And Then Some

Written By

Elaina Creighton

1
 Act I

Scene 1

The living room of SOPHIE STONE.

The home has a wealthy Scandinavian feel, with two leather arm chairs and a couch
diamonding centerstage. A stone fireplace upstage, impeccably clean with an urn
placed on the mantel’s center, rests to the left of a cherry-wood door leading to the
unseen kitchen. Photos of a young boy growing up, ranging from age zero to four,
juxtapose the urn. A doorframe standing on the other side of the mantel directs to a
concealed corridor, stairway, and multiple bedrooms. A coatrack sits beside it. A
bar cart with various lavish liquors and crystal sits downstage.
Sophie, a woman matured in a hard way for her age, twenty-three, sits on the couch
with her husband Robert. He’s nearly a decade her senior, almost thirty. There is a
detached sense to him, though his rugged looks often allow this to go unnoticed, or,
at the very least, handsomely expected.

Robert’s younger brother Ellis, who is about Sophie’s age, is standing behind him.
He’s demure and still not quite comfortable in his skin, unsure of himself in the way
most 20-somethings who’ve followed a routine path of school and dating are.
Cathleen, Ellis’s wife, enters through the kitchen with a coffee, laughing carelessly
at something we didn’t hear. She fits the ‘wife’ archetype—likely Ellis’s college
sweetheart, married unluckily young.
Skip, Sophie’s brother, is seated in the armchair with new girlfriend Tara leaning
against the shoulder. Skip is one or two years older than his sister, with a sleek,
sarcastic — though reliably kind — disposition, while Tara is more excitable and
bubblier. Both are in a fit of puppy love.

The group has gathered for Thanksgiving dinner, though it’s still early based on
how bright it is outside. There is a colorful assortment of appetizers on the coffee
table. They speak easily, polite.

TARA: (Giggling to Cathleen, in good spirits.) All I’m saying is that — really — if Skip
wanted to make an impression, he could’ve done something (Excitedly searching for the
right word.) chivalrous! Gallant!

SKIP: (Taken aback, equally lively.) There is nothing more gallant than protecting the
honor of a woman.
TARA: (Nearly sick with laughter.) Skip! You threw a tennis racket at my ex — that is not
gallant!

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SKIP: It is if he deserved it! Which he did.

CATHLEEN: I can’t believe we’ve never heard this story.

SKIP: Yeah, well, it’s not my proudest moment — or so I’ve been told. (He playfully
glances at Tara.)

ROBERT: How long has it been for you two? Four months now?
SKIP: Three.

TARA: Three-and-a-half.
SKIP: I didn’t realize we were counting halves.

TARA: Well, I am.

ROBERT: (With the yearning amusement of someone much older, though he’s really not.)
God, there’s something so attractive about you two — about young passion. You’re so
happy with one another. Hold onto that because it’s not going to last forever. This cute
puppy love schtick is almost sickening to watch, you know, but enjoy it while you can. As
much as you can, as long as you can!
His frenzied enthusiasm is somewhat disconcerting, and Tara labors to climb over
the exchanged glances

TARA: (Fairly gauche; she’s the newbie here.) Well, thank you. You’ve got a beautiful
home, by the way. I love the feng shui of it.
ROBERT: We inherited it after my mother passed. Why haven’t you brought her over,
Skip? Before tonight?
SKIP: (Trying to keep things light.) Well, it has only been three months — three and a half,
if we’re counting halves. We both work, we’re both busy.
ROBERT: Both work? (Laughing, to himself.) What is it with people and working these
days? It’s a rat race out there, you know. Work-work-work, that’s all anyone seems to care
about. It’s pathetic! (Turning to Tara, wisely.) And I mean it’s noble, it is, that you’re so
ambitious, at your age. Where do you work?

TARA: I’m studying to be a nurse, but I have a clerical job right now at St. Mary’s.
ROBERT: Very noble. The people that end up there are loons. The one in the city?

TARA: Yes. I applied to both, but the one downtown is closer to my university. And now
with Skip’s new apartment nearby —

ROBERT: (To Skip.) A new apartment?

3
SOPHIE: I told you he moved. In August.

ROBERT: You said he was moving. (Sophie rolls her eyes.) What, why an eye roll? I
listened! I listened to you, I know you said that he was moving because I remember
thinking, ‘why would he move, he loves his apartment’, and you do Skip, don’t you?

SKIP: I did, yeah, but I also love cheap rent and neighbors that don’t blast “Bohemian
Rhapsody” at three A.M. for their manbun-toting friends.

TARA: Jerry only had one friend with a manbun — (To the group.) His neighbor only had
one friend with a manbun, Skip is exaggerating.

ROBERT: Oh, so you two have known each other for…?

TARA: A little under a year.

CATHLEEN: That’s sweet.

ELLIS: How did you meet?
TARA: It’s funny, actually. We met —

SKIP: (Over her.) at a regular place doing regular things talking about regular topics.
Okay? Enough with the interrogation. You guys are acting like a coked-up Johnny Carson.

ROBERT: It does interest me, though, because Tara you’re — what, still in college, right?
(She nods.) And Skip is… not.

TARA: (Lightheartedly.) He acts like he is.

ROBERT: Sure, but to tie yourself down this early in life, what’s it for? Truly — the end
goal — what is it? Do you planning on marrying him, having kids? Are you happy? Are
you ever going to be?

SKIP: Christ, Robert —

ROBERT: (Righteously.) I’m only asking. What do you prioritize, traditions or happiness?

SKIP: (Slightly chuckling, really hating this so much.) Look, we talk philosophy this early
and the whole night will be shot to shit, really. I’ll need a few more drinks, anyway, if
that’s on the agenda.

ROBERT: Skip has the most fascinating dating history. Like that girl — who was the actor
girl he dated in high school?
SOPHIE: Alexandra Miles?

ROBERT: Yes, Alexandra!

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TARA: The Alexandra Miles?

SKIP: When Alex and I were dating, “the” wasn’t part of her title. She was a tomboy with
crooked teeth.

ROBERT: You two were together for three years? And now she’s living in Beverly Hills,
shooting films in London, Singapore — and you’re here. I can’t believe you broke it off.
SKIP: How was I supposed to know she’d start doing movies?

SOPHIE: I always knew she’d get into acting.

SKIP: (A snort.) No you didn’t.

SOPHIE: (Grinning.) Sure I did. She pretended like she liked you all those years.

CATHLEEN: Just think, Skip: you could’ve been a millionaire by now. Assuming Alex
had an aversion to prenups.
SOPHIE: Or married to one, at the very least.
SKIP: Okay, well, trophy husband doesn’t exactly fit my ‘brand’ — and can you guys not,
just, cross-examine me about my love life at two in the afternoon?
TARA: (Playful.) What else are we supposed to do until dinner?

SKIP: Yes! Dinner! That is a conversation I can get behind because I am starved. Tara’s
got me on this new twelve-day diet? And I mean, I love it, sweetheart, I do, but it consists
of yellow bell-peppers, quinoa, and dried kale. Occasionally some fermented dragon fruit
juice for dessert, if I’m lucky. Air would be more filling.

TARA: It isn’t that bad, but you are sugar-riddled and addicted to junk food. Practically
hopeless.

SKIP: Wow, can we please do anything else?

TARA: Fine. (Thoughtfully) What about a house tour? I’d love to see what you did with
the room upstairs, assuming you’ve renovated it. I can’t imagine you didn’t, with it being
such a perfect opportunity — a blank canvas, really.

This catches Sophie’s attention, driving the others to silence in anticipation. She
doesn’t react automatically; instead, she tries to determine exactly what her reaction
should be. Tara’s too new to know—she’s aware, but she doesn’t know.

5
SOPHIE: (Slow, sweetly.) We, um, well actually we haven’t quite finished it. The
renovation. The drywall is up, everything is preserved, but it’s really laughable how little
we’ve done in the course of a year. (Even brighter.) But, Cathleen’s an interior designer —
you knew that, right? — And Robert and I have been talking about it, thinking we could
gift it to her, maybe let her put her talent to work.
CATHLEEN: (This is news to her, good news. Great news, even.) Really?

SOPHIE: Yeah, yes of course. Right Rob?

ROBERT: Yeah, sure.

TARA: (Elated by the positive reception.) Well, great! Let’s go look at it. (She stands, tugs
on Skip’s arm.) If it’s okay with you, Robert.

ROBERT: More than okay. Let’s.

CATHLEEN: (Her husband not moving.) Honey…?
ELLIS: Yes?

CATHLEEN: Care to join us?

ELLIS: (Politely.) I doubt you need me. I’m not the interior designer.

CATHLEEN: So you’re just going to stay here?

ELLIS: Well I might venture to the kitchen, if I’m feeling ambitious.

Cathleen nods, discontented. Robert heads towards the hallway with Cathleen, Skip,
and Tara in his wake. They exit. Ellis waits until they’re out of earshot.

ELLIS: (After the group ascends.) Are you…okay?

SOPHIE: (Smiling assuredly, almost laughing.) I’m…great? Jeez, what kind of a question
is that?
ELLIS: I just — I know, with the anniversary coming up. I’m checking, that’s all.

SOPHIE: (Kind.) It’s not your job to worry about me Ellis.

ELLIS: I know, but —

SOPHIE: I’m good. Really.

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ELLIS: (Wanting to believe her.) That’s good. Really good.

SOPHIE: Do you have a cigarette?

ELLIS: I thought you quit?

SOPHIE: For Sam I did. But I still sometimes sneak them, just to combat the stress.

ELLIS: You’re stressed?

SOPHIE: No. No no no no no. Sorry, wrong wording. No. It’s having everyone together
on Thanksgiving this close to the anniversary. Skip bringing Tara over for the first time.
You, being here. Robert being Robert. I’m tense! I’m allowed to be tense, aren’t I? (Beat.)
I haven’t seen you in a while. Cathleen mentioned you got another promotion at your dad’s
company?

ELLIS: Shit, yeah, it really does sound like nepotism, doesn’t it?
SOPHIE: (Grinning.) Not if it’s a family business, they cancel each other out.
ELLIS: Explain that to my wife, please.

SOPHIE: She’s just giving you a tough time. Robert applied for a few jobs last month.
ELLIS: That’s a step in the right direction. Did he get any interviews?

SOPHIE: It was more of a recreational thing. He wants to wait until after he turns thirty to
start working. Something about a fresh start in a fresh decade?

ELLIS: That sounds like him.

SOPHIE: Are you sure your dad’s company can’t take him back?
ELLIS: You know we can’t, not with the drinking. (Sophie frowns, nods.) It’s not like we
don’t want to. He was in line to take over after dad retires, but right now, with the market
so volatile, we can’t take the risk of losing dependability.
SOPHIE: Wow, hotshot. That sentence makes me think you really did deserve the
promotion. (Beat.) Sometimes Robert can get so bitter. His moods, the mood swings, have
gotten worse. Which I expected the closer it gets to the anniversary, but it’s been almost
constant for the last month. It’s like he’s obsessed with it.

ELLIS: It?

SOPHIE: You, being the younger brother. Being more successful.

ELLIS: (Scoffing.) I’d hardly call working at our father’s company and receiving a more-
than-expected promotion — with no raise, by the way — ‘more successful’.

7
SOPHIE: (Smiling, innocent.) I’m not the one arguing. I’ve missed your self-deprecation.
Makes me feel a little more normal.

ELLIS: You are normal.

SOPHIE: (Shrugs.) Not really. (Beat.) It’s nearly been a year. A year in two days. That’s…I
can’t believe it.
ELLIS: Has Robert been difficult?

SOPHIE: He’s always difficult.

ELLIS: You know what I mean. (Soft.) I know it’s not my place to have an opinion, but it
has been sort of terrifying not seeing either of you for the last few months.

SOPHIE: We were at a low point, and we needed time.

ELLIS: Seems like the last year has been a low point.
SOPHIE: Which is why we’ve been working through it. Privately.
ELLIS: I just worry about what he’ll do.

SOPHIE: God, you talk about Robert so morbidly. He’s not a Bond villain.
ELLIS: I didn’t mean to.

SOPHIE: I know. Still, you did.

ELLIS: You know he gets impulsive under stress, and that never ended well for me as a
kid. I worry about him acting the same way with you. That’s all. I worry.
SOPHIE: You worry too much. Everyone gets impulsive under stress. After the funeral last
year, Skip bought a ticket to Hong Kong and learned to speak Cantonese on some rice farm
with a bunch of monks. It’s normal. Skip’s not. But impulses are.

SKIP: (Leaning against the hall doorframe, his arms crossed. He’s smiling.) Néih hóu. I’d
be glad to teach you, if you’d let me.

SOPHIE: (Genuinely glad to see him.) Hey. What happened to the house tour?
SKIP: Oh, it’s still marching on.

ELLIS: Just Tara and Cathleen?

SKIP: And Robert, of course. Who, if you haven’t heard them, has some captivating stories
about the benefits of steel drain piping.

8
SOPHIE: Hey, leave him alone. It’s good for him to involve himself in something
productive.

SKIP: (Laughing.) Productive? Soph, it’s banal. You can’t tell me you’re interested — or
have ever been interested — in hearing about the trials and tribulations of high voltage
lighting. He’s like the Ben Stein of HGTV.
SOPHIE: (Done with the joke.) It’s healthy for him. Lay off, please.

SKIP: Kale is healthy. Robert is boring.

SOPHIE: (Exasperated.) Skip.

ELLIS: He’s just crabby because of that diet Tara’s got him on.

SKIP: I’m just saying: I know healthy. I am being suffocated by healthy. And for you to
say that your husband burying himself in home improvements is healthy — that’s an
awfully liberal use of that word, is what that is.
ELLIS: Don’t listen to him. Who knows, you might even get an HGTV show out of it.
(Standing.) I’m going to baste the turkey. Sophie, should I wait to put Cathleen’s casserole
in, or would it be better to —

SOPHIE: I’d wait for her, I don’t know what needs to be done with it.
ELLIS: Right, yeah, of course. (He turns and exits. The siblings watch him, independently.)

SKIP: (After a moment.) He and Cathleen seem good.

SOPHIE: (Still somewhat fixated on the door.) Yeah, they do, don’t they.

SKIP: And you and Robert…?

SOPHIE: Are good. We’re good.

SKIP: (He watches her. Squints.) You seem. God, how do the kids put it these days?
Happy?

SOPHIE: (Laughing.) Is that what they’re calling it now? (Beat. Serious.) I am. There are
ups, and downs, but I’m working at it. Trying to learn optimism, do yoga, be mindful,
create balance. All the junk they tell you about in magazines.

SKIP: And the therapy?

SOPHIE: We’re not doing that anymore.

SKIP: Why not?

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SOPHIE: (Shrugging.) Didn’t seem like there was a point in going after Robert stopped
showing up. (Skip is deterred by this. Looking to fill the silence.) But, Tara’s a total
knockout. What does the girl have, ten percent body fat? She’s way out of your league, by
the way.

SKIP: (Coy.) Most girls are. But thank you, I might’ve broken it off with her had it not
been for that Candace-toned stamp of approval.

SOPHIE: (Laughing.) Oh, god, no! You cannot start comparing me to Mom!
SKIP: Why not? You’re acting just like her! About Tara, about my love life — hell, even
your hair is styled like hers! (Facetiously horrified.) Face it; we’re both slowly morphing
into Candace Saunter, one bad decision at a time.

SOPHIE: Okay, one: I got this haircut for a discount, something Mom would never admit
to, and two: the whole, children-turning-into-their-parents cliché is SO dated! And not
applicable to me at all. I haven’t seen her in over half a decade. It’s hard to turn into
someone you haven’t seen.
SKIP: So what? You still ask about them and read her Christmas letters, right? You might
be away from Mom physically, but you’re still connected. Aware of what she’s doing. It’s
your subconscious, screwing you over.

SOPHIE: Okay, Plato, sure. If we’re speaking in the metaphysical realm. (Beat. Softer.)
Have you heard from them since the stroke?

SKIP: (Not really wanting to get into this.) I mean, yeah, at some point. I couldn’t tell you
when exactly —
SOPHIE: How are they?

SKIP: Good, I guess. Fine. Candace just finished remodeling the downstairs bathroom. (A
devilish smile.) And she still hates that I call her Candace.
SOPHIE: And dad?

SKIP: (Dragging the bit on.) Charles, you mean?

SOPHIE: I’m serious.

SKIP: He’s doing better. Recovered a lot faster than what the nurses predicted, but I think
that was more to get mom to stop nagging about the hospital food. Aunt Gene is staying
with them, making sure they stay away from each other’s throats. (She smiles, somewhat
wistful, and nods. It’s his green light; he eases into it.) You can call them too, you know.
SOPHIE: (Shifting back.) Like hell I can. If I called them all Brady-Bunch-bound it would
cripple me. Fundamentally.

10
SKIP: Fundamentally? Please tell me you can hear how insanely pretentious that sounded.

SOPHIE: I don’t care. I’ve thought about it a thousand times, all the possible outcomes,
and every single one is abysmal. They refuse to speak to me, I’m crushed. They speak to
me, make me relive the horrors of the last year, the last five years, actually, and I’m
crushed. There isn’t a point in trying.
SKIP: OR you talk and begin rekindling a relationship full of mutual support and
communication so your very generous and very annoyed brother no longer has to act as the
middleman.

SOPHIE: I don’t want to, Skip.

SKIP: (Sympathetically; he knows she misses them.) They miss you.

SOPHIE: They should’ve thought about that before kicking me out.

SKIP: That was five years ago, Soph.
SOPHIE: Like I don’t know that? They didn’t even have a reason.

SKIP: You know their reason. You were a controversy, and Candace had already vowed
her soul to the D.A.R.

SOPHIE: I was not a controversy.

SKIP: Sophie. Rob was twenty-five, you were hardly eighteen. Still in high school. They
make Lifetime movies about that shit. (This doesn’t go over well. He continues, cheerier.)
It’s not entirely their fault, though — foresight isn’t in our family’s blood. If it was, I never
would’ve broken it off with Alexandra Miles.
SOPHIE: (Laughing.) Stop. I like Tara, seriously. You finally found someone who loves
jogging as much as you love sitting.
SKIP: I like jogging!

SOPHIE: You like the reward she gives you for jogging. Big difference. (Beat.) Have you
told her about what happened? Not that we really talk about it, or ever will with her around,
but I don’t want to bring up anything that could put her in an awkward position.

SKIP: (Not a fan of where the conversation is headed.) I’ve given her the abridged version,
yeah. I’d really prefer not to scare her off with your MTV-worthy history and Robert’s
altar-boy-turned-adulterer chronicle, though. Not this early, at least.

SOPHIE: (Jokingly.) Ah, maybe you should indulge her in our family history for your six-
month anniversary. Make it a surprise.

11
SKIP: Right, and then introduce her to Candace and Charles to celebrate our one-year.
(Sophie laughs. After a moment, delicately.) Are you taking your meds, Soph?

SOPHIE: (Her smile fades. Insulted.) Wow, that took a turn.

SKIP: It’s just, you were this smile-y last time you went off them, and it turned you a little
suicidal and a lot nihilistic. You didn’t shower for weeks. Not a good look on you. (More
seriously.) The anniversary is in two days. I just — I wanna make sure.

SOPHIE: You never used to worry about me like this, when we were kids.
SKIP: Because I didn’t have to! Me at twelve looking out for you as a ten-year-old was a
nightmare — you did everything better than me, you were smarter, you dialed the phone
faster, you had the entire emergency contact list memorized —

SOPHIE: The only numbers on that list were Mom’s and nine-one-one.
SKIP: (Smiling.) And as a kid, I didn’t know that! (Takes a breath. Candidly.) Look, all I
want for you is to be, like, happy and living in the world again. So anything I can do to
help you, I’m going to do.
SOPHIE: (Kind, but stern. Much older than him, though she’s not.) Skip. I have been
handling myself — by myself — since I was eighteen. And you’ve been there for me at so
many points, done things that I will never be able to repay you for, but you need to realize
that there comes a point where you’ve done enough.

SKIP: Sophie —

SOPHIE: (Shutting this down.) You have to live your own life. And with Tara, and your
new apartment, the dog…you’re doing that. And I’m so happy you’re doing that. Things
have been hard, sure, but I’m managing them — I have been — and so has Robert. We’re
self-sufficient. It’s not your job to worry about me, okay? Stop trying to convince yourself
otherwise. (A little lighter, a smirk.) It’s kind of annoying.

Sophie squeezes his hand and leaves to the kitchen. Skip seems shaken by her cheery
exterior — something is off. As she exits, he sighs.

SKIP: (To the sky, the room, himself.) Lord be with us.

CATHLEEN: (In the hallway doorframe.) I didn’t know you prayed.

SKIP: Jesus, you are the queen of jump-scares. Christ. No. I don’t. I was speaking
metaphorically.

12
CATHLEEN: You think he’s listening?

SKIP: You assume God is a he? That’s not very feminist of you.

CATHLEEN: Force of habit, thanks to Ellis’s mother. I tried to impress her for years with
that old testament gimmick. That woman beat me into compliance with bible verses and
church bake sales, and she still refused to give us her blessing.
SKIP: (Flat.) Well at least you don’t hold a grudge.

CATHLEEN: (Continuing.) It took me three years of convincing, three goddam years of

waking up at six a.m. on Sundays and dressing piously, and she still chose a gravestone
over another daughter-in-law.

SKIP: I don’t know. If I was faced with the choice of heaven or eternal church mornings
with you, I’d have opted for death too.
CATHLEEN: Oh, how I’ve looked forward to this annual banter.
SKIP: (Cheeky.) Hate you right back. You know, if you’d gotten knocked up, you would’ve
gotten Janine’s blessing in three weeks.
CATHLEEN: Nothing like your wit to kill a room.

SKIP: Nothing like your perfume to clear one out.

CATHLEEN: (Smiling unpleasantly.) Gotta love the holidays. (She pours two drinks, one
for herself and one for Skip.) I need to get drunk. I have tried these family dinners sober,
and all it does is make the night longer and the people ruder. That’s all sobriety is, though.
Endless nights and terrible people. It doesn’t just apply to your sister and my brother-in-
law.

SKIP: They’ve behaved themselves so far.

CATHLEEN: You’re kidding, right? Sophie and Rob are tiptoeing around each other like
it’s the Cold War and everyone’s loaded down with thermonuclear weapons of mass
destruction. We’re on thin ice, and it’s cracking. Hence: a drink. (She hands him the drink.)

SKIP: Didn’t expect you to be so Jekyll and Hyde tonight. You looked like you were
enjoying yourself up till now, interrogating my girlfriend and listening to Robert’s spackle-
versus-plaster TedTalk.

CATHLEEN: Oh, lord, right?! What WAS that? I have never, in my life, met someone that
can literally talk about paint drying on a wall for ten minutes straight. And I studied interior
design!
SKIP: Glad I missed that part. I cannot wait to see what you working for him looks like.

13
CATHLEEN: Please. Your sister isn’t letting me near Sam’s room. It’s all part of her
tiptoeing.

SKIP: I thought the offer seemed genuine.

CATHLEEN: The offer was to cover her tracks. You think she’s actually stable enough to
renovate his bedroom into a home gym or office or that godforsaken mancave Rob’s been
bitching about?

SKIP: I think she’s stable enough to try.

CATHLEEN: Right, sure. Of course you do. (Suddenly agitated.) You know, just because
you started acting like you gave two shits about Sophie this last year doesn’t mean you’re
entitled to diagnose her. That’s what her therapists are for. They’re supposed to help her
work through all these deep-seeded regressions, so we don’t have to.
SKIP: (Smiling, maybe, but not friendly.) One: don’t really need an explanation on what a
therapist does, two: there isn’t a ‘we’ helping her, you are doing literally nothing, and three:
I’ve known my sister a hell of a lot longer and better than you. Your relationship with
Sophie is by association, and I’m pretty sure you’d opt out if you could. Bi-monthly
babysitting and holiday dinners as per your husband’s request don’t allow you an opinion
on this one. Sorry.

CATHLEEN: Skip, you showed up just as much as I did before Sam died. Do you know
how many times Rob called Ellis in the middle of the night when things were bad?
Screaming, drunk, about what a disaster their life was? Because I do, I listened to my
husband listen to it again and again and again. We were both only here by association for
years. It’s not your fault for waiting until Sam died to try not to be.

SKIP: Waiting? Waiting. (He laughs.) Yeah, I was waiting, right, how could I forget?
(Beat.) I bought Sophie the pregnancy test because she didn’t have a car. I comforted her
when she was a sobbing mess in a gas station bathroom. Do you realize she slept on my
dorm room floor when our parents kicked her out, and then when we got caught, I took out
two cards to rent her an apartment? My credit went to shit. Then Sophie latched onto Rob,
and she blocked me out. She thought she could do everything on her own, so she did. But
we have a history that you can’t understand, Cathy. Sophie and I are bound by blood. So
when Sam died, when my sister reached out? I was there.
CATHLEEN: (A contemplative beat.) Well, don’t feel too special. She’s reached out
farther than just you.

SKIP: Excuse me?

CATHLEEN: Where’s Sophie right now?

SKIP: Not sure. The tracker I have on her just ran out of battery. (Cathleen is unimpressed.)
She’s helping Ellis with dinner.
14
CATHLEEN: (Unpleasant, inebriated.) How fun. It’s like they’re running their own
chopped kitchen. Ellis and I used to cook together all the time, too. We even took a class
at one point, but he burned everything in sight, and I was a vegan. Not a great combination.
I was a vegan for six years, actually, before his pope-riled mother forced me to give it up
for lent.
SKIP: You should’ve given up Catholicism instead.

CATHLEEN: Okay, fine, here’s a question: is Tara someone serious?

SKIP: No, she knows some good jokes. (Once again, unimpressed.) Honestly? What does
it take with you? I mean, yeah, I guess, we’re exclusive.

CATHLEEN: How would you feel if she started spending a lot of time with her brother-
in-law?
SKIP: She’s an only child, so, confused, probably.
CATHLEEN: Fine, a man from work then.

SKIP: From St. Mary’s Behavioral Health Hospital? Yeah, I have a lot of competition
there. It is a daily struggle.

CATHLEEN: You can’t take anything seriously. That’s what it’s like for people who’ve
had everything easy their whole lives. They don’t understand things in depth.

SKIP: (Deeply curious.) And what don’t I understand in depth, since you’re such the
dissociated artiste tonight?

CATHLEEN: Promises. What it feels like when your partner breaks those promises.
SKIP: (A short beat.) I’ve gotten hurt by broken promises and, if I’m catching your
ambiguities, a cheater, before, actually. I feel like that doesn’t help your silver spoon
argument, so I won’t mention it again — but do you really wanna have a therapy session?
I’m here to listen, for sure, but you should know I like to gossip about my clients. More
fun for me that way.

CATHLEEN: Don’t take offense to this, but you’re literally the last person in the world I
would seek out for advice.
SKIP: Good. I don’t like taking your side and I’m not maternal enough to have pity on you,
so you’re out of luck either way.

CATHLEEN: (Biting.) Hah! (Lifting her glass, cheering him.) I’ll drink to that.

Blackout.
15
 Act I

Scene 2

Some hours have passed.

Cathleen is sitting on the couch with a glass of wine. Ellis is next to her, swirling a
glass of whiskey. Skip enters with Tara behind him, both on edge — she’s carrying
the last of the discarded Thanksgiving plates. She goes straight to the kitchen; he
eases into an arm chair. Sighs. Rubs his eyes, willing away a tension headache.

CATHLEEN: (After a moment of sore silence, to Ellis.) Are you going to talk to him?
ELLIS: Not right now.
CATHLEEN: He’s your brother.

ELLIS: I’m not interrupting whatever argument he and Sophie are having.
CATHLEEN: I just think it might be helpful if you—

SKIP: (Irritated, still rubbing his temples.) Cathleen, trust me — you don’t want Ellis to
interfere.

CATHLEEN: (Beat.) All I wanted was an enjoyable, simple Thanksgiving. A turkey with
some carrot potatoes and squash soup, maybe an apple pie — that’s normal, isn’t it?
SKIP: Not in this family.

CATHLEEN: You’re right. Apparently, what’s normal in this family is toasting the death
of a child right after the appetizers. What’s normal is Robert and Sophie making every
second of these dinners fucking insufferable.

ELLIS: Maybe it’s best to take a break from the chardonnay.

CATHLEEN: (Ignoring him.) We should’ve gone to my parent’s house. Or travelled, gone
to the west coast. I miss Oregon, Oregon would’ve been nice. They only live a few miles
away, you know. We can probably make it in time for dessert.
ELLIS: If we leave now this night will turn into a full-blown war.

16
SKIP: No, it won’t. Jesus. Can we talk about something else? Avoiding politics, religion,
and my sister’s marriage, preferably, if you both can help it. We’re adults. Please.

ELLIS: (A few moments of reflection.) She seemed good, didn’t she? I thought things were
better — that’s what Sophie told me, that things were better.

SKIP: (Amazed.) All right. Guess not. (He stands, walks to the liquor cart. Pours himself
a generous scotch.) She’s never been open about her marriage, at least not with me. Things
have probably been bad for god knows how long — and Robert is drinking again.

His words are met with silence. Cathleen takes a gulp of chardonnay, while Ellis
stares, dumbfounded. Skip continues.

SKIP: I looked during the house tour. He has liquor stored in the medicine cabinet and his
dresser. Probably other places, too, if I had time to check — which explains why he was
so manic earlier. So agitated by everything. Why he said the things he did at dinner.
ELLIS: And what about Sophie?

SKIP: I honestly don’t know. She’s aware of his relapse, I think, but she would never say
so, especially with the anniversary this close.

CATHLEEN: You should go talk to her, Skip.

SKIP: (Wry.) Thanks for the input.

CATHLEEN: She probably feels isolated right now, and I think it’s important for you to
show her she’s not.

SKIP: There’s a pretty big difference between having your own experiences and having
your own input on everyone else’s, Cathy.

CATHLEEN: Fine. Fine. If you want to be here by association, go right ahead.

TARA: (Entering from the kitchen, drying her hands with a dishtowel.) I have everything
washed and put away. Except for the serving platter, I couldn’t find where that goes. (She
goes to Skip, looks at the hallway entrance.) What do you think they’re talking about?
ELLIS: Robert’s toast, probably.

TARA: I was gonna say — does that sort of thing usually happen? For him, or, like, I don’t
know, my family can get a little crazy too, I guess, I’m not trying to judge, but to make a
toast like that —

17
CATHLEEN: Tara, honey, could you give us a minute?

SKIP: (Caustic.) Hey, Cathleen, honey? Could you —

TARA: (Quick, wanting to get out of here.) No, no, she’s right. It’s fine, really. I should
get going anyway. I’ll call a cab, okay? (He tries to put up a fight, but she kisses him and
goes to the door. Putting her coat on.) It was nice meeting you both. Skip, I’ll see you
tomorrow? Lunch at Marotta’s?

SKIP: (Reluctant.) Yeah, okay.

TARA: Dinner was really great. Thanks for — this. Tell Sophie I say thank you. Happy
Thanksgiving. (She leaves.)

SKIP: (To Cathleen.) Well thank you, for that. You’re a joy, as always.

CATHLEEN: (Another sip of wine.) I’m having more fun than anyone. Who would’ve
guessed you bringing your child bride over would derail the whole night?
SKIP: What is it you’re doing right now? — Like, are you consciously trying to make this
night worse? You can’t actually blame me or Tara for that shit-show. I gave her a
condensed warning before we came, the on-and-off-limits, what else should I have said?
When you and Ellis started dating — Ellis, did you expand upon the attics full of baggage
Robert has?

ELLIS: No, not really —

SKIP: Exactly! I told her — this is what I said, I said, “Tara, you should be aware, Sophie
and Robert lost their son last year. And they’ve been through therapy — things are fine,
but try to avoid any stressful subjects.” (Beat. Crochety.) So, no, I wouldn’t blame us.
CATHLEEN: And Sam’s room? “A blank slate”? You don’t think that triggered him?
Either of them?

SKIP: I told her about the fire when I met her. She didn’t know it was why Sam died.
CATHLEEN: Well. Then yes, I do think both of you are partly to blame. She’s sweet, but
she isn’t the brightest girl I’ve seen you with. A good relationship has to have
communication —
SKIP: You wanna lecture me about my relationship? That’s rich.

ELLIS: Watch it, Skip.

SOPHIE: (Standing in the hallway door frame. Mascara stains her cheeks, her eyes are
red. A contritely comedic tone.) Wow. It takes a lot of talent to spoil an entire night —
maybe I should win an award. (Beat. What do you say to that?) We have some dessert in
the fridge, if anyone’s still hungry.
18
CATHLEEN: (Kind, but demeaning.) Oh honey, after that dinner, I don’t think anyone is.

SKIP: Unless you’ve recently developed a knack for telepathy, that’s unbelievably
presumptuous of you. (To Sophie.) I’d love some pie, if you have it.

SOPHIE: (Nodding, wanting a distraction.) Coffee?

SKIP: Black. Please.

ELLIS: Sophie, let Cathleen and me get it. You can sit down. Would you like some tea?
Or…I don’t know, anything?
CATHLEEN: I doubt she does.

SOPHIE: Tea would be great. Thank you.

Ellis smiles, kindly. Cathleen tries to hide a grimace. Both exit to the kitchen.

SKIP: That was enjoyable. You look great, by the way. Very sniffling-spouse chic.

SOPHIE: I’ve had better days.

SKIP: Lucky you.

SOPHIE: Lucky me?

SKIP: Yeah. You invited them, Soph. I warned you, but you had to try and win everyone’s
approval.

SOPHIE: Just because someone hosts a family dinner doesn’t mean they’re trying to win
approval, Skip.

SKIP: Oh, but in your case it does. You’ve always been desperate for everyone to like you
enough to love you.

SOPHIE: That doesn’t make sense.

SKIP: (Too tired for this.) Yeah, it does actually, but you’d have to read eleven self-help
books and take two psychiatric vacations to understand it, and I don’t like giving crash
courses.
SOPHIE: Eleven self-help books?

SKIP: The only eleven books I’ve ever read.

19
SOPHIE: Were they good, at least?

SKIP: Self-Hell. The name itself is a near-rhyming oxymoron created by writer rejects
from Hallmark who target the lonely and repressed. So, no.

SOPHIE: I should’ve expected Robert’s flare-up. He’s been on edge for the last couple
weeks. But I thought the holiday might help cheer him up? I don’t know.
SKIP: If you’re referring to your husband’s toast, I’d opt for ‘fiery explosion of doom’, but
flare-up works too.
SOPHIE: (Suddenly irritated.) I don’t need that from you right now.

SKIP: (Beat.) Well. If it’s any consolation —

SOPHIE: Please, no more jokes. I’m not in the mood.

SKIP: Oh. (Beat.) I’m sorry?

SOPHIE: I hate when people say that.
SKIP: Well what should I say?

SOHPIE: Something else.

SKIP: (He doesn’t know how to break through to her.) I’m here to support you — or help
you sort through whatever is going on in there (Her head.) — but to do that, you need to
talk to me.

SOPHIE: (Acerbic, à la her brother.) What should I say?

SKIP: (Flat.) Glad to see you still have your sense of humor.
SOPHIE: (Aware of her own projection.) Sorry. Did Tara leave?

SKIP: Yeah. She’s working an early shift at the hospital, don’t worry about it. (Beat.) Are
you…I don’t know, all right?
SOPHIE: (Repentant.) I wasn’t expecting him to…I don’t know what I was expecting. For
him to say that — that he’s grateful Sam died — what kind of a person says that? On
Thanksgiving, in front of everyone? (Skip is quiet to this.) It’s always been like this, he’s
never been openly plaintive, but to say that. (She considers it. Beat.) He didn’t cry.

SKIP: What?
SOPHIE: At the funeral last year. I don’t think he cried at all. I can’t remember Robert
crying over Sam’s death ever.

SKIP: That doesn’t surprise me.

20
SOPHIE: (Tersely.) What’s that supposed to mean?

SKIP: (Delicate.) He’s not the most expressive person I’ve met.

SOHPIE: But why’d you say it like that?

SKIP: Like what?

SOPHIE: Like how you said it.

SKIP: (Derisive.) Wow, that’s helpful, thanks.

SOPHIE: You know what I mean.

SKIP: Do you really want to get into this right now?

SOPHIE: I want to know what you meant.

SKIP: Fine. (Warily.) If you want the truth, to me — and this is solely my opinion —
Robert never seemed affected by Sam’s death.
SOPHIE: (Bewildered.) Are you serious?
SKIP: You asked. Really, Soph, you can’t genuinely tell me that something hasn’t seemed
off with him.
SOPHIE: Well, recently, maybe, but it’s because of the anniversary. The same with right
after Sam died, Robert was mourning. Everyone was acting different. You dropped off the
map for three weeks, I couldn’t contact you — you’re one to criticize.

SKIP: Not just recently, from the beginning. Since the marriage, since Sam. (Grave.) He
isn’t the person you thought he was.
SOPHIE: (Relatively cross.) Wow. Glad I’ve got you here to inform me.

SKIP: (Cautioning.) Hey. I’ve been the one there with you from the beginning. And what
you described him as when you first met, before you even knew about Sam, that is not the
person he’s been since — the person I’ve known. You can’t tell me you don’t see that.

SOPHIE: I don’t want to talk about this right now. I love you — I do — but I can’t deal
with your petty grievances today.

SKIP: I’m serious, Sophie. (Attempting to reason with her.) Yes, I’ve never liked Robert
— you’re well aware, I know — but maybe you should consider that I could actually be
on to something here. Rob was sleeping on a futon and eating ramen when you got
pregnant, he didn’t want a kid! Five years down the road I really don’t think that’s changed.
(Circling back.) So, no — it doesn’t surprise me that he didn’t cry.

21
SOPHIE: (Knowingly.) People grieve differently, Skip.

SKIP: (An angry smile.) Why are you still endorsing him? You were against him thirty
seconds ago!

SOPHIE: Because! I know what Robert is going through. There are complexities to
marriage (This earns an eye roll from Skip.) — things you can’t understand, or even begin
to imagine — unless you’ve been through them with someone. Unless you’ve been
married. It’s different when you attack him. I feel like I’m betraying my marriage if I listen
to you insult him and agree. I know Robert, and even if it isn’t acceptable in your mind, if
this is the coping mechanism he needs it’s my duty to accept that.

SKIP: (Hysterical, worn-out.) Oh dear god, your duty?

SOPHIE: Yes! My duty.

Seconds pass. The siblings stare at each other. As her words settle, Skip eases out of
the tension and cracks an entertained smile at the word ‘duty’. Chuckles.
Comfortable in the sort of way siblings are when they’re offering surrender.

SKIP: It is a big duty, isn’t it?

SOPHIE: (Still crying, but glad for the shift of energy.) Are you serious? I’m, like, really
upset right now. Stop being such a kid.

SKIP: Stop being such an adult.

SOPHIE: Oh, get laid.

SKIP: Don’t worry, I have been. Pretty frequently.

SOPHIE: Gross. (Skip grins.) It’s just hard to manage sometimes. I didn’t mean to project
onto you.

SKIP: Yeah, yeah, all’s forgiven. You seriously need to learn how to cope without
attempted murder, though. Find some healthy methods, like me.

SOPHIE: You have healthy coping methods? Porn and liquor don’t count.

SKIP: (Producing a baggie of weed from his pocket, dangling it with pride.) I know that.
Gonna roll a joint. (He proceeds to do so, expertly.) I really do have healthy coping
methods. I socialize. Tara’s been making me socialize.

SOPHIE: Socializing isn’t coping. It’s repressing.

22
SKIP: (Still focusing on the joint.) Listen to you! Psychologist of the year. I’m pretty sure
I actually read that exact line in self-help book number seven. Credit the author next time,
k?

SOPHIE: I’m just worried that you’re not doing enough. I get that it’s easy to live off the
trust-fund that I was so graciously barred from, but you need to do something to occupy
your time. You’ve got a bachelor’s and a master’s; get a full-time job. Or a hobby, or
volunteer, do literally anything that doesn’t involve refereeing my marriage.
SKIP: (Friendly, appalled.) The ego! I do things, Sophie. Lots of things, actually, that don’t
involve you. I read loads of books. I’ve annotated Infinite Jest three times and wrote a
dissertation on Nicomachean Ethics that I refuse to publish. I even teach English to Chinese
immigrants every other Thursday. Just because I’m private with how I’m putting my
Columbia-Cornell education to work doesn’t mean I’m a lost cause. I mean, Christ, you
really think you know everything about me, don’t you?

SOPHIE: Not everything. I didn’t know any of that.

SKIP: Yeah. Well. There’s a lot you don’t know. Diets I’ve tried, relationships I’ve had.
Diets I’ve tried because of relationships I’ve had. (Kinder.) But that’s okay, because I’d
rather me know those things about you than vice versa. There’s not enough time in my very
busy schedule to have it both ways. Alas, c’est la vie. Voila. (He proudly holds up his joint.
She smiles. This is familiar.)

SOPHIE: You speak French now too?

SKIP: (Lighting it.) Si. You want some?

SOPHIE: No, god no. Last time I smoked I had the worst trip of my life.

SKIP: A trip? Where’d you go? Where’s my souvenir?

SOPHIE: (Teasingly, pouring herself a scotch.) Ha-ha. (Beat.) Ellis gave me some right
after Sam’s funeral. It freaked me out, being so relaxed during the worst time of my life.
I’ve got no interest in doing it again.

SKIP: Right, because relaxing would be the worst thing right now.

Ellis enters through the kitchen door holding Skip’s coffee and Sophie’s tea.
Cathleen enters after, carrying a slice of pie.

CATHLEEN: Why does it smell like a skunk took a bath in here?

SKIP: (Blatantly holding the joint. Flat, sly.) Sophie’s smoking pot.
23
CATHLEEN: Good lord, Skip, would you please put that out? I don’t want a second-hand
high.

SKIP: You sure? You could use it.

CATHLEEN: Shouldn’t you be getting home to babysit your girlfriend?

SKIP: She’s twenty.

CATHLEEN: Please. I have t-shirts older than her.

SKIP: Well, that’s on you for thinking that shopping at the Goodwill is ‘thrifting’.
CATHLEEN: Unlike Tara, I actually know what the Goodwill is.

SKIP: (Standing, gathering his things.) Okay, that’s enough holiday cheer for tonight.
Soph, thanks for putting up with us. I’ll see you Saturday. Happy Thanksgiving. (He exits.)

CATHLEEN: Tonight was lovely, really. Quite memorable.

SOPHIE: Nothing beats your compliments, Cathleen.
CATHLEEN: And nothing beats your dinner theaters. (Sophie gazes at her, provoked.)
Ellis and I should get going, though.
SOPHIE: Did you have too much fun or too much wine?

CATHLEEN: (Snapping.) You don’t have to be such a bitch, Sophie.

ELLIS: Cathleen.

CATHLEEN: What? Someone has to say it. She’s as bad as her brother. (Turning to
Sophie.) In case you didn’t catch that, you’re being a —
ELLIS: Cathleen! Stop it!

CATHLEEN: Why are you always defending her?

ELLIS: Because you’re always attacking —

SOPHIE: I shouldn’t have — I should leave you two. To talk, or —

CATHLEEN: No. You stay. In fact, you both stay. (She walks to the door, puts on her coat,
grabs her purse.) I’ll be in the car. Sixty seconds, and then I’m leaving.

Ellis stands to say something, but she exits before he has the chance. Sophie watches
where Cathleen was standing, intently. Contritely smiles.
24
SOPHIE: If your wife does anything exceptionally well, it’s setting ultimatums.

ELLIS: Yeah. (Beat. Not moving.) I should — I need to go.

SOPHIE: (Sympathetic, sad.) Yeah, yeah, of course you do.

ELLIS: Yeah. Happy Thanksgiving, Sophie. The dinner was delicious.

SOPHIE: I’m glad. To you too. (Beat. He’s almost out the door.) Ellis — I’m sorry about
tonight. About Robert’s toast, and for inviting you to come when I knew it would be…I’m
just. Sorry.

ELLIS: (Maybe smiling, sly, but sincere.) I hate when people say that.

Sophie watches him go, then digs out a hidden pill bottle. Dumps two into her palm.
Considers them for a moment, then drops them back into the bottle. Robert enters
carrying an empty box.

ROBERT: Everyone left?

SOPHIE: Everyone was mortified. And then they left.

ROBERT: Are you supposed to be drinking with the antidepressants?

SOPHIE: Only with a gin chaser. (He frowns. Begins placing Sam’s photos in the box.)
You have to put his photos away?
ROBERT: We had them out for Thanksgiving. That was the deal. Bring the photos out, put
the liquor away. Continue your façade.

SOPHIE: Right. So glad that worked. Maybe you’ll earn a nomination for your brilliant
performance.

ROBERT: Don’t start with me. It was your idea to invite everyone over. So desperate to
convince them that the therapy worked. I’m sober, you’re sane, we’re all a happy, childless
family.

SOPHIE: Jesus Christ. He’s your son.

ROBERT: Was. Was, my son.
SOPHIE: What is with you and making a point about the past-tense?

25
ROBERT: (Fixing himself a scotch.) I’m not going to talk about him like he’s still alive.
Really, Sophie. It’s sick, to continue this mirage you’ve created. He’s not here. Okay? You
need to wake up.

SOPHIE: So, remembering my child — that’s sick?

ROBERT: That’s not what I — I didn’t say that, did I? (Beat.) What do you want from me?
SOPHIE: Nothing. I just wish you wouldn’t drink so much.

ROBERT: (A drink of scotch.) And I wish you wouldn’t be such a fucking nag. Wishes
don’t do shit.

More silence. Sophie builds herself up before replying.

SOPHIE: It’s going to be a year, in two days. A whole year, and not once in the last twelve
months have you and I been — I mean, really been — husband and wife. Actually,
definitely, it’s been longer than that, but — in your defense — I only started noticing after
the fire. (She contritely smiles.) Maybe I should call Guinness, see if we qualify for a world
record.
ROBERT: (Slightly inebriated.) You’re really not going to drop this, are you?

SOPHIE: Not tonight. Not after your toast.

ROBERT: Wonderful.

SOPHIE: When did we turn into this, Rob? We didn’t use to be like this, not in the
beginning.

ROBERT: We were always like this.

SOPHIE: No, we never fought like we do now. We never bickered.

ROBERT: We always bickered.

SOPHIE: (Watching him curiously.) I just…really, I still can’t wrap my head around why
you refuse to talk about it. You can’t even bear to keep the photos of him — the tenacity it
takes to avoid something so palpable, for an entire year? (A derisive scoff.) Imagine if you’d
applied that persistence to something useful, like finding a job.
ROBERT: (So tired of this shit.) Seriously? That’s nothing, in the scope of things, really.
Can you not — are you incapable of dropping that?

26
SOPHIE: About as incapable as you are of staying employed.

ROBERT: With your constant bitching I’m just as floored as you that I haven’t found one,
just to shut you up.

SOPHIE: You say that like we talk to each other.

ROBERT: Is there a reason for us to?

SOPHIE: So what was the point of the therapy? The AA meetings?

ROBERT: What was the point of getting prescription meds if you’re not going to take
them?

SOPHIE: Says the alcoholic shut-in.

ROBERT: (Smiling contritely.) We’re really unpacking it all this evening, huh?

SOPHIE: What? Getting angry?

ROBERT: I’m not angry.
SOPHIE: Sure you are. You’re always angry.

ROBERT: For Christ’s sake — I’m not angry —

SOPHIE: (Snapping.) Well I am. I dread this. I can say that I really, honestly dread this so
much. Every time we do this —
ROBERT: Let’s not do it then!

SOPHIE: Wouldn’t you love that. No. You can’t make some morbid toast about our son,
his death, and then pretend like it didn’t happen. (Beat. Softer.) I need to talk about him,
Rob. I can feel myself forgetting. (Robert is quiet to this.) Everywhere I look there are
reminders of — I keep thinking about what’s left of him — the life he lived. So much of
him burned in the fire.
ROBERT: I know. (Gentle, maybe even a gesture of consolidation.) I think about it a lot.

SOPHIE: (Pulling away.) Well, you could’ve fooled me.

ROBERT: Excuse me?

SOPHIE: You act like — like Sam’s some sort of a distant memory, a bad dream you had.
And then the second you do open up it’s in the form of some drunken tirade, in front of our
guests, saying how happy you are that he died — you can’t play the good guy right now,
right after you tried to assassinate me during dinner!

ROBERT: (Provoked.) “Assassinate” you? That’s great. That’s fantastic.

27
SOPHIE: And what would you call it? I mean what were you trying to do to me in there?

ROBERT: Not everything is about you, Sophie!

SOPHIE: Tell me what it’s about, then — talk to me!

ROBERT: Maybe the reason I don’t like talking to you is because every time we have a
conversation about Sam — about us — you make it seem like I should be in prison.
SOPHIE: (Surprised, repulsed.) I never said that. I never accused you of that.

ROBERT: You think I can’t tell? I can hear it in the way you talk about it, like it’s my
fault. We’re married, Sophie. Husband and wife, for better or for worse, that is what you
promised me. I love you, but every time I try to open up you twist what happened into
some manipulative, calculated blame-game.

SOPHIE: (Innocent, defensive.) I just want to know that I’m not alone in this.
ROBERT: See — this — this is what you do, you play the victim.
SOPHIE: I’m not playing the victim!

ROBERT: Oh, bullshit. You thrive in the fact that you weren’t here when it happened. It
was me who left the stove on, me who couldn’t get to him in time. You love that we don’t
share the blame.

SOPHIE: You think I don’t feel guilty? I wasn’t here when Sam needed me, I was gone on
some selfish weekend away — I know that I’m somewhat culpable, but —
ROBERT: But what? But it was less your fault, right? You’ll never admit it, you’re too
conceited to admit it, but you sit here every day, and you agonize over all the things I did
wrong. If I hadn’t left the stove on, if I hadn’t forgotten to replace the smoke detector’s
batteries —
SOPHIE: (Trying to stop him.) I never said that! —

ROBERT: (Over her.) — if I hadn’t insisted we move into Mom’s house instead of selling
it, if I hadn’t done a million goddamn things our son wouldn’t be dead. That’s what you
think, right? RIGHT?

SOPHIE: (An uproar.) You didn’t even try! His room is directly above the kitchen —
ROBERT: I barely got out alive, what did you want me to do?

SOPHIE: (Through tears.) Act selfless, for once in your life! He was four — he needed
you —

28
 As she says this, Robert grabs Sophie by her wrist and violently yanks her toward
him. She tears her arm away and, almost instinctively, slaps him. He doesn’t react.

SOPHIE: (Through her teeth. Deliberate.) You. Are. A. Coward.

Robert takes a fast, menacing step forward, standing almost directly over Sophie.
He stares down at her, she holds the eye contact. She laughs, angrily. Unafraid.

SOPHIE: What are you going to do? Hit me? (Beat.) Because you love me, right? Because
we’re husband and wife? For better or for worse. (Gritty.) My façade? (Beat.) Fuck you.

Blackout.

29
 Act II

Scene 1

Robert and Sophie Stone’s living room, the first anniversary of their son’s death.
Two days after Thanksgiving.

It’s early morning. There are no brightly assorted appetizers, in fact the room looks
all together more somber. Greyer. Next to Sam’s urn rests a bouquet of flowers
brought by Ellis. He and Sophie are mid-conversation. Sophie is chirpier, the
chirpiest we’ve seen her, actually, more relaxed. Sophie has just lit a cigarette.

SOPHIE: (Coughing a little.) No, really, Robert has been fine. There are fights of course
— there always are — and they got worse the closer it got to today, but it’s been fine.

ELLIS: (Watchful.) Did he hit you?

SOPHIE: No, no, god no, nothing like that. Jesus. It’s the same as always.

ELLIS: Which is why I’m going to ask again, did he hit you?

SOPHIE: Ellis, no. Stop.

ELLIS: He shouldn’t treat you like that.

SOPHIE: Yeah, well. Chivalry fell on its sword a long time ago.
ELLIS: You can’t keep living like this.

SOPHIE: (Indifferent.) A marriage has a disaster, every now and then.

ELLIS: No, a marriage has ups and downs.

SOPHIE: (Insistent.) Which is what we have. We’re just unlucky. We haven’t had many
ups, and it didn’t take long to get to the downs.
ELLIS: You’re young though. You both are. It wouldn’t be a divorce where your main
concern is bouncing back and finding a new partner.
SOPHIE: A twenty-three-year-old divorcee with a dead child. Every bachelor’s dream.

ELLIS: Everyone’s got baggage.

30
SOPHIE: I’ve got a whole luggage carousel.

ELLIS: Still, you’re so young.

SOPHIE: I know, too young to get married, too young to have a kid. Those judgments are
practically branded into me. (Beat. Droll.) I guess I should stop mentioning the ‘have a
kid’ one, huh?
ELLIS: Sophie.

SOPHIE: Sorry, sorry. (Beat. Blowing out smoke, backtracking.) I’ve considered asking
for a divorce. But your parents had such a nasty one, he still can’t talk about it. And
Robert’s almost thirty — I feel like it’d plunge him into an even darker pit to break up his
life like that when most people his age are just now piecing theirs together. When Sam
died, the drinking got so bad, you know, and if I left him too — I don’t know. A part of me
thinks it might kill him.
ELLIS: Jesus. Robert was the jackass who forced you into this — life — the bogus
marriage, just for my ultra-zealot mother — you shouldn’t be compelled to take
responsibility for his.

SOPHIE: He’s my husband, Ellis. And your brother.

ELLIS: (Irreverently.) I’m aware.

SOPHIE: (Puts the cigarette out.) So don’t talk about him like that.

ELLIS: (To himself more than to Sophie.) I’m not saying you’re conceited, but it’s sort of
insane to think he’d die from your leaving.
SOPHIE: (Slowly, careful with her words.) Sam came from a one-night stand. You knew
that, right? (Ellis nods.) It’s hard to explain, I guess. When I found out, I thought my life
was over. I had just been accepted to Northwestern, with a scholarship — not that I needed
it — and then two stupid weeks later I was in a bar with a fake I.D. laughing at a joke that
wasn’t funny and getting into a cab with Rob. We got to his apartment, and all I could think
about was how cold my feet were, but I was too scared to ask for socks, and then, just like
that, I was sneaking out while he was snoring and sobbing in a gas station bathroom a few
weeks later. I called him right away because he had a right to Sam too, it wasn’t just me —
that was the most central part to it all, that we could compromise. He was so kind about it.
Skip was my only family after my parents found out. Rob understood that. I was cut off —
no house, no money, no support. He gave those things back to me when he proposed. And
then, all the sudden, there was this tiny person that we created together who was so pure
and capable of healing. Sam pieced me back together after my entire life felt broken, and
Robert was there through all of it. (Beat. Darker.) The pregnancy was the easiest part. We
got married so fast because of his mom — your mom — I mean, people couldn’t even tell
I was expecting at the wedding, and when I had him things got tough. They always are, all

31
the books and parents say the same thing, that it’s not easy with a newborn. None of them
talk about how much harder it is when you’re taking care of that newborn with a stranger.
Still, we managed. Both of us worked, took turns with the chores, the bills. Then the
drinking started around Sam’s terrible twos. Rob promised me it was the stress of work
and a kid, and I tried to keep things happy for him. But I started falling apart. My friends
were graduating college while I was RSVP-ing to birthday parties for three-year-olds.
(Beat.) But I still had Sam. I told myself that every day. No matter what happened, no
matter how terrible things got with Rob, I still had my baby. Until one day I didn’t. (Beat.
Ellis is at a loss for words. Sophie notices this and looks at him. She smiles, kindly,
ruefully.) You don’t see it, but there’s more than one way to die. And as pissed as I get
with him, even with the alcohol and the fights, I couldn’t bear to kill him the way he killed
me.

Ellis watches Sophie’s eyes, then her lips. Slowly, gently, he leans in and kisses her.
Sophie kisses him back, then after some sustained seconds, pulls away.

SOPHIE: This feels wrong.

ELLIS: It’s not.

He kisses her again. She breaks away a second time.

SOPHIE: What if someone sees.

ELLIS: (Grinning, relaxed.) Nobody is going to see. Robert’s at the bar, Cathleen is at her
parents’.
SOPHIE: (Almost whining.) But what if someone does.

ELLIS: Then we can stop.

SOPHIE: You sure?

ELLIS: Of course. (Sophie studies him with a smirk. He grins at her; they’re pals.)
Whatever you want, I’m here.

SOPHIE: That’s what I want today. To be here, with you. I want simple.

ELLIS: Then that’s what I want too. (Suddenly remorseful.) I shouldn’t have left you
Thursday night. I could’ve gotten a cab. The entire ride home I kept thinking how it was
32
Sam’s funeral all over again. Whatever Skip said to Robert at the wake that triggered him
to —

SOPHIE: It’s not your fault. None of that is your fault.

ELLIS: I know that look. He used to beat me up all the time. Every time, he had that same
look in his eyes.
SOPHIE: Did you ever stand up to him?

ELLIS: Once. Took the beating of my life that day.

SOPHIE: Oh. I’m sorry.

ELLIS: And I’m sorry that I left you at the funeral. That you had to go through his fit.

SOPHIE: We didn’t know each other then like we do now.

ELLIS: Doesn’t mean I don’t regret it.

SOPHIE: (Beat. Abruptly melancholy.) I miss him.
ELLIS: Sam?

SOPHIE: Robert.
ELLIS: (Vaguely hurt.) Oh.

SOPHIE: I miss Sam too. Most of the day, every day. (Beat.) I miss them both. In different
ways.

ELLIS: (Trying to be supportive.) What do you mean?

SOPHIE: With Sam, it comes in waves. I’ll be grocery shopping, completely fine, and then
I’ll see his favorite snack and have to swallow my breath to keep from crying. It’s like
those memories are crushing the life out of me, like every part of my body is being
compressed into ash. He’s always with me. With Robert, though, he’s a shell of a person.
The man he was — the one I met in a bar that first night, the one who charmed me and
bought me pickles in the middle of the night while I was pregnant — he’s in there,
somewhere. I can hear it in his voice, in the way he phrases his sentences when he asks
about dinner. But with the drinking he’s a ghost. He’s a man that I love, or did, at one point.
Who I can’t anymore, because he’s not there. Like when you lose your tooth, and your
tongue keeps going back to the gap that should be filled. (Beat. To sum it up.) It’s a constant
aching. But that’s what love is. You have to ache, and hurt, and then some.

Ellis watches her, more earnestly now.

33
ELLIS: When are you going to leave him, Soph.

SOPHIE: (This is a sore subject.) Please, not today.

ELLIS: We’ve been sneaking around for ten months. How much longer?

SOPHIE: What do you mean, ‘how much longer’? We took a break, technically we’re still
on that break, and it hasn’t even been a full ten months —

ELLIS: (Aggravated.) Sabbatical aside, Sophie. You wanted to work on your marriage, so
did I — neither of us were successful, right? So, now my question is how much longer of
this? How much more sneaking around, tiptoeing around Robert just so you can muster
some shred of happiness?

SOPHIE: I’m happy, with Robert — I just —

ELLIS: No, you’re not! He hurts you Sophie — he —
SOPHIE: And what about you? Cathleen knows about us, right? Which is why she treats
you — and me — like absolute shit! She’s just as abusive, she manipulates things that
aren’t in her favor, she… (Sophie loses her momentum at the gravity on Ellis’s face. This
isn’t up for discussion.)
ELLIS: (Disheartened.) When, Sophie.

SOPHIE: (Beat. Bitter.) Maybe if you hadn’t married Cathleen, the answer would be easier.
ELLIS: What was I supposed to do? Leave her at the alter?

SOPHIE: Jesus, no, not the day of. I’m not a sadist.
ELLIS: (Soft, but insistent.) I couldn’t break off the engagement.

SOPHIE: And I can’t end my marriage.

ELLIS: Then I guess we’re both cowards.

SKIP (offstage): Anyone home? (He enters.)

SOPHIE: What are you doing here?

SKIP: (Setting the flowers on the mantle, next to Ellis’s.) Not good with context clues, are
we?
SOPHIE: I just didn’t expect you this early. I haven’t started dinner.
SKIP: Nobody was expected before dinner. Ellis…?
34
ELLIS: (Quick.) I brought over some groceries. And the flowers, for Sam.

SKIP: Right. Sam.

SOPHIE: Where’s Tara?

SKIP: She wanted to sit this one out. If you haven’t noticed, our family gatherings are a
little more eccentric than most.
SOPHIE: She would’ve been welcome.

SKIP: Yeah. About that. (He clears this throat and glances at Ellis. Ellis takes the hint.)
ELLIS: I’ll go put the flowers in some water. (He exits to the kitchen with the bouquets.)

SKIP: (A moment of contemplation.) So kind of your husband’s brother to come and

comfort you in your time of need. All alone in this big house. I’m sure he knows how lonely
it can get.
SOPHIE: (A long beat. She knows Skip won’t let this go. A low voice.) He wants me to
leave Robert. And we’ve talked about it —

SKIP: We’ve? So, you guys are, you’re an official ‘we’ now? Government registered?
Facebook official?

SOPHIE: We’ve been a “we”. Since January.

SKIP: Interesting development.

SOPHIE: It hasn’t been constant. It was just companionship, at first, but then we made a
pact and —

SKIP: And you two are honorary Goonies now?

SOPHIE: If I leave Robert, he’ll leave Cathleen. That was the deal. He promised.

SKIP: (Taking a moment to process this.) Well. As long as it was a pinky promise. Those
are legally binding.

SOPHIE: Be serious for once. What do you think?

SKIP: Seriously? That’s one hell of a way to suggest a divorce, ‘I’m leaving you for your
brother.’ — I mean could you be more Days of our Lives? Why can’t you leave him for
your own sake?
SOPHIE: I wouldn’t have a reason to.
SKIP: Are you joking? I can list a dozen right now.

35
SOPHIE: He hasn’t done anything that warrants a divorce.

SKIP: Jesus, Soph. (A conflicted beat.) Look, okay. At Thanksgiving, a couple days ago,
when I brought Tara over? To meet everyone for the first time?

SOPHIE: Yeah…?

SKIP: She’s been acting weird. And she didn’t say what was wrong, but I asked her today
and she broke down crying and — Robert came onto her.

SOPHIE: Excuse me?

SKIP: Like, when she went to the bathroom and he excused himself for a drink, even
though he wasn’t drinking, that moment? Robert followed her and tried to (At a loss for
how to describe it.) make a pass. At her. (Trying to be gentle.) Look, Soph, I didn’t ever
want to tell you this — it’s your life, your marriage, and I wanted to respect that — I still
do — but Robert and I had an agreement, and he broke it, so I feel like you should know.
(A breath.) He didn’t leave the stove on the night Sam died.

SOPHIE: (A confused smile.) What?

SKIP: The woman he was with did. Left the stove on, I mean. (Backtracking.) Or maybe
Robert did, but the point is he was with someone. Like, with. Someone. Who wasn’t you.

Sophie watches her brother, looking for the joke. She draws a blank.

SKIP: (Lethally serious.) Look. I’m telling you this because I love you — really, really,
totally love and worship the hell out of you — so please, just…try not to shoot the
messenger. (He takes a breath, preparing himself.) Robert was cheating on you — he has
been cheating on you — for years. And the reason Sam died that night, or a reason, was
because your husband was with someone else, some woman, and one of them left the stove
one.

SOPHIE: (Beat. Deadpan.) This isn’t funny, Skip.

SKIP: (More forcefully.) Listen to me — I never told you because you were so determined
that you could make things ‘work’ and I didn’t wanna screw that up, I didn’t want to mess
with your life — but when I got here the night of the fire I saw a woman out on the street
with Robert. She was crying, he was in a bathrobe and drunk. I didn’t see her face. But I
could tell. And after the funeral I confronted him, I told him I knew he was cheating and
that if he ever did it again, even remotely glanced at another woman, I’d expose him.
Because you don’t deserve to be treated like that. To be married to someone who thinks
he’s such a monument. (The last is said especially delicately.)
36
SOPHIE: (Remembering the fight.) That’s what you accused him of? At the wake?

SKIP: (Slower now, sympathetic.) I didn’t know how else to tell you.

The siblings are still for a moment. Sophie, trying to process, and Skip, trying to
read her. Finally:

SOPHIE: (She swallows, hard. Audibly appalled.) On this day, Skip? Really?
SKIP: What?

SOPHIE: (The projected anger slowly snowballs through what she says next.) The
arrogance it takes, to try and make Sam’s day about you. I mean — truly, this is an honest
question — what made you like this? It’s — it’s always something with you, isn’t it?
Something that needs to be fixed or screwed with — Christ, you did the same thing last
year, after the funeral! When you accused Robert of, I guess cheating! You can’t let me
have this one day, to mourn my son, to do what I need to do to cope? Infidelity was only
important now? Who gave you that right, to decide what was best for me and when? You
can’t DO that to a person! To a person’s marriage! My life does not belong to you!
SKIP: (He lets her finish. Takes a breath. Composes himself.) Okay, no. (Standing. He’s
had enough.) Nope, sorry, but you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to take this out on
me. (Intensified, but firm. As authentic as he can be.) You think that because you and
Robert are still together, because you share the same shitty mattress and loads of laundry,
that your relationship is more honest than I’m trying to be? (Some deranged form of
laughter finds its way up his throat.) My god, you’re so visibly infatuated with happy
endings that you think stepping on eggshells around Robert every-single-day is somehow
— prevailing! Can you not see how twisted that is? You live every day in this relentless,
vacant state of keeping things neutral — newsflash, Sophie, your child is dead! There is
nothing handcuffing you to him anymore!

SOPHIE: (A heavy beat. She stares at him.) Nice, Skip. Really. Fucking. Nice. (They stare
at one another. Skip looks distantly repentant.) Get the hell out of my house.

SKIP: Sophie —

SOPHIE: (A fit of rage.) GET. OUT.

Skip stands, goes to the hallway. Looks back at his sister. Remorseful.

37
SKIP: You deserve better, Sophie.

Skip exits. Sophie sits still, considers this. Digs her bottle of antidepressants out. She
drops two pills into her palm, then dumps the remainder of the bottle into her fist.
Stares at it. Ellis enters with the flowers in a vase.

ELLIS: (Seeing the pills, rushing to her.) Woah! Woah, woah woah. Sophie, what are you
doing? (He takes the pills from her and places them in the uncapped bottle.) Are you —

SOPHIE: (As he does so. Levelheaded.) What would you say, if I did something bad, for a
good reason?

ELLIS: Let’s just take a second to talk — can we —

SOPHIE: It’s an easy question.
ELLIS: No, it’s a vague question. Dangerously vague. Sophie, there are places you can go
to get support, there are experts who can help you cope with — you can go to St. Mary’s
— they have doctors there, people who can —

SOPHIE: This isn’t what you’re thinking — that’s not what I was going to do.

ELLIS: Don’t lie to me. Not about this.

SOPHIE: (Forceful.) I’m not lying. (A breath.) Robert is cheating on me.

ELLIS: What?

SOPHIE: Which is excusable, actually, because I haven’t been entirely monogamous —

neither of us have, so it’s okay. (Beat.) And maybe we’d be equal on some grand morality
scale, somewhere, if it wasn’t for the drinking, or the unemployment, or the abuse — (She
pauses; she’s never admitted to Robert hitting her before, not in front of anyone.) or him,
killing Sam. Which happened, by the way, because he was cheating. Because he prioritized
his mistress over his son. His mistress, who survived the fire.

ELLIS: (Alarmed.) Woah, hey. How do you know he’s cheating? That he cheated that
night?
SOPHIE: Skip told me. He saw her there that night. And of course, there are no details —
I screamed at him to leave before he could — because he told me on this day, Sam’s
anniversary, like it would somehow help me cope? I don’t know why he would wait this
long —
ELLIS: (Interrupting.) What’s the bad thing, then?
38
SOPHIE: What?

ELLIS: The bad thing that you’re doing for a good reason? What is it?

SOPHIE: I want to kill him. I don’t know what else to do, how to justify — Rob, what he’s
done to me, to Sam — (Breathless now, maybe laughing, on the verge of tears.) Which
sounds crazy — I’m crazy! — I know, but I need to do something, I’m going insane in this
— this house! This house that burned because of him, that KILLED because of him…

She’s sobbing onto Ellis — he, seeing no other option, embraces her. Skip is
standing, watching, from the hallway, having walked into the conversation sometime
during Sophie’s tirade. His arms are folded. Ellis senses his presence; after a few
seconds, he abruptly pulls away.

ELLIS: (To Skip.) Jesus — it’s not what you think. She’s feeling emotional because of the
anniversary —
SOPHIE: I told you to leave.

SKIP: Well, it was pretty fucking wise of me not to, wasn’t it?
ELLIS: (Hard.) Skip, go. I can handle this.

SKIP: She’s not your responsibility, Ellis.

ELLIS: She’s not yours either!

SOPHIE: I’m not anyone’s goddamn responsibility! God I — I can’t deal with you both
— (After a moment. Taunting, frantic.) I could do it, you know, with the antidepressants.
Crush them up and put them in his food, it would be easy. He would never know, he would
just fall asleep and not wake up. Or I could get a gun —

ELLIS: Where would you get a gun?

SOPHIE: I could get one, or I could hire someone, like they do in the movies. Cut his
brakes? That could be blamed on anyone, not just me. Maybe I’ll just set the whole house
on fire! (Beat.) What do I…I don’t know what to do?
SKIP: (Laughs, viciously.) And you’re asking me?

SOPHIE: Both of you —

39
SKIP: Do you understand — really, listen to the words I’m about to say, out loud, because
this is what you’re asking of us — do you understand that this is murder? You’re talking
about killing someone.

SOPHIE: He killed Sam —

SKIP: (Over her, fuming now.) No, Sophie, a fire did! You have to accept that! Robert was
with someone that night, yes — but that doesn’t justify HOMICIDE. When I told you — I
expected a confrontation, or, at most, I don’t know, a divorce! Something rational! He
made a mistake, a mistake that’s going to haunt you, and him — and god knows, me, for
the rest of our lives, but if you do this? (Crucial.) You’re killing yourself, too.

SOPHIE: I wouldn’t know how to live with myself if I don’t do something.

SKIP: (Beat. Bemused.) Fine. You’re actually considering this? You want me to tell you
what I think you should do?
SOPHIE: Yes, god yes, please! SOMEONE, for once, give me an honest opinion!

SKIP: If you’re going to go through with this, which it seems like you are — maniacally
hellbent on this, this absurdist, Agatha Christie plan — you need to do it tonight.

SOPHIE: Tonight?
SKIP: (Calling her bluff.) If you don’t, you’re going to chicken out — I know you, you’re
too soft not to. So go on, take the pills and crush them up like you said. This is your chance.
Do it. Now. (She doesn’t move. Beat.) Sophie. Things are not going to stay the way they
are. This decision, what you do, will dictate the rest of your life, okay? And it’s totally
unfair of you to keep asking — involving — other people, forcing them to be accomplices
to a crime that might not even happen. (Suddenly really angry.) So just, I don’t know, make
up your mind — and quit looking at me like I’m Ted Bundy, like I know how to kill
someone — fuck!
SOPHIE: Stop trying to make this hard on me.

SKIP: Why shouldn’t I? This should be the hardest decision you’ve ever made! You’re
talking about taking a life, Sophie! In fact, I’d be…terrified! If this wasn’t hard for you,
because then — literally, actually — you might be a sociopath.

ELLIS: Sophie. Look at me. (She does.) It’s natural for our brains to jump to the most
extreme option. It’s usually the first outcome we see, okay? But this isn’t you — this isn’t
what you want. I can promise you this is not what you want.
SOPHIE: Why does everyone keep trying to tell me what I want?

ELLIS: (Soft, almost like he’s speaking to a child.) I’m not everyone, right? And I’m giving
you my honest opinion because this is — I know you. I know us. I can divorce Cathleen,
40
we can run away together to the city or the West Coast or Timbuktu for all I care! But not
if you ruin yourself like this. It will break you. Please. (Taking her in. Quietly upset.)
Things have been hard for you, I know. But this? Have you even…do you understand?
What this will do?

Offstage, we hear the front door close.

ROBERT (offstage): Sophie?

SOPHIE: (With a faint voice, hysterical.) He’s not supposed to be…what can I — I don’t
know what to do?

SKIP: (Frenzied.) Ellis, take her to the kitchen. Make some tea — I’ll get rid of Robert.

Ellis rushes Sophie to the kitchen. Skip, left alone, composes himself best he can.
Robert enters from the hallway.

ROBERT: Oh, Skip. Where’s Sophie?

SKIP: She went to the store, something about forgetting croissants.

ROBERT: Caring about dinner? That doesn’t sound like her.

SKIP: Yeah, well, she was in an awful mood. It might be best just to leave her be for the
night. Get a hotel.
ROBERT: Could I stay at your place?

SKIP: No. Definitely not. (Absorbing him.) Have you been drinking?
ROBERT: Never! I met a friend for a business opportunity. At that place downtown —
that restaurant…? You know the one — the one with the chairs — and the lights and those
stone floors.

SKIP: …Oh, Nona’s Concerto? With the Edison lightbulbs, right?

ROBERT: YES, that’s the one! Terrible food though, I wouldn’t ever try it. Overpriced,
bad service. Don’t go there.
SKIP: Well, I can’t, it closed six months ago.

41
ROBERT: (Beat.) You sure it’s not still open? I could’ve sworn —

SKIP: Robert. Sober up. I’ll call you a cab. You can’t be here right now.

ROBERT: (The liquor really showing.) I can’t be in my own home? Since when was that
rule imposed? Do you know what’s it’s like to live in your own house like a caged animal,
all these regulations and curfews dictating me like I’m living with my mother? The deed is
in my name, I watched these bricks being stacked and yet I’m the one being crushed by
them. It’s me, the patriarch, Genghis Khan, Henry VIII, the rise and fall and Sophie is
puppeteering the whole thing! I’m the Goliath to her David, I AM my own Goliath and
Goliath is not happy.

SKIP: (Somewhat appalled, callous.) You need to go.

ROBERT: How long ago did Sophie leave?

SKIP: She’ll be back any minute. Rob, she doesn’t want to see you.
ROBERT: To be frank, I don’t want to see her either. (Beat. Walking to Skip.) You know
who I do want to see? (He kisses Skip. Skip rips away.)
SKIP: Shit. Shit.

ROBERT: (Annoyed, tired.) Christ, Skip.

SKIP: We can’t do this right now —

ROBERT: But we could do it on Thanksgiving? Did you suddenly develop morals in the
last two days?

SKIP: We couldn’t do it then, either — you broke our deal.

ROBERT: Oh, our deal? The deal you invented at my son’s funeral? That revolutionary
deal where we lie about what happened and everyone lives happily ever after? Look
around, Skip, who’s happy? I’m not, you’re not, Sophie’s sure as hell not —

SKIP: Robert, you NEED to get out of here.

ROBERT: No. I’m not leaving just because you’re afraid of confrontation.

SKIP: You swore that you’d give me time to figure things out —

ROBERT: Well, you’re taking a lot of it! (Bitter.) Maybe it has something to do with the
fact that you’re still closeted. So utterly devoted to that playboy persona —
SKIP: (Overlapping.) Do not feed me that duplicitous bullshit, Rob, you are married. You
can’t keep playing both sides, we can’t keep doing this to Sophie —

42
ROBERT: My god, does Sophie always have to be the common ground? Why can’t we
just talk about us?

SKIP: (Sharp.) There isn’t an us anymore. There hasn’t been an “us” for months, which
you keep forgetting —

ROBERT: You’re joking, right? I’m consumed by it. I started drinking again because you
refused to talk to me —

SKIP: You were drinking anyway. You’re drunk right now.

ROBERT: And you started dating that — that —

SKIP: (Sharp.) Leave Tara out of this.

ROBERT: Does she know who you really are? Is she one of those free love hippies or —
if not — you realize that you’re on the same path I was six years ago, right? Too afraid to
come out, convinced that you can change yourself —
SKIP: I’m not you, I’m not changing myself, Rob — there are, like, a thousand sexualities
today, quit assuming you can define mine just because we were —
ROBERT: (Seeing his weakness, taunting.) What? Lovers? … Paramours? Friends with
benefits? Pick your poison, Skippy. There’s a comprehensive list that applies.
SKIP: (Pissed, to himself.) I should’ve told her so much earlier, I shouldn’t have kept Sam’s
death quiet because you’re too —
ROBERT: (Over him.) Told her? You told Sophie?

SKIP: (Low.) About you trying to cheat with someone two days ago, about you being with
someone the night of the fire, yes.

ROBERT: “Someone”?
SKIP: I said you came on to Tara. I didn’t say it was me — I couldn’t do that to her.

ROBERT: (Taking a moment to soak this in.) No. No, you couldn’t do that to yourself.
You’re noble enough to incriminate everyone else — even though you were there that
night, even though you’d been there dozens of nights, betraying Sophie — you couldn’t
admit that it was even mildly your fault. Sam died because of both of us. But no — instead,
you’re the hero, who exposed your sister’s evil, unprincipled husband, who saved the day.
Congratulations to you!

SKIP: That’s not what I was trying to do —

SOPHIE: (Standing in the kitchen doorframe, Ellis behind her.) What were you trying to
do, Skip?
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ROBERT: (Beat. Inappropriately causal, to his brother.) You’re here too?

ELLIS: Nothing gets past you.

SKIP: How much did you hear?

ELLIS: (Stepping into the room, passing a stunned Sophie.) Enough. (Beat. Vicious.) But
I’d really love to know more. It makes sense, actually, considering how polar you two act
around each other. It’s a show, to hide a secret. All this hate, pitting Sophie against the
other. You’re acting. It’s an act. Isn’t it? To fuck with her head. (Beat.) Was it on purpose?
Did you kill Sam so she’d leave Robert? So you two could be together?

The men are stoic. Finally, Skip looks at Robert; ‘I can’t do this anymore.’ They
direct the story to Ellis. It’s too hard to look at Sophie.

SKIP: (Following a heavy air of silence.) It went on for a few years. Started when Sam
was two. And the first time we, well…I was babysitting, and Robert came home alone.
They’d just had a fight. Sophie decided to stay at a friend’s house that night — she still had
friends, at that point — and he wanted to unwind with some whiskey. Invited me to stay.
Sophie and I weren’t as close then, she never wanted me around. We were both drunk,
ultimately, and … (Beat.) Robert always needed to be drunk. At least in the beginning,
which was fine, but he started spiraling as the months passed. Drinking, even when we
weren’t together. (He looks at a horrified Robert.) You did, okay? And I didn’t stop you, I
didn’t help you, at all. I let Sophie believe it was her fault, that all your relapses were
because of her and not me. It was on and off the whole time. Loneliness and regret and
isolation. Again and again.

ROBERT: (Taking a moment to gather himself.) The night of the fire. Sophie and I had
been fighting the entire week before, every week really, and she wanted a few days away
with Sam. I insisted he stay with me at home — somewhere, I think, I was afraid she might
take him and not come back. I wanted him as leverage. Collateral. But Sam was difficult.
He always was, amazingly fussy, especially around bedtime. I called Skip, because he
behaved better with him around — and after we finally got him down, I wanted to relax
with some drinks. It had been months since we’d been together, and Skip was determined
it stay that way. But the liquor…

SKIP: It’s liquid courage. They call it that for a reason. And one thing led to another —
Robert was hammered, all vomit and tears and talking about being a sinner and wanting a
divorce. (Robert, wincing at the memory, looks away.) I put a pot of tea on the stove to
sober him up, but Rob’s crying woke Sam up. And no kid deserves to see their parent like
that, they always blame themselves — so I rushed out to put him back to bed. And Rob —

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ROBERT: (Over him. This is the hardest part to remember.) I get the tea. Take the pot off,
place it in the sink. Stumble back into my bedroom. Skip was already in bed, passed out.
He looked so comfortable, and the bed looked warm and…it was so easy, to doze off. To
empty my mind of everything. Sophie, Sam, the tea… (Beat. Grimacing.) I wake up to
Skip shaking me and smoke leaking in through the door. “We have to get Sam,” I say, and
I try to get up. But everything spun, and I couldn’t breathe — the air was choking me.
“There isn’t time,” he tells me. And Skip can stand — I can’t, that was his advantage —
so I let him carry me. My arm heaving down on his shoulder, my body toppling onto his.
And he carried me. Just like how my mother carried me to church, how Sophie carried me
through our marriage. My father, carrying me at his company. Everyone has always carried
me, through my entire life, and when we got to the street, I swore I would carry myself.
“Leave,” I said, “get the hell away from here.” But he wouldn’t. I was too drunk; if it was
me left at the scene, I’d be put away for negligence.

SOPHIE: Oh my god. Oh my god.

SKIP: So I put Robert in the backseat of my car. I was already distraught, there was no
acting there, and I knew I was sober enough to talk to the cops. If I was honest, if I said I
was babysitting, Sophie would question where Robert was, drive him insane, figure us out.
So I wasn’t honest, and the cops didn’t ask any difficult questions. All things you’d know
if you’d been sleeping with the person for a few years. Full name, date of birth, what
happened. I said my I.D. burned in the fire. And my story about the stove matched up with
what the firefighters saw. It was an old stove, I said, sometimes the dial didn’t click all the
way back and the flame stayed on. There were some curtains near it. I was covered in soot,
coughing and wheezing. They believed everything. Nothing ever went past the statement I
gave on the driveway. I was sobbing, senselessly. I still do, sometimes.
ROBERT: I drank every day after that. Sophie wasn’t talking to me, I couldn’t find Skip.
And the funeral, there was so much liquor in my system that I could hardly see. So I sat
there, and I focused on not crying. Crying, to me, meant that I was guilty, so I didn’t, and
I haven’t. (Smaller.) During the reception, when Skip pulled me into the other room, he
told me what happened. That I left the stove on, and even though I tried to get to Sam, with
the alcohol — I couldn’t. Neither of us could. I wanted to tell Sophie everything, but Skip
knew it would crush her. She would lose everything she still had. So we agreed I would
sober up. I would stay married, and we would never speak of what happened to anyone. It
would stay our secret. (Beat.) And he told me we had to end things. I’d just lost my son,
and then Skip — and with Sophie — everyone — mourning, asking questions, I went crazy.
I hit her, when it was just us in the kitchen. She was putting away a casserole, and I
slammed her into the fridge. The dish shattered on the floor. I needed time to process, but
she kept asking me questions, why couldn’t you get to him, how could this happen, and my
muscle memory took over. And Sophie’s so tiny, next to me — it was easy. It’s so easy.
(To Sophie, for the first time.) I blamed you. I blamed you so fucking much, because you’re
so innocent, you are everything I’m supposed to want, and it has never been enough. I wish
it was, I wish that I could be happy and you could be enough for me and I could be the

45
person everyone has always wanted me to be. I wish I could be the person you need me to
be. But nothing is ever enough.

Lights fade.

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 Act II

Scene 2

Somewhere in Southern California. Two years and some months later.

Sophie stands alone, silhouetted, centerstage. Fishes out her cellphone. Dials a
number.

SOPHIE: Hi. It’s me — Sophie, I mean. It’s Sophie. (A long beat. On the other end of the
line, silence, and then only a word or two.) Don’t talk. You don’t have to talk. I’m not
looking for an apology, or a fight or whatever you were about to offer. That’s not why I
called. I called because I wanted to tell you…I have something to say. And I know we
haven’t spoken in — who knows how long — too long, but I can’t say that wasn’t my fault.
I’m glad you haven’t changed your number. I’ve been good, by the way. I, um. I don’t
know if you care, or if you even want to hear it, but I went to California to spread Sam’s
ashes. It felt repressed to hold onto him, almost selfish. He always wanted to see the Pacific
Ocean, that and Disneyland, but they have rules against that kind of thing so this was the
next best option. I swear, it’s nothing like the east coast. Everything is harder in the east.
The winters, the people, they’re so hard. Volatile. (A small laugh.) But California, God,
it’s so bright here, the sunshine is everywhere all the time. You can’t get away from it.
When I got to the beach the sun was setting, and the sky was just this obscenely ocher
color, no clouds or anything, just a screaming orange that wrapped around the whole world
for that moment. It was such a grossly cinematic picture — I started laughing, it was so
cinematic, and… (A short beat.) I’ve had some time to myself. A lot of really good, healthy
time — I could think back and consider everything — that sort of way you get to remember
things when you’re older, I think, looking through a photo album at the moments you
forgot, and — it’s sudden, you — well. I need to get to the point, I know. You always told
me I was terrible with staying on track, but it was a habit that started when I couldn’t even
form full sentences — those incorrigible habits, you know. (Sophie is smiling to herself.
She’s happy.) For the longest time I was dwelling — I’ve been dwelling for years, really,
about things that took up all this space that I’m not even sure I had. But the moments that
I — I’ve focused on thinking of the good moments as much as I can, for the last year or
two. The photobook ones that deserve to be remembered. And that doesn’t mean that I’ve
forgotten everything else that happened, I don’t think I’ll ever be allowed to forget, but
when I think of Sam, and I think of what he knew, who he knew, what his life was — he
wouldn’t have wanted us to stop knowing each other. I don’t want us to stop knowing each
other, not as much as we have. So, I called to tell you that. Things are different now, I
know, they’re insanely, unchangeably different, but you should know they’re okay. For me
they are. Okay? Things are okay.

Lights fade.

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