BECCA
“Worship me and I’ll treat you like shit.” No wonder you like him, he sounds just like Dad.
NAT
You don’t need to strike out at me, Becca. I know you’re still in a bad place, but I’m trying to help you.
BECCA
Right.
NAT
I wish someone had sat me down when Arthur died. I wish someone gave me a little advice.
BECCA
You know what I wish?! I wish you would stop comparing Danny to Arthur! Danny was a four-year-old boy who chased his dog into the street! Arthur was a thirty-year-old heroin addict who hung himself! Frankly I resent how you keep lumping them together.
(Silence.)
NAT
He was still my son.
BECCA
And I don’t recall anyone giving you instructions on how best to grieve for him.
(Beat.)
I think it’s time for me to go to bed now.
(Turns to her sister) Izzy, I hope you enjoy the bathroom set.
IZZY
I’m gonna.
(Becca heads upstairs. Izzy loads the dishwasher. Nat is still shaken by Becca’s comment.)
NAT
I was never that mean to anyone. When Arthur died, I was just as upset as she was, but I never took it out on other people like that.
IZZY
What about Mrs. Bailey?
NAT
(Turns to her, annoyed) Nobody’s talking about Mrs. Bailey. Izzy, please.
HOWIE
You know what this was about?
IZZY
Yeah, her and her mouth.
HOWIE
I knew the party was a bad idea.
IZZY
(To Nat) Didn’t I tell you not to get into anything with her?
HOWIE
We got a letter today. From Jason Willette.
(Beat.)
NAT
What, why? What’d he want?
HOWIE
She said it didn’t bother her but ...
(Regarding the gathering) Sorry, Iz.
IZZY
No, hey, this was great, really. Let’s do it again next year.
(Crossfade to:)
SCENE FOUR
Later that night. Lights up on Danny’s room. It looks essentially the same as it did when Danny was alive.
The door opens and Becca enters. She doesn’t come in here often. She quietly closes the door behind her. She looks around a bit, then takes a seat on Danny’s bed. She takes a letter out of an envelope and rereads it.
Lights up on Jason Willette, seventeen.
JASON
Dear Mr. and Mrs. Corbett,
I wanted to send you my condolences on the death of your son, Danny. I know it’s been eight months since the accident, but I’m sure it’s probably still hard for you to be reminded of that day. I think about what happened a lot, as I’m sure you do, too. I’ve been having some troubles at home, and at school, and a couple people here thought it might be a good idea to write to you. I’m sorry if this letter upsets you. That’s obviously not my intention.
Even though I never knew Danny, I did read that article in the town paper, and was happy to learn a little bit about him. He sounds like he was a great kid. I’m sure you miss him a lot, as you said in the article. I especially liked the part where Mr. Corbett talked about Danny’s robots, because when I was his age I was a big fan of robots, too. In fact I still am, in some ways—ha ha.
I’ve enclosed a short story that’s going to be printed in my high school lit magazine. I don’t know if you like science fiction or not, but I’ve enclosed it anyway. I was hoping to dedicate the story to Danny’s memory. There aren’t any robots in this one, but I think it would be the kind of story he’d like if he were my age. Would it bother you if I dedicated the story? If so, please let me know. The printer deadline for the magazine is March 31st. If you tell me before then, I can have them take it off.
(Becca flips through the story enclosed.)
I know this probably doesn’t make things any better, but I wanted you to know how terrible I feel about Danny. I know that no matter how hard this has been on me, I can never understand the depth of your loss. My mom has only told me that about a hundred times—ha ha. I of course wanted to say how sorry I am that things happened the way they did, and that I wish I had driven down a different block that day. I’m sure you do, too.
Anyway, that’s it for now. If you’d like to let me know about the dedication, you can email me at the address above. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll assume it’s okay.
Sincerely, Jason Willette
(Beat.)
P.S. Would it be possible to meet you in person at some point?
(The lights slowly fade on Jason.
Becca puts the story and letter aside. She just sits on the bed, taking in the room.
Meanwhile, the lights rise on Howie in the living room. It’s that same night. Nat and Izzy have gone home. Howie plunks into his chair and grabs a couple remotes. He clicks on the TV, then hits play on the VCR. We hear a documentary on tornadoes playing. Howie is confused. Something isn’t right.
He gets out of the chair and ejects the tape. He examines the tape, panic starts to set in. He pops the tape back in and hits play again. More tornado documentary.)
HOWIE
What is this? Becca? ... Becca?!
(He hits fast forward.)
Becca?!
BECCA
(From upstairs) What?
HOWIE
What’d you do here?!
(The lights fade on Danny’s bedroom.
Howie keeps pressing fast forward, but it’s all tornadoes. He’s beside himself. Becca comes running downstairs.)
BECCA
What’s the matter?!
HOWIE
What is this?!
What’s what?!
HOWIE
The television. What is this?
BECCA
(Looks to TV) It’s the Discovery Channel. The tornado program. You said you wanted to watch it. I recorded it for you. Why?
HOWIE
For chrissake!
BECCA
What’s the matter?
HOWIE
It’s Danny’s tape. You recorded over Danny’s tape.
(Beat.)
BECCA
No, I didn’t. Pride and Prejudice was on that tape. We were watching it last night.
HOWIE
I switched them.
BECCA
What?!
HOWIE
I watched Danny’s tape later. After you went to bed.
BECCA
Why didn’t you take it out of the machine?!
HOWIE
Why didn’t you check to see what was in there?!
BECCA
I assumed it was the TV tape!
HOWIE
Jesus, Becca!
BECCA
It was one of the baby videos?
HOWIE
No, it was the most recent, the long one. The park was on it, and Mexico—
BECCA
How was I supposed to know you snuck down here?
HOWIE
—and Christmas.
BECCA
I thought it was the TV tape.
HOWIE
It wasn’t!
BECCA
I know, Howie.
HOWIE
So it’s gone. The whole thing.
BECCA
I’m sorry.
HOWIE
It’s the only copy, Becca!
BECCA
Well, I didn’t do it on purpose.
HOWIE
Are ya sure?
(Beat.)
BECCA
What does that mean?
(No response.)
You think I recorded over Danny’s tape on purpose?
HOWIE
I don’t know.
BECCA
You don’t k
now?
HOWIE
I should’ve taken it out.
BECCA
Why would I deliberately record over it?
HOWIE
I don’t know.
BECCA
Why would I?!
HOWIE
I don’t know!
(Silence.)
You took the paintings off the fridge. Danny’s paintings.
BECCA
To save them. I put them in plastic.
HOWIE
And shoved them in a box.
BECCA
For safekeeping.
HOWIE
Okay.
BECCA
I didn’t throw the paintings out.
HOWIE
I know you didn’t.
BECCA
You think I didn’t want that tape?
HOWIE
I don’t—... Of course, you did. Obviously it wasn’t on purpose but—
BECCA
What?
HOWIE
Maybe subconsciously.
BECCA
Subconsciously. Is this what they’re telling you at group? How I’m doing things subconsciously?
HOWIE
You’re trying to get rid of him. I’m sorry, but that’s how it feels to me sometimes. Every day, it’s something else. It feels like you’re trying to get rid of any evidence he was ever here.
(It’s as if she’s been slapped.)
BECCA
I didn’t know that tape was in there.
HOWIE
I’m not talking about the tape. Not just the tape.
BECCA
And the paintings are downstairs. In a box. You can look at them whenever you want.
HOWIE
The clothes. His shoes.
BECCA
We don’t need all that stuff. Why would we keep—?
HOWIE
Your wanting to sell the house!
BECCA
We already talked about—
HOWIE
Taz. Sending Taz to your mother’s!
BECCA
There was a lot going on, Howie. We couldn’t deal with the dog.
HOWIE
I was fine with the dog. I was the one walking him.
BECCA
Well he got underfoot.
HOWIE
And he was a reminder.
BECCA
Yes, he was a reminder. So what? I wanted one less reminder around here. That’s perfectly normal.
HOWIE
And since you never wanted the dog to begin with—
BECCA
Oh for godsakes—
HOWIE
Well if I hadn’t bought the dog—
BECCA
And if I hadn’t run inside to get the phone, or if I had latched the gate—
HOWIE
I left the gate unlatched!
BECCA
Well I didn’t check it!
(Retreats a bit) I’m not playing this game again, Howie. It was no one’s fault.
HOWIE
Not even the dog’s.
BECCA
I know that.
HOWIE
Dogs chase squirrels. Boys chase dogs.
BECCA
Are you telling me or yourself?
HOWIE
He loved that dog!
BECCA
Of course he did.
HOWIE
And you got rid of him!
BECCA
Right, like I got rid of the tape. I get it.
HOWIE
(Losing it) It’s not just the tape! I’m not talking about the tape, Becca! It’s Taz, and the paintings, and the clothes, and it’s everything ! You have to stop erasing him! You have to stop it! You HAVE TO STOP!
(Howie has been reduced to tears. He has to move away from Becca.
She takes him in. She seems more confused than affronted.)
BECCA
Do you really not know me, Howie? Do you really not know how utterly impossible that would be? To erase him? No matter how many things I give to charity, or how many art projects I box up, do you really think I don’t see him every second of every day? And okay, I’m trying to make things a little easier on myself by hiding some of the photos, and giving away the clothes, but that does not mean I’m trying to erase him. That tape was an accident. And believe me, I will beat myself up about it forever, I’m sure. Like everything else that I could’ve prevented but didn’t.
HOWIE
That’s not what I want, Bec. It’s not what I’m talking about.
BECCA
No? Because it feels like it is. It feels like I don’t feel bad enough for you. I’m not mourning enough for your taste.
HOWIE
Come on, that’s not—
BECCA
Or mourning in the right way. But let me just say, Howie, that I am mourning as much as you are. And my grief is just as real and awful as yours.
HOWIE
I know that.
BECCA
You’re not in a better place than I am, you’re just in a different place. And that sucks that we can’t be there for each other right now, but that’s just the way it is.
HOWIE
His stuff is all we have left. That’s all I’m saying. And every bit of it you get rid of—
BECCA
I understand that. You don’t wanna let go of it. I understand, Howie.
HOWIE
Do you?
(Beat.)
Do you?
(No response.)
This isn’t ...—Something has to change here. Because I can’t do this ... like this. It’s too hard.
(Beat.)
It’s too hard.
(Neither speaks for a while. Then Howie heads for the stairs. He stops, and turns back to her.)
And I want that dog back. Your mother’s making him fat.
(Beat.)
I want the dog back.
BECCA
Why don’t we wait until—
HOWIE
I don’t want to. How much more do we have to lose?
(Beat.)
I miss the dog. I’m sorry, but I miss him. I want him back.
(They regard each other silently. Howie heads upstairs, leaving Becca alone.
The lights slowly fade.)
Act Two
SCENE ONE
Living room. We hear a car pulling away as the lights rise on Howie, standing by the open front door, in a suit jacket, holding a clipboard for an open house.
Two months have passed. It’s early May. Izzy comes from the kitchen with a piece of torte. Her pregnancy is starting to show a little. She’s four and a half months along.
IZZY
They were weird, huh? That last couple? The way they kept opening everything? Cabinets, closets ...
HOWIE
It’s an open house.
IZZY
Still, it was kinda nervy. I’d never do one of these things. Strangers strolling through, looking under my beds.
HOWIE
That’s what you gotta do to sell a house.
IZZY
Well lucky for me I’ll never own a house then.
(Regarding torte) What is this, pie?
HOWIE
It’s a torte.
IZZY
Is it good?
HOWIE
Yeah, it’s good.
(Izzy settles in with the torte.)
IZZY
We done?
HOWIE
Fifteen minutes. We’re supposed to go till four. (Looking over the sign-in sheet)
IZZY
How many’d ya get anyway?
HOWIE
Not many. No serious buyers. Maybe the German though. It’s hard to tell.
IZZY
Is that what he was, German? I couldn’t place the accent. I thought maybe Irish.
HOWIE
Irish?
IZZY
I couldn’t tell.
HOWIE
We should probably get a broker. I think a lot of people are afraid of fisbos.