’t know that it’s a condom, you just … you know it, um, it lives in a wallet? And sometimes it gets taken out but um. Never … used? And it gets to, um, it gets to meet … all the other … things? That um, live? In the wallet, too?
KARLA
Like, it meets its owner’s NYU ID card, and um his library card and his Jamba Juice card? (That part is really funny.) And eventually you, um. You figure out that it’s a … condom. You know? And that part is really funny.
It’s all getting even more uncomfortable. He keeps going.
DON
So then later on in the piece, the owner of the, um, the wallet and the, um, the condom, he um. He meets a girl? And he takes out the condom. To, uh. You know …
(Beat.)
But—it’s expired! He can’t use it!
DON laughs. KARLA does not. DON stops laughing. Continues.
DON
But the girl he’s with, ah. She has a condom. But the condom—our condom (I mean I don’t mean our condom, I mean—um, you know the condom)—that condom gets … put into a box? And um.
(Gets a little misty-eyed.)
That box becomes like a … memory box? For the condom’s owner? And this new girl? For their relationship, I mean. So the condom now gets to, ah, meet all these love notes and, um, movie stubs and various sweet nothings et cetera that get put into the memory box? To commemorate the relationship? That started, ah, with the …
(Almost wistfully.)
… expired condom?
A beat. KARLA stares at DON. He looks back at her. Then—
KARLA
That doesn’t sound funny at all.
DON
(A bit defensively.)
I think it is …
KARLA
My jokes are way better than that.
DON
You haven’t even read it / yet.
KARLA
My jokes are better than everyone’s.
KARLA sulks. DON goes back to his magazine.
A beat. Then—
MARLA
I just.
(Beat.)
I … have a hard time with—with other … comedy. Writers.
DON
Oh.
KARLA
It’s like—I cannot let anyone have any amount of success at what I love doing, who isn’t me.
DON
Okay.
KARLA
It’s like—it’s like, I want to be the only successful comedian. In the world.
(Beat.)
I’m insane.
(Really thinks about it,)
I’m insane. …
(Beat.)
DON
You’re not insane.
KARLA
I’m insane.
DON
I mean, I used to feel that way? All the time.
(Beat.)
KARLA
Really?
DON
Oh my god, yeah. I couldn’t stand anyone being even remotely more successful than me at what I wanted to do.
What did you want to do?
DON
(Suddenly embarrassed.)
Just … y’know. What I do. For a … living.…
KARLA
Which is what? I don’t actually really know / you, Don.
DON
Oh. Um. It doesn’t matter. Just um. Tech. Stuff?
KARLA
So you’re like an IT guy?
DON
Oh. I guess I was. I don’t know. I guess I was … I’m not. Anymore.
KARLA
So what are you now?
DON
I’m … nothing.
(Beat.)
KARLA
That’s depressing.
DON
No! I mean I—I sold my startup. I sold it for … I sold it a few years ago.
KARLA
You sold it for …?
DON
What?
KARLA
What did you sell it for?
DON
(Very uncomfortable.)
Oh. Um.
(Beat.)
Money …?
(Beat.)
(Putting it together.)
Wait. You sold your tech startup for … so much money that now … you can do nothing?
DON
(Shrugs.)
I guess.
KARLA’s shakes her head, as if the act of shaking her brain will help her wrap her mind around what she is now learning about DON.
KARLA
Whoa. Whoa! So you’re … like a … millionaire …
DON
(Mortified.)
It doesn’t really matter.
KARLA
But you look like a homeless person.
DON
Oh, thanks.
KARLA
Your shoes have holes in them …!
DON
(Looks at his shoes, suddenly self-conscious.)
They do?
KARLA
Your sad little corduroy jacket doesn’t have elbows.
DON
Hey, it’s been a rough couple of months!
A beat. DON looks away. KARLA chews a cuticle. Looks at DON, contemplatively. Then—
KARLA
I like you soooooo much better now that I know you’re a millionaire.
DON
(Sadly.)
A lotta people do.
(Beat.)
Is your apartment really nice?
DON
What?
KARLA
I have a bunch of questions that I always wanna ask rich people? But I never do because it’s rude, of course?
DON
Okay.
KARLA
Where do you live?
(Beat.)
DON
(Reluctantly.)
Central Park West?
KARLA
In like one of those huge doorman buildings?
DON
Uh. Yeah?
KARLA
How many bedrooms?
DON
Why do you care? Five.
KARLA
FIVE?!
DON
One of them we use as an office.
KARLA
For what?! You don’t even work!
DON
Well, you know, I / still need—
KARLA
Did you have an interior decorator design it?
You have a lot of issues around money.
KARLA
No I don’t, shut up. What’s the color palette?
DON
What? I don’t know. Sea foam green?
KARLA
“Sea foam green”?
DON
(With some embarrassment.)
Yeah.…
KARLA
I don’t understand.
DON
What do you mean / you don’t—
KARLA
You mean the accents are “sea foam green”?
DON
No, the—
KARLA
The entire apartment is “sea foam green”?!
DON
Yeah, the—
KARLA
Wait, so you have like a “sea foam green” couch and like a “sea foam green” rug and like the walls are “sea foam green”? And the lighting fixtures are—
DON
(Suddenly erupting.)
I don’t know, okay?! I DON’T REMEMBER.
A beat. Then—
KARLA
I’m sorry.
(Beat.)
I’m sorry. I just.
(Beat.)
I haven’t been there … in. A couple of months.
(Beat.)
I’m … subletting. A place. A few blocks away from my old …
(Beat.)
I don’t know why I decided to stay in the same neighborhood. Stupid. I guess I thought it would be easier. For …
(Beat.)
Anyway. It’s not. So.
(Beat.)
And I hate my new place. Nothing in it is mine. And.
(Beat.)
I don’t know. Maybe it’s not so bad.
(Beat.)
KARLA
Well I bet your new place that you hate? Is like ten thousand times nicer than my apartment.
DON laughs. KARLA smiles.
DON
Money doesn’t change your life as much as you think it will.
KARLA
That’s just something rich people say to make poor people feel better.
DON
It doesn’t! So you can, what. Buy a nice car? Get a flatscreen TV? Take a cool vacation? Those things don’t fix …
(Indicates his head, vaguely.)
… you know. What’s in here, …
KARLA
(Teasing him.)
What’s … in … there …?
DON
(Frustrated, now.)
Never mind.
Okay.
DON
Never mind.
(Beat.)
KARLA
(Trying to soften the moment.)
Yeah, and you probably don’t even buy yourself new TVs or vacations or cars or anything, I bet.
DON
What do you—
KARLA
You won’t even buy me a cup of coffee!
DON
I get you coffee all the time!
KARLA
Yeah but you always make me pay you back.
DON
Well, it—
KARLA
And you always text me the exact amount that I owe you. Like, while you’re buying it.
DON
Well, it’s—
KARLA
You’re always like, “Hi Karla. Your almond milk latte was $5.23. Exact change would be preferable, please.”
DON
Well it is very overpriced, here!
A beat. She smiles. He softens. Then—
KARLA
But the money does help with …
(Indicates the hospital room.)
This.
KARLA
I mean you don’t have to worry about any of this shit, right? Like, you don’t even need insurance.
DON
(Very uncomfortable.)
I don’t know.
KARLA
Wow.
(Puts her feet up on her mother’s hospital bed.)
Wow.
(Beat.)
DON
Does your mother—
KARLA
Oh, her insurance is terrible. Which is hilarious, ’cause she’s a social worker. It’s like, “Thanks for the help, U.S. Government!”
(Chuckles.)
We’re totally fucked.
(Laughs.)
I should probably just kill myself.
She laughs. A beat. DON regards KARLA, with concern.
KARLA
That was a joke. I’m not going to kill myself.
(Beat.)
Today.
A beat. DON continues to regard KARLA with yet more concern.
KARLA
That was a joke! God. You do not understand my charming and irreverent dark sense of humor at all.
A beat. She returns to her notebook. Scribbles a little. He continues to take her in. Then—
DON
What do you mean you’re … “fucked”?
Just that—I mean, we’re not fucked, I was being dramatic. We’re just—it’s just.…
(Beat.)
I mean, her insurance is great in a lot of ways—they paid for her surgery and her week of recovery here which is awesome, but then when it comes to, like, the chemo and the radiation and the medications, it’s just … It’s gonna be tougher.
(Beat.)
But don’t worry, Don. You looked so worried right now. It’s fine. This is how the world works. Shit happens, and you just—you figure it out. Or … you don’t. You just accept that life is … kind of shitty. And that’s okay. And maybe it’ll change. Or maybe it won’t. And that’s okay too! Or maybe it’s not. And maybe it’s okay that it’s not okay. You know?
DON regards KARLA, seriously.
KARLA
No, of course you don’t. You have like seven gajillion dollars, so if your mom dies, you can just, like … buy a new one.
DON does not laugh.
KARLA
Sorry. That was another attempt at a dark joke and it … yeah it wasn’t the time. I acknowledge that. Sorry.
DON
I—
KARLA
Timing is everything.
DON
Okay. I—
KARLA
(In an old time-y vaudevillian voice)
“What is the secret to great comedy?”
DON
Um. I don’t know. What is the—
KARLA
TIMING!
A beat. He does not laugh. Then—
(With deep concern for her.)
Karla, I just—
KARLA
(Suddenly erupting.)
Don, would you stop?! You don’t know me—you don’t have to worry about me.
(Beat.)
It’s really condescending, actually.
(Beat.)
DON
I’m sorry.
She takes her feet off the bed.
DON tries to read his New Yorker. We can tell that he’s not really reading at all. Just worrying and fretting.
KARLA looks at her notebook, scribbles a bit. Several moments of quiet between them. Then—
KARLA
What was your tech startup?
DON
What? / Oh.
KARLA
What was your—
DON
It was. Ahm. It was, um. PerfectWeddingMatches? Dot com …?
(Beat.)
KARLA
I’m sorry?
DON
Yeah.
KARLA
(Almost with disgust.)
What is that?
DON
It’s / ahm, …
It sounds terrible.
DON
You’ve never heard of it?
KARLA just looks at him.
KARLA
Okay. Just. A lot of women. Ah. It’s a pretty popular … Um. Anyway.
(Beat.)
It’s like, um. The site helps you find the perfect matches for all the services you would need for your perfect wedding? It’s like a match-making service? But for wedding planning?
KARLA stares blankly at DON.
DON
So you and your partner answer a, um, seventy-nine-question personality quiz, designed by clinical psychologists to best elucidate your key personality features, and then based on what the algorithm devises from your answers, we set you up with the best options specially tailored for you, for your perfect wedding. Perfect venue, perfect invitations, perfect caterer, perfect porta-potties, perfect everything.
(Desperately trying to be cheerful.)
And, at the same time, you get to learn more about your partner. So, really, it’s a win-win …!
(Willing himself to stay positive.)
It’s actually helped a lot of people.
(Fighting despair.)
Over five million users.
KARLA looks at DON, utterly bewildered.
KARLA
How did you even come up with that?
DON
It was my wife’s idea.
KARLA
Do you even give a shit about weddings?
DON
(A sad chuckle.)
Couldn’t care less!
Whoa.…
(Processes the inherent. tragedy in DON’s tale.)
So, you spent years / and years—
DON
Hey / watch it.…
KARLA
—your whole youth—building up this business with a woman who would eventually leave you—
DON
Okay / we don’t have to get—
KARLA
—and the business was something you didn’t even give a shit about?
DON
(Sharply.)
Well, it was obviously a worthwhile investment!
A beat. Then— DON goes back to reading The New Yorker.
Angrily, now.
KARLA goes back to writing in her notebook. Then—
DON’s cell phone vibrates.
DON
Oh jesus chr—
He takes the phone out of his pocket, unlocks it and reads something on it.
As he reads, the blood begins to drain from his face. His jaw tightens. His eyes glass over.
KARLA looks at him, with growing concern. Then—
DON puts his cell phone down and treads over to the bathroom. Steps inside and gingerly shuts the door. Then—
We hear a series of piercing screams, accompanied by mournful wails and intense wall-banging from inside the bathroom.
KARLA looks at the bathroom door, horrified. After a moment, the noises stop. Then—
DON emerges from the bathroom, utterly calm—as if nothing just happened. He returns to his chair. After a beat:
KARLA
What?
(Beat.)
DON
It was a text. From … my son.
KARLA
I didn’t even / know you—
DON
I try not to talk about him because he makes me so …
(Beat.)
KARLA
(Delicately.)
Well … what did he say?
DON looks like he might cry.
KARLA
You don’t have to—
DON
No, it’s okay.
(Picks up the phone.)
He wrote:
(Reads from phone.)
“Hey Dad hope you are having a good Sunday with Grandma. I just wanted you to know I took out three thousand dollars from your bank account. I know you changed the pin but you’re a fucking idiot and I found out what the new pin is because you e-mailed it to Mom and I hacked into her e-mail ha ha haha ha you’re so dumb that you didn’t even think I would know how to do that. Maybe if you had responded to any of my fucking texts like an attentive fucking parent I wouldn’t have had to do this but since you always fucking ignore me I guess I had no choice. I am sorry if this is upsetting to you but at least I am being honest. Peace, Malcolm.”
(Beat.)
KARLA
Whoa.
I know.
KARLA
That’s …
DON
I know.
KARLA
… a long … text.…
DON
What? Oh, I know. He always writes me these massively long texts. Which I find ironic, since he’s actually spoken about eighteen words to me in the last two years. It would be delightful if he could be comparably loquacious and articulate in his high school English papers, but wait, he would have to have not dropped out of high school for that to be the case.
He picks up his cell phone and begins to type, ragefully.
KARLA
What are you doing?
DON
Texting him back.
KARLA
Don’t!
DON
Why?
KARLA
Because … you’re angry. And—you might say something that you … can’t take back.
A beat. Then— DON sullenly throws his phone back down on his mother’s bed.
He sits down in his chair. Rests his weary head in his hands. KARLA watches him. Then—
KARLA
So … what the fuck is wrong with him?
DON
(Despondent.)
He’s a teenager.
Yeah, but like … that text was intense.
DON shrugs.
KARLA
Is he on drugs?
A beat. Then— DON nods.
KARLA
I knew it! I have like a sixth sense for that kind of stuff (not to brag). What kinds?
DON
(With some reluctance.)
Anything. Everything. Pills, mostly. He stole a ton of her pills, a few weeks ago.
(Indicates GEENA.)
I found out. That’s why he doesn’t come here anymore. That’s why I don’t respond to his stupid texts.
(Beat.)
That’s why I’m all alone.
And my cunt ex-wife is too busy finger banging her new girlfriend to step up and, oh, I don’t know, be a fucking parent, so—
KARLA
(Trying to calm him down.)
Okay, okay—
DON
I’m sorry.
KARLA
It’s okay.
(Beat.)
I mean, it sounds like—I mean like, in all fairness, your life is like, terrible, right now.
DON starts to laugh, a little. So does KARLA. Then—
KARLA
He’ll be okay, you know.
DON
(Sarcastically.)
That’s really reassuring. Thanks.
He will. He’s just … going through a phase. A lot of kids go through that. Especially in New York City—oh my god. I did a ton of drugs in high school—we all did. I’m amazed I still even have a nose …!
DON
Ew.
KARLA
But then I just kinda … grew out of it.
(Beat.)
And your son will, too.
DON lets this sink in. Makes a decision to actually try to be hopeful for once in his life.
DON
How did you … grow out of it?
KARLA
Idunno … I guess I just sort of woke up one day? And was like, “How the fuck am I ever gonna be successful if I’m like partying until five in the morning every night and like routinely waking up next to some interchangeable overweight comedian whose jokes are like exclusively slanted towards misogyny, and the next thing I know I’m like begging him to let me give him a blowjob because of my ever-lingering daddy issues before I embark on the nightmarish walk of shame back to my tiny depressing apartment that I share with three strangers whom I hate, as I cry and chain-smoke cigarettes and talk out loud to myself while pretending I’m on the phone, and then just begin the whole cycle all over again that night?” You know?
(Beat.)
DON
Uh.…
KARLA
And also I had kind of a wake-up call, I guess.
DON
What was your wake-up call?
KARLA
Oh. Um.
(Beat.)
My sister died.
As you heard.
KARLA
Right.
KARLA
“Sheee’s deeea—”
KARLA
(Cutting her off.)
How did she die? If you don’t mind / my—
KARLA
(Matter-of-fact.)
Oh yeah no it’s fine—it was a drug overdose.
(Beat.)
DON
What?!
KARLA
(Oblivious.)
What?
(Suddenly realizing.)
Oh, shit—but—that doesn’t mean that your son will die of a drug overdose! Y’know …
(Scrambling.)
… everyone’s …
(Weakly.)
… different …
DON hangs his head in his hands. KARLA stares at him, trying to conjure a way to reverse the effects of her blunder. Then—
MARCIE
Who do I have to fuck around here to get a fizzy water.
KARLA suddenly flinches—almost violently—at the sound of her mother’s voice. DON notices.
KARLA
One second, Mom. I’ll go get it. One second.
KARLA leaves and heads down the corridor.
DON is left alone with the now-conscious MARCIE, whose eyes are still closed. He looks at her. Looks away. Stuffs his hands in his pockets. Pulls out some wadded-up tissues. Examines them. Throws them out in a trash bin by GEENA’s bedstand. Then, thinks better of this and pulls a tissue out of the trash. Re-pockets it. He sits back down next to his mother. Picks up his New Yorker. Tries to read.
A long moment. Then—
MARCIE
You’re not very social.
DON
Oh! Ahm. Are you, ah. Are you … talking. To me?
MARCIE
No, I’m talking to your comatose mother.
DON
Oh.
MARCIE
That was a joke.
DON
Okay.
MARCIE
Because she’s always sleeping.
DON
Okay.
MARCIE
Because she has cancer.
DON
(Terribly uncomfortable.)
Okay.
(Beat.)
MARCIE
I can make cancer jokes. Because I have cancer.
DON
Okay.
MARCIE
Like how Jews can make Jewish jokes?
Okay.
MARCIE
Are you Jewish?
DON
What?
MARCIE
You must be. You’re funny.
DON
(Flattered.)
Oh …!
MARCIE
That was a joke. You’re not funny.
DON
(Heartbroken.)
Oh.
(Beat.)
MARCIE
I used to be married to a Jew.
DON
Okay.
MARCIE
Thought that meant that I could make Jewish jokes.
DON
Okay.
MARCIE
Turns out? That was NOT the case.
DON
Okay.
MARCIE
So I’m really trying to milk the cancer jokes.
DON
Okay.
MARCIE
While I can.
MARCIE
This oxygen tube feels like it’s raping my nose.
DON
Oh. Um. Do you want me to—
MARCIE
What’re you gonna do, enlarge my nostrils with your dick?
DON
Um.
(Beat.)
DON
I could get you a new … nasal … cannula …?
MARCIE
(Turning head to the wall.)
I’ll make Karla ask the nurse to replace it.
(Beat.)
About time she did something useful.
DON
Um.
A long beat. Then—
MARCIE
(Turning back to DON.)
Was that rape joke too much for you?
DON
What?
MARCIE
Some men are very uncomfortable with rape jokes.
DON
Well—
MARCIE
Not all. But some.
DON
Yeah, I—
Usually the ones who have been accused of rape.
A long beat. MARCIE lies there with her eyes closed. DON looks at anything other than MARCIE. Then—
MARCIE
This is the first time you and I have been alone.
DON
(Nodding toward GEENA.)
Well—
MARCIE
She doesn’t count.
(Beat.)
It’s the first time we’ve really talked.
DON
I know.…
MARCIE
It’s nice.
A beat. MARCIE looks at the wall. DON looks at the back of MARCIE’s head. Then—
MARCIE
(Turning her head to DON.)
I liked that condom story.
DON
You—you did …?
MARCIE
Of course. It was brilliant.
DON
I thought so, too!
MARCIE
Karla is so self-centered. She can’t appreciate anything outside her own head.
DON
Um.
(Beat.)
MARCIE
So how ’bout you?
Me …?
MARCIE
Rape jokes? Yay or nay.
DON
Oh. Ahmmm. Well. They’re not my … favorite? But um. I’m sort of, uh … used to them? Now?
(Beat.)
Because of, ah. Karla?
(Beat.)
You know, her—
MARCIE
Karla doesn’t make a lot of jokes with me.
(Beat.)
DON
But—what do you think of her … bits?
MARCIE
(Horrified.)
WHAT?
DON
(Horrified as well.)
I mean! Her, um. Her … standup … routines …!
MARCIE
Idunno.
(Beat.)
I went a few times. To see her perform. She didn’t even buy me a drink.
DON
But … / she—
MARCIE
I work hard. I’m working with kids all day. Kids with real problems.
(Beat.)
I’m a social worker. I’m actually doing something useful at my job. I’m not getting paid fifteen bucks and a basket of nachos to get onstage and ruminate about my twat six nights a week.
(Beat.)
Um—
MARCIE
So if I’m gonna go see a comedy show after a twelve-hour work day? Helping kids? I need.
(Beat.)
At least she could buy me a drink.
(Beat.)
DON
But doesn’t she—
MARCIE
What.
DON
Doesn’t Karla, um … practice? Her … standup routines? For you? She said that—
MARCIE
We don’t spend a lotta time together.
KARLA reenters with a Dixie cup of seltzer.
KARLA
Here, Mom.
KARLA approaches her mom with the cup. MARCIE does nothing.
KARLA
Um.
KARLA holds out the cup to her mom. MARCIE does nothing.
MARCIE
I need someone to feed it to me.
KARLA
Oh. Okay.
KARLA slowly and awkwardly brings the cup to MARCIE’s lips.
MARCIE
(Eyes still closed.)
I want him to feed it to me.
KARLA
Oh.
I’m sick of you.
KARLA
Mom.
MARCIE
I’m kidding.
KARLA
Okay.
KARLA brings the cup to MARCIE’s lips again.
MARCIE
I do want him to feed it to me, though.
KARLA
(Stung.)
Oh.
(Beat.)
Why?
MARCIE
Because you bore me?
(Beat.)
MARCIE
What? Are you going to cry?
KARLA
No …
MARCIE
(To DON.)
When she was a little girl? Everything made her cry. “Time for dinner!” She’d cry. “Take your plate to the sink!” Bawling. “Brush your teeth and put your jammies on!” Hysterical sobs.
MARCIE laughs, remembering.
KARLA
Mom …
MARCIE
(A bark.)
What!
She has a very bleak worldview. Always did. I’d say: “Go to bed” and she’d hear: “Nobody loves you.”
KARLA
(Fighting tears.)
Mom. …
MARCIE
Don’t argue with me I have cancer.
KARLA steps back. Looks away from her mom.
MARCIE
(Mockingly.)
“Boo hoo hoo hoo hoo!”
KARLA says nothing. Tries very hard not to cry. DON watches her. Then—he gently approaches KARLA and takes the Dixie cup out of her hand. She lets him.
DON
Okay, um. Mrs.…
MARCIE
(Demurely.)
Call me Marcie.
He brings the cup to her lips. KARLA watches. He is very gentle.
DON
Okay, um, Marcie, I’m bringing the Dixie cup to your lips.
MARCIE
Okay.
DON
Okay now I’m just going to pour some seltzer into your mouth.
MARCIE
Okay.
DON
Can you open your mouth?
MARCIE
Okay.
MARCIE opens her mouth, and DON delicately pours some seltzer from the Dixie cup into it. KARLA watches. MARCIE drinks.
Good job.
MARCIE drinks the whole cup.
MARCIE
I need more.
DON
Oh.
MARCIE
Get me more, Karla.
KARLA says nothing. Takes the Dixie cup from DON and starts to leave.
MARCIE
(Calling after KARLA.)
And can you tell the nurse I need a new nasal cannula while you’re out there?
KARLA
Sure.
MARCIE
And a new daughter?
KARLA stops. Then—she leaves.
MARCIE closes her eyes. DON looks at her, lost. And then—
Silence.
MARCIE lies there with her eyes closed. DON cannot tell if she’s sleeping. He stands awkwardly next to her bed, looking at the back of her head, then around the room. Shoves his hands in his pockets. Takes them out. Looks at the wall.
The moment feels like it goes on forever. And then—
DON
Why do you—
With a surprising and immediate burst of energy, MARCIE suddenly makes a hammy, comical “dead” face—tongue lolling, eyes bugging out.
MARCIE
Blehhhggghhh!!!
A beat. Then—
What?
MARCIE
(Casually.)
Just practicing dying.
KARLA enters, holding two Dixie cups.
KARLA
I got two more cups.
MARCIE
Do you want an award.
KARLA is silent. Hands a cup to DON.
DON
Okay, Marcie? I’m going to feed you the second cup of seltzer, okay?
MARCIE nods, eyes still closed.
DON
Okay. I’m bringing the second cup up to your lips.
(He does so.)
Okay, I’m going to pour the—
MARCIE
I’m sorry, why are you narrating this?
DON
What?
MARCIE
Why are you telling me everything you’re doing?
DON
Oh. Because … I guess because your eyes are closed?
MARCIE
Okay …
DON
And also, because…
MARCIE
What.
DON
It’s—I think it’s—this is going to sound so strange …
What.
DON
It’s … my son? When he was … oh god, it’s such a long story.
MARCIE
(Eyes still closed.)
Tell me.
KARLA
Tell us.…
MARCIE
(To KARLA.)
Shhhh!
KARLA shrinks. DON notices. He continues with his story.
DON
Okay. Well, when we—
MARCIE
Feed me seltzer while you tell me.
DON
Okay.
He brings the cup to MARCIE’s lips and pours the seltzer into her mouth. She swallows.
DON
Good.
She finishes drinking.
DON
(Placing Dixie cup in trash.)
Good job.
MARCIE
(Coquettishly.)
Thank you Don.
DON smiles uncomfortably, sits in KARLA’s chair and continues his story.
DON
Okay, so, my son? Um. His mom and I had been …
He clearly feels uncomfortable telling the story, but continues.
Ah … really … wanting a kid, and, ahm. We couldn’t. She couldn’t.…
(Beat.)
I’m sorry, this is—I don’t need to get into all—
MARCIE
Keep telling the story.
DON
I don’t know.
KARLA
Keep telling it!
MARCIE
(Snapping at KARLA.)
I just said that.
KARLA shrinks again. DON notices. He takes a deep breath; continues.
DON
So we, ah, when we found out that the, uh, the … adoption … had come through … we, ah. We were so … excited that we, ah, we started to read, um, every book on parenting that we could find. I mean, we were buying a new book pretty much every week …!
(Remembers.)
And we would stay up late, every night, and read these books to each other …
(Drifts into the memory.)
She would lay her head on my stomach … and I would read.…
(Drifts; smiles, a bit.)
Or I would lay my head on her stomach … and she would read. And we’d pretend there was a baby in there.…
(Drifts.)
And before we know it, it’s the week before we’re supposed to go get our son, and we are … just … flipping out, because we realize of course that we actually have no idea what to do …! I mean, all these books contradict each other—one book says: “Always do this one thing if you want your child to turn out to be not a serial killer,” and another book says: “NEVER do this one thing if you want your child to turn out to be not a serial killer”—and it’s the same thing!
(Laughs, a little.)
And everyone tells you, of course, that once you have the baby, that your instinct just sort of, um, kicks in. But … we’re adopting, right? So what if we, you know. What if our instinct, just … isn’t there?
(Laughs, with some anxiety.)
And my wife is—you know, I’m getting kind of worried about her, actually. She’s started pulling her hair out again, and she’s lost all this weight, and I look at her one night, and she’s standing over the kitchen sink and I realize that she’s been washing the same dish for about twenty minutes, and I can feel my brain sort of start to want to explode …
(Remembers.)
But then, as I’m looking at her … a … calm … comes over me, suddenly. And I say to her: “Honey? Honey. Put down the dish. Come with me.” And I bring her into the living room, and we laid down on the couch, and I laid my head on her stomach, and I said to her: “All we can do now is wait. And read. Let’s just read this one book.”
(Remembers.)
“Let’s pretend this is the only book in the world.…”
(Remembers.)
And we opened this new book. And it was written by these two Hungarian women—from Budapest, I think—and right away we could tell that it was so … different … from all the other stuff we had read. Because they wrote about—about respecting your child … And part of that respect, is, um …
(Becoming emotional.)
… is … is not treating them like they’re just a dumb baby, you know? Not just wiping their face when you think it’s too dirty, not just shoving food into their mouth when you think they’re hungry. Not, you know, not—condescending to them … But instead, just … telling them what you’re doing—telling your child:
(He begins to cry.)
“I’m going to wipe your face now, because you have chocolate on it. It’s going to be uncomfortable, at first, because the wash cloth is going to be wet. But it’s good for you. Here we go.”
(He cries.)
“I’m putting you in the bath. It’s going to be warm. It might also be a bit startling, at first. But it will become pleasant, soon. Be patient. Trust me.”
(He cries, harder.)
“I’m putting you in your crib. It’s time to go to sleep. Sleep can be scary, because you have to be alone with your thoughts. But you’re going to be okay. You are not alone. Mommy and I are right here with you. We love you so much.
(He sobs.)
We love you …!
(He calms down a bit.)
Goodnight.”
(He stops crying; a beat.)
And stuff like that.
He wipes his eyes, his nose with his sleeve. He looks at MARCIE.
DON
Do you want the other cup? Of seltzer? Marcie …?
MARCIE snores. She has fallen back asleep. DON turns to KARLA.
DON
(Amused.)
She’s asleep …!
KARLA turns away.
DON
Karla?
KARLA wipes her eyes with her hands, quickly.
KARLA
What.
DON
Nothing.
(Beat.)
DON
Your mom.…
KARLA
What?!
DON
Nothing.
She walks over to GEENA’s side of the room and sits in DON’s chair. She hangs her head in her hands, and cries. DON watches. Then—
KARLA
(Softly.)
Sometimes I wish that she would just die.
(Beat.)
DON
I know.
KARLA
I don’t really mean that.
(Beat.)
DON
I know.
KARLA
(Crying.)
I don’t know how … to do … this …!
(Beat.)
DON
I know.
A beat. KARLA cries. Then—
KARLA
You’re such a good … dad …
DON
Not really.
KARLA
(Through tears.)
You love your kid … so much … Even though he’s so … fucked up.
DON
(Laughs, a bit.)
That’s true …! It’s true.
DON approaches KARLA, gently. She continues to cry. Both GEENA and MARCIE continue to sleep. DON kneels down in front of KARLA and delicately places a hand on her knee. She lets him.
(Weeping.)
She’s so … mean … to me.
(Sobs.)
But I love her … so …
(Can barely get the word out.) …
much.…!
KARLA cries and cries, her face in her hands. DON rubs her knee.
DON
I know. I know.…
KARLA cries. Then—
She calms down. Breathes deeply. Stops sobbing. Lifts her face from her hands. Looks up. Looks at DON. He looks at her, too.
Their eyes are locked. They are frozen, breathing heavily, alive. A beat. Then—
KARLA suddenly grabs DON’s face and kisses him, hard.
DON is shocked, at first, but then … he kisses her back. It is chaste, sweet—like two children who have escaped from their parents’ watchful eyes to steal a first kiss in a secret hiding place. Then—
It becomes intense. Passionate. Hot, even. They devour each other with their mouths. KARLA comes down off the chair and straddles DON on the floor.
DON embraces this action fully—wraps his arms around her torso and pulls her closer to him. They inhale each other with their kissing. DON stands up, hoisting KARLA up with him. They continue to consume each other. DON begins to carry her toward the bathroom.
KARLA breaks away from the kiss.
KARLA
You’re taking me to the handicap-accessible bathroom?
DON
(Suddenly sheepish.)
Uh … yeah? Is that terrible …?
No. It’s awesome.
She attacks his face with her mouth. He lets her; attacks hers back.
The rest of the conversation is had in between kisses—breathlessly, excitedly, in spurts. Also, in whispers, so they don’t wake their mothers.
KARLA
(Sort of breathless.)
Wait one thing.
They kiss.
DON
(Sort of breathless, also.)
What.
They kiss.
KARLA
I’m not gonna have sex with you.
DON
Yeah. I mean, I assumed—
KARLA
What do you mean “you assumed”?
DON
Oh. I don’t know. I just meant. Well, look at you.
KARLA
What?
DON
You’re very attractive.
KARLA
Thanks.
She kisses him.
DON
And I’m—
KARLA
You’re … what?
I don’t know. I haven’t gone to the gym in, like, six years.
KARLA
Yeah but you’re rich so I don’t care.
She leans in to kiss him. He pulls away.
KARLA
That was a joke.
DON
Oh. Really?
KARLA
YES.
She kisses him. Hard. He kisses her back. A beat. Kissing. Then—
DON
I’m so sorry I have to put you down now.
KARLA
Okay.
He puts her down. Cracks his back. Then—they keep kissing.
DON
I like kissing you so much.
They keep kissing.
KARLA
Okay. Let’s go.
KARLA pulls DON towards the bathroom. Before they get there, she stops.
KARLA
We can do like first and second base. But that’s it.
DON
That sounds great.
They kiss.
KARLA
I need to set boundaries. Because I can get carried away.
I get it.
They kiss. Then—KARLA pulls DON into the bathroom. The door stays open. They make out in there.
KARLA
Also I should tell you that I’ve never really had a real relationship? So this is all stuff I’m still really working on.
DON
Really?
KARLA
Please don’t judge me.
DON
Sorry.
They kiss. Then—she steps away, maintaining cool eye contact with him as she slowly unbuttons and then unzips her pants. He looks at her, agog. Then—
She hops up and into the sink. He lunges for her and they keep making out.
KARLA
I didn’t lose my virginity until I was, like, twenty-four? Because I had just, like, severe abandonment and intimacy issues? I still struggle with this, FYI.
He starts to take off her pants.
KARLA
It’s about my dad.
He starts to kiss her legs as he finishes removing her pants.
KARLA
He left my mom when I was fourteen? He cheated on her with her best friend, Candi. My mom never really recovered from it, I think.
He starts to pull off her underwear.
DON
Is this okay?
KARLA
Uh-huh.
KARLA
And it was just really bad timing because my dad left at like the exact age that I started developing sexual feelings towards boys? And my dad was, like, the primary male in my life? And then he was just … gone?
He makes his way up to her inner thigh.
KARLA
And I would hear from him every couple of months, but like only in weird ways? Like he would send me a postcard written entirely in crayon? And I would be like, “Dad—
He starts to go down on her.
KARLA
(With a deep gasp of pleasure.)
—I’m fourteen.”
He continues to go down on her. She continues to try to talk to him, but it’s challenging, given the exquisite amount of pleasure she is experiencing.
KARLA
And it’s weird, because it’s not like he’s stupid—I mean, he’s a History professor, but …
(She moans.)
But anyway yeah so then for like years, whenever a man would try to get close to me? I’d assume that he was gonna abandon me. Because I believed I was inherently unlovable?
(She moans, louder.)
And then my sister died, so that was, like … not good for my abandonment issues. Ha ha.
(She groans with pleasure.)
I’ve been in a lot of therapy. In case you can’t tell.
He keeps going down on her. It gets more intense. He pulls over a squatty potty from near the toilet, sits on it. Continues to go down on her.
She tries to keep talking despite her mounting pleasure.
KARLA
And so anyway yeah after I had sex for the first time I became just like this total slut? Because I thought that if I just fucked someone right away, he would, like, instantly fall in love with me?
(She moans, loudly.)
This did NOT work.
(She grunts, rabidly.)
And so basically I just became that girl that men wanted to fuck but, like, never make their girlfriend?
(She wails with pleasure.)
And so yeah now I’m just trying to, like … you know… change that …
She becomes suddenly emotional. A beat. Then—
DON
Wait, are you going to start crying again?
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a tissue. Hands it up to her.
KARLA
(Tearful)
No. I don’t know. Maybe. Yeah. But don’t worry. I cry all the time. It means practically nothing.
She blows her nose with the tissue. He returns to going down on her. She moans, loudly, as she continues to blow her nose. Then—
KARLA
Wait.
(Takes his head in her hands.)
I have to ask you something.
DON
Okay.
KARLA
Did none of that scare you? What I just said?
DON
What? No.
KARLA
Really?
DON
Yeah, no. You seem pretty normal to me.
KARLA
(Taking his head in her hands again.)
Really?
DON
Yeah. But maybe I’m just fucked up.
KARLA
You’re definitely fucked up.
He continues going down on her. She moans. Moans. Then yelps, loudly.
DON
Shhh …!
KARLA
Don’t tell me to “shhh”!
DON
Sorry!
KARLA
Turn on the shower.
DON
What?!
KARLA
Turn on the shower! To make noise.
DON
Oh!
DON quickly pulls the bathroom door closed with his leg. Then—the sound of the running shower. Then …
Stillness. GEENA and MARCIE sleep. We can hear soft, muffled noises of pleasure from the bathroom—coupled with the occasional beeps from the IV stands and the sound of the running shower.
A long beat. Then—
GEENA
This is weird.
MARCIE
Totally.
(Beat.)
MARCIE
They’re very selfish.
(Beat.)
GEENA
Who isn’t.
MARCIE
Okay.
A beat. Then—
GEENA starts to struggle with her breathing. She moans.
In the bathroom, we hear louder moans from KARLA.
GEENA moans.
KARLA moans.
GEENA moans, louder.
In the bathroom, we hear KARLA climaxing. Then—
GEENA
(Reaching her hand toward MARCIE,)
He’s a good boy.
(Beat.)
Maybe too good.…
A beat. MARCIE nods off. GEENA dozes, too. A long moment. Then—
GEEN suddenly seizes up in bed and clutches her heart. Her eyes bulge open. The blood drains from her face. And then—
She falls back down onto her pillow, her eyes still open. Glassy. Blank.
Her always-puckered face relaxes. She lays there, very still. She looks—finally—peaceful.