Who By Fire

__________________________

A full-length play

By Talisa Friedman
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CAST OF CHARACTERS

JULES FEINSTEIN (F), 60s, Jewish. Director of the Smithsonian Folklife Festival.

LEN FEINSTEIN (M), 60s, her husband, also Jewish. A lawyer.

ELIZA FEINSTEIN (F), 30, their eldest daughter. An actress and waitress.

NOAH FEINSTEIN (M), 27, their son. Works in tech.

ABBY FEINSTEIN (F), 22, their daughter. Recent graduate of Sarah Lawrence.

EVERETT COLE (M), 30, African-American, Eliza's boyfriend. A writer.

KELLY KANG (F), 28, Chinese-American. Noah's girlfriend. Works in digital advertising.

AUNT JOAN (F), 50s, Len's younger sister. Owns a candle store in Swarthmore, PA.

NOODLE, the Feinstein's small, fluffy white dog. Probably in the bichon/maltese family.
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SETTING

The Feinstein's upper-middle class home:

A modern, open-plan living area of a nice house, just outside of Washington, DC. At left, the kitchen,
with abundant cabinet space and a large island. At center is a dining table. To the right is a comfortable
living room, with a cozy sectional sofa facing the audience...one can imagine that a large flat screen TV
hangs on the fourth wall, perhaps above a fireplace.

There is a hallway from the kitchen/dining area that leads to the front of the house; at right, a door off the
living room leads to a wooden deck (which we can assume looks over their sizeable backyard). There’s a
propane grill and some deck chairs.

The house is furnished and decorated with a lot of art and artifacts culled from Jules's job at the
Smithsonian—Ndebele dolls, Navajo baskets, Japanese silk paintings, etc. Everything else is probably
from Crate & Barrel.

*A NOTE ON STYLE

The dialogue should feel natural; as such, actors should feel free to overlap where they instinctively
would, particularly in group scenes.
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SCENE 1

(Yom Kippur. Early evening, mid-September. 2018 or so.)

(Light Afrobeat music plays from the stereo in the corner. At center, the table set for six.)
(JULES FEINSTEIN, 62, stirs something on the stove. She has the vibe of someone with a vacation
home in Santa Fe. Hair curly and wild, she wears some necklaces crafted by an indigenous tribe.)
(Her husband, LEN FEINSTEIN, 63, leans against the island, reading The Wall Street Journal.
He’s a practical man, the kind who’ll come home with 5 lbs of walnuts because of a deal at Costco.)
(On the couch lounges their son NOAH, 27, staring at his phone screen. He wears brand new Yeezys
and an Off-White shirt that says “T-Shirt” on the front, if that gives you a sense of things.)
(LEN sniffs the air, then looks in the pan.)
LEN. Prunes?
JULES. Yep.
LEN. In brisket?
JULES. I’m making a sauce for the new Ottolenghi brisket. I figured we could try something different
instead of using your mother’s recipe for the thirtieth year in a row.
NOAH. I like Grandma’s brisket.
JULES. That’s because it’s drowning in ketchup and beer.
NOAH. Exactly.
JULES. If it’s terrible we can order in Rocklands. I promise no one is going to starve.
(She stirs.)
JULES. There’s a new Ethiopian restaurant in Dupont Circle. I thought we could take Liza and Everett
there tomorrow.
NOAH. Aw, I wanted to take Everett to Ray’s Hell Burger.
JULES. Would it kill you to go one weekend of your life without a burger? It’s nice to expose yourself—
NOAH. Ok, ok, what even is Ethiopian food?
JULES. Honestly, Noah. You know, they eat, um, fir fir, which is like a stew, and injera, which is sort of
a flat bread... there’s a chicken dish I like, doro...uh...doro...
(ABBY, 22, enters, in sweatpants. She’s a recent college grad, a low-key mess with an excellent eye
roll. She carries NOODLE, the family’s small, fluffy white dog.)
ABBY. (flopping down on the couch) Okay Mom, we get it, you work at the Smithsonian.
JULES. (sighs) How did I raise such close-minded children?
ABBY. Ughh I’m so hungry.
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JULES. So eat something, you don’t have to wait for them.

ABBY. I’m not waiting for them, I’m waiting for the frickin sun to set.
NOAH. When did you become a Superjew?
ABBY. I’m not fasting to be a good Jew. I decided to independently use today for a full mind and body
cleanse.
NOAH. K.
ABBY. I’m doing it for myself. I don’t care about pleasing some misogynistic Judeo-Christian almighty
spirit.
JULES. I think that’s nice, honey.
NOAH. Hey Dad, are you fasting for yourself or for God-the-chauvinist?
LEN. Huh?
JULES. I hope Liza’s not driving if she’s been fasting.
ABBY. What car is she even driving here? Does Everett have a car?
JULES. I’m not sure. Len, you talked to her, what did she say?
LEN. Huh?
JULES. How is Liza getting down here?
LEN. Oh, she’s driving.
ABBY. (almost shouting) Dad. How. Did. She. Get. The. Car?
LEN. (bewildered by this aggression)...Rented it...
ABBY. Thank you.
JULES. You know, I hope she is driving, actually. With everything you see on the news these days...
ABBY. What do you mean?
JULES. Police are much more likely to pull over a black man than a white woman.
ABBY. Oh my God, Mom.
JULES. It’s true! It’s the sad reality of the country we live in.
(The doorbell rings.)
JULES. Oh good! Len, will you watch this while I get the door?
LEN. (not looking up) Mhm.
(JULES hurries out. ABBY scoops up NOODLE and follows behind her.)
(From offstage, we hear the door open, the beginnings of “Hiii”—Punctuated by violent snarls and
barks. NOODLE is in attack mode. Shouts of “Noodle!” “Stop it!” “Grab him!”)
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(LEN and NOAH both start from their respective reading and look at each other—uh oh.)
JULES. (OFFSTAGE) (shrieking) Abby, take him and tie him up outside!
(It quiets, but the conversation offstage becomes audible as they make their way down the hall.)
ELIZA. (OFFSTAGE)...nuts getting here. My callback took so long because they kept pairing me with
different scene partners, so Everett had to drive around the block for almost an hour waiting for me.
(JULES reemerges. She’s followed by ELIZA, 30—type-A in the trappings of a bohemian, wearing a
jumpsuit and silk scarf—and EVERETT, 30—a hyper-intellectual African-American man in a tweed
jacket. They are Artists with a capital “A.” EVERETT looks shell-shocked.)
JULES. That sounds terrible. I’m so sorry about Noodle, Everett. I’ve never seen him behave that way
before. He must be acting protective over his sister.
EVERETT. That’s alright, Jules. Hi Len. ELIZA. I feel like I have a good chance of
booking it, though. The director really liked
me.
(LEN finally puts down his paper and shakes EVERETT’s hand.)
LEN. Good to see you, Everett.
(ELIZA gives LEN a big hug.)
ELIZA. Hi Dad!
LEN. Hey sweets! (re the jumpsuit) What’s this? Did you escape from prison?
ELIZA. It’s a jumpsuit, Dad. They’ve been in style for like ten years.
LEN. Eesh, what do I know.
ELIZA. I wore it for the opening night of The Tempest.
JULES. Oh, I remember that. That was such a lovely production.
EVERETT. (to Jules and Len) You have a beautiful home. I’m glad I finally get to see where Liza spent
her formative years.
LEN. It all makes sense now, huh?
EVERETT. Rumor is that there might be some revealing middle school photos if I hunt carefully
enough.
ELIZA. I burned all those years ago.
JULES. Oh, Liza, you were so cute back then. (conspiratorially) I’ll dig some up for you later, Everett.
(NOAH gets up from the couch and gives EVERETT a bro hug, one of those ones where guys clasp
hands, pat each other on the back, and then flick their hands away. It’s almost cool.)
NOAH. Sup my brotha! Lookin’ pretty fly for Yom Kip!
EVERETT. You’re looking pretty “fly” yourself.
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NOAH. Thanks, I had to wait in line two hours last weekend to get these kicks.
EVERETT. Really? Is that what they’re doing in the tech sphere these days?
NOAH. Nah dude, the developers don’t even wear shoes, they’re animals. Those of us in sales gotta
represent.
ELIZA. Don’t encourage him, Everett. His shoe thing is like a mental illness.
NOAH. Thanks Lize, good to see you, too.
LEN. How’s the writing going, Everett?
EVERETT. It’s going really well, thanks. I just finished the final draft of my novel. I’m pretty proud of
how it turned out.
LEN. Think you’ll be able to sell it?
EVERETT. My agent is very optimistic.
ELIZA. His novel is beautiful. It’s going to be a classic the instant it gets published.
(She squeezes him affectionately. He squeezes her back.)
EVERETT. Well, it would definitely be nice to quit tutoring and focus on my work full time.
ELIZA. Some of his students are unbelievably entitled.
EVERETT. I actually started—
(ABBY enters from the back door.)
ABBY. Man, I don’t know what’s up with Noodle. I’ve only seen him bark like that at the mailman.
(They all try not to acknowledge the awkwardness of this comment.)
JULES. Hey, everyone, sit down, the sun set.
ABBY. (groaning) Ugggh thank God.
(As they head to the table, EVERETT points to a cluster of Ndebele dolls on a shelf.)
EVERETT. (quietly to Eliza) What’s with those?
ELIZA. They’re from when we lived in Africa...I know.
(JULES puts a plate on the table and returns to the kitchen. LEN checks his phone as he sits, gets
sucked into his e-mail.)
JULES. Start with this while I finish up the brisket.
ELIZA. Thanks, Mom. (re her sweatpants) Looking good, Abs.
ABBY. Hey, I was fasting all day, I wanted to be comfortable.
ELIZA. You fasted?
ABBY. I was doing a ritualistic self-cleanse.
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ELIZA. Ok. (she turns to Noah) Did you?

NOAH. I mean, I definitely ate less than normal...but I had to put back a few cals cuz of this lifting
routine I’m doing.
ELIZA. I don’t think “eating less than normal” qualifies.
NOAH. Did you fast?
ELIZA. I couldn’t today because I had a big callback, plus we had a four-and-a-half hour car ride. But I
did make Everett do tashlich with me.
JULES. Oh that’s nice.
EVERETT. Yes, we threw pieces of bread—I mean sins—into the Hudson, and then we were chased by
a pack of geese.
ELIZA. Everett had to climb up on a bench, he was swinging his book bag at them—
EVERETT. Only very evil geese would lust after sins!
JULES. What was the callback for?
ELIZA. I don’t want to talk about it until I hear either way—
(ELIZA’s phone starts to ring.)
ELIZA. Oh shit, it’s my agent.
(EVERETT squeezes ELIZA’s arm as she leaps up and exits. He looks around for a moment, taking
in the Afrobeat and the Feinstein’s multicultural decor.)
EVERETT. So...do you guys have other notable rituals for this holiday?
NOAH. Yeahh, that’s more of a Liza question. ABBY. We eat a lot at sunset.
EVERETT. I didn’t realize Liza was such a religious expert.
NOAH. It’s more like she just knows everything.
ABBY. I think some “punishment” is supposed to happen if you don’t apologize to people by today for
being a dick this year? You get stoned or something.
EVERETT. Stoned?
ABBY. I don’t know, I just remember my mom threatening me a lot when I was younger.
NOAH. (sniggering) Oh yeah, you used to run wild when we went to services.
(ELIZA returns, looking excited.)
JULES. (to Eliza) News?
ELIZA. I got the part!
(EVERETT stands and gives her a hug and kiss.)
EVERETT. Yes, Beadie! You’re going to be sensational.
JULES. You got it?! What’s the part?
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ELIZA. Nina, in The Seagull. (taking it in) Wow, yeah, I’m going to play Nina.
LEN. What’s this?
JULES. Eliza got a big part!
LEN. Hey now, that’s great!
ABBY. What’s the show?
ELIZA. It’s a production of The Seagull, but it’s going to be done in this warehouse in Brooklyn, and
each scene will be in a different room, so the audience will go on a journey along with the characters.
JULES. Sounds very…cutting edge. Who’s Nina again? I know we saw the play a few years ago at The
Shakespeare Theatre, right Len?
LEN. Oh yeah, lots of crying.
ELIZA. Nina is the ingénue. She’s an actress who falls in love with this famous writer—
EVERETT. Ha, I didn’t think about the parallels!
ELIZA. (eyes shining) Yeah…
EVERETT. Just so long as I’m Trigorin and not Konstantin…
ELIZA. Of course you are.
LEN. Does it pay?
ELIZA. It does.
JULES. Oh! Can you stop working at the restaurant?
ELIZA. Um, no, but it will definitely cover the cost of commuting to Brooklyn and, like, some meals…
LEN. Huh.
EVERETT. When do you start?
ELIZA. Rehearsals start Tuesday, and opening night is October 15th.
JULES. Well, we’ll have to come up and see it.
NOAH. Maybe I’ll come, too!
ELIZA. I don’t know, Noah; can you handle real art?
NOAH. What’s that supposed to mean?
(ELIZA doesn’t respond. She and EVERETT sit. LEN returns to his e-mail, JULES to the food.)
EVERETT. All that circling in the car today was worth it, Beadie.
ELIZA. You were my hero, Bennie. (they kiss) Wow, I still can’t believe it. Feels like good vibes from
the new year.
EVERETT. Yeah, your siblings were just informing me about the holiday.
ELIZA. They were?
EVERETT. Yeah, something about people getting stoned.
ELIZA. What?
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ABBY. Not getting high—like, getting killed by rocks.

ELIZA. Oh, you were talking about the punishments if you don’t atone by today? There’s a whole list:
“Who by drowning, who by earthquake, who by beast, who by sword...”
EVERETT. Sword?
NOAH. I bet at least one person still gets killed by sword somewhere in the world every year.
ELIZA. (ignoring Noah) At the service you sing a litany of ways you could die, and you beat your chest
for each one. It has this really eerie, mystical energy.
EVERETT. Fascinating.
ELIZA. (cheerfully) We Jews are very superstitious. Better to ask people for forgiveness than risk getting
the plague or something.
EVERETT. Did you ask anyone for forgiveness?
ELIZA. Uh, not this year. I don’t think there was anyone I wronged. At least not knowingly.
EVERETT. (to Noah and Abby) Did you guys?
ABBY. No. NOAH. Nah man, I like to keep my enemies.
ELIZA. ‘Cause he has no friends.
NOAH. Hey—
ABBY. I just think it’s insane that people are still following word-for-word a text that is so wildly sexist
and hetero-normative. Like, it was just written by a bunch of dudes in a desert, who have no relevance
on our lives anymore.
ELIZA. But you can pick the parts that feel relevant. Like, Everett and I did tashlich because I think it’s
nice to spend a little time reflecting on what kind of energy you are putting out into the world. But
I’m not going to join a synagogue in New York and go to services all day and get brainwashed by
some AIPAC rabbi. A lot of millennial Jews in the city treat temple like it’s some exclusive
networking club. It’s so gross.
(JULES puts down the final dishes and sits.)
JULES. What’s so gross?
ELIZA. Don’t worry about it.
JULES. What?
EVERETT. She was just saying how some young Jews in New York are very cult-y. It’s the same with
Christians. There are these Bible study groups that are like hot singles mixers.
NOAH. You ever go to one?
EVERETT. Shockingly, no.
JULES. Huh. Oh, should we light candles before we eat? Since it’s Shabbat?
ABBY. Mom, we never light Shabbat candles.
JULES. Yes, but it’s very holy when Yom Kippur falls on Shabbat. I remember when I was living in
Israel on the kibbutz—
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ABBY. Mom I’m soooo hungry...

ELIZA. Why don’t we eat and then light the candles after? The sun already set so timing doesn’t really
matter at this point.
JULES. That’s a good idea. Ok everyone, dig in.
(The kids dive for the food. They’re an informal family. ABBY makes a lot of moaning noises.)
ELIZA. Did you guys go to services today?
JULES. Dad and I went this morning, but it was too much to go twice.
LEN. (resurfacing) Have you ever been to a synagogue, Everett?
EVERETT. I attended quite a few bar mitzvahs back in the day.
NOAH. Yesss.
LEN. I guess in New York City that’s pretty unavoidable, huh?
EVERETT. There were definitely more Jewish students than black ones at my school.
ELIZA. And knowing the Jews at your school, I bet those bar mitzvahs were really small, tasteful affairs.
EVERETT. Yeah, I remember going to one at the Met where LL Cool J performed...
NOAH. Damn.
LEN. Remind me, your father’s a professor at...?
EVERETT. NYU.
JULES. Oh, I wonder if he knows Samson Okusanya! Samson is the head of the Africana Studies
department, we’ve done a lot of work with him at the Smithsonian.
EVERETT. Hm, I don’t know.
ELIZA. (pointedly) Everett’s dad is an economics professor.
LEN. That so? He do much with stock? I’ve been having a hell of a time trying to figure out what to do
with the stock market.
NOAH. Dad, I’ve told you, the money’s in bitcoin.
EVERETT. I’ve heard him say the words “game theory,” but I honestly have no idea what he works on. I
was too busy spending my teen years sulking in the corner with a book to pay much attention.
LEN. No wonder you two like each other.
ELIZA. I wasn’t that sulky!
JULES. You were a little sulky.
ELIZA. (to Everett) I wanted to go to a theater boarding school, and they wouldn’t let me.
LEN. I wasn’t going to pay $40,000 a year for you to put on plays in the woods of Michigan. It was
ridiculous.
JULES. And Liza, you were always so good at school that it would have been a waste to throw that
away. Aren’t you glad you studied liberal arts, instead of just singing and dancing? I think it’s so
important, especially if you’re making art, to have an understanding of the world, of other cultures...
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ELIZA. Sure, my psych/English double major really helps my waitressing.

JULES. That’s not—
ELIZA. I’m joking. I do think that it’s important as an artist to know those things. It would just be nice if
I spent more of my time making art and less taking dinner orders.
EVERETT. Well, now you’re going to get to make some beautiful art.
LEN. We’re very proud that you’ve been able to give it a go in New York and be self-sufficient. Some
people in the family could really take a leaf out of your book...
(He looks at ABBY.)
ABBY. Well maybe some people in this family could try to recognize how difficult it is to get a job in
this economy, and not expect me to suddenly start paying rent in my childhood home when I’ve only
been out of school for four months, and when almost a third of my generation is being forced to live
with their parents because of the rise of housing costs and the oppressive nature of student loans—
LEN. You don’t have student loans, Abby! And I’d be a little more sympathetic if you didn’t sit around
watching Real Housewives seven hours a day.
ELIZA. Why are you rotting your brain watching that?
ABBY. Excuse me, that was a one day RONY marathon, which I was watching in order to write a think
piece to submit to Bustle!
LEN. Which would have paid you, what? $30?
ABBY. Exposure is a form of compensation!
LEN. Abby, if you want to use the Gender and Sexuality degree that I paid $300,000 for to become some
kind of hipster artist, that is fine by me, but you can at least get a restaurant job like your sister.
ABBY. Okaaay, can we talk about something else? Noah, how’s your girlfriend?
NOAH. Abby, I told you not—
JULES. Noah, you have a girlfriend? ELIZA. What’s this?
NOAH. She’s not my girlfriend, she’s just a girl I’ve been hanging out with.
ELIZA. Do you like her?
NOAH. Yeah, she’s cool. But, I dunno, it’s early.
JULES. Can we at least know her name?
NOAH. Mommm, don’t make such a big deal—
JULES. Who’s making a big deal? A mother can’t know who her son is spending his time with?
ABBY. That’s the most Jewish thing you’ve ever said.
JULES. Fine, if my children don’t want to tell me things, they don’t have to tell me things.
ELIZA. I tell you things. LEN. No one tells me things, either.
JULES. No, you don’t tell me about your auditions.
ELIZA. That has more to do with me needing to not dwell on—
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JULES. No, it’s fine. Maybe Everett will talk to me. Everett, how are things in your life?
EVERETT. (laughs) They are excellent, Jules. Did Liza tell you about the movie I’m writing?
JULES. No, she doesn’t tell me anything.
ELIZA. He’s writing a movie with a part for me! And it’s so good.
EVERETT. She is my muse.
JULES. Well that’s nice.
LEN. (skeptically) So you’re writing books and movies? Don’t people usually do one or the other?
ELIZA. No, Dad. It’s like actors doing theater and TV.
LEN. Huh, ok.
EVERETT. (to Eliza) Should we show them the...?
ELIZA. I don’t know, Bennie. This might not be the final edit...
JULES. Show us what?
NOAH. Yeah, show us what?
EVERETT. So, in order to try to pitch the script to investors, we made a short film to show the feel of
what we’re going for.
ELIZA. Because the goal is to make a full-length movie next year, so we need to raise a bunch of money.
LEN. That’s an interesting idea. NOAH. Tight, that’s the same way we pitch in
tech.
ELIZA. (to Noah) It’s not.
NOAH. It sounds like it is. Cuz we make a model product—
ELIZA. It’s not, though.
EVERETT. It kind of sounds like it is.
ELIZA. Yeah, but does he put his own money into it? Does he scout locations and do set decorationr and
make up design and casting—
NOAH. I only meant—
ELIZA. Anyway, we shot it last month, but we haven’t completely finished editing it yet.
JULES. Well I want to see it!
LEN. Is it on the internet? (proudly) We’ve got a thing now where you can play it on the TV.
EVERETT. It is...(on the internet).
ELIZA. Ok fine, but just know it’s not totally finished.
NOAH. Yesss.
(LEN turns off the Afrobeat. NOAH and ABBY race to the couch. ELIZA sets it up on the TV.)
LEN. Wait, let your mother finish her dinner first.
JULES. It’s fine, I’m done.
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LEN. Didn’t like that Ottolenghi recipe, huh?

JULES. No, I’m just not that hungry.
NOAH. Come on you guys! (he waves them over)
(JULES and LEN go over to the couch, as EVERETT explains.)
EVERETT. So the screenplay focuses on two interracial relationships, one in the 1960’s and one today,
and we see the parallels between them. Because we feel like we’ve evolved to this postmodern
society where we are past race, religion, and whatnot, that we’re all equal...but that’s not the reality of
living in the world. The themes of the film go beyond just race, of course—they encompass many of
society’s ills—but this is just a snippet of the story.
JULES. Interesting. LEN. Huh.
ELIZA. Ok, are you guys ready?
NOAH. Yes! ABBY. Yes!
JULES. Wait, should we clear the dishes first?
ELIZA. Mom, it’s like 90 seconds. LEN. Come on, Jules.
JULES. Ok, ok.
(ELIZA hits play. They stare out at the imagined TV screen. We can’t hear much, maybe faint
background music and dialogue. ELIZA and EVERETT hold hands, proud.)
JULES. Is this 1950s or today?
NOAH. Shh. ELIZA. Today.
LEN. Who’s that?
ELIZA. It’s our friend Phil, just—
(They watch silently for a moment.)
JULES. Is that how you’re going to wear your hair in the movie?
ELIZA. Mom! I don’t know.
LEN. Phil needs to learn to speak up.
EVERETT. Sh, sh, this is the best part.
(ELIZA and EVERETT smile broadly and then begin to laugh. No one else does. The movie ends.)
LEN. Huh.
EVERETT. (to Eliza) I still can’t believe Phil made that jump.
ELIZA. I know! I think he ripped his pants.
(They look at the others expectantly. No one speaks for a moment.)
JULES. (remembering) Oh, we forgot to light the candles!

BLACK OUT
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SCENE 2

(Thanksgiving, late afternoon. A few decorative gourds. The table is set for seven.)
(NOODLE sniffs around, eating bits of food off the floor.)
(The oven timer starts to beep. JULES runs on—she’s in the midst of getting dressed. She grabs a
mitt, opens the oven and begins to remove something, then gets stuck beneath its weight.)
JULES. Help! Can someone help me? Hello? Help! Your mom needs help!
(ELIZA hurries on, looking nice.)
ELIZA. Mom, are you ok? What’s up?
JULES. Can you please give me a hand? It’s too heavy for me.
(ELIZA grabs kitchen towels and joins JULES. They hoist the enormous turkey onto the counter.)
ELIZA. Geez, how much does this thing weigh?
JULES. 23 pounds. Every year, there’s a story in the paper about someone getting crushed by a turkey.
ELIZA. Sure. Then why’d you buy one so big?
JULES. Don’t look at me, your dad likes to have leftovers.
(JULES sits down.)
JULES. Whoo, I need a break. Where are the boys? They should be helping us with this.
ELIZA. I sent them to gather leaves to decorate the table.
JULES. Oh, that’s good. Boy, I am just wiped.
(ELIZA sits next to her.)
ELIZA. I feel you. I definitely need a little R&R. Things were so crazy the past two months with the
show. Just the emotional journey I went on every night with that character…
JULES. Has there been any more talk of a transfer?
ELIZA. Mom, stop asking me that! I’ll let you know if I hear anything.
JULES. Sorry, sorry.
ELIZA. Anyway, I’m glad I’ll have time to focus on Everett’s movie now. We had a pretty big thing—
But I’ll tell you about it when Dad is around.
JULES. Oh, that’s still...ok, great. (beat) Didn’t...Everett’s family want him to spend Thanksgiving with
them?
ELIZA. His parents went to San Fran to spend it with his sister and her kids, so he didn’t want to travel
that far this year.
JULES. Ah. Remind me, is his sister...married?
ELIZA. Yes.
JULES. Is her husband...
ELIZA. ...black?
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JULES. Just curious.

ELIZA. He’s Indian, actually.
JULES. Interesting.
ELIZA. Mom, you don’t have to tiptoe around this stuff with me. I know it wasn’t super common in your
generation, but a lot of our friends are in interracial relationships.
JULES. I have lots of friends in interracial relationships.
ELIZA. Ok.
JULES. And do you have any friends who are Jewish?
ELIZA. Yes, why?
JULES. Just wondering. (beat) Are they in interracial relationships?
ELIZA. I don’t know, I’m sure some of them are.
JULES. Hm. It can just be tricky, you know. A white Christian and a black Christian may have more in
common than—
AUNT JOAN. (OFFSTAGE) Jules! Are these towels for me to use?
(AUNT JOAN, 57, enters the stage. She’s a starchy woman with an inflexible sense of right. She
holds some folded towels.)
JULES. Yes, Joan. That’s why they are in your room.
AUNT JOAN. I didn’t know if they had been left from a previous guest.
JULES. No, fresh and clean.
AUNT JOAN. That’s good.
(She disappears, then returns sans towels, with a wrapped box that she hands to JULES.)
AUNT JOAN. This is from my store. For you and Len.
JULES. Oh, Joan, that’s so thoughtful of you.
(JULES opens the gift. It’s a collection of ceramic animals.)
JULES. (hates it) Wow, how very sweet. Thank you, Joan. Liza, could you find a place for these little
guys? I need to finish getting ready.
(JULES exits. ELIZA takes the box and arranges the creatures across the coffee table.)
ELIZA. Aunt Joan, where are Kyle and Maddie?
AUNT JOAN. They’re with Bill’s family this year. He’s got Thanksgiving, I’ve got Christmas.
ELIZA. Oh, you celebrate Christmas?
AUNT JOAN. Bill wanted to do Christmas, so we do Christmas.
(Lights up on the deck, where NOAH and EVERETT enter, mid-conversation. They hold bunches of
leaves.)
NOAH. Dude, how have you never tried hot chicken?
 14

EVERETT. I don’t know.

NOAH. We went down to Nashville for my buddy’s bachelor party and we ate it Every. Day. My
stomach was fucked for like a week.
EVERETT. Sounds...awful?
NOAH. Nah, you have to embrace the pain.
EVERETT. Do you, though?
(NOAH opens the door, sees JOAN. EVERETT hovers on the deck, avoiding NOODLE.)
NOAH. Hey Aunt Joan! I didn’t know you’d arrived.
(They hug.)
ELIZA. Noah, can you put Noodle away?
NOAH. (sighs) Fine.
(He puts the leaves on the table and exits with the dog. EVERETT comes in.)
ELIZA. Aunt Joan, this is my boyfriend, Everett.
EVERETT. (shaking hands) How do you do?
AUNT JOAN. It’s nice to meet you, Everett.
(EVERETT hands ELIZA his leaves.)
ELIZA. Thank you, Bennie. Leaf time!
(ELIZA decorates the table.)
AUNT JOAN. So, Everett, you’re a writer?
EVERETT. I am. Mainly novels, but I’m dipping my toe into the world of cinema.
AUNT JOAN. That’s good. Eliza has always needed to be with someone of an artistic temperament.
ELIZA. He wrote a movie that I’m starring in. We’re going to make next year.
AUNT JOAN. How nice. Eliza, Len told me you were in a play. What theater was it at? Not on
Broadway, I presume.
ELIZA. No, it was a site-specific piece in Brooklyn.
EVERETT. There’s nothing interesting on Broadway anyway these days. It’s too commercial.
AUNT JOAN. (considering) Well, I did not enjoy Hamilton. I couldn’t understand what anyone was
saying.
ELIZA. The really cool work is happening in non-traditional spaces. My play was in this abandoned
warehouse—
EVERETT. That used to be owned by the Mob, right?
ELIZA. Something like that. It had this electric energy—
EVERETT. The whole neighborhood…
ELIZA. Yeah, we loved the neighborhood so much that we are moving there next month!
 15

AUNT JOAN. Together?

ELIZA. Yeah, it was time. And the place is just teeming with life…
EVERETT. Artists, immigrants, activists…
AUNT JOAN. Sounds very bohemian.
(NOAH returns and flops down on the couch.)
NOAH. I wonder if the game’s still on. Who are you rooting for, Everett?
EVERETT. Uh...who’s playing?
(JULES hurries in, fully dressed.)
AUNT JOAN. Well, I think it’s nice that you’re building a home together. I’m not sure if Kyle will ever
get a girlfriend. He has very low level emotional intelligence.
(No one’s sure how to respond.)
JULES. Their new neighborhood is really neat. There’s a big Caribbean population, so you can get
excellent Jamaican food. (re table) Liza, that looks nice. Have you seen your sister?
ELIZA. No, she’s probably sulking somewhere.
JULES. (to Joan) Abby and your brother are in a bit of a standoff right now over Abby getting a job. I
just hope she’s taken a shower, she looked terrible this morning.
ELIZA. She’s an adult, she can figure it out.
NOAH. (re the ceramic animals) What’re those?
JULES. A very sweet gift from Aunt Joan. Noah, can you get your dad and sister? The food’s ready.
NOAH. (shouting from the couch) Abby! Dad! Din—
JULES. Noah! If I wanted people shouting in this house I could do it myself.
NOAH. What? This way’s more efficient. See?
(ABBY and LEN enter. ABBY won’t look at LEN.)
JULES. (to Noah) Well, turn off the TV.
(LEN greets JOAN and then turns to the table.)
LEN. Wow, looks great! That’s a beautiful bird. Did you do these table decorations, Lize?
ELIZA. Of course.
(LEN goes to the stereo and puts on South African jazz music, a la Hugh Masekela.)
ABBY. Hi, Aunt Joan.
AUNT JOAN. Hello, Abby. Are you finding post-grad life agreeable?
LEN. Six months of freeloading would agree with anyone!
(ABBY rolls her eyes.)
ABBY. (to Joan) Yeah, I’ve been getting into jewelry design and learning metalsmithing.
ELIZA. (cutting in) What happened to journalism?
 16

ABBY. The media landscape is too corrupt and I didn’t want to have to sell my integrity to some
billionaire newspaper owner.
LEN. Or was it that you realized you’d have to sit down and get some actual work done?
ABBY. I do work! ELIZA. Life as a creative is hard, Abby.
ABBY. Cool never mind.
(LEN sits at the head of the table. ABBY stomps to the seat furthest from him.)
JULES. Abby, do you want to sit...ok. (sighing) Everyone, just find a seat, I guess. Everett, can I offer
you some turkey?
EVERETT. Yes, thank you. This all looks delicious.
(JULES parses out turkey as everyone dives into the various dishes on the table.)
AUNT JOAN. (re a dish) What is this?
JULES. Oh it’s a Kenyan dish called sukuma wiki. It’s sort of like kale. I thought it would fun to try
something different.
AUNT JOAN. Hm. Can you please pass the wine, Len?
(He does.)
LEN. What does your family normally eat on Thanksgiving, Everett?
EVERETT. Many of the same things. Turkey, mashed potatoes, greens...
EVERETT. ...and we have a big ham, too, but I AUNT JOAN. I love collard greens.
know your family doesn’t eat pork...

JULES. Well, not in the house.

ABBY. Bacon is basically my favorite food.
NOAH. I got a meat smoker at my place, bro. I make this fire pork butt, you gotta come check it out.
EVERETT. So, Liza is the only one who doesn’t eat pork?
ELIZA. I was the only one properly indoctrinated as a kid.
JULES. That’s not—you were not “indoctrinated”. When we lived in South Africa, for my job, when the
kids were little, we thought it would be nice if they went to a local school instead of an embassy
school. So that they could experience the culture more directly. But their school had been a Jewish
school that was only recently secularized, and they tried to educate the kids in Judaism in a sort of
heavy-handed way.
NOAH. We had to get to school a half hour earlier than the non-Jews for morning prayers.
ABBY. And they made us take eight hours of Hebrew lessons and Jewish Studies a week. I was so bad at
Hebrew that they put me in the class for kids with learning challenges.
NOAH. Oh yeah, that’s why they put you in that class.
(ABBY throws a green bean at NOAH.)
ELIZA. (to Len) One of the teachers told you that they did that to separate us from the non-Jewish kids,
to prevent intermarriage, right?
 17

(JULES and LEN share a look.)

LEN. Well, I don’t know about that...
ELIZA. Anyway, it was sort of beaten into me that the better you followed Jewish laws, the better person
you were. So I quit eating pork when I was, like, nine. I guess it’s like a superstitious thing for me
now. I know it’s irrational. Maybe on some subconscious level I’m still afraid God is going to smite
me (she laughs).
JULES. There are a lot of problems in that country, obviously. We arrived shortly after Apartheid had
ended—
ABBY. Their biggest problem is the misogyny embedded in the culture! The rape crisis from AIDS has
ruined the lives of thousands of women and girls—
LEN. Abby, maybe not at the Thanksgiving table.
(ABBY glares at him and sits back, pouting.)
JULES. Have you ever been to Africa, Everett?
EVERETT. Not as of yet. But I’d like to.
JULES. It’s an amazing place. You really feel such a deep sense of connection there, so much more than
in this country. It’s very clear that we all descended from that continent.
LEN. A lot of problems, though.
JULES. Yes, a lot of problems.
ABBY. I mean, Israel has a lot of problems, too. The West Bank—
LEN. Ok, Abby, it’s not a competition. ELIZA. Save it for Reddit, Abby.
(They all eat in silence. JOAN pours herself more wine.)
AUNT JOAN. So Everett, maybe you can enlighten me. I own a candle and gift store in Swarthmore,
Pennsylvania, and for Black Friday tomorrow I had this fun idea where we would put all the white
candles on sale, since that's about half the inventory. So I made a Facebook ad that said, "Make your
Black Friday White"...and one of my employees said I couldn't post that.
ABBY. You definitely can't post that.
ELIZA. I think that’s problematic.
AUNT JOAN. I was asking Everett what he thought.
EVERETT. Uh...well, I can see your intentions have nothing to do with race, but I think it risks being
misconstrued as...racially charged.
ELIZA. Agreed.
AUNT JOAN. But it's a candle sale. It's obviously not about black people and white people.
ELIZA. But your ad is implying that white is better than black.
JULES. We have someone at the Smithsonian whose whole job is just to ensure we don't accidentally say
something offensive on our social media. It’s a sensitive time—
AUNT JOAN. Yes, but you're dealing with Indians and tribes...I'm just talking about candles. Right
Everett?
 18

EVERETT. (uncomfortable) The...the problem is that racism has been so deeply embedded into the
fabric of our culture that we usually don't even know it’s there. That’s partly why I wrote this movie.
To bring light to the constant micro-aggressions that people of other races face in America.
AUNT JOAN. “Micro-aggressions”?
ELIZA. Think about all of the subtle references to Jews and money out there. And then multiply that by,
like, ten fold—
ABBY. A thousand fold.
ELIZA. —Sure, for people of color.
EVERETT. I’m as tired of writing about race in this country as people are tired of reading about it, but
sadly it’s as urgent a topic as ever.
AUNT JOAN. Still, I don’t understand why people would find an ad about white candles offensive. It’s
like language has become weaponized. It’s just a word. “White.”
ELIZA. It’s not about the word, it’s about what AUNT JOAN. “Black.”
it means.

AUNT JOAN. I just think it’s sad that you can’t say anything these days without people getting angry. I
am obviously not racist, I’m just trying to sell candles. It’s like people willfully misinterpret...
AUNT JOAN. …the surface meaning and ABBY. Well, the burden of not being able to say
ignore the intention in order to have the word is pretty minor compared with the
something to get angry about. burdens that marginalized people have had
to endure—
LEN. Okay, Abby, Joan, maybe there’s a better time for us to have this conversation.
ABBY. Why are you calling out just me? JULES. Sorry, I just got a little lightheaded.
JULES. I’m going to lie down on the couch for a moment, if no one minds.
(She rises shakily.)
LEN. Jules, are you ok?
ELIZA. Mom?
JULES. I’m sure I’m just worn out from cooking all day. I’m probably dehydrated.
ELIZA. Here, I’ll get you some water.
(JULES lies down on the couch with LEN’s help. LEN notices the ceramic animals.)
LEN. (weirded out) What are those?
ELIZA. They’re from Aunt Joan.
JULES. (mumbling, eyes closed) Aren’t they nice?
LEN. Ah, very nice. Thank you, Joan.
(ELIZA brings water and joins her parents on the couch. All sit quietly for a moment.)
LEN. It’s Thanksgiving, why don’t we all go around and share what we’re thankful for?
ELIZA. Great idea. I actually have something pretty big that I’m thankful for this week...which is that
(she builds the suspense)...we found an investor for Everett’s movie!
 19

LEN. Wow, is that right? JULES. Why didn’t you tell me?
EVERETT. It’s exciting. He seems to really believe in my vision. He’s giving us ten grand.
LEN. Ten grand?
NOAH. Daaamn, that’s tight. ABBY. Whoa.
LEN. Congratulations.
EVERETT. It’s certainly something to be thankful for. I’m feeling really powerful energy for the coming
year.
(He raises his glass. Others do the same, with some “Here here’s”)
NOAH. Alriggght, I guess I’m tha—
AUNT JOAN. (loudly) I’m thankful for you, Len, and your family, for allowing me to share this holiday
with you. You have kind, thoughtful children...what you all have together is very special.
LEN. Thank you, Joan. You have a special family, too.
AUNT JOAN. No, we aren’t held together by the same bond.
LEN. Oh, I’m sure—
AUNT JOAN. No, it’s my fault. We didn’t raise the kids to believe in anything. We took the religion out
of it all, so Christmas is just about presents, Passover’s just a chance to get drunk...
(She may be drunk herself at this point. A beat.)
NOAH. Uh, I’m thank—
AUNT JOAN. I think that’s why my family fell apart; there was nothing strong holding us together. Your
family is so solid, you all believe in the same things.
ELIZA. But Thanksgiving isn’t a religious (holiday)...
AUNT JOAN. No, no for them Thanksgiving isn’t even about being thankful. It’s about the fact that my
ex-mother-in-law puts marshmallows on her candied yams, which I think is just beyond tacky.
(Beat.)
NOAH. (cautiously clears throat) I—
AUNT JOAN. Mother and Father begged me not to marry Bill. They said he would never truly
understand me as a Jew, but I fought back because I believed we were in love.
LEN. Joan...
AUNT JOAN. (plowing on) And now I have to live with the repercussions of my naiveté. I know these
days we’re all intermingling, kumbaya, every ad on TV has a white person and a black person and a
Mexican and a Chinese—
LEN. Joan, I don’t think this is the right— AUNT JOAN. (ignoring him) But now we have
no identities, we’re diluting our histories,
what makes us all special.
ELIZA. But what’s the alternative? That we just live segregated in different groups? As tribes?
 20

AUNT JOAN. That’s the natural way. Look at Africa. Native Americans. They all lived in their separate
tribes and everyone was happy until the colonists came along.
LEN. Joan—
ELIZA. That’s a gross oversimplification, but that’s also just completely unrealistic in today’s world.
EVERETT. Right. Perhaps I’d have been happier living in a village in Africa—apparently I’d feel very
“connected” there—but that’s sadly not an option for me thanks to some white men.
AUNT JOAN. But you have your own African-American culture, which I know you fight to protect.
LEN. Joan, please. (to the family) Can someone...?
NOAH. (taking the hint, loudly) I’m thankful for AUNT JOAN. (ignoring him) As soon as they
my fantasy team, which is currently in start to accept you, they try to take your
second place. I’m thankful for my new culture away. Jews are being forced to
Xbox, because it lets me play Madden assimilate—starting this week we are going
without my computer crashing. And I’m to be inundated with Christmas shit! My
thankful for Nike’s new collab with own daughter believes in Santa Claus, for
Kan...(he gives up) God’s sake, but she sure as hell can’t recite
the shema.
LEN. Joan—
ABBY. Who cares, if she’s a good person?
AUNT JOAN. Part of what makes you a good person, Abby, is knowing where you came from. Isn’t that
right, Everett?
ABBY. Don’t put this on him, he’s obviously trying to be polite—
EVERETT. (to Abby) Thank you. AUNT JOAN. I’m not putting anything on him,
he agrees with me.
EVERETT. (steaming) That is patently untr—
AUNT JOAN. My point is, people have been trying to wipe out the Jews for 4,000 years—it’s a miracle
we exist at all. (her voice really begins to rise) And it’s not over. They are painting swastikas on
schools, declaring us a different nationality—
(Everyone is just shouting now.)
ABBY. Yeah, well, we’re doing way worse to ELIZA. That’s just a handful of people, we
the Palestinians. aren’t being persecuted on a daily basis—
LEN. Joan, Abby, please—
ABBY. We’ve basically put them in a concentration camp!
AUNT JOAN. Because they would do it to us if they had the chance! No one wants the Jews, and every
time we get comfortable, they turn their backs on us!
ABBY. WHO’S “THEY”??
AUNT JOAN. The world, Abby! The world. Maybe you haven’t felt it because you’ve been raised in a
bubble, but I know what it’s like to feel different. I live in a town where there’s a church on every
corner, where the other mothers whisper behind my back, where my own son asked me not tell people
he was half Jewish because he was afraid of being made fun of at school. And every now and then
some skinheads come on through and I have to hope they don’t break the windows or graffiti my
 21

store, like I’m living in goddamn Nazi Germany or something! So you may think I’m out of touch,
but let me tell you—I’m living in a realer version of America than you are!

BLACK OUT.
 22

SCENE THREE

(Mid-December, early evening. A menorah on the kitchen island has four unlit candles in it, one in
the center and three on one side.)
(90s hip hop plays on the stereo.)
(ELIZA, EVERETT, NOAH, and ABBY play a fast card game around the coffee table. The
ceramic animals have been moved to a side table.)
(LEN moves around the kitchen awkwardly, preparing food.)
ELIZA. Blitz!
EVERETT. I wasn’t even close.
(LEN drops a pan.)
LEN. Dammit!
(The kids ignore him.)
ABBY. Don’t feel bad, Everett. She’s been destroying us for over twenty years.
NOAH. The only way to beat her is to cheat.
ELIZA. (to Noah) Guess you need to cheat better, then.
(NOAH attempts to throw a cushion at ELIZA, but she blocks him and it hits him in the face. She
shuffles the cards, all business.)
NOAH. Geez. You’re gonna have to take it easy on Kelly when she comes. I don’t want her thinking I’m
related to psychopaths.
ELIZA. I think you mean “winners.”
ABBY. It was kind of a bold move inviting your new girlfriend to meet your whole crazy family at once.
NOAH. I tried to stop her but she got really excited when she heard “Hannukah.”
EVERETT. I’m excited, too. We’re going to play dreidel, right? I feel like that might be my game.
(NOAH fiddles with Spotify on his phone and changes the song to some obscure rap.)
NOAH. You heard this track, Everett?
EVERETT. Uh, I don’t think so.
NOAH. Aw man, this dude was huge in the DC underground scene in, like, 2005.
(LEN knocks something over that spills on the counter.)
LEN. Shit!
ELIZA. Dad, what are you doing over there?
NOAH. Yeah, why isn’t Mom making the kugel?
LEN. Hey, I can be quite the chef when I put my mind to it.
ELIZA. But isn’t Mom—
 23

LEN. You should have seen me back in the day, I used to serve— (noticing) Dammit, we’re out of paper
towels.
(LEN hurriedly exits.)
ELIZA. What’s up with him?
ABBY. (lowering her voice) I think something’s going on with Mom.
ELIZA. What do you mean? Are they having a fight?
ABBY. (shrugging) Maybe. Mom basically hasn’t left their room for two days, and Dad has been running
around like a weirdo.
NOAH. Maybe she is just chillin’ now that it’s the holidays?
ELIZA. When has Mom ever just chilled? (to Abby) Have you asked what’s wrong?
ABBY. I tried. Dad sort of said something about talking to us when we were all together, and then he
changed the subject and asked if I knew how to put bras in the dryer.
ELIZA. Abby, you live in the same house as them. How can you not know what’s wrong?
ABBY. I’ve been busy, ok? I had to prepare for—
ELIZA. God, classic.
NOAH. Maybe she just has a cold?
ELIZA. Mom does not have a cold, Noah!
(LEN reenters and finishes cleaning the mess.)
LEN. Hey Noah, do you think you could pick up the latkes from Wagshal’s? They should be ready now.
NOAH. Yeah, sure. (bit of an edge) If Kelly comes before I get back, don’t scare her away.
(NOAH turns off the music and heads out the front.)
LEN. Abby, I think now would be a good time to walk Noodle.
ABBY. Ugh, really? Can’t Liza take him?
LEN. I’m pretty sure part of the reason you were granted a seventh month of rent-free living was because
you were going to walk the dog twice a day.
ABBY. Ok, ok, I’m going.
(LEN exits. ABBY drags herself up off the couch and shuffles out.)
ABBY. (OFFSTAGE) Noodle Poodle? Who wants to go on a walk with the only person who cares about
you? Oh you do? You do?
(Sounds of barks and the front door closing. ELIZA and EVERETT clean up the card game.)
EVERETT. She’s still on the job hunt?
ELIZA. Apparently.
EVERETT. It’s funny how the same parents can produce such different offspring.
ELIZA. I just don’t understand how someone can be simultaneously so self-involved and completely
unambitious.
 24

EVERETT. Yeah...you don’t have to worry about her so much, you know?
ELIZA. What do you mean?
EVERETT. You know, you’re good. You’ve got your life on a good path. You don’t have to always,
uh...prove it, when you’re with your family.
ELIZA. I’m not trying to prove anything, it’s just hard to see your sibling waste her life and take
advantage of your par—
EVERETT. I get it, I get it. But you can (he rubs her shoulders) breeeathe. In. Out. There you go.
ELIZA. I’m not trying to prove anything. I just get frustrated... Noah makes so much fucking money but
it’s the soulless obsession with the material—
EVERETT. Caaalm...
ELIZA. And if something is going on with my mom—
EVERETT. (soothing) Beadie, Beadie...
ELIZA. (turning to him) You don’t know what it’s like because your older sister is a doctor, and she’s a
capable, fully-formed person who respects what you do. Noah and Abby think I just waltzed into
New York and have all this fun time playing pretend and going on adventures. They don’t ask
questions about my life, it’s just “Oh that’s cool.” “That’s dope.” They have no idea how hard it is to
do what we do. They’ve never had a day in their lives as hard as every single night I work at the
restaurant.
EVERETT. Hey, remember what you always tell me? Working at the restaurant allows you to do what
you love. How lucky are you that your days are driven by a passion for something greater than
yourself?
ELIZA. Yeah.
EVERETT. You’re on a real roll. You just played one of the most coveted roles for any actress. And you
have a callback next week for that play...
ELIZA. You’re right.
EVERETT. And my agent thinks this new book I’m working on could be the thing that breaks. And we
have our movie…
ELIZA. (determined) It’s going to be a good year. Good things are coming.
EVERETT. That’s right.
ELIZA. I’m going to quit the restaurant this year.
EVERETT. That’s right!
ELIZA. I’m going to support myself acting full-time! And maybe I’ll start producing—so that I can make
sure the works that matter are actually seen!
EVERETT. (pumped) There’s my muse, Beadie!
(He embraces her.)
EVERETT. I know it’s tough to feel distanced from your family. They’re your family, you want them to
get you.
ELIZA. Yeah, I guess that’s it.
 25

EVERETT. That’s just part of our burden our artists. We see things in ways that others can’t.
ELIZA. Yeah.
EVERETT. But that’s what I’m here for. I see every part of you.
ELIZA. I love you. (she kisses him)
EVERETT. I love you, too. (he kisses her back)
ELIZA. My Bennie. What would I do without you?
EVERETT. I don’t know, Beadie.
(They kiss again, deeply. ELIZA pulls back.)
ELIZA. What’s that smell?
EVERETT. (sniffing) Is something burning?
ELIZA. (calling) Dad?
(LEN reenters.)
ELIZA. Something’s up with your kugel.
(LEN takes the kugel out of the oven in a cloud of smoke. It looks disgusting.)
LEN. I think I misread the timing on the recipe. (he looks) Yep, it said 45 minutes, not an hour and 45
minutes. Oh, and I accidentally set the oven to convection bake. Oh, and I just realized I forgot to add
eggs. Ok then.
(With oven mitts, he takes the kugel and tries to dump it into the trash. It adheres to the Pyrex dish.)
LEN. You know what— (he chucks the whole Pyrex into the trash) I’ll get her a new dish.
EVERETT. (sensing things are delicate) Beadie, I’m going to quickly go send those production emails
to Dave before dinner.
ELIZA. Ok, Bennie. Maybe tell him…that I’m interested in hopping on in some producer capacity.
EVERETT. I love it.
(EVERETT kisses her and exits.)
ELIZA. You ok, Dad?
LEN. Sure, sure, just haven’t done this in a while.
ELIZA. I get it, Everett is definitely the cook in our household.
LEN. Oh yeah?
ELIZA. Yeah. I mean, most New Yorkers don’t even bother with cooking, since we all have kitchens the
size of postage stamps. But Everett can take a can of this and a packet of that and whip up something
that you’d pay $30 for at a trendy restaurant.
LEN. Sounds great.
ELIZA. It is.
(LEN leans against the kitchen island, trying to be casual.)
 26

LEN. So, it seems like things with you two are getting pretty serious, huh? Living together...
ELIZA. (pleased) I guess so, yeah.
LEN. Huh. (a pause) Can I ask, what’s with the nicknames? “Beadie,” “Bennie”…
ELIZA. (laughing) Oh! Well, we met at a friend’s birthday dinner, remember? And we got into a huge
fight that night about whether this movie we’d both seen had artistic merit or not. And we both
thought the other was just totally obnoxious and pretentious…but by the end of the night, I don’t
know, something just clicked. And we were inseparable after that. So we were joke that we’re like
Beatrice and Benedick from Much Ado About Nothing, two sparring lovers.
LEN. Ah, “Beadie” and “Bennie.” What was the movie?
ELIZA. Huh?
LEN. The movie that you were fighting over.
ELIZA. Oh, you haven’t seen it.
LEN. Maybe I have.
ELIZA. You haven’t.
LEN. What was it?
ELIZA. Les Glaneurs et la Glaneuse. It’s a documentary about potatoes.
LEN. Oh. No.
ELIZA. Right.
LEN. So, uh…You feel like you’re on the same page about, uh, the future?
ELIZA. With Everett? Yeah. Yeah, I do.
LEN. Good, good. (beat) Look, I know that some of what your Aunt Joan said at Thanksgiving was
pretty extreme...
ELIZA. Uh, I’ll say.
LEN. But your mom and I were talking...there was some truth to some of it...
ELIZA. (on alert) What do you mean?
(LEN comes over to ELIZA and sits on the coffee table.)
LEN. I don’t want you thinking that any of this has to do with race. I really respect the blacks...black
people—the Jews and blacks have always been allies, you know; we’ve gone through a lot of the
same experiences. In fact, it would probably be easier in some ways if he was just a white guy, to,
you know, um...
ELIZA. (sharply) Dad?
LEN. Um, uh...look, when your mother and I got together, there were obviously challenges, as there are
with any, y’know. She didn’t think I was adventurous enough...I thought she spent too much money
on pointless stuff...but we always had a base-level thing to connect us. We never had to decide “What
holidays should we celebrate?” or “Should the kids go to Hebrew school?” Just, “Whose mother’s
matzo balls are fluffier?”
 27

ELIZA. (shaking her head) You guys are unbelievable. You always taught us to treat everyone equally,
to be friends with people from other backgrounds—you raised us in Africa for God’s sake! This is so
incredibly hypocritical—
LEN. Liza, Liza—I’m not saying that we don’t think Everett is a wonderful guy. I just want to help you
think about the long term, so that you don’t end up in a situation like Aunt Joan.
ELIZA. Ok, well first of all, we’ve been dating for more than four months, and neither of us are
alcoholics—
LEN. That’s not what I’m saying, Liza.
ELIZA. We have a lot of “base-level” things that connect us, too. We’re both creative, driven. Working
on this movie together has shown me that we’re an incredible team—
LEN. Liza. That’s great. I’m just saying, a lot of the stuff that’s going to matter down the road probably
hasn’t even entered your consciousness yet.
ELIZA. Dad, I’m not naive, I’ve thought through all of this! Everett and I may not have the same
religion, but we have the same... We don’t believe in organized religion—culturally, sure, but we
want to raise kids who are free thinkers.
LEN. And I hope you do, but—
ELIZA. Honestly, being with Everett is making my Judaism more active. If I married a Jewish guy, I
would just passively do every tradition automatically. But now I really think about the meaning…
LEN. That’s great, Liza, I’m glad to hear it. I think it’s great that you’re thinking about these things
instead of ignoring them until they are a problem.
ELIZA. Good!
LEN. All I’m saying is...don’t forget that for thousands of years, your ancestors fought for survival and to
protect, y’know, the uh (can’t quite think of the word)...faith.
(A small beat.)
ELIZA. I haven’t forgotten that.
LEN. We’re here because of the lucky ones, who made it through the Inquisitions and the pogroms and
the concentration camps.
ELIZA. I know.
LEN. Are you going to want your kids bar mitzvah’d?
ELIZA. I mean, we haven’t talked about it, but it—
LEN. Are you going to have your kids baptized?
ELIZA. What? No.
LEN. Does Everett know that?
ELIZA. We haven’t, it hasn’t explicitly been—
(From offstage, JULES calls, “Len? Len?” LEN gets up.)
LEN. You should probably talk about it.
(LEN exits. ELIZA sits back, perplexed. After a moment, ABBY and NOODLE enter from the deck.)
 28

ABBY. Noodle just took the biggest shit I have ever seen. It was like a “fuck you” for keeping him locked
up in the bedroom.
ELIZA. Well, if he wasn’t racist he could run free amongst us.
(ABBY takes off NOODLE’s leash. She syncs her Spotify to the stereo and puts on Ella Mai’s
“Sauce”.)
ABBY. (baby voice) You’re not racist in your heart. You were just trained that way living in an upper
middle class white suburb. (to Eliza) Hey, did you hear I had a job interview?
ELIZA. About time. Where?
ABBY. Buffalo Exchange.
ELIZA. The used clothing store?
ABBY. Yeah! The secondhand clothing market is really important—84% of clothing ends up in landfills,
it’s a huge environmental crisis. People buy, like, a $5 shirt at H&M and then wear it twice and throw
it out. So we’re preventing clothes from just slowly decomposing for decades in dumps.
ELIZA. We?
ABBY. I basically crushed my interview, so. I think it’s going to really help my artistic work, too.
ELIZA. I thought you were pursuing metalwork and jewelry design?
ABBY. Oh, yeah, no. That market is pretty saturated, and the supply chain is really unethical. I’m focused
on textile design now, printmaking and stuff, working with eco-sourced materials. So it will be great
to be surrounded by lots of clothes.
(ELIZA looks skeptical.)
ABBY. What?
ELIZA. I—Never mind, I don’t want to get into it.
ABBY. No please, pass judgement. Like always.
ELIZA. It’s just, you have a new “passion” every time I talk to you. Jewelry, writing, painting...last year
you said you were thinking about joining Teach for America after graduation.
ABBY. Ok well, I’m sorry if I wasn’t born knowing exactly what I wanted to do with my life.
ELIZA. It’s not about “knowing” so much as searching inward and really figuring out what sparks for
you versus just what you think will “hit big” or “be cool.” Every path is going to have hurdles—
(JULES enters, with LEN behind her. She looks fragile.)
JULES. What’s that burnt smell? Abby, were you smoking pot again?
ELIZA. Dad messed up the kugel.
ABBY. God, everyone always assumes I did something.
(ABBY grabs NOODLE and exits. ELIZA gets up and hugs JULES.)
ELIZA. Hi Mom. (carefully) How are you doing? Dad said you were taking a nap when we came, so I
didn’t want to bother you.
JULES. I’m fine. It was just crazy at work the past few weeks.
 29

ELIZA. Sorry about that. Did Dad tell you about my callback?
JULES. Yeah, for the play? That’s great, honey.
(JULES sits down on the couch and notices the new placement of the ceramic animals.)
JULES. Oh, that’s a better place for them.
LEN. You relax, Jules. I’ll make you some tea. ELIZA. Yeah, the director told me that—
JULES. I don’t need you to coddle me, Len, I told you. (she stands) I can make it. Does anyone else want
tea?
(The doorbell rings.)
ELIZA. I’ll get it, I bet that’s mystery Kelly.
(ELIZA exits. Over the following, we hear the door open, greetings.)
JULES. I look so ugly, I wish I wasn’t meeting Noah’s girlfriend right now.
LEN. You always look beautiful, Jule.
(He puts his arm around her.)
(ELIZA and EVERETT enter with KELLY KANG, 28, Chinese-American. Very friendly, but
equally perceptive, she holds a donut box.)
ELIZA. Mom, Dad, this is Kelly.
(LEN and JULES quickly mask their surprise. LEN comes forward to shake her hand.)
LEN. Hi, Kelly, so nice to meet you. I’m Len, Noah’s dad.
KELLY. It’s great to meet you.
JULES. Hi, I’m Jules.
KELLY. Hi Jules! JULES. Sorry I look like this, I’ve been a little
under the weather.
KELLY. No, not at all. I’m so excited to be here for Hannukah, thank you for including me. Here, I
brought jelly donuts!
(She proffers the box to LEN.)
LEN. Oh—thank you...
JULES. Did Noah tell you...?
KELLY. My ex-boyfriend was Jewish, so I’ve lit a couple menorahs. Actually, the guy I dated before
him was Jewish, too. But I promise it’s just a coincidence! (she laughs)
JULES. Oh...
(Off, the sound of the front door opening.)
JULES. Ah there’s Noah.
(NOAH enters with bags.)
NOAH. Kel! Heyyy! Sorry you beat me here. I hope my fam didn’t frighten you away.
(He drops the bags on the counter.)
 30

KELLY. Yeah, no, I was actually just leaving. Too scary.

NOAH. Dad, I told you not to show her any photos of me before the operation!
KELLY. (mock serious) It’s too late, Noah. I can’t unsee what I saw.
NOAH. You don’t understand. A witch put a spell on me as a baby.
(The rest of the family just watch this exchange, bemused.)
KELLY. Noah, I’m sorry, I can’t be getting involved with dark magic. I’ve come too far.
EVERETT. (whispered, to Eliza) What is happening?
NOAH. Wait! I may know a cure.
(He grabs the bag of latkes from the counter.)
NOAH. These pancakes, made of shredded potato and oil, contain powers greater than the mind can
conceive. One bite, and a drop of oil will burn for eight days. One bite, and a tiny army of noble
heroes will beat a much larger, evil army. One bite—
(ABBY reenters.)
ABBY. Bad news, Noah, I think Noodle peed in your room.
JULES. Really?! That’s a new rug in there. ELIZA. God, Abby.
NOAH. Guess it’s a good thing I don’t sleep here anymore.
LEN. Abby, if he’s peeing inside that means you aren’t taking him out enough.
ABBY. I’ve taken him out three times today! He’s just mad that we’re locking him up. That was a protest
pee!
JULES. Well, you’re going to have to clean it up after dinner. I don’t have the energy.
ABBY. (under her breath) I’m like frickin Cinderella around here.
(ABBY crosses to KELLY.)
ABBY. Oh sweet, you brought donuts? I’m Abby, by the way.
KELLY. Noah’s told me all about you.
ABBY. None of it’s true.
NOAH. It’s all true. ELIZA. It’s all true.
LEN. Let’s light these candles and eat before the food gets cold.
ABBY. Ooh, can I light them?
LEN. Let your mother do it. Can someone turn that music off?
ABBY. Yeah, yeah.
(ABBY turns off the stereo. All gather round the island. JULES lights the center candle and uses it
to light the outermost candle, then the one next to it.)
JULES. You want to do the last one, Abs?
 31

(ABBY takes the candle from JULES and lights the remaining candle. The whole family begins to
sing.)
THE FEINSTEINS. Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha’olam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav,
v’tzivanu l’hadlik ner, shel Hannukah.
(KELLY joins in for the last word.)
THE FEINSTEINS PLUS KELLY. Aaamen.
THE FEINSTEINS. Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha’olam, she-asah nisim la’avoteinu
bayamim hahem bazman hazeh.
THE FEINSTEINS PLUS KELLY. Aaamen.
NOAH. (to Kelly) Look at you.
ELIZA. Are we going to do the other one?
JULES. That one’s only for the first night.
ELIZA. But I didn’t do it the first night.
JULES. Sure, ok.
ELIZA. (enthusiastically) Baruch...
THE FEINSTEINS. ...atah Adonai, Elohenu Melech ha’olam, shehecheyanu, v’kiyimanu, v’higiyanu
la’zman hazeh.
ALL. Aaamen.
ELIZA. (to Everett) That one’s my favorite. It’s about being thankful for being here or something.
What’s it mean again, Mom?
JULES. It means “Thank you God for giving us life and sustaining us, and allowing us to reach this
season.”
(JULES suddenly gets emotional.)
JULES. Len?
LEN. Yep, yeah, ok. Hey guys, Jules and I need a moment to speak to the kids...
EVERETT. No problem. Why don’t I give Kelly a tour of the backyard? It’s pretty nice out actually.
KELLY. (confused) Oh, sure. I love backyards.
(EVERETT and KELLY grab coats and head out. As he passes ELIZA, she gives his hand a
squeeze.)
ELIZA. (quietly) Thanks, Bennie.
(The family sits down around the table.)
(Lights down on the house. Lights up on the deck, illuminating EVERETT and KELLY as they lean
against the railing.)
EVERETT. So, uh, this is the backyard.
KELLY. Yeah...
 32

EVERETT. Yeah, I’m not sure what’s going on. The last time my family behaved that strangely, it
turned out they were staging an intervention for my alcoholic uncle.
KELLY. Dark. Did it work?
EVERETT. Depends on who you ask. He replaced liquor with Jesus. Nothing more enjoyable than a
relative who lists all the ways you’re going to hell every family reunion.
KELLY. Sure.
EVERETT. His eyes used to be kind of bleary from all the drinking, but now they have that swirly,
brainwashed look (he demonstrates).
KELLY. Oh yeah, there’s a lot of swirly eyes in Houston. My mom used to tell me not to walk on the
same side of the street as the megachurches. It was like she was afraid I’d get sucked in.
EVERETT. Houston, huh? I’ve never been.
KELLY. You’re not missing anything. It’s just guns and barbecue. Ugh I wish I had grabbed a latke on
the way out.
EVERETT. Likewise. My stomach is growling.
KELLY. If it didn’t seem so serious, I’d just slide in there and nab a few. Did you get a sense of what
they’re talking about?
EVERETT. Nothing specific, but it seemed a little ominous. To be frank, though, it can be hard to tell
with white people sometimes. My friend Catrin’s family called them together for an important
meeting, and it turned out it was about picking a name for their boat.
KELLY. Honestly, I could see my dad doing that if he ever bought a boat.
EVERETT. Fair enough.
(They look out in silence.)
EVERETT. So, do you and Noah work together?
KELLY. Kind of. I do graphic design for a digital ad firm, and Noah’s company hired us for a campaign.
I saw him across the conference room at our first meeting and I just thought, that is the shudaizi for
me.
EVERETT. What’s that mean?
KELLY. “Nerd-boy.” That’s what my dad started calling my boyfriends in high school. I’m pretty
consistent.
EVERETT. Is that so?
KELLY. They can be Asian, white, black, whatever, they just have to get all my Star Wars references
and be down to cosplay. I don’t know what it is, I just find nerds so cute.
EVERETT. Have they all owned 500 pairs of sneakers?
KELLY. Only Noah has that honor. It’s a real talent to be able take something that cool and make it
extremely dorky. (She smiles) That might be my favorite thing about him.
EVERETT. Sometimes I think Eliza’s parents wish I was a “nerd-boy.”
KELLY. What do you do?
 33

EVERETT. I’m a writer.

KELLY. That’s pretty nerdy.
EVERETT. Thank you.
KELLY. How does your family feel about you dating a white girl?
EVERETT. Oh. I don’t know if they’re thrilled, but I doubt they’re surprised.
KELLY. You’re consistent, too?
EVERETT. (he shrugs) It’s not intentional, it’s just who usually tends to be in the milieu...
KELLY. The milieu, right.
EVERETT. My dad is a W.E.B. DuBois guy. Big ideas for the future. I think he’s hoping I’m going to
be the next Richard Wright or Ta-Nehisi Coates. So he envisions a strong black woman by my side.
KELLY. Gotcha.
EVERETT. I don’t know. When it’s just me and Eliza, it feels right. We want the same things, we value
the same things. We inspire each other. Then you throw family and stuff into the mix and it
gets…confusing.
KELLY. Yeah, I’d like to think we live in a world where it doesn’t matter, but I could see how it would
sometimes feel a little like sleeping with the enemy.
EVERETT. It’s exhausting. I don’t want to be responsible for 400 years of ancestral struggle...I just want
to be a man existing right now.
(A beat. Then, a gurgle noise.)
KELLY. Was that my stomach or yours?
EVERETT. It might have been both in unison.
KELLY. Maybe I should sneak in the front, free the dog, and create a diversion.
EVERETT. A heist?
KELLY. Yeah, you run in and grab the latkes.
EVERETT. I shall embody Arsène Lupin.
KELLY. Huh?
EVERETT. He’s a French diamond thief who—nevermind. Here.
(He picks up a stick and squats down, enjoying this game. He pretends to sketch a diagram on the
deck.)
EVERETT. If you follow this path, you should have clear sightlines to both the house next door and the
one across the street.
(KELLY squats down, too, and picks up a BBQ brush to “draw” with.)
KELLY. Then I’ll escape through the hall bathroom, and when all is clear I’ll give the signal.
EVERETT. What’s the signal?
KELLY. (bird noise) “Ka-Kaw, Ka-Kaw.”
 34

(Of course, this is the moment LEN opens the door and pokes his head out. EVERETT and KELLY
look like kids playing in a sandbox.)
LEN. Hi, sorry to leave you out here so long. You can, uh, come back in...
(EVERETT and KELLY share a look, scramble to their feet and head back in. As they do, the lights
come back up inside.)
EVERETT. (to Len) That probably looked kind of odd, we were just—
(He and KELLY stop dead in their tracks. The three kids and JULES are huddled together and
clutching each other, in tears.)

BLACK OUT.
 35

SCENE FOUR

(First night of Passover. Late evening, mid-April.)

(Seder is in full swing. LEN, KELLY, NOAH, ABBY, JOAN, ELIZA, EVERETT, and JULES sit
around the table, in that order. JULES’s head is covered by a silk scarf; she looks frail.)
(All hold haggadahs, Jewish prayer books. Everyone is tipsy.)
LEN. (reading) “The Torah describes four different types of children who ask questions about the
Exodus.” Noah, I think you’re up.
NOAH. Sweet! I get to be the wise child?! (reading) “The wise child asks, ‘What are the laws God has
commanded us?’ Since he has asked an intelligent, proper and valid question, so should you respond
in the same vein, and in your reply include the explanation of the entire scope of the Passover laws
and regulations even to the minutest details.”
ABBY. Oo, maybe don’t.
NOAH. Well, clearly you’re not a wise child, so. Kel, did you know you were dating the wise Feinstein?
ELIZA. Can we keep going, please?
ABBY. (reading) “The wicked child”—You did that on purpose! Ughhh...“The wicked child asks, ‘What
does this Passover service mean to you?’ The parent should answer, ‘It is because of what God did for
me when I came out of Egypt. Specifically ‘me’ and not ‘you.’ If you had been there (with your
attitude), you wouldn’t have been redeemed.” Seriously??
NOAH. Sorry, Abs, the haggadah doesn’t lie.
ELIZA. Guys.
AUNT JOAN. (a little drunk, reading) “The simple child ahks”—sorry, “asks, ‘What is this?’ To this
child, answer plaily: ‘With a strong hand, God took us out of Egypt, where we were slaves.’” Mhm,
slaves.
(EVERETT snorts and tries to catch ELIZA’s eye, but she doesn’t see.)
ELIZA. (reading, with an edge) “And then there is the child who does not know how to ask, so we take
the initiative. With tenderness we say: ‘This wondrous evening happens in the spring each year, so we
may remember how out of death, sorrow and slavery come life, joy and freedom. With one who has
not yet started to inquire, you must begin to awaken the mind.”
EVERETT. That’s deep.
NOAH. Do you think they used to just sort all the kids into these categories? “Ok, you two are simple
children, you’re a wise one, you’re too dumb to ask”...
KELLY. Like old-school gifted and talented?
ABBY. I mean, I feel like Dad literally just did that.
ELIZA. Abby, not everyone has the energy for this right now.
JULES. I’m fine. Let’s keep going.
ELIZA. I didn’t mean...
 36

LEN. (reading) “As we rejoice at our deliverance from slavery, we acknowledge that our freedom was
hard-earned. We regret that freedom came at the cost of others’ suffering and we pour out a drop of
wine as we recite each of the plagues.”
(JOAN holds up her empty glass.)
AUNT JOAN. I need more wine.
JULES. Maybe switch to some of my grape juice for a bit, Joan?
(JOAN ignores her and pours a full glass.)
NOAH. (to Everett and Kelly) Ok, after each plague you dip your finger in your wine and make a wine
dot on your plate.
ABBY. (rolling up her sleeves) May the best wine design win!
KELLY. Ooh, it’s a competition?
EVERETT. Hang on—Sorry?? We’re sticking our fingers in our wine?
ELIZA. We did a handwashing.
EVERETT. But that was, like, a ritual, we didn’t use soap.
ELIZA. Ok then skip it.
(EVERETT sees JULES rolling up her sleeves.)
EVERETT. Well if Jules is doing it...just surprisingly avant-garde…
(As they chant each Hebrew word and its translation, they dip a finger in their wine and then dot it on
their plate.)
ALL. “Dam Blood, Ts'far-day-a Frogs, Kee-neem Lice, Ah-rov Beasts,
Deh-vehr Cattle Disease, Sh'kheen Boils, Bah-rahd Hail, Ar-beh Locusts, Kho-shech Darkness, Ma-
kat b'kho-rot Death of the Firstborn.”
(ABBY holds up her plate. It has a nice design of wine splotches.)
KELLY. Wow, that’s nice, Abby.
AUNT JOAN. Beautiful (she sucks some wine off her finger).
NOAH. Ok, you win.
(NOAH holds up his plate. It’s a mangled attempt at a shoe outline.)
ABBY. Yeah, I definitely win.
KELLY. Sorry, Noah, that’s a really devastating loss.
LEN. Abby, maybe you can get a job designing dishware?
ABBY. Oh my God, Dad, seriously—
LEN. What? You haven’t found a job in ten months, I’m just trying to help.
ABBY. That is so unfair—
ELIZA. How is it unfair?
JULES. Ok! Should we sing “Dayenu”?
 37

ALL EXCEPT ABBY AND ELIZA. Yes.

FEINSTEINS. Ilu hotzi hotzianu, Hotzianu mi-mitzrayim Hotzianu mi-mitzrayim, Dayeinu.
(EVERETT and KELLY join in as they get the hang of it.)
ALL. Day Day Enu, Day Day Enu, Day Day Enu, Dayenu Dayenu.
FEINSTEINS. Ilu natan natan lanu, natan lanu et ha-Torah, Natan lanu et ha-Torah, Dayeinu.
ALL. Day Day Enu, Day Day Enu, Day Day Enu, Dayenu Dayenu.
FEINSTEINS. Ilu hotzi’anu mim...
(Everyone trails off in confusion except JULES, who keeps singing.)
JULES. ...mimitzrayim, v’lo asah bahem shfatim...Really? No one?
ABBY. Sorry. ELIZA. My Hebrew…
LEN. Ok, let’s keep going. Everett, will you pick up at the top of page 21?
EVERETT. I shall. (reading) “Rabbi Gam...liel? the head of the San...hed...rin?”
NOAH. Oh, you got a tough one.
EVERETT. “Said whoever does not explain the following three symbols on Passover has not fulfilled his
duty.” That sounds important.
ABBY. Ughhh, Dad, can’t we skip this part, I’m so hungry.
NOAH. Yeah, maybe the nutshell version?
ELIZA. There might be some people who— LEN. Ok, Abby, you know what? If you can tell
us what the three symbols are, we’ll skip it.
(ELIZA sits back, arms folded, annoyed.)
ABBY. Fine—
(She looks down at the haggadah.)
LEN. No, no cheating.
ABBY. Whatever, ok. Uh, there’s matzah, which is cuz the Jews left in a hurry and couldn’t make bread
or something. There’s... (she has no idea)
NOAH. (whispering) Bitter herbs!
ABBY. ...there’s bitter herbs, which represent, like, the bitterness of slavery. And there’s...
(NOAH and KELLY surreptitiously point to the shank bone on the Seder plate.)
ABBY. ...the bone! Which is...because...the slaves’ bones hurt.
(LEN makes a “wrong” buzzer noise.)
NOAH. (cracking up) Wowwww.
LEN. (to Everett and Kelly) The shank bone symbolizes God’s outstretched arm, as he took the Israelites
out of Egypt.
ABBY. Ok, that’s really specific!
 38

JULES. Clearly we need to retell the Pesach story for a reason.

ABBY. Mom! NOAH. Maybe you’re actually the “simple”
child, Abs.
LEN. Alright, alright! We’re so close. Just a few more prayers. Let’s get through them quickly, huh?
Second cup of wine.
(JOAN fills her glass up to the very top. Everyone lifts their glass and chants quickly.)
ALL. Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, borei p’ree hagafen.
LEN. (egging them on) Oh, I think we can go faster than that.
JULES. Len— LEN. Matzah!
ELIZA. What about the second handwashing?
ABBY. We always skip that.
ELIZA. But if Mom wants to do it—
JULES. It’s fine. Everyone’s hungry.
ALL. (hyperspeed, with Len leading) Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, asher kid'shanu
b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu... (it begins to derail) al achilat matzah.
LEN. Last one!
NOAH. Maror! Go!
ALL. (barely intelligible) Baruch atah Adonai Eloheinu melech ha-olam, asher kid'shanu b'mitzvotav
v'tzivanu al achilat maror.
(They all break into whoops and applause. Even ELIZA sort of smiles. LEN distributes matzah.)
JULES. That was very silly.
NOAH. (robot voice) Mission a-ccomplished.
ABBY. Oh my God, who are you?
(LEN breaks off a piece of the middle matzah, wraps it in a napkin, and tucks it away.)
LEN. I’ll take that.
KELLY. Ooh, is that the one you’re going to hide later?
LEN. It sure is.
JULES. It’s called the “Afikoman.”
EVERETT. What’s this now?
ELIZA. He hides it at some point and then the children hunt for it.
EVERETT. And by “children,” you mean us?
NOAH. It’s like a Jewish Easter Egg Hunt, but for a napkin full of cracker bits.
ABBY. One year our prize was literally a chocolate bunny.
LEN. You get whatever’s on sale at Giant.
 39

EVERETT. Ok, I could get into that.

NOAH. And the prize for getting through all those prayers is that you now take this matzah cracker,
smear it with maror and charoset, and eat it like a sandwich.
EVERETT. Pardon?
KELLY. It’s actually pretty good.
(JULES scoops some horseradish.)
ELIZA. Mom, are you sure you can... there’s nothing in there that will interfere with...?
JULES. It’s just horseradish and beets, Liza.
ELIZA. Fine, just...checking...
(EVERETT puts a dollop of each on the matzah.)
LEN. (As Everett bites) Go easy on the horseradish, Everett.
EVERETT. Goh. Too late. Oh my.
NOAH. Sorry, shoulda warned you.
EVERETT. All good, I’ll just add more tears to the salt water bowl.
(JULES’s phone alarm goes off.)
JULES. Fun, time for more meds.
ELIZA. (immediately) Do you need any help?
JULES. No, I’m fine.
ABBY. Should I come split the orange pill?
JULES. I think there’s still a half from yesterday. Thanks, Abby.
(JULES gets up slowly and exits. They all watch quietly.)
AUNT JOAN. Len, please pass the wine.
LEN. Maybe hold off, Joan, we still have two glasses to go.
AUNT JOAN. I’m just, I... well, ok.
EVERETT. Damn, two more glasses? I’m already kind of buzzed.
ELIZA. You don’t have to drink the whole thing.
KELLY. I’ve been tispy since the first one. Tispy? Oh boy.
NOAH. It’s cool, we Jews are total lightweights.
ABBY. Noah gets giggly after one beer.
NOAH. (giggles) I do. I remember this one time, at our AEPi seder, this kid Appelman got so blitzed on
Manichewitz—
ELIZA. No one wants to hear your college drinking stories, Noah.
LEN. Joan, do you want to help me with the NOAH. (quietly) Ok fine then.
soup?
 40

(JOAN goes unsteadily to the kitchen. A beat.)

EVERETT. It’s cool that you guys tell the story of your ancestral slavery every year...I feel like we
should do that.
NOAH. We could do a seder that combines the plights of both our peoples. Like, every time we say
“Egyptians” we could just add “and plantation owners.”
ELIZA. It’s not comparable at all.
EVERETT. What do you mean?
ELIZA. Passover is just symbolic for Jews. There isn’t even a clear archeological record of us having
been slaves...black Americans are still constantly dealing with the repercussions of their slavery.
EVERETT. Maybe seder would have even more meaning for us, then.
NOAH. Yeah!
ELIZA. Ok. I just think it’s a false equivalency. Jews have benefited as much from white supremacy as
other white people.
NOAH. I mean, the KKK hates both of us.
ELIZA. Yeah, but how many Jews were lynched? How many Jews get shot by the cops?
EVERETT. (trying to lighten things) Alright, Lize, thank you for acknowledging the struggle of black
folks. I think it’s nice, though, that Noah is trying to find our commonalities.
NOAH. Thank you, brother. Hey, I hate to continue to bank on my white supremacy, but...
(He looks furtively towards the kitchen, then pulls out a baggie of weed and pipe from his pocket.)
NOAH. ...you guys want?
ABBY. Uh, yes please.
KELLY. (making weird robot claws) Me. Me.
(EVERETT looks to ELIZA, then shrugs.)
EVERETT. Sure, why not.
(ELIZA shakes her head no, and the other four get up and head to the deck conspiratorially.)
NOAH. Hey Dad, we’re just going to get some quick air...
EVERETT. (to Eliza) You good, Beadie?
ELIZA. I’m fine. You go have fun with your best friend.
EVERETT. (he sighs and shakes his head) Ok.
(He heads outside. JULES reenters and sits down next to ELIZA.)
JULES. I leave for a minute and Seder is completely derailed? Did you scare everyone away?
ELIZA. Essentially. (She leans her head against Jules’ shoulder) How are you feeling?
JULES. Fine, really. Mostly just tired. But my doctor says he thinks two more rounds should knock it
out.
ELIZA. Good. I hate being so far away while you’re going through this.
 41

JULES. I have plenty of people looking after me here. Even Abby’s being helpful.
ELIZA. About time.
JULES. She’s trying. I don’t think nursing is in her future, but she’s been driving me to chemo and then
we go out for frozen yogurt if I have the energy.
ELIZA. That sounds kind of nice.
JULES. It’s about the only fun part.
ELIZA. That’s ok. My life’s not that fun either.
JULES. What do you mean? Aren’t you happy in New York?
ELIZA. I don’t know. I’m kind of a disaster.
(JULES strokes ELIZA’s head. JOAN lays down a bowl of soup in front of JULES, sloshing it.)
AUNT JOAN. This is good for you, Jules. Soup. Very healthy.
(JOAN wobbles back to the kitchen.)
JULES. Passover food is always a little bizarre, but chemo is making it seem downright revolting.
ELIZA. Kelly and Everett probably feel the same way.
(JULES looks at deck, where the other kids are puff-puff-passing.)
JULES. What are they doing out there?
ELIZA. Don’t ask.
(JULES gets up and walks to the deck door. She opens it and the kids freeze, caught.)
NOAH. Uhh, hey Mom. We were just, uh...
JULES. (holding out her hand) Can I have that, please?
ABBY. Ooh, busted.
(NOAH sheepishly hands her the half-smoked bowl.)
JULES. And the lighter?
(He hands her the lighter.)
EVERETT. (a little stoned) Let me just say it was not my idea—
KELLY. (also stoned) We were coerced!
(JULES puts the pipe to her mouth and lights it, inhaling deeply.)
EVERETT. Oh. KELLY. Oh.
ABBY. Mom!?
JULES. (exhaling) Maybe I’ll be able to stomach a matzo ball now.
(She hands the contraband back to NOAH and heads towards the door.)
NOAH. Mom, that was badass.
JULES. I grew up in the seventies, Noah.
 42

LEN. (calling) Hey guys, come back inside, soup is ready.

(They troop back in and tuck into soup. LEN comes around with a platter of gefilte fish.)
AUNT JOAN. (sniffing the air) Something smells funny.
NOAH. There was a skunk outside.
LEN. Gefilte fish, Kelly?
KELLY. Uh...
NOAH. It’s like a pellet of mushed fish.
KELLY. (politely) No, thank you.
LEN. Noah?
NOAH. Sure, why not.
(LEN scoops one onto NOAH’s plate.)
LEN. Abby?
ABBY. Ok.
(LEN scoops one onto ABBY’s plate.)
ABBY. (to Kelly) You should see them when they are still in the jar, suspended in this jelly. It’s like the
fetal pigs from science class.
JULES. Honestly, Abby.
LEN. Careful, Abby. Mom might throw up on you.
ELIZA. Dad.
LEN. Hey, she’s done it to me twice this week. Fish, Joan?
AUNT JOAN. Not for me.
LEN. Liza?
ELIZA. Yes, please.
(LEN scoops one onto ELIZA’s plate, and she starts eating it.)
EVERETT. (to Noah, baffled) So she won’t eat pork, but she’ll eat weird, smushed fish from a jar? (to
Len) I’m good, thank you.
ELIZA. Ok, can we not get into this again?
EVERETT. I’m just saying...
ELIZA. He’s obsessed with the fact that I won’t eat pork.
EVERETT. I’m not obsessed, I’m just confused.
ELIZA. (firmly) I just don’t want to.
EVERETT. But, it’s so delicious and you love delicious things.
AUNT JOAN. Pork is forbidden by our religion.
 43

EVERETT. I know, but so are a lot of things that Liza eats, like lobster and cheeseburgers.
ELIZA. That’s not the point.
NOAH. I mean, you can’t go through life eating burgers without cheese.
EVERETT. Definitely not. And you shouldn’t go through life missing out on prosciutto and bacon,
right? And ribs. Oh, Beadie, ribs are so good.
ABBY. They are good.
NOAH. Ooh, and pork dumplings.
KELLY. Aw, you liked those dumplings I fed you?
NOAH. They were fire.
EVERETT. Right? See, Liza, your hang up is preventing you from experiencing the joys of pork
dumplings.
ELIZA. I haven’t eaten it since I was nine, it’s just part of who I am, ok?
EVERETT. But you’ve changed so much since you were nine—I’ve seen those photos of you hanging
from trees in safari hats.
NOAH. Have you seen the one where she has cornrows?
(She’s really starting to get angry.)
ELIZA. Maybe I don’t want to change this.
EVERETT. But why? You said yourself that it isn’t a religious thing.
ELIZA. I don’t know if it is, ok.
EVERETT. Really? You said before it was like a silly superstition, which is fine, but—
ELIZA. Why do you care so much?!
EVERETT. Because, your whole identity is about being an open-minded person, and you’re so shut off
about this! It feels irrational and—
ELIZA. Well, I’m sorry if you think my beliefs are irrational. I don’t know why you’re so fixated on
what I eat, I’m not making you change anything— (she starts to get emotional) You know that I’m
dealing with a lot, my mom is, is, my career’s a disaster, I’m a mess, I don’t need you probing my
psychological— Sorry, I, think I just need a minute—
(ELIZA jumps up from the table and exits. A beat.)
EVERETT. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...
JULES. It’s ok, Everett. She can get a little emotional when she’s had wine.
NOAH. We were just messing with her.
ABBY. (quietly) She’s not even the one here dealing with it.
KELLY. I didn’t realize Eliza was so religious.
EVERETT. She’s not, that’s why I’ve never understood it.
AUNT JOAN. Eliza has always had a deep spiritual life, even if she doesn’t show it.
 44

(They look at her, surprised.)

AUNT JOAN. Faith is a very individual experience. We all piece it together in our own way. It’s like...
weaving your own personal tapestry of beliefs. And when you pull on a thread of your tapestry, and
you see it begin to unravel, it can be very frightening.
(All sit in silence for a moment.)
JULES. Is everyone done with the soup?
LEN. (standing) Jules, don’t you get up.
JULES. Len, I’m fine.
(She stands a little shakily, but pushes through.)
KELLY. I’ll help!
(JULES and KELLY clear bowls and replace them with dinner plates. LEN slips out with the
Afikoman.)
EVERETT. Abby, how’s the Buffalo Exchange gig going?
ABBY. I didn’t end up getting it. Those guys were a bunch of environmental posers. I think I dodged a
bullet.
EVERETT. Oh.
ABBY. Like, it turns out they pretty much only hire their friends.
AUNT JOAN. The job market is rarely merit-based, sadly.
JULES. But Abby, don’t you think it may have had something to do with the fact that you had no retail
experience?
ABBY. No! I made up a ton of stuff on my resume!
EVERETT. I guess you’ll have to find a friend who can get you a job.
AUNT JOAN. You can always work at my candle store. I had to fire someone last week, so there’s an
opening on the sales floor.
NOAH. Why’d you fire them?
AUNT JOAN. They were stealing the used display candles from the garbage.
ABBY. But if they were in the garbage, why did it matter?
AUNT JOAN. Stealing is still stealing, Abby. (hiccups)
(LEN returns, and everyone sits down to dinner.)
EVERETT. Do you think I should go get Eliza?
JULES. It’s ok. She’ll come back when she’s ready.
NOAH. She used to storm out of dinner a lot when we were kids.
JULES. (fondly) She’s always had a flair for the dramatic.
LEN. (clears throat) Is...her career a disaster right now, Everett?
 45

EVERETT. Uh... Well, I’m not sure if she wants me to tell people, but she got dropped by her agents. I
guess she had a few auditions that didn’t... But she really wanted to focus on theater anyway, and they
were pushing her towards more commercial projects that um... I mean, she’s had a tough couple of
months, since, uh. But I think there are always ebbs and flows to this business, she just needs a little
time to recharge.
JULES. What about your movie? Are you guys still on track with that?
EVERETT. It’s been shelved, temporarily. We just couldn’t raise the money. But hopefully in the future,
when Eliza is feeling up to it and one or both of us has more clout—
LEN. What happened to the guy who was giving you 10K?
EVERETT. Well, for a micro-budget full-length feature we needed to raise at least $70,000—
LEN. Seriously? NOAH. Damn.
EVERETT. Yeah... But hopefully... And my agent is still shopping my novel around. If I could get a
good advance, then...
(LEN and JULES share a look.)
JULES. Well, it’s a very tough business you guys are in.
AUNT JOAN. It’s tough for everyone. After my divorce, I couldn’t get a job anywhere. No one wants to
hire a woman in her 50s. The employment field is very ageist. I had no choice but to create my own
opportunities.
EVERETT. That sounds a lot like me and Liza.
LEN. How do your parents feel about all this writing and movie stuff, Everett?
EVERETT. Uh, you know, they are happy I’m following my dreams.
LEN. Sure. Do you have a plan for if it doesn’t work out?
EVERETT. I think that if you’re focusing on backup plans you’re probably dooming yourself to use
them.
LEN. Or you’re ensuring that you won’t wake up in twenty years with no future prospects.
JULES. It’s easy to imagine that it will all go as planned. But as you get older, you begin to realize that
life is just a series of compromises.
EVERETT. Of course, I understand that.
JULES. Even just medical bills...try surviving uterine cancer with no savings (she laughs sardonically).
EVERETT. (uncomfortable) Sure, that would be... Planning for the future is important. But investing in a
film is a lot like (gestures to Len) investing in law school. You have to put something in to get
something out.
LEN. But at the end of law school, you’re a lawyer. You could put everything you have, plus a lot of
other people’s money, into a movie, and then...who knows? Maybe it’s a hit, but maybe no one likes
it.
NOAH. It sounds like tech, actually. You gotta have some capital to start an app, and there’s a chance it
could blow up and be, like, the next Venmo. Or there’s the chance it could die a fiery death like
Ringsy.
 46

ABBY. What’s Ringsy?

NOAH. Exactly.
KELLY. When I graduated from college, it took me five months to find a job, and then the start up that
finally hired me failed two months later.
ABBY. See, it’s hard to find a job!
EVERETT. Every industry involves risk, at the end of the day. As my mom says, “All you can do is
work hard and trust in the Lord’s plan.”
LEN. (not convinced) I guess so. While we’re on the subject of God, why don’t we finish up this seder?
JULES. Great, I’m running out of steam here.
(LEN puts an arm around JULES and picks up his haggadah.)
LEN. Page 26, everyone.
EVERETT. Maybe Eliza will come back if she hears us singing.
LEN. Is everyone ready for their third cup of wine?
KELLY. I need a top up!
AUNT JOAN. Me too!
(Wine is poured. Everyone tries to get back into the spirit.)
THE FEINSTEINS. Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha-olam, borei p’ree hagafen.
KELLY AND EVERETT. Aaaamen.
LEN. Ooh boy, and now it’s time for the fourth cup of wine.
AUNT JOAN. Oh good. NOAH. Down in one, people!
JULES. I take it some of the less popular prayers were eliminated from this version.
LEN. When Elijah calls, we must answer. Jules, do you want to tell us about it?
JULES. (reading) “This is the cup of Elijah.” (gestures to a silver cup in the center of the table) “The
Prophet Elijah was a brave man who denounced the slavery of his day. Legend teaches that he will
return one day to lead us to peace and freedom. We open a door to the home to allow Elijah to enter,
and we drink a fourth cup of wine and sing to welcome him.”
(Wine glasses are refilled.)
THE FEINSTEINS. Ei-li-ya-hu Ha-Na-vi, Ei-li-ya-hu Ha-tish’-bi, Ei-li-ya-hu Ei-li-ya-hu Ei-li-ya-hu
Ha-Gil’-a-di.
(They drink the fourth cup of wine. The alcohol is really starting to kick in.)
ABBY. When I was a kid, I used to stare at the cup for like two minutes, and I was convinced I could see
the level of wine go down.
KELLY. Because Elijah drank it?
JULES. (playing along) Of course he does, Abby.
 47

(ABBY, NOAH, EVERETT, KELLY, JULES and JOAN lean forward and stare at the wine. LEN
gets distracted by an e-mail on his phone.)
AUNT JOAN. (hushed) I see it.
EVERETT. It’s definitely less than earlier.
NOAH. No doubt.
ABBY. And then it would be like I could feel Elijah in the room.
NOAH. (ghostly) Whoooo.
ABBY. (whispers) Can you feel him? He brushes against your arm. He rustles the hairs on your head.
KELLY. (shivering) Ooh, I’m getting goosebumps.
ABBY. And then, you might catch a glimpse of him leaving—if you turned fast enough.
(ABBY jerks towards the hall, and they all follow suit. Even LEN looks up.)
(ELIZA emerges in the doorway, backlit and eerie. She raises her hand, holding something.)
ELIZA. I found the Afikoman.

BLACK OUT.
 48

SCENE FIVE

(The Fourth of July. It’s a sunny afternoon.)

(The table is not set, but instead holds a cluster of condiments and a stack of paper plates.)
(JULES sits on the couch, still frail, wearing a colorful scarf. She stares at a newspaper in her
hands, but her eyes don’t move.)
(LEN enters in a colorful printed button-down shirt.)
LEN. (re the shirt) Found this guy in the basement. Pretty festive, huh?
(JULES doesn’t seem to hear.)
LEN. Jules?
JULES. (starting) Huh? Oh look at you. Didn’t we get that in Burma?
LEN. We did. It was way too big back then, but now it’s perfect!
JULES. Lucky that you never throw anything away.
LEN. Need anything?
JULES. Nope, I’m fine.
(LEN goes to the stereo and turns on James Brown’s “I Feel Good.”)
LEN. Godfather of American Soul feels right for today.
(He walks out to the deck, and over to the grill.)
(In the distance, the sound of fireworks.)
(ABBY enters from the deck with NOODLE on a leash.)
LEN. Good walk, Abs?
ABBY. Oh yeah, Noodle and I chilled with some squirrels, peed on some bushes, it was a real party.
(ABBY goes into the house. She carries the bagged newspaper from the driveway under her arm and
puts it on the coffee table.)
ABBY. (re the newspaper) You want this, Mom?
JULES. Oh— (she looks at the one she’s holding, confused) This is yesterday’s.
LEN. (calling in) Abby, could you grab me the big metal spatula?
ABBY. Where is it?
LEN. Really? You’ve been living here for thirteen months—
ABBY. Oh my God, I’m sorry I haven’t memorized the kitchen drawers!
LEN. I’m kidding, I’m kidding. It’s fine, I’ll get it. (patting the grill) This guy’s ready to go anyway.
(He heads back to the kitchen and starts to prep meat, whatever that involves.)
(The sound of more fireworks.)
ABBY. Why are they shooting fireworks now? You can’t see anything.
LEN. Maybe they’re practicing. Probably a lot of pressure, being the fireworks guys for the televised
show.
 49

JULES. Are we going to drive down to the Mall later and see them?
(ABBY grabs some dog treats from the cupboard and starts feeding them to NOODLE.)
ABBY. Ugh it’s always so crowded.
ABBY. (to Noodle) Sit. Good boy. JULES. I think it would be nice.
JULES. Don’t give him too many treats. He’s getting fat.
ABBY. I just feel bad that he’s going to be locked up the rest of the day. Don’t you think it’s time we
tried to arrange a truce? It doesn’t seem like Everett is going anywhere.
(JULES and LEN exchange a glance.)
JULES. I don’t have the energy for that today. Maybe next time.
(ABBY drags NOODLE off.)
ABBY. Just trying to help.
JULES. (calling after her) I appreciate it. (she sighs. To Len) I don’t really have the energy for any of
this. I’m glad our kids are well-adjusted enough to be in relationships, but sometimes I wish we could
just have them to ourselves.
LEN. Grass is always greener. Joan called me crying yesterday because Kyle can’t get a date to prom.
JULES. Was she drinking again?
LEN. Oh, give the woman a break. She’s going through a tough time.
JULES. So am I, but you don’t see me drinking gin straight from the bottle.
LEN. Sorry, Jules, there’s obviously no compar—
JULES. It’s fine.
(Sound of the front door opening, and voices in the hall. NOAH and KELLY enter, followed by
ELIZA and EVERETT. NOAH beelines for LEN’s meat station.)
NOAH. Awww yeah, this is what I’m talking about. (caveman) Meat.
KELLY. (caveman, beating chest) Me want meat.
NOAH. (caveman) Me kill woolly mammoth. Make good burgers.
ELIZA. Oh boy.
(ELIZA goes to each parent and hugs them. EVERETT follows.)
ELIZA. Hi Dad.
LEN. Hey sweets. Sorry, I’m covered in meat juice.
ELIZA. Yum. Hi Mom, how are you feeling?
JULES. Fine. How was the train?
EVERETT. The station was a zoo.
LEN. DC is the place to be on the 4th.
JULES. You should have come down earlier this week to beat the rush.
EVERETT. Eliza couldn’t get off work.
 50

ELIZA. I couldn’t get anyone to cover my shifts the past two days—everyone is out of town. I couldn’t
get anyone to cover me today, either, but I basically told my manager that I wasn’t coming in and
they could go ahead and fire me.
(ABBY comes in at the end of this.)
ABBY. Damn, Liza, way to stick it to the patriarchy.
ELIZA. My manager’s a woman, but...
LEN. Does this mean you don’t have a job anymore?
ELIZA. I’m pretty sure it was just a power play on her part, but I honestly don’t care either way.
JULES. You don’t want to burn bridges. If you leave the restaurant on bad terms, you won’t be able to
use them as a reference.
ABBY. You can always do what I did, and put down Noah’s phone number for your reference. Then they
call him and he pretends to be your old boss.
NOAH. (proudly) You’re not the only actor in the family
(EVERETT puts his arms around ELIZA.)
EVERETT. Well, we’ll figure it out, whatever happens.
ELIZA. (stiffly) Yep.
EVERETT. And hopefully you won’t have to work there for much longer anyway.
ELIZA. Mhm.
JULES. Have things picked up on the acting front, Liza?
ELIZA. I don’t know.
EVERETT. Yes! The company that she did The Seagull with asked her to be in another play.
JULES. That’s great!
ELIZA. I don’t know if I’m going to do it.
LEN. Why not? What’s the show?
ELIZA. Antigone.
EVERETT. To play Antigone!
JULES. Wow! LEN. That’s great, sweets!
ELIZA. I don’t know if I have the bandwidth right now. They pay $100 a week, but they act like it’s
Broadway.
JULES. It’s nice that they have such high standards.
NOAH. I thought your last play was really good.
ELIZA. Well, I think it’s kind of silly, to take it so seriously. It’s just a play.
(JULES, LEN, and EVERETT exchange concerned looks.)
JULES. Maybe take a few days to think about it.
ELIZA. Mm. I’m going to um...go to the bathroom.
(She exits.)
 51

EVERETT. Do you need help with any of that, Len?

LEN. I’m all set, thanks Everett. Noah, weren’t you going to set up croquet in the front yard?
NOAH. Hell yeah! (to Everett, Kelly and Abby) You guys in?
EVERETT. Um, why not. ABBY. Duh.
KELLY. Let me just get my scrunchie.
(KELLY mimes putting her hair into a bouffant 80s half-up style.)
NOAH. Huh?
KELLY. It’s a “Heathers” reference. (Noah shakes his head) Ok, we’re done with sci fi, we need to dive
into some dark teen comedy.
(The kids all exit. LEN finishes up meat prep. JULES sits in silence for a minute.)
JULES. I feel crazy.
LEN. Huh?
JULES. I feel crazy. I feel like I’m trying to contain all of this, I, I can’t breathe. I think I’m having a
panic attack.
(LEN quickly washes off his hands, runs over and sits with her.)
LEN. Hey. Hey there. You’re good. You’re good, Jules.
(JULES curls up in LEN’s arms, sobbing quietly.)
LEN. I’m here with you. Ok? I’m here. I’m here.
(He strokes her hair. After a minute, JULES sits up, wiping away tears.)
JULES. I just want to have a nice day with them.
LEN. I know.
JULES. I can’t stop thinking...
LEN. I know. It’s ok.
(She slowly calms and finally sits up.)
JULES. (she takes a deep breath) I’m going to go out front and watch them play croquet.
LEN. That’s great. That sounds perfect.
(He gives her a kiss and she stands bravely.)
JULES. Do I look like a mess?
LEN. No, you look great.
JULES. (laughs ruefully) Sure.
LEN. I’m serious. That scarf really brings out your eyes.
(She smiles sadly and then walks slowly out.)
LEN. I’m going to get these burgers done.
(LEN takes the tray of meat out to the deck and starts grilling. After a moment, ELIZA enters and
crosses to the deck.
ELIZA. Where’d everyone go?
 52

LEN. They’re out front playing croquet. I figured you were busy beating everyone.
ELIZA. No, I went to say hi to Noodle. I feel bad that he gets locked up every time I come home now.
LEN. You could always come home solo sometime.
ELIZA. Yeah I should. It’s just hard to get time off. And when I don’t work, I don’t make money...
LEN. I know. I’m proud of how hard you’ve always worked, Lize.
(A pause. LEN studies the grill.)
LEN. How are things going with you guys?
ELIZA. Me and Everett?
LEN. Yeah.
ELIZA. I don’t know. Are you going to give me another lecture about him not being Jewish?
LEN. No.
ELIZA. I never hear you giving Noah a hard time about Kelly—
LEN. You know Noah doesn’t care about that stuff.
ELIZA. Maybe I don’t either—
LEN. Liza. I was just asking because you seemed unhappy.
ELIZA. Oh.(she softens) It was...kind of hard when...when Mom...
(Her eyes well up.)
LEN. Hey, hey, come here.
(LEN puts his arms around her. She crumbles.)
ELIZA. (crying) I don’t, I don’t know what I’m doing. Everything feels dumb.
LEN. (soothing) You don’t have to know.
ELIZA. I don’t know why I’ve devoted my whole...it’s so hard... stupid...I don’t even remember why I
even cared.
LEN. That’s ok. That happens.
ELIZA. Like what am I doing...I put so much...time...money, energy...so that I can, what, do a play in a
warehouse that no one will see? Book a dog food commercial?
LEN. Hey, someone’s got to tell us what flavors are out there.
(ELIZA laughs through her tears.)
ELIZA. I’m such a mess. Last week I was waiting to hear about an audition and I started screaming at
Everett because I didn’t think he was watering the plants enough and I ended up calling in sick to
work because I couldn’t stop crying. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
LEN. Sounds like you need a break.
ELIZA. I think I should just quit. My acting isn’t helping anyone. It’s not saving anyone.
LEN. It’s ok to do what makes you happy.
ELIZA. I don’t even know if it does. And I’m not good, anyway.
LEN. Liza—
 53

ELIZA. No, I mean, I’m thirty, and the biggest things I’ve done are say four lines on “Law & Order” and
make $375 a week doing Shakespeare in Norfolk, Virginia. I can’t even get an agent. (she starts to
get emotional again) Everyone seems to have figured it out but me. Phil, the guy from our short film
who you said was too quiet—he just booked a fucking pilot. He’s not even good. But apparently I
don’t know what good is.
LEN. Of course you do. You’re an amazing actress. Ever since you were little, people have been saying
you belong on the stage.
ELIZA. (shaking her head) I’ve known I was going to be an actor for my whole…It felt like my calling. I
couldn’t understand people who didn’t have that kind of purpose. But now I can’t remember why it
ever mattered in the first place.
(A beat. They stand together quietly.)
LEN. You’ll figure it out. It just takes time.
ELIZA. How do you know? Have you ever had an existential...
LEN. Sure I have.
ELIZA. (surprised) Really?
LEN. I’ve just gotten good at hiding my meltdowns. You know, in a way, things get easier when you
have a family. Your choices become a little clearer because you want to do what’s best for them.
ELIZA. So you’re saying I need to get married and have kids?
LEN. (laughs) Well...when the time is right and the…person is right. (beat) Even then, it’s not easy. Your
mom...is in a pretty dark place right now. I think she’s questioning...
ELIZA. Yeah?
LEN. Why...why her. If she did something to deserve this illness. If she brought it on herself in some
way.
(NOAH pokes his head into living room, croquet mallet in hand, and shouts out to the deck.)
NOAH. Dad! What’s the eta on burgers? Should we play another round?
LEN. No we’re about done! Gather the troops!
NOAH. Copy!
(NOAH disappears. LEN puts his arm around ELIZA.)
LEN. You’re a special kid, Eliza. Don’t get sucked into all this.
(The crew troops in. ABBY still holds her mallet. LEN carries the food back inside, ELIZA follows.)
LEN. How was it out there?
JULES. Really nice. It’s perfect croquet weather.
NOAH. Liza, you got some competition. Turns out Kelly is a shark.
KELLY. Sounds like we’ll have to go another round after we eat.
JULES. Abby! Don’t bring your mallet in here, it’s covered in dirt!
(ABBY rolls her eyes and stomps towards the door.)
ABBY. I was just trying to make sure Noah didn’t steal it!
NOAH. I don’t know what you’re talking about.
 54

(ABBY turns around.)

ABBY. You know red is my lucky color, and you always take it to mess with me!
NOAH. (innocently) Red is my lucky color.
ABBY. It’s not! Oh my God, this is classic gaslighting. (to the whole group) Believe women!
(She completes her stomping exit. LEN puts his arm around JULES.)
LEN. Feeling normal again?
JULES. (smiling) Somewhat.
LEN. Ok, so we’ve got burgers here and dogs here. Everyone, do your thing.
(They crowd around the table and start assembling plates. EVERETT comes over to ELIZA.)
EVERETT. We missed you out there, Beadie.
ELIZA. Someone had to entertain the chef.
EVERETT. Well, get ready for round two, because I’ve finally figured out how to make contact with the
ball.
KELLY. Yeah, Everett, you got in a good swing or two by the end.
EVERETT. Hey, I’m a city kid, ok?
(ABBY returns.)
NOAH. What? You didn’t go to a country club every weekend?
JULES. (quickly) Neither did we, Everett. I found that croquet set at a yard sale twenty years ago.
NOAH. Mom, he knows I’m kidding. Most country clubs didn’t even admit Jews until the 90s.
EVERETT. Another thing our people have in common.
NOAH. (flopping down on the couch) That’s right, yo! (he takes a huge bite out of his burger) We gotta
stick together.
(KELLY sits on the couch, too.)
KELLY. Hey, no one let Asians into country clubs, either.
(NOAH leans over to her and they rub noses.)
NOAH. That’s right, you’re an outcast too.
ABBY. The country clubs have good firework, though. Remember that year Dad’s client brought us?
LEN. Eh, the ones on the Mall are better.
EVERETT. They have fireworks at the mall?
ELIZA. The National Mall. Where the Washington Monument is.
KELLY. Those are the ones you see on TV.
JULES. We can drive down there in a bit and see them.
(Everyone is very involved in eating.)
JULES. Huh, guys? What do you think?
ELIZA. Yeah, maybe.
 55

JULES. Maybe?
NOAH. It could be nice to just chill here.
JULES. Really? You don’t want to go?
LEN. Let’s talk about it in a bit. Noah, Kelly, don’t you guys want to eat outside?
NOAH. Nah it’s so hot out there.
KELLY. We gotta recharge before more croquet.
NOAH. Wow we’ve created a monster.
LEN. Ok, well I’m going to eat out back like a true American.
JULES. I’ll come.
(LEN and JULES go sit on the deck, closing the door behind them.)
(ELIZA, EVERETT, and ABBY join NOAH and KELLY around the coffee table.)
ABBY. Are we being jerks for not going outside?
ELIZA. Whoa.
ABBY. What?
ELIZA. I’ve just never heard you worry about anyone else’s feelings before.
ABBY. Hey, you know what? I’m the one who’s been here taking care of Mom. I drive her to
appointments, I run errands for her, I do chores—Noah lives fifteen minutes away and he doesn’t do
shit.
NOAH. Yo, some of us got jobs! Sorry you’ve been dealing with it, Abby, but Mom will be better soon,
and then you can go back to your art or whatever.
ABBY. Screw you!
(ABBY pours her drink onto NOAH’s plate. NOAH jumps up.)
NOAH. Really, Abby!? That was a perfect hot dog!
(He stalks over the garbage and then goes to make a new plate.)
ELIZA. Stuff like that is the reason that no one takes you seriously in this family, Abby.
ABBY. Oh cool, I didn’t realize you’d all had a meeting about it.
ELIZA. We didn’t have to.
(They sit in tense silence. NOAH returns with his plate and sits on the other side of KELLY.)
NOAH. Kel, I’m using you as my barrier.
KELLY. (caveman) Me fend off siblings.
(No one laughs. It’s awkward.)
EVERETT. Hey, uh, do you guys want to play that blitz game?
KELLY. (relieved) Yes! Noah taught me how to play last week.
ELIZA. Sure.
(NOAH and ABBY both nod.)
 56

(ELIZA gets the cards and deals them out. They begin to play with concentrated intensity. No one
speaks for a minute.)
EVERETT. Am I supposed to put this...?
ABBY. On that pile.
(Another stretch of silence. Just hands slapping the table.)
KELLY. Ugh! I’m so slow!
ELIZA. You can’t use two hands.
KELLY. Sorry.
(More silence. More slapping.)
ELIZA. Blitz!
(General groaning. ELIZA shuffles and deals, the game restarts. Silent slapping for a stretch.)
ELIZA. Noah, stop cheating.
NOAH. I’m not!
ELIZA. You’re not skipping three cards.
NOAH. I am! Trust me, the last thing I want to do right now is get into it with you. I don’t really give a
fuck if you win.
ELIZA. Cool, cuz I’m going to.
(The sound of distant fireworks.)
KELLY. Where are those fireworks coming from?
ABBY. Probably a country club.
NOAH. Do you think it’s the one you got kicked out of for smoking pot or the one you got kicked out of
for streaking on the golf course?
KELLY. Careful Noah, she still has half a lemonade.
(Silence. Hand slaps.)
EVERETT. What were you doing at all those country clubs?
ABBY. That’s where the rich kids at our school had bar mitzvahs.
ELIZA. Blitz!
(Groans. ELIZA shuffles and deals. The game restarts.)
ELIZA. It’s weird in retrospect. People having bar mitzvahs at country clubs. Why celebrate one of the
most important Jewish rituals at a place that rejected us for decades?
ABBY. They were probably trying to prove they finally belonged.
NOAH. You should have had yours there, Abby, then maybe you would’ve had friends.
ABBY. Weird, I remember you being the one with ten people at their bar mitzvah.
NOAH. That’s not (what happened)… ELIZA. My kids definitely aren’t having their
bar mitzvahs at a country club.
EVERETT. Oh. The kids are having bar mitzvahs?
 57

ELIZA. I mean, it’s kind of the bedrock of Jewish identity.

EVERETT. Is it? You’ve never mentioned it being so important before.
ELIZA. Maybe not explicitly...(re game) Damn!
EVERETT. Don’t bar mitzvahs involve belonging to a synagogue?
ELIZA. Usually.
EVERETT. Ok...it’s just, you said you wouldn’t want to join a synagogue.
ELIZA. I didn’t realize I’d signed a contract—
EVERETT. Liza, Liza, calm. ELIZA. I know those places can be a little
group-thinky…
EVERETT. You’re the one who told me that it’s weird and people bang their chests and stuff.
ELIZA. It might seem weird to an outsider...
EVERETT. Oh, so I’m an outsider now?
ELIZA. I mean, to Judaism you are.
(EVERETT and ELIZA are losing focus on the game.)
EVERETT. Cool. I didn’t realize that you were in another club that I couldn’t be part of.
ELIZA. It’s not, that’s not what I’m saying. But it’s not just me. Bar mitzvahs are important to my
family—
EVERETT. Yeah, well, my mom is going to want our kid baptized, does that work for you?
ELIZA. (before she can stop herself) No.
EVERETT. Got it.
ELIZA. Look, it’s different; Christianity is the dominant religion, it’s oppressed my people for
centuries—
EVERETT. Oh, you want to talk about ELIZA. —And so you can understand if I feel
oppression? uncomfortable about it, and if I feel a little
protective of my heritage.
NOAH. Blitz!!
(A long pause.)
EVERETT. I don’t know what is with you. We used to have reasonable, informed, thoughtful
conversations about this stuff. And now you treat me like the enemy. You did the same thing with my
movie. You were all in and then suddenly you just decide “it’s too much work.” You won’t even
discuss it.
ELIZA. This isn’t about your movie, Everett. Not everything is about your movie.
EVERETT. It is, though. It’s all coming back to the same source. You’re trying to burn down every good
thing in your life.
ELIZA. You’re the one attacking my identity.
EVERETT. (hurt) I’m not. You only obsess about this stuff five days of the year. And the other 360 you
don’t even think about it.
ELIZA. Just because I don’t talk about it doesn’t mean I don’t think about it.
 58

EVERETT. Ok then, what do I know?

(They sit in silence. After a moment, LEN and JULES reenter.)
LEN. Round two of croquet? (he clocks the mood) Everything good?
(ELIZA stands.)
ELIZA. Yeah, I’ll play.
(JULES looks at her watch.)
JULES. I don’t know, if we’re going to catch the fireworks we probably need to leave soon.
NOAH. Eh, I think we may just chill here.
JULES. Seriously? I thought you guys liked doing that. We had so many great years sitting on a picnic
blanket together...we’ll bring some drinks and snacks...huh?
ELIZA. But I want to beat these guys at croquet.
JULES. We can turn on the outdoor lights when we get back and you can play nighttime croquet.
ABBY. Mom, why are you so obsessed with fireworks? They’re just loud and they’re the same every
year.
(JULES starts to get panicky.)
JULES. That’s not true. You don’t find them special at all?
LEN. I think they’re special. Come on, guys.
NOAH. Maybe next year, Mom.
JULES. I’d like to do it this year. I think it would be nice.
ABBY. Mom. No one wants to go.
JULES. (almost shouting) Well this is my last chance, ok?
ELIZA. What?
JULES. It’s my last...my last chance to see fireworks.
ELIZA. What are you talking about?
(JULES fights to keep it together. LEN holds her.)
JULES. It’s my last chance to see them with my kids.
ELIZA. (frightened) Mom?
(JULES starts to cry and buries her head in LEN’s shoulder.)
JULES. Len. Len I can’t.
(LEN just holds her for a moment, helpless. Then he takes a deep breath.)
LEN. Your mom saw the doctor last week. The cancer spread. He says (his voice breaks)...he says four to
six months.
(They all take in the news in shocked silence. ABBY begins to quietly cry. KELLY wraps her arms
around NOAH, who folds into her.)
ELIZA. Fuck. Fuck. Fucking fuck. I can’t.
(ELIZA grabs a ceramic animal and hurls it across the room. It shatters. No one even blinks.)
 59

ELIZA. FUUUUUUUUCK! Ok, you know what, I can’t process this right now, let’s go see the fireworks
NOAH. What?
ELIZA. LET’S GO SEE THE FUCKING FIREWORKS.
(JULES lifts her head off of LEN’s shoulder.)
JULES. Yeah?
ELIZA. Yeah! I need to watch some colored lights explode in the air.
(ELIZA puts her arms around JULES.)
ABBY. Yeah, I think I need to watch some stuff blow up.
(ABBY grabs a ceramic animal and throws it across the room.)
ABBY. YEAH!
NOAH. Me too!
(NOAH leaps up and grabs an animal. He hurls it.)
NOAH. FIREWORKS!!!
(JULES begins to laugh. Everyone follows suit. It’s a little manic.)
JULES. Someone’s going to have to clean that up so that Noodle—
(LEN grabs an animal.)
LEN. I want to throw something!
(He throws it across the room. It lands with a thud and doesn’t break. Everyone laughs even harder.)
LEN. Goddammit. Ok quick, fireworks!
NOAH. Fireworks!
(NOAH hands JULES the last ceramic animal. She hurls it and it explodes.)
JULES. FUUUUCK!
ABBY. Yeah, Mom!
ELIZA. Fuck yeah!
(JULES punches the air, triumphant.)
JULES. To the fireworks?
ALL. To the fireworks!!!
(Everyone scrambles around getting bags and shoes. NOAH shouts about having to pee, ABBY
can’t find her phone. In the background, James Brown’s “You’ve Got the Power” plays. Bit by bit
they exit.)
(EVERETT and ELIZA are the last two left on stage, and finally make eye contact for the first time
since their fight. EVERETT offers ELIZA his hand.)

BLACK OUT.
 60

SCENE SIX

(Erev Rosh Hashanah—the holiday begins at sunset, like all Jewish holidays. Late afternoon, mid-
September. The stage is empty. The house is quiet and dark.)
(The doorbell rings. We hear the front door open and JULES greet JOAN. They enter the living
room together. JULES looks sicker and walks with a cane.)
JULES. ...the winds were just ferocious. I’ve never heard anything like it. Apparently all of Bethesda lost
power. Lucky the synagogue has generators.
AUNT JOAN. God was cleansing the earth for the new year.
JULES. Mm. Perhaps.
(A beat.)
JULES. It’s getting dark.
(JULES walks slowly to a cupboard and pulls out a camping lantern.)
JULES. It was nice of you to come down and spend the holiday with us.
AUNT JOAN. It felt like the right thing to do.
JULES. (ignores that) I’m not sure where everyone is. Len’s gotten into woodworking lately, so he’s
probably trying to catch the last of the daylight in his “studio”...
AUNT JOAN. Studio?
JULES. The basement. Noah and Kelly should be here soon...
AUNT JOAN. Kelly is coming to services?
JULES. Noah wanted to bring her. I think it’s fine. Heck, she should know what she’s getting herself
into.
AUNT JOAN. I made the mistake of bringing Bill to services once. He found it very creepy...everyone
chanting in another language. He said it felt like being “kidnapped by a mystic cult.”
JULES. Add that to the list of reasons why I’m glad you’re divorced.
AUNT JOAN. Indeed. And why I’m sure you’re relieved that Eliza ended things with...
JULES. Everett? Oh they’re just on a break.
AUNT JOAN. Hm.
JULES. But it’s nice having her home. She’s having a tough time, but with Abby gone, I need someone
to worry about.
AUNT JOAN. You should be worrying about you. You know, a girlfriend of mine recommended a
whole bunch of books about coming to terms with the end of life; her husband died of colon cancer
last year, I’ll send you the list.
JULES. I don’t know, I try not to think about it...
AUNT JOAN. I’m surprised. With all your exposure to other cultural traditions through your work...
There are so many wonderful coping mechanism and rituals out there in the world.
JULES. In some cultures, they don’t even tell the patient they have cancer. If we followed that tradition,
I’d still be blissfully unaware.
 61

(JOAN doesn’t know how to respond. She looks around.)

AUNT JOAN. Oh—where’s the menagerie?
JULES. The what?
AUNT JOAN. The menagerie! Those little animals I gave you.
JULES. Oh, uh, Noodle knocked them over one day and they broke...
AUNT JOAN. All of them??
JULES. I think Len must have been roughhousing with him, you know how riled up he can get.
AUNT JOAN. Well, I’ll just have to bring you more the next time I come.
JULES. Really, I couldn’t ask you to—
AUNT JOAN. No, I know how much you loved them. It’s very important that you’re surrounded by
things you love right now.
JULES. Well, thank you. Let’s go out back, I’ll show you some of the destruction from last night.
AUNT JOAN. If you’d like.
JULES. Our neighbor’s tree fell onto their tool shed, it’s a sight.
(JULES leaves the lantern on the coffee table. JOAN helps JULES out the back door and off.)
AUNT JOAN. (as they exit) How is Abby liking the south? The relaxed pace of life seems like a better fit
for her personality.
(After a moment, ELIZA emerges, carrying NOODLE in her arms. She’s a far cry from her usual
put-together self...in fact, she looks a lot like Abby, with her messy hair and sweatpants.)
(ELIZA sits on the couch. She stares out, humming quietly.)
(Sounds of the front door opening and laughter from the hall.)
NOAH. (OFFSTAGE) Dang, they lost power too! This is crazy!
(NOAH and KELLY enter. They stop when they see ELIZA.)
NOAH. Oh, hey Liza.
KELLY. Hi.
(ELIZA nods at them.)
NOAH. Where is everyone?
(ELIZA shrugs. NOAH exchanges a glance with KELLY.)
NOAH. That storm was nuts, right?
(ELIZA nods.)
NOAH. Insane. Oh, hey—We found a place in Fort Greene that we like...that’s a good neighborhood,
right?
(ELIZA tightens, but nods.)
NOAH. Ok, yeah. It seemed pretty dope, but I don’t really know Brooklyn. Everett seemed psyched
when I texted him, he said it’s only a couple stops away. I think we’re gonna get drinks after we
move.
 62

(ELIZA doesn’t respond. NOAH sits down gingerly.)

NOAH. So, uh, how’s Mom doing? I feel bad, I haven’t been by in a bit, but things have just been really
busy at work and...
(ELIZA doesn’t say anything.)
NOAH. Look, if I’m honest, I’m not great at dealing with this stuff. It’s, it’s really hard for me to see
Mom like this. I feel like I’m always pretending to be happy so that she doesn’t get sad, but inside it,
it really hurts. Are you mad?
(A small beat.)
ELIZA. No.
NOAH. You’ve just always been better at this stuff than I have.
ELIZA. Yeah, it’s a real talent to be able to quit your life and move home.
NOAH. That’s not...you’re really good at helping. You always know what to do.
(She looks NOAH dead in the eye.)
ELIZA. No I don’t. I just show up.
NOAH. I’m sorry. I know it probably feels like I’m running away, moving to New York. But, you know,
work offered to transfer me, and it was a really good opportunity.
ELIZA. Uh huh.
NOAH. I just can’t stay here. Every moment of the day that I think about it, it’s like someone puts a
weight on top of my heart.
(ELIZA doesn’t say anything.)
NOAH. Abby told me she felt the same way. Well, she said it felt like someone was “suffocating her and
stabbing her at the same time.”
(KELLY laughs and then quickly covers her mouth.)
KELLY. Sorry!
(A beat.)
KELLY. Savannah is supposed to be cool. Good art scene.
NOAH. I mean, Dad’s been trying to make her get a job for a year...
ELIZA. (darkly) Mom’s cancer, serving the greater good.
(NOAH and KELLY sort of laugh. They can’t tell if she’s joking.)
(A beat.)
ELIZA. (can’t stop herself) It had to be Fort Greene, didn’t it? You couldn’t you move to Williamsburg
or Murray Hill or someplace that sucks.
NOAH. Sorry. I mean, we could maybe still get the deposit back...
ELIZA. It is what it is. (a beat) I didn’t come back because I was being a martyr. I didn’t know what I
was doing in New York anymore. At least my life has some purpose, here.
(An awkward beat.)
KELLY. Noah said that you started doing something at the synagogue?
 63

ELIZA. I’m shadowing the cantor.

NOAH. That’s the person who sings all the parts of the service. You’ll see tonight.
KELLY. Wow. Cool.
ELIZA. It’s nice. It’s kind of comforting, spending time in a place of worship.
(Beat.)
NOAH. Kel, let’s go out back and check out the storm chaos.
KELLY. Okay.
(NOAH and KELLY go to the deck, closing the door behind them, and lean on the railing. ELIZA
resumes humming quietly.)
KELLY. Wow, this is crazy. (pointing) Look at that tree!
NOAH. I don’t get what she’s doing.
KELLY. What?
NOAH. Eliza. Getting all religious and stuff.
KELLY. Oh. People turn to weird coping mechanisms.
NOAH. It’s like she’s had her brain abducted by aliens.
KELLY. Swirly eyes.
NOAH. Huh?
KELLY. Like— (she demonstrates).
NOAH. (like a brainwashed alien) Take me to your rabbi.
KELLY. When we were kids, my mom went back to China for the first time since she was a baby, and
when she came home she was like a completely different person. She would only speak to us in
Chinese. She put up all these red and gold banners and dragon statues all over the house. She started a
mahjong league. Like, it was really on the nose.
NOAH. She didn’t seem like that when I met her.
KELLY. Yeah, it faded after a while. I think she just felt disconnected here, and Chinese culture offered
her a way to belong to something.
NOAH. Maybe Liza needs that too right now. If my mom hadn’t gotten sick... But I mean, my grandma
had cancer, my mom’s cousin had cancer, my mom’s aunt had cancer... I don’t know why any of us
were that surprised.
(NOAH puts his arm around KELLY.)
NOAH. Clearly, we need to be widening the gene pool.
(KELLY smiles. They kiss as JULES and JOAN enter the deck.)
JULES. Oh, Noah, when did you get here?
(They all hug hello.)
NOAH. A few minutes ago.
JULES. Did you see the Grabers’ tree?
NOAH. Yeah, it’s nuts. How are you...doing?
 64

JULES. I’m fine.

AUNT JOAN. We all have to do everything we can to support your mother.
(JULES opens the deck door and goes inside; the rest follow.)
JULES. Eliza, don’t you think you’d better get ready?
(ELIZA takes in her mother fully, without responding. LEN enters, covered in sawdust.)
JULES. Len! We have to leave in ten minutes. What are you doing??
LEN. I’m showering, I’m showering.
(He disappears again.)
JULES. That’s going to be a cold shower. Oh I know, let’s have some apples and honey.
(JULES slowly makes her way to the kitchen. They all watch sadly.)
NOAH. That sounds great, Mom. Here.
(NOAH brings the lantern to her.)
AUNT JOAN. Jules, let me cut the apples.
JULES. It’s ok, I can—
(JULES drops the knife.)
JULES. Goddamn it. It’s these darn hands. I can’t feel anything.
AUNT JOAN. That’s a very common side effect.
(JOAN takes over.)
NOAH. (to Kelly) We eat apples and honey for a sweet new year.
KELLY. Neat. We eat a lot of fish.
NOAH. (gross) Fish?
KELLY. Yeah, like “catfish” and “year of surplus” are both niányú, so if you go to China on New Years
they will make you choke down a lot of fish.
NOAH. Too bad “chocolate” doesn’t sound like “riches” or something.
KELLY. (serious) Yeah, no, it actually sounds like “bird poop,” so that would be bad.
NOAH. Dang, seriously?
(KELLY cracks up.)
KELLY. Just kidding, “chocolate” is qiaokèlì, it’s not even a real Chinese word.
(NOAH cracks up, too. This is a favorite game.)
AUNT JOAN. Catfish isn’t kosher, it’s a bottom feeder.
(A beat.)
JULES. Noah, can you go hurry up your father?
NOAH. Of course, Mom.
(He exits. JULES walks to a chair to sit but stumbles on the way.)
AUNT JOAN. Are you ok, Jules?
 65

JULES. I’m fine. Just a little worn out.

(ELIZA jumps up.)
ELIZA. Mom? What do you need? Want some of that ginger drink?
JULES. No, I think I need to lie down.
ELIZA. Ok.
(ELIZA helps JULES up and towards the hall.)
JULES. Wait, trash, I need trash.
(ELIZA steers JULES to the trash can behind the kitchen island, where JULES promptly vomits.)
(KELLY looks away. JOAN watches intently.)
AUNT JOAN. You’re definitely not well enough for services tonight.
JULES. (weakly) No.
AUNT JOAN. I’ll pray for you, don’t worry.
ELIZA. Come on, Mom.
(Slowly, ELIZA and JULES exit.)
(KELLY and JOAN stand awkwardly. KELLY goes over to the dog.)
KELLY. Hey Noodle, how are ya?
AUNT JOAN. The service tonight will probably be very intense for you. We plead with God to inscribe
us in the Book of Life for the coming year. It is one of the holiest days of the calendar.
KELLY. Ok.
AUNT JOAN. Some congregants may not be very welcoming to an outsider on such a sacred day, so just
be prepared.
KELLY. Ok.
(Silence. KELLY pets NOODLE and avoids eye-contact.)
(LEN, dressed, and NOAH enter. LEN hugs JOAN and waves to KELLY.)
LEN. Hi Joan. Hi Kelly. I guess we should get going.
AUNT JOAN. What about Jules?
LEN. Liza’s going to stay and keep an eye on her.
AUNT JOAN. I can stay.
NOAH. Or we can. Give Liza a break.
LEN. No, the girls have a good system worked out. I think Jules and Liza both think they are taking care
of the other one.
AUNT JOAN. That’s good.
(LEN turns off the lantern. They all move towards the door.)
NOAH. Want me to drive the van? We can pretend to switch places.
LEN. You be the dad, I’ll be the kid?
NOAH. Yeah.
 66

LEN. Sure, sounds like a relief, honestly.

(They exit. NOODLE wanders the kitchen. It grows darker.)
(After a beat, we hear the voice of JULES in the hall.)
JULES. (OFFSTAGE) They’re gone, right?
ELIZA. (OFFSTAGE) Yeah, they’re all gone.
(ELIZA enters, guiding JULES.)
JULES. I’d rather lie on the couch, my bedroom feels like a sick bay.
(ELIZA helps JULES to the couch.)
JULES. It’s getting dark, maybe grab that lantern.
(ELIZA goes to the kitchen. Instead of the lantern, she gets two Shabbat candles in holders. She
brings them to the coffee table and lights them.)
ELIZA. (rapidly, not performative) Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha’olam, asher kid’shanu
b’mitzvotav, v’tzivanu l’hadlik ner, shel yom tov.
(ELIZA scoops up NOODLE and sits with him next to JULES.)
JULES. I’m sorry you’re missing services.
ELIZA. That’s ok, I’ll go tomorrow.
JULES. I told Dad to take everyone to that Indonesian place near the synagogue, maybe they can bring
you back something.
ELIZA. Ok.
JULES. Although their best dish is the pork satay, and you won’t...
(A beat.)
JULES. Why don’t you eat pork? I’ve never really understood.
ELIZA. I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.
JULES. Sorry, you don’t have to—
ELIZA. No, I want to understand it. I just, I just can’t trace the roots. It’s like that part of me got sealed
off and I can’t break back in. I’ve tried thinking, would I eat it if I was stranded on a desert island and
it was the only food...and I assume I would, rather than starve, but...
JULES. (thinks) “Desert island” is kind of an oxymoron, isn’t it?
ELIZA. Oh yeah, Mom, that’s the takeaway here.
(They laugh a little. A beat.)
JULES. Maybe it was too much, moving you across the world at that age.
ELIZA. No, I don’t think the pork thing was an act of brainwashing or submission... (she thinks) I think I
actually found God in Africa. (She laughs, surprised at herself) I don’t mean that he appeared to me
in a burning palm tree or, it was more...everything felt kind of magical. Like, being able to walk
across the veld, trek through jungles...Or, it was the space, right? There was so much space. You
could be so alone there. (a beat) Do you remember when we went to that beach once near Morgan’s
Bay, and there was no one else for miles?
JULES. Kind of...
 67

ELIZA. There was just this huge, warm ocean on one side, and these wild trees and vines on the other,
and soft, empty sand. Noah and Abby were running around in the water, and you and Dad were
walking further down the beach, and I was just so overcome with the beauty of the place that I started
singing “All Things Bright and Beautiful”—
JULES. Isn’t that—
ELIZA. Yeah, no, I’m pretty sure that’s a Christian song I learned in choir at some point—but I guess it
captured how I was feeling. I remember just having this, this overwhelming need to communicate
with...whatever the magic spirit thing I was feeling. I had a solo service on the beach.
JULES. I guess I do remember you being a little intense back then. But you were always a very emotive
child…I didn’t realize you were having a full religious experience.
ELIZA. I mean, I haven’t thought about this in years. I don’t think I even knew that’s what I was doing,
it was like an innate need. I felt that presence, that sparkle in the air, all the time in Africa. It made me
feel special, in a way. Then we moved back here, and...
JULES. And?
ELIZA. And I guess it just faded. I’m sure I was too focused on school and friends, my performing
career. It’s like I stopped letting myself feel the energy in the world. I mean, there was a version of it
I was seeking in my art, but it wasn’t as pure, as free. But maybe I subconsciously held on to a piece,
just in case I needed to feel it again. Maybe that’s what it was, the pork thing...like a weird security
blanket. (trying to make light) I’ve got my stuffed lion that I brought to college and still keep on my
dresser, and I have my pork aversion. In case I need to connect to my childhood magic. And honestly,
lately, I really need it. (tearing up) It sounds silly, but the past few weeks, I’ve started to feel it
again...the presence of a power or energy or something. Maybe it’s because I’ve been alone a lot, or
because I’m actively searching...I don’t know.
JULES. And you think it’s God?
ELIZA. Maybe. Or it’s my imagination manifesting a higher power.
JULES. Hm. (then, sort of joking) Can you ask your manifestation why he is smiting me?
ELIZA. You don't seriously believe this is a punishment, do you?
(JULES shrugs.)
ELIZA. For what? You've spent your whole life trying to help people, share other cultures, be a great
mom...
JULES. Maybe that was it.
ELIZA. What?
JULES. Maybe I put too much into...I don’t know, into other cultures and I neglected my own.
ELIZA. You didn’t neglect it. You’re the only one who can speak any Hebrew— You lived on a kibbutz,
for God’s sake.
JULES. I don’t know. I just keep wondering if there's something terrible I've done that I can't remember,
or that I didn't even realize was bad.
ELIZA. You did not bring this on yourself! It's random genetics.
JULES. Somehow that seems even worse.
ELIZA. What do you mean?
 68

JULES. Cancer is so awful...I feel better thinking that I’m paying a price for something, rather than just
being on the wrong end of bad luck.
ELIZA. I guess I’d rather believe in a world with meaning, too. As vindictive as it may be.
(A beat. ELIZA’s phone buzzes with a text. She checks it.)
JULES. Who’s that? (Eliza doesn’t answer) Everett?
(ELIZA nods. JULES closes her eyes.)
JULES. Lize?
ELIZA. Yeah?
JULES. After I...after...
ELIZA. Yeah?
JULES. Are you going to...
ELIZA. ...stay here?
JULES. Yeah.
ELIZA. I don’t know. Maybe?
(A small beat.)
JULES. I don’t think you should stay here.
(A beat.)
ELIZA. (quietly) What do you think I should do?
JULES. I can’t talk anymore. Will you sing me something?
(ELIZA begins to sing, not with actual words but in Niggun, “Ay di di di,” ancient Jewish vocables.
Softly at first and then louder, a cantor conducting a service in the living room. It’s the same song
she’s been humming, now audible—“Avinu Malkeinu”, the soaring, mournful song at the heart of the
High Holy Day Service.
As she sings, the lights slowly fade to black, until she is lit by nothing but the two candles. Then the
candles dim and extinguish, and she finishes the song in darkness.)

END OF PLAY.