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This is to certify that the

thesis entitled

With the Past in My Pockets:

A Collection of Poetry and Dramatic Writing

presented by

Alan Keith Newton

has been accepted towards fulfillment
of the requirements for

Master of Arts degree in English

 

 

WM

Major professor

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0-7639 MS U is an Affirmative Action/Equal Opportunity Institution

 

 

LIBRARY

1 MiChiQan State
University

 

 

PLACE IN RETURN BOX to remove this chedtout from your record.
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we animus-m4

 

WITH THE PAST IN MY POCKETS:
A COLLECTION OF POETRY AND DRAMATIC WRITING

By

Alan Keith Newton

A THESIS
Submitted to
Michigan State University
in partial fulfillment of the requirements
for the degree of

MASTER OF ARTS

Department of English
1999

ABSTRACT

WITH THE PAST IN MY POCKETS:
A COLLECTION OF POETRY AND DRAMATIC WRITING

By

Alan Keith Newton

This collection of creative writing consists of three parts: poems on various subjects;
selected dramatic monologue poems fi'om a series entitled, “Chevron, USA”; and a full-
length play, entitled A Roof of Flame. The poems in first section represent a variety of
subject matters and forms; several of them are dramatic monologues in the voices of
Southern characters. The selected dramatic monologue poems fi'om “Chevron USA” are
all told in the voice of single narrator, called “Bony,” and feature recurrent characters and
events. Set in a Southern college town, these poems chronicle Bony’s psychological
growth as he participates in various events with young men who are more socially
aggressive and experienced. Finally, A Roof of Flame is a realistic three-act drama set in a
small Southern town. The two main characters are teachers at a private, segregated
academy, and the play chronicles their evolving relationship against the backdrop of de

facto segregation in the New South.

This work is dedicated to Professor Anita Skeen of the Department of English at

Michigan State University, my teacher, mentor, and fiiend.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

A number of people have given the instruction, guidance, and support that promoted
the completion of this work. My parents, Merlin and Wesley Newton, and also my
companion, Deborah Shoemaker, have given the love and encouragement that propelled
me to finish not only this thesis but also my graduate studies in general. At Michigan
State University, Professors Arthur Athanason and Frank Rutledge, of the Departments of
English and Theatre respectively, helped me to understand dramatic structure and to view
plays as blueprints for performance and not simply as literary texts. Professor Athanason
also provided valuable instruction in playwriting as well as counsel concerning a host of
theater-related topics. Finally, Professor Anita Skeen of the Department of English
supplied the guidance for the writing and revision of all three parts of this thesis. Not only
were my poems crafted under her teaching, but also she is largely responsible for helping
me to adapt my ideas and skills into dramatic writing. Equally important, she has been
unfailing in offering emotional support and advice in all sorts of academic and non-
academic matters. I cannot imagine the completion of this work without her involvement,

and for that I will be always grateful.

iv

TABLE OF CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION ........................................................................................................... 1

SECTION 1 '

SELECTED POEMS ...................................................................................................... 6
“Canvas” .................................................................................................................... 6
“Learning to Hunt” ..................................................................................................... 8
“Miles de Milo” .......................................................................................................... 9
“Last Snake in Pikeville” ........................................................................................... 11
“Morning News” ....................................................................................................... l4
“Cheated” .................................................................................... - ............................. 16
“Jesus James” ............................................................................................................ 18
“Salvation” ................................................................................................................ 19

SECTION 2

SELECTED DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES FROM “CHEVRON, USA” ..................... 21
“why I pump gas” ..................................................................................................... 21
“superfi' ” ............................................................................................................. 25
“homecoming” .......................................................................................................... 29
“crying shame” .......................................................................................................... 33
“Jack’s white Lincoln” .............................................................................................. 37
“the train” ................................................................................................................. 41

SECTION 3

A ROOF OF FLAME ..................................................................................................... 45
Act 1, Scene 1 ........................................................................................................... 46
Act 1, Scene 2 ........................................................................................................... 57
Act 11, Scene 1 .......................................................................................................... 82
Act H, Scene 2 .......................................................................................................... 90
Act II, Scene 3 .......................................................................................................... 99
Act 11, Scene 4 ........................................................................................................ 112
Act III ..................................................................................................................... 124

INTRODUCTION

1 came to Michigan State University primarily to write poetry. My first writing course
was English 833, the graduate poetry workshop, taught by Professor Anita Skeen. My
poems at that time were lengthy and narrative, frequently dramatic monologues in the
voices of Southern characters. Professor Skeen was helpful in teaching me to focus on
narrating clear and simple stories based on cohesive conflicts, on condensing my language
and infusing it with imagery, and on experimenting with different shapes to find the
appropriate structure for the particular story being told. Most important, she encouraged
me to continue exploring my Southern heritage and creating a variety of narrative voices
that reflected different social classes and levels of awareness.

One of the poems I wrote for that first workshop was a dramatic monologue in the
voice of a thin young man called “Bony” by his workrnates. Set in a small Southern
college town, the poem contains several male characters who work with Bony at a
Chevron station, and who are much more socially aggressive and experienced. I was
fascinated by Bony’s persona; he primarily tends to observe other characters engaged in
raucous and self-destructive behavior, and his occasional and futile attempts to help them
in moments of destruction are both noble and pathetic. The poem is based loosely on
several older young men I worked with in high school, and I related to Professor Skeen
the multitude of stories I could tell about my experiences fiom this time. She offered to
guide me in an independent study project where I would work on a series of monologue

poems, all in the voice of Bony and containing recurrent characters and events.

The resulting series of fifteen dramatic monologues explored several themes that were
related to conflicts in both the personal life of the narrator and also the larger world of the
post-Civil Rights South. Race relations obviously is a common theme, and a few of the
poems are centered on specific racial conflicts (e. g., “Jack’s white Lincoln”). In most
cases, such conflicts are simply part of the landscape in which Bony works and socializes.
By utilizing a narrator who generally observes and reports what he sees, without judgment
and with minimal comment, I was able to keep the narrations simple, clear, and fast-paced.
The last quality was important, as I intend the monologues to be read in a series, and I
want to ensure that readers not feel bogged down by the repetitive nature of the voice and
content. With this in mind, I employed a form using short, staccato lines with frequent
enjambment. I allowed Bony to employ imagery, figurative language, and consonance and
assonance in his descriptions of people and events, though I otherwise kept his syntax
basic and colloquial. Rarely did I allow him to come up with revelations and insights into
human behavior, including his own. Rather, I attempted to convey my insights about the
effect of Bony’s experiences on his consciousness and growth primarily through his choice
of actions.

Each of the monologues also contains images whose symbolic meanings transcend
Bony’s limited awareness. For example, in “superfieak,” broken glass is strewn
throughout the poem and is used to inflict physical injury on the revelers at a raucous
fi'aternity party. However, Bony himself remains uncut. Yet I wanted to imply that the
psychological damage caused by his initial exposure to bacchanalian reveh'y and sexuath

is much greater to him than to the others. At the poem’s end, he imagines that grass,

normally a symbol of softness and comfort, is cutting through his boots and into his feet,
implying that he will hereafter view the world as sharp and hazardous.

One of the strengths of this series is the authenticity of the various hurmn voices that
color each poem. Given my interest in writing dialogue, as well as my desire to create
personas who reveal important aspects of character through their speech and behavior, I
determined that my ideas and insights might be well suited to writing for the stage. At the
same time, I had begun concentrating on taking courses in dramaticliterature and thus was
learning the elements of dramatic structure. In one of my courses, English 832, a seminar
in the plays of Tennessee Williams taught by Professor Arthur Athanason, we studied
plays as blueprints for performance and not simply as literary texts. Thus, despite my
relative inexperience in working with theatrical productions, I learned important
techniques for making dramatic scripts stageworthy. What I now needed was an
opportunity to write and receive feedback on a sustained series of dramatic scenes. Again,
Professor Skeen offered to guide me in an independent study project working with herself
and several other graduate student writers.

My intention at the beginning of the project was to write a series of scenes and possibly
one-act plays based on my experiences as middle school teacher at a private school in
Selma, Alabama. However, it soon became clear that a single storyline was dominating
my thoughts, and, encouraged by my group, I determined to write a full-length play. I

completed the play, entitled A Roof of Flame over the course of a semester, though it has

 

undergone several major revisions since then. In addition to clarifying the plot,

strengthening character development, and tightening the dialogue, I have strived to make

the play more of a performance and less of a literary text. Currently, I am enrolled in
Professor Atlmnason’s playwriting workshop and am learning practical skills that will aid
in future revisions of the play.

The most important character in the play is Ronnie Staples, the daughter of the founder
of a private Southern academy created in the 1960's to circumvent mandatory racial
integration in public schools. Unmarried and believing that she is in the “last days” of her
youth, she falls in love with a younger male teacher, Joe Monroe, who, despite growing up
in the South, is considered an outsider for his anti-segregationalist views. Ronnie does
everything she can, including defying those patriarchal and racist forces that have shaped
her beliefs and character, to ensure that Joe will remain teaching at the school. In the end,
however, she is unable to accept Joe’s utopian vision of a miscegenetic society, and Joe
decides to leave the South and return to New York as a playwright.

Throughout writing the play, I struggled over whether to make Ronnie or Joe the
protagonist. Each character has a strong goal: Joe wants to achieve a sense of personal
and professional accomplishment by forcing the academy to integrate, and Ronnie wants
to establish a meaningful romantic relationship with someone who will appreciate her
intelligence, wit, and strength of character, i.e., those qualities that a patriarchal society
largely ignores in women. In the end, I determined that Ronnie is willing to act in ways
that incur greater risks and require greater fortitude. Thus, I consider her to be the
protagonist, and her journey towards personal growth and transformation to be of greater
dramatic significance. I have and will continue to work on strengthening her presence in

the play without relegating Joe to the status of a minor character.

I will be enrolling in a doctoral program at the University of Kansas in the Fall
semester of 1999. The University’s Department of English has its own theater company,
the English Alternative Theatre, that seeks to produce student-written dramatic scripts,
and I am already discussing with the theater’s director, Paul Lirn, the possibility of
producing A Roof of Flame next year. I am anxious to see how well the written text is
transformed on the stage, and to begin working on revisions that will make the play’s
stageworthy qualities as strong as its current literary qualities.

My thesis consists of work that is representative of all phases of my writing career as a
graduate student at Michigan State University. The first section contains selected poems,
mostly dramatic monologues set in the voices of various Southern characters, written
during the first year of my program. Some of these poems, such as “Canvas,” are written
in my own voice and pertain directly to my experiences. The second section contains
several of the “Bony” monologues (the whole series is entitled “Chevron, USA”). I have
chosen monologues whose events are representative of the various types of experiences
Bony encounters and that include most of the major characters that populate the series.

Finally, the last section contains the entire text of A Roof of Flame.

SECTION ONE: SELECTED POEMS

Canvas

When I was a child we lived in Mexico,
and memory lays a collage:

fat, brown boys named Luis,

dogs peeing in crinkly fountain shade,
hunks of octopi at outdoor markets,

my sister's sneakers skipping down Chapultepec.
Once we drove in green mountain drizzle,
passing an aftermath

when Mother whirnpered, hovered,
covered our eyes with her hands.

"It was a donkey," she told us,

killed by the headlong vanity

of a macho bus driver

on a deadly curve.

My sister cried, but donkeys

dead or live to me were firnny.

Last year mother came to visit,

saw on my wall Picasso's Guerm’ca;
strangely, she turned her eyes.

I pointed out

the famous bull, its hairpin craning,
the equine carnage sprawled across canvas,
the forlorn woman hovering over
dead children,

braying not just for loss

but for her frailty as shelter.

After coffee, inexplicably,

mother wept.

Today my sister and I
talked of Mexico,

of her souvenir dolls and
my collage,

and she betrayed

what mother keeps from me
still: that the donkey

cut in two by a fender,
tossed in a cotton field
was really a child,
loosely shrouded,
likely buried and

long forgotten.

Learning T 0 Hunt
(For My Uncle)

You left my brother behind

on the bank of a creek

that rushed steel

beneath a clipped December moon.
I see him,

a rawboned boy of eight,
stumbling beside sharp water.
His breaths tear

at the air around him

as you and your fellow hunters
ford the creek that nicks only
your knees,

then disappear.

No one looks back

and he never cries out.

He does not grasp the danger.

Somehow he is learning to swim,
learning to pull his patched knees
up the opposite side.

Black twigs and leaves cling

to his heaving face

as he stares at the woods

you’ve become.

He follows,

learning to grasp for your scent
of snuff and muflled sweat,
learning the blood of indifference,

learning to hunt.

MilesdeMiIo

Greenville's drive-in

hid its screen

like a bedroom window.

The summer I lost my last tooth,
the screen swelled up

with naked bodies,

shows like Silicone Sirens.
My dad's friend Miles moonlit
as the drive-in scarecrow,
roamed the sumac thicket
behind the parking lot

to ward ofl‘ eyes

without tickets.

Dad called him Miles de Milo:
his right forearm

plus a brand-new tattoo

lost in Da Lat.

Friday nights with Miles

de Milo I'd dine

on whole cans of spaghetti-0's,
dizzy my hands just stroking
bottles of Blue Ribbon beer
he'd line in rows

on card tables, salute,

send crashing to the floor.
Cloaked by a poncho I'd ride
past lines of cars
unseen—"Mostly men," Miles told,
”or kids in vans."

Left sunk in his El Dorado
parked in shadow,

my head in the mirror

small as a nut,

I'd strain to rise

like bodies on the screen.

The woods clean,

he'd stand beside me,

lay his stub on the car window
like a broken speaker.

"Don't you fret," .
once he bent to whisper,
while I chafed in vain

at my sprig of flesh,

"It's a beautiful thing,

a thing beginning."

One night, caught
stealing Dad's beer,

I told him all.

Dad swears

he broke nothing but

a tooth or two,

that Miles withdrew
fi'om other wounds.
But something deep,
some bluster of outrage
blew through town that night,
blew till fall.

By September,

the drive-in's shell lay
strewn with sumac leaves
on fallow concrete.
Skulking across

the clutter,

I'd stomp hard,

imagine the crunch

was somebody’s tooth,
somebody's bone.

10

LastSnakeinPikeville

Today in front of Kroger

a dude in a pick-up with Texas plates
pulled next to my ex-best friend Josey
while she gnawed cantaloupe
and smoked my Virginia Slims.
He asked her something like
"How sweet's your melon?"
cause she spit laughter

Store front glass had just been
scrubbed and scraped

by this boy I like

Bill Shepherd

who props Josie in a cart
wheels her over speed bumps
while she squeals and kicks
sunlight off her feet.

I was standing by the glass
smelling lemons for signs of rot
and saw old Texas tempt her
with a cold bottle of Lone Star
saw her slink across his lap

her cigarette flicked out

the open window and

its orange sputter.

Last week I let Josey

bktcken my eyes with her liner
and I got asked out

by a blonde-bearded man with hands
wide and hard as bar stools.

His car bumped mine backing out
in the Dairy Queen parking lot.
He said "Why didn't you pat

your horn, Cleopatra?"

and Josey called back

"Cause she ain't horny!"

I yelled "Damn you Josey Dove!"
pinched her tit

and a glob of chocolate blizzard
tumbled down her sweat shirt.

11

Before he could flirt back

she had licked up the mess

and burst out of my car

into a pack of high school boys
whose hair was all black

and wet fi'om football practice.
The rmn watched Josie

not me—

his blue eyes trailed her like
hounds on a sweat sock.
Butitwasmeheaskedto meet

back at Dairy Queen Sunday.

We drove through Pike county:
corn and tobacco,

lawn jockeys,

shacks of shade tree mechanics.
I'd seen it all before

so I bumrmd a Winston Light
and just held it

just let time inhale

while he asked about school
which I called prison

then felt the fool when he owned up
he'd been jailed ten years

for running dope

across Lake Pontchartrain.

We stopped at a railroad track——
his hand shifted from fifth gear
to my cold knee.

I figured if I'd been Josie

his fingers would've mbbled
more at my hem or

bit at my buttons.

He grew quiet and drove

down a road without signs

parked back of a small brick house
black shutters and deck chairs

he said was his mama's.

"Why are we here?" I asked
loosening my belt.

He said, "Tell me bout

12

the blonde from Dairy Queen. "
All I could picture right then
was me in a Ferris Wheel bucket
cutting summer air

only the wheel never stops
cause Bill Shepherd's paid

to stop it

and he's busy watching Josey

in a bumper can...

"Tell me bout Josey Dove"

he said
andIhissed"She'dkissasnake
for a bottle of beer

and if you ain't kissed her yet
you're the last snake in Pikeville. . ."

Josie asked me howl fared

I lied "He kissed me head to toe."
But if she ever makes me mad
bragging bout all her thrills

I might just own up

that I rode through Pike county
with a man who claimed

he's the one man she don't know:
her own blood father.

Morning News

husband Bob says "hallelujah!

nother jailbird went and hanged hisself
at Kilby"

I ask "what'd he use for rope?"

Bob grins "pure white Dixie cotton
ginned and tailored

into pin striped prison britches"

I say "prison pants aren‘t striped

that's just in Elvis Presley pictures
today they're orange as this Tang

and from a distance

make the road gangs

look like wind tossed birds—of-paradise
in weeds"

Bob says "I'd just liked to seen him
swinging cold and black and bare-assed
Mr. Harvey James Dowdell

whoever you were"

then he sees me blanch I reckon

hears my breath snap

like a cracker

and snuffs his grin

I say "Bob help me remember
wasn't there a Harvey James

in our fourth grade?"

Bob says "Christ a' God

you're right

first little spook I ever saw

at Stonewall School"

still my memory's scant and faceless
soBobfillsitwithastory

"once they led us to the dungeon
me and him

for chucking dirt clods

up at blue jays

after school

me they swatted on the jeans

but Harvey James they dropped his pants
into a puddle at his feet

and when I left he's crying snot

14

all down his neck"

I say "Robert Lee Wright

that is not what I was looking

to recall"

and I'm tempted here and now

to storm outside

and read the funnies

but the sun's baked my whole yard
hot and hard

as cinder blocks

"something's gotta kill those buzzards"
Bob replies

"and he chose cotton

like his great granddaddy picked
beneath the bullwhip

ain't it fimny

how God swings this world

in circles?"

15

Cheated

Bill's in Biloxi, you guess,

in his new blue Mazda truck

to play black jack.

You bet he's pawned his ring—
he's staked everything on luck
that eight Coronas said was his
to ride till dawn.

You cried in my phone last week
how you'd been cheated:
Goddamn skunk and his stinkin' blue truck!
You'd wanted a white one,

an off-road, a Ford.

I'm in Bill's house, on Bill's couch,
stroking his tabby cat Jack

who burrows claws in my jeans

like they were Black Belt dirt.
Jack's been alone here two days
while we shacked up

in my double wide;—

cat shit screams in every corner,
Jack just purrs.

From the kitchen you sing country,
old Hank Williams, Cheating Heart,
till your words drown in blender whir.
"Bill's probably in Memphis,"

you tell me, "fat as Elvis,

tucking tips in some stripper's
hungry garter."

Your fingers poke Jack to the floor,
then climb through my zipper's
broken fence.

After sex I spill my plan:

we steal to Vegas

in a white Ford Bronco.

You toss your ring

in a fool's gold fountain,

wish for luck in love and slots.
We wed at the

Chapel of Cheated Hearts,

16

honeymoon sun-blocked,
bare-hearted,
by Caesar's pool.

You wake me at dawn:

Bill phoned from Tupelo,

broke, sober, limping home.

"Dirty cheat," you say,

"I oughta clmnge the locks,"

as you rush about scooping cat shit
and I pull on socks.

l7

Jesus James

My dad gave me the name
from spite,

then died a week later,
slipped and cracked

his head on ice.

He's been gone thirty years,
and some say

I keep him alive

by growing lmir long

as willow whips,

sporting a beard,

bearing the name

like a limp.

Sundays I skate roller rinks:
children pay half-price

and I pay whole.

Mothers congregate

over snack cakes and Cokes,
cursing my name,

my pick of domain.

For I am quick and lean

as soft rain

when it slips between needles,
pinches the pond.

If I make children fill,

it's not fiom bumping arms
or clipping heels.

It's fi'om touching no one,
never lifting my eyes

from the boards;

it’s my moon-perfect

circles, my ripples

through their play.

18

Salvation

The marquee in front of
George Tilley’s

T.V. repair shop read

JESUS SAVES AND
GEORGE SAVES TOO

so I brought him my 1973

1 3 " black-and-white

with a busted tube

on Tuesday morning

and said “Can you save her

by Saturday afternoon?”
George winked cause he knows
bowling's on Wide World of Sports
followed by Hee Haw

and Wheel of Fortune.

My wife Marilyn's blind and
Saturday's the one day

that fills her with vision.

Marilyn still has Betty

fix her hair, fi'eshen her make-up
but she wears her burden

with a man's dull hush

She says faith is both

a hard suit of armor

and a white felt glove,

and when Christ comes back
He'll put the faithful first

in line so she better look nice.
When I still hadn't heard

from George Saturday morning
she said don't fret him,

but by God she loves

the crack of pins bowled over,
the shiver of steel guitars,
Vanna's clap and

the Wheel's lucky spin.

Later that day

George told an amazing
tale: how lightning struck

l9

First Baptist Thursday night,
blew out all electronics

in the Annex,

how Brother Lewis sorely
needed his four color sets

to teach a Sunday School lesson
on the evils of T.V.,

how the Church beckoned.

I reckoned aloud

that he best fix my set by 3:00
or he'd find a devil

in his workshop.

George got hot, threw my box
on the counter and said

take my troubles elsewhere.

We caught the last ten minutes
of Wheel of Fortune at my sister's——
watching Vanna hatched my plan.
I coaxed my nephew

Willie to pay George Tilley's
marquee a midnight visit,

shift a couple letters,

scatter a few in weeds,

so Sunday morning

all passerby's read

JESUS SAVE

GEORGES ASS

cause George is gonna need it.

20

SECTION TWO:
SELECTED DRAMATIC MONOLOGUES FROM “CHEVRON, USA”

why I pump gas

my first job

down at Dino's

I couldn't slap

or toss the dough
or sauce or cheese
but I could scrub
a deep—dash pan
till it was

black as onyx
Steve the boss
said take my boom
box by the sink

to keep you company
just don't let ole

Harry touch it

no jesus music

christ he'll play

that goddamn gospel
till his god spills

out your ears

Harry told me

he was on parole
used to get wasted
punched a cop
now humbled he
hovered by the
Baker's Pride oven
talked nothing

but getting sober
and saved

nothing made
Steve's day like
baiting Harry
he'd say

21

don't tell me

bout the devil

I met him myself

at Camp LeJune

in the shape of

two drunk grunts
who cut little

pink sixes

all over my buttocks
just for farting

in my sleep

Harry'd say the devil
cuts the heart

and he's got deeper
souls to scar

than your fit ass

Sunday evenings
Steve bowled

so I'd let Harry

play his tapes

his sweat-soaked
hallelujahs

hour on hour

but only a few lines
stick to recollection:
Satan rolls

them stones my way
Jesus rolls

them stones away
see there he'd say
they know

one Sunday Steve
dropped by

too broke to bowl
marched straight
back to the sink
and killed the
boom box juice
cried christ Bony
I told you

no holy rollin

22

Harry said don't you
blaspheme at him
Steve said who's
the boss goddarnmit?
Harry said only

one boss I bow to
and it ain't you

I'd heard this fuss
before so I moved
fiont to clean ovens
only this time
voices fevered

the shuflle of feet
mixed with threats
and shoves

so I peeked back

to see Harry

raise the boom

box over his head
shout thou shalt not
take his name in vain!
hurl it down

like a thunderbolt
Steve dashed

either at Harry

or the box

I ain‘t sure

but Harry grabbed
an unwashed pan
swung it hard

met Steve's charge
square in the ear
and blood spilled

I went to see

Harry once in prison
he said sorry Bony

I know you got stuck
mopping up the mess
I said that's okay

I now pump gas

and how's jail
treating you?

23

he just shrugged
but fi'om his pale
unshaved fice

his nails bitten
clean to flesh

I could tell it was
hot hard blackness

24

super-freak

somewhere glass cracks
splatters on a floor

breaks ofl‘ sleep and
pokes me to my feet

that look thin and freakish
without boots

I stumble to the front
room see a hand

washed in blood pass
through the window’s gash
unlatch open the door
there’s Ben licking his hand
laughing wild and loud
like a god come down

he says Bony I ain’t

never seen you barefoot

it don’t look right

I get hot for a second

say till you learn how to
knock on my door right

I reckon I best

sleep in boots

he says Bony I ain’t

never heard you fuss

it don’t sound right

so I grab a dish rag

rush it out to him

almost out my heel

on the glass
I forgot about

blood on the rag

on his hand spreads

like sunrise but it’s
midnight when we arrive
at the Deke House

the song Superfieak blasts
through windows open
though its cold as hell
Ben limps through

a dozen hellos with

25

drunk Dekes who

don’t recall

he’d been there all night
don‘t notice

the rag 80de red

I trail Ben to the keg
where he drinks straight
item the tap then
unwraps his hand
drenches the gash

to cut pain and says
god damn if I was god
I’d make glass out of
something soft like grass
1 say let’s go upstairs
find a clean rag

he slumps to the floor
says how bout you
bring one down here
and I’ll owe you a beer
so I climb the stairs
crack bedroom doors
see Dekes and girls
taking bong hits staring
out at me singing
superfreak superfreak
finally I find

an empty room

with a bathroom in back
open the door catch
Johnny buck naked
fucking April

whose butt’s on the sink
she throws back her head
fi'om shock cracks

it on the mirror screams
oh my god as Johnny
cries I’m gonna cum

I haul ass

and my boots break

an empty bottle but

I do think to grab

a dirty sock for

26

Ben’s hand and he’s still
slumped by the keg
sucking his cut

I kneel beside him tie
the sock in a knot

while he pours beer

on my scalp says

I baptize you Bony

in the name of Rick James
and it hits me I never
even thanked him

for coming to get me

a wail runs down

stairs followed by

April in Nikes and a robe
her head’s dark in the crown
Ben says who does

she think she is

the queen of France?
two girls pick at her head
pull her outside

while her cries

fill up the break between
songs and I pray

I’m not seen

as Johnny comes limping
down the stairs his bare
foot bleeding I reckon
from the bottle I broke
Ben says what’s wrong
with you? Johnny says
April took my shoes

my robe screaming

bout her goddamn head
and by the way

was that you Bony?

I say I didn’t mean to

he says that’s okay

just next time knock

and shit my foot’s

bout to bleed clean off
so I pull off my boots
then pull off a sock

27

and say soak up your cut
then pull off the other
and hand it to Ben

I say use this when

that one's sopped through
cause I gotta go

Johnny says thanks Bony
Ben says I owes you

a beer and goddamn
Superfi'eak plays again
as I run home

through grass so cold

it cuts clean through

my boots

28

homecoming

main thing scares me
bout the parade

is not being seen

by Bryan's girl Lynn

a twirler with one eye
stuck on her silver stick
one eye on the street
maybe free for a wink
to sweep the crowd

spot the one thing

she ain't specting

I been ducking her
since June

when she caught me
as Ben calls it

playing fetch

with my own bare bone
Christ I dug

myselfa hole

can't be raised

till she sees me

stand beside Tony
Ben and Johnny

who crack the air
with knuckles of jokes
and grins and lies

and lay their eyes

like hands on women
passing by

high school band's

a block away

carries with it

an air chock full of
blare and cymbal splash
and silver sticks

like stars above heads
of bare-armed twirlers
Tony says look at

all those hoes!

I shout rows and rows

29

and rows of hoes!
and Johnny says
Bony's drunk

Ben says Bony's

bout to have a stroke
Tony says Bony's
gonna be strokin

all this jail bait's
swelled his hopes

I shout hot damn
here's the band!

the flags the flutes
the saxophones

a twirler flanks each
bone-straight row
and Bryan said Lynn's
back by the bass drum
back by the pulse

of the whole parade
then a voice

a breath infects me
it's Stickman drunk
snuck up from behind
he says your boyfriend's
waving Bony

best wave back

Stick points to a man
in a rust-colored sweater
leaning curbside

on a cane

curling gnarled

fingers at me

Mr. Louis Cecil Lance
ran the dance school
till he crippled

taught the twirlers
how to twirl

as little girls

and every boy

in town at some time
phoned old Louis
screamed Lucy

30

loves to dance!
and hung up squealing
a friend of Mama's
he'd stop by
Sunday evenings
they'd drink wine
play Elvis Presley
Marna'd lift me
from my playpen
and I'd dance

in underpants

to Don 't Be Cruel

Stick says Bony
wants to twirl

but he needs
hisselfa baa-ton
Ben says Stick

let's watch the girls
Stick shouts hey there
Lucy Lance

Bony wants

to twirl your pole!
Tony flicks him

on the shoulder
says you're spoiling
this parade

Stick just grins
says hey man
throws a punch

it's all over

in a blink

Tony ducked
bullied forward
drove Stick down
against my knees
now I'm lying cheek
to concrete
bleeding thick
from nose and lip

I jump up dash
inside the wash bay

31

not to clean my fice
but hide it
Stickrnan's cussing
Tony's hughing

Ben and Johnny

fast between em

and the rows of
marchers wrinkle
the fight song
breaks to flutters
cause the bass drum
lost its heartbeat

to the ruckus

on the curbside

and I can't spot Lynn
but see the air above
her row is bare

32

crying shame

in comes Ben

caught drinking

a red-wrapped

bottle of brandy

from his brother Ted
his mama'd said

it's your booze

but not your birthday
and if you can't wait
get out

Ben says why ain't you
home hanging stockings?
I say my fimily's

gone to granny's

truth is Bryan brought
home his girlfriend
Lynn the one who
caught me last June
jacking ofl’ -
on a damp white

sock she'd left in the
bathroom and I forgot
to lock the knob

cause finding those clothes
knocked me senseless

Ben totes in

a case of Stroh's Light
Jack Bailey sold him
halfprice

his Christmas bonus
then he calls friends
of his from school
whose folks are

dead or gone

or kicked em out

Bart Deere, Kent Spright
boys I hardly know
bring beer and wine
then the three of em
run down to K Mart

33

while I clean up a bit
and place a call

they bring back

a half-priced string

of lights a small

silver tree they set
beside my tv then

in struts Stickman
they'd seen him

at the deli

eating deviled eggs
Ben whispers don‘t fi'et
I'll keep him in line
then kills half

a bottle of wine

in a single swig

I say Ben I called
Tony cause Shirley's
gone to Boston

Ben says Bony

that could be trouble
but Stickman helps me
string lights speaks
softer than ever before
says I spected

to spend tonight alone
thanks Bony for
having us over

and you need a beer?
I've drunk four by now
and visions of

even the devil

alone at the K Mart
deli on Christmas eve
make my eyes

thin as tissue

and now I gotta take
a leak but damn sure
lock the knob

and a good thing cause
pee turns to tears

first time in

five years I've cried

34

and all cause of
Stickman Jesus Christ

we get drunker

than hell sing

all the words to Jingle
Bells and Rudolph

we can recall

then Ben passes out
Bart starts cussing

his family calls

his sister a slut
mfllfima

about Tony till he
knocks comes in

sees Stickman stops
Stickman says woo woo woo
it's Redman

Tony says woo woo woo
merry Christmas

he's carrying a sack of
slim jims and tire gauges
he passes out

to everyone but Ben
still dead on the couch
I'm worried sick about
Stickman till he says

I preciate that Tony
and merry Christmas
then I gotta piss

again cry again

run the water so
nobody'll heat but
forget the lock

and after a minute

or two Stickman

busts through the door
stares hard at my eyes
says what in hell

you crying for

the fight's out here

so I rush out to see
Bart and Kent rolling

35

on the floor like they're
playing being on fire
knock over the tree

the blinking lights

spill Ben's bottle of wine
till finally Kent breaks
free jumps up runs out
and Bart goes with him
Ben raises his head

says what in hell?
Stickmn says Kent
confessed he'd fircked
Bart's sister and Bart
got pissed

Ben picks up the empty bottle
says crying shame

then the clock

strikes midnight

merry Christmas

36

Jack's white Lincoln

Tony moped about the
wash bay spit a fist

sized chaw of bacca

on Jack's white Lincoln
got hisself canned

so be packed up his Buick
took off for New York
New York for good
didn't even say bye

Ben and me swapped off
cleaning cars

Jack came out to help
pump gas scrape glass
kiss all the full serves
firll white asses and

wink at his Lincoln

like it and him

were having a fling

I asked Ben

how many times a week
we gotta clean that thing?
Ben said Bony

how many pennies

you got in your pocket?
I said I dunno a bunch
he winked said flip ya
for who goes first

soon Jack's wife Kitty

said it ain't right

white boys in the wash bay
that's for colored

Jack said then find me

a color I can count on
showing up

she said you know Gladys
King works at the cleaners?
her man Ben needs work
used to drink but now

he's sober cause

Gladys cleans his pockets

37

keeps him broke

Jack said one Ben
down here's plenty

she said this Ben's black
it ain’t the same

next day Ben King
showed up on foot
Jack said I'm Jack

he's Bony

Ben's Ben

we'll call you BB.

and BB. King

first thing each morning
is clean my Lincoln
B.B. sulked dragged
his boots like they were
soaked fiom just

the notion of a day

lost in the wash bay

but he could scour 2-3
cars an hour also

2-3 times a day

his wife stopped by

to clean his pockets
bring him a coke

one day Ben said
BB. King

I heard your song
down at the pool hall
the thrill is gone

the thrill is gone

B.B. said yep and
Gladys took it

cause the thrill

done tried to kill me
Ben said brother don't
I know it still we need
to shoot some pool
get your wife

my mom together
you'd be fi'ee

38

B.B. said damn

I wish I could

but I stay broke

as a bucket with holes
Ben said fuck it

I'm broke myself but

I got Bony

B.B. never got fi'ee

till one Sunday afternoon
Jack closed up early
said boys

you've worked like hell
I'm gonna treat you

to a case and left us
drinking in the wash bay
B.B. said kill em quick
before Gladys comes
and kills me

then he made up

a song and sang

the thrill was gone

but now it 's back

and If] can 't shoot pool
I can drink like a fool
and the name of this tune
is the shiny white
motherfitckin Lincoln
washing blues

I never drunk

so much so fist

words started slipping
past my lips I said
goddamn Black Ben
sing that song

about the Lincoln

B.B. fi'owned said

Ben who?

what you call me?

I said Jack's the one
who said it

Jack said what? he asked
Black Ben I said

39

that's what B.B. means
Jack told me

we didn't speak much
after that and Ben said
Bony don't you worry
we were drunk

next day B.B. started
bitching bout the way
Jack yelled and

worked him like hell
one day just walked ofi~
so now Ben and me
clean cars cept

when Jack takes mercy
or the sky gives rain
and it rained
unmercifully last Friday
and BB. was drunk

on balrning fluid

in the middle of the road
Miss Kitty told us

got hisself killed

Ben said it's hard

to picture a black dude
dead and gray

I try not to

picture him at all
still I can't shut up
that song

it seems to flow
from out the hose
seems to slosh
around the bucket
while I'm shining
Jack’s white Lincoln
with the blues

4o

the train

she was there
when I moved in

I swear

the blow-up love
doll found

boxed untouched
in the bedroom closet
I slept with
unblown between
my knees
landlord said

the man before me
died right sudden
in a wreck

my neighbor said

I heard he crossed
the tracks

into blacktown

got cold cocked
robbed by a hooker
laid on the rails

till a train came
and ffittened him
bad break for a fit
bald white man
who oughta died
of a heart attack

in that bed of yours
my neighbor loves
to tell tall tales

still his story

left me spooked
scared to give

the doll breath

for fear she'd

tempt me into
crossing those tracks

Thursday night asleep
I heard fists too drunk

41

to stay balled

break to flats

and backs of hand
against my door

I heaped sheets

on the doll

let in Ben and Johnny
three Dekes

and a dumpy girl
holding Johnny's hand
a twin

I learned later

whose sister got

all the clear skin

the curves

Ben pulled me aside
said Bony

if things go right

this girl might pull

a train I asked

a what? he laughed
just get yourself in line

I killed two beers
while the Dekes
took turns dancing
with Johnny's date
I asked again
what's a train?

Ben pulled me out
to his truck

to shoot whiskey
said you ain't

gotta do it

but the boys

and me are drtmk
then the door
gaped open the girl
burst out like a scream
with Johnny trailing
she cried christ

just take me home
Johnny laughed

42

it's midnight Cinderella
better scoot!

then said shoot Bony
when we climbed

into your covers

your girlfiiend .

bit us in the feet

the Dekes half
laughed halfcussed
at me while I tried
to explain

she was just cushion
for bony knees

so I curled up

on the couch

till Ben unfirrled her
said don't worry boys
she left her twin
who's fifty times
better lookin

started to blow

till he dizzied

then Johnny blew
the Dekes too and
finally me till she
grew plump as

a pumpkin

Ben laid her back

on my bed

smoothed the sheets
pillowed her head
said I came here

to ride and ride

I will

then climbed on top
bucked his hips

a dozen times

said first to board
now takes the tickets
and Johnny's next

so Johnny climbed on

43

bucked his hips
sung I think I can!

I think I can!

then one by one
Dekes followed
finished

laid their eyes

on me and even Ben
called Bony! Bony!
till I was on her

by now she was
almost flat

out of breath

and trying to recall
what I'd seen

I bucked my hips

a couple times
Johnny sung

he thinks he can!
he thinks he can!
and next day

when my neighbor asked
what was all that
racket? I said

just mind your
business please
course he probably
spread the word we'd
humped and killed
a girl

dumped her

in the dumpster
truth is the Dekes
took her with em
so now I sleep
with bony knee

on bony knee

44

PART THREE: A ROOF OF FLAME

The sunset caught me, turned the brush to copper,
set the clouds
to one great roof of flame. . . .
—Elizabeth Coatsworth
“On the Hills”

Characters (in order of appearance):

Joe Monroe: high school teacher, age 36, kind fice, cheap shoes and dirty ties, a man
whose natural slimness and sharpness of posture is beginning to soften.

Ronnie Staples: elementary school teacher, age 43, tall and thin, nicely dressed, a woman
whose constant expression of firssy surprise has begun to exhaust her fice of its abundant

store of vitality.

Cecil Jenkins: high school Latin teacher, age 60, unexceptional in his appearance save a
head of thick silver hair that calls to mind an elderly Robert Frost, and who fincies himself
to be the voice of his community.

Susan Monroe: lawyer, age 37, sharp ficed, graying hair, appears to spends hours on an
exercise bike and who is seldom seen publically when she isn’t reading.

Bob Hargrove: truck driver, age 50, blue collar dress and hardness of expression, easily
provoked. ‘

Dr. Jeanette Turner: private school headmistress, age 48, appears in every way
appropriate to her position, articulate and patient.

Setting: The scenes alternate between school rooms at Wilcox Academy, a private,
segregated school in Alma, a small town in the Deep South, and the front room of Joe’s
one-bedroom apartment on the upper floor of a large, older home. The school rooms
should contain a black board, a teacher’s desk, and several student desks; any additional
props should be appropriate to the setting. As the school room setting will be used to
represent two different rooms, it should be as nondescript as possible.

Joe’s apartment room should contain a couch, an arm chair, small bookshelves
filled with paperbacks, and a small card table with a couple of metal folding chairs. Other
decor and its general upkeep should be appropriate to his circumstances. The front door
of this room is understood to open to a small porch and outside stairs leading up to the
apartment. There should be a window on the wall beside the door. A door on the back
wall is understood to lead to both the kitchen and a back bedroom.

The time is late-1990's.

45

ACT ONE
Scene 1
Scene: Joe ’s classroom. Joe is erasing and sponging his black board throughout part of
the following scene. Ronnie sticks her head through the door but doesn ’t enter.
RONNIE: Four more days!
JOE: (Mimics her sing-song tone) Four more days.
RONNIE: Can you believe it?
JOE: It's hard to believe.
RONNIE: Well I’m a believer, Mr. Monroe!
JOE: Time flies.
RONNIE: (Now standing in the doorway) Can I tell you a secret?
JOE: (Slight hesitation) Sure.
RONNIE: (Moves quickly into the room) I used to hear old folks saying how time flies
and I never believed them. Plus my mama always said that the older you get, the quicker
it flies. I used to think it was just a bunch of old gray-heads making noise, but the secret,
Mr. Monroe, is that it’s true. Time does fly. (Moves one hand towards her and one hand
away) I’m growing older and time’s growing shorter and pretty soon—{Brings hands
together in a clap, then throws them out)—why am I telling you all this? Young man like
you’s got years to splurge!
JOE: Thanks for the warning.
RONNIE: It doesn’t seem fiir, does it? But if it was fiir then it wouldn’t be a secret, and
I wouldn’t have had any reason to come in here and talk to you! To tell the truth I was
looking for a reason.

JOE: I’m glad you found one.

RONNIE: I’ll tell you something else while I’m here. My mother—who taught
thirty-seven years—used to say the school year was nothing but one long ring of a bell.

JOE: (Impressed, nodding) Thirty-seven years.

46

RONNIE: Thirty-seven years. The last day of school, every year, she’d sit at her desk and
cry like a girl!

JOE: Wow.

RONNIE: I never understood my mother till I got old.

JOE: Miss Staples, you're not old.

RONNIE: You sound just like one of my babies! They all think I'm young as their
mamas—they all think I’m beautiful. They don’t see the lines on my fice—just the blues
and the reds!

JOE: (Goes back to erasing) You teach third grade? Is that right?

RONNIE: That’s right! (Suddenly moves towards his window) Hey, your room looks out
at the playground. Lucky you!

JOE: It can get pretty noisy—

RONNIE: Well I’m jealous! (Calls out to the children) Hey, that looks like fun! Can I
join you?(1ndistinct sounds) Darlin’, I couldn't climb that thing if it had an elevator!
(Moves back in the room) Course if the school year goes by fast, then the summer’s just a
blink.

JOE: I need a nice long summer.

RONNIE: You and me both! Are you gonna stay here in town?

JOE: Yes I am.

RONNIE: I thought you might have big plans for the summer.

JOE: No ma'arn.

RONNIE: I thought you might be planning to go—hike a mountain trail!

JOE: Not me. To be honest, I don't have any plans past June.

RONNIE: (Excitedly, like it's a secret) Ooo, what's in June?

JOE: I'm just gomra sleep the entire month.

47

RONNIE: That sounds nice.
JOE: Nothing else.
RONNIE: Mrnm, I might just join you!

JOE: (Not sure how to respond hesitates for a moment) What about you? What are your
plans for the summer?

RONNIE: I'm almost embarrassed to say. It’ll show how dull I’ve become.
(A third grade girl walks by, stops in the doorway)

CHILD: Hey Miss Staples.

RONNIE: Hey there darlin'! (Hugs the girl) Where'd you come from?
CHILD: I'm still waiting for Mama.

RONNIE: You are?

CHILD: She's late.

RONNIE: And you stopped by just to give me a hug! (The girl eagerly hugs her again)
This is the sweetest little girl I know, Mr. Monroe.

JOE: Hello there.

RONNIE: Ashley, tell Mr. Monroe what I'm gonna do this summer. He was just asking.
CHILD: She's gonna read 'n read 'n read!

RONNIE: That's right, I'm gonna read 'n read till my eyes cry ink! (To the girl) Just like
you are, right? (The girl nods vigorously) Well all right! You better go check on your
ride, honey. Tell your mama I said hey!

CHILD: Bye Miss Staples!

RONNIE: Bye sugar loaf! (Girl exits) Lord, that poor child. Her mama is a mess.

JOE: Hmrn.

RONNIE: Different man every week—but we don't talk about that.

48

JOE: (Pause, unsure how to respond) So what do you read?
RONNIE: (Seems unprepared for his question) Hrmn?
JOE: What books do you plan to read?

RONNIE: I don’t know, Mr. Monroe. What do you recommend?
JOE: What do you like?

RONNIE: Oh,I don’t know—books about the South.

JOE: John Grisharn, maybe?

RONNIE: Whatever you say!

JOE: I remember you saying how much you liked The Firm.
RONNIE: Did I say that?

JOE: I think so, one day at lunch

RONNIE: And you remember that? (Joe nods) I start them all, but I don't think I've
finished a one. I was probably just showing off.

JOE: I’ve just seen the movies.
RONNIE: ,I don't get out much to movies.
JOE: You're not missing much.

RONNIE: Daddy says movies set in the South make us all look like we grew up on
plantations. Goodness sakes! Do I look like—what’s her name?—Melanie Wilkes?

JOE: Well, no—

RONNIE: Don’t get the wrong picture Mr. Monroe. (Moves back toward window, looks
out) Just cause there’s a statue of my daddy out there in the courtyard—my spoons were
made of tin. Folks think Daddy got rich off this school, but if he did, I never spent a dime
of it. (Suddenly embarrassed by these admissions) Anyway, I don’t get out much to the
movies, never have time. (Lowers her voice) And I’ve heard if you go on Saturday, there's
not a white fice in the house.

49

JOE: Hmrn.

RONNIE: I mean I'm not prejudiced, I just—

JOE: I just like the popcorn.

RONNIE: (Rubs her belly) Mmm!

JOE: And the Junior Mints——

RONNIE: Now I'm jealous! I'm stuck home reading while you're off at the movies.
JOE: Well I admire you Miss Staples—

RONNIE: (T easingly) You better start calling me Ronnie.

JOE: Okay, Ronnie.

RONNIE: We've worked together for almost a year now! Even if this is our first real
conversation.

JOE: Well, Ronnie, I admire your plan.

RONNIE: What plan?

JOE: To read till your eyes cry ink.

RONNIE: Oh, I’s just being silly. I probably won’t read two books!
JOE: Me neither.

RONNIE: I don’t like to read, Mr. Monroe! I like to do. (Almost provocative) So what
are you gonna do all summer?

JOE: I don’t know. I’d like to get outdoors as much as I can.
RONNIE: There you go!

JOE: I'm not sure what I'll do though, once I'm out there.
RONNIE: You could take a walk around town!

JOE: I could.

50

RONNIE: I'd go with you if I had the energy!

(Slight pause; Joe has finished the board, puts away the supplies)
JOE: My sister’s big on fitness. She’s got all these machines—
RONNIE: Goodness!

JOE: She’s down visiting me fi'om New York, and I’m sure she has plans to revive my
physique. '

RONNIE: (Moves closer towards him) I don’t think you need much revival.
JOE: I like your idea—just taking walks.

RONNIE: Those don’t need machines!

JOE: No they don’t.

RONNIE: All they need is——company. That’s all I ever lacked.

JOE: I suppose it would help.

RONNIE: Well Mr. Monroe, I accept. You’ve found yourselfa partner!
JOE: Are you sure?

RONNIE: Course I’m sure!

JOE: I’d hate to be a burden——

RONNIE: (Touches his hand) Honey, no, you’d be doing me a fivor! I ain't tended to my
fitness in years. Listen to me—ain't tended. (Laughs) You'd think I taught P.E.!

JOE: Don't apologize—

RONNIE: Just don't tell my fither!

JENKINS: (Pokes his head in the door) Excuse me—
RONNIE: (Pretends to be whispering) Don't tell him neither.

JENKINS: Don't tell me what?

51

RONNIE: Are you spying on us?

JENKINS: What is it you can't tell me?

RONNIE: Oh, lots of things Cecil. Like that what you're teaching ain't breathing.
JENKINS: (Chuckles) Isn't breathing.

RONNIE: That old Latin. Dead as a fan with a burnt-up motor.

JENKINS: She likes her language to breathe. (Joe nods pleasantly) Say Joe, you got a
minute?

JOE: Oh, sure.

RONNIE: You're not gonna greet me proper, Cecil Jenkins?

JENKINS: Hello Miss Veronica.

RONNIE: Miss Veronica, like I'm a girl.

JENKINS: I need to talk with Mr. Monroe for a minute, if I can take him away from you.
RONNIE: Well you can borrow him. But I'm not letting him go!

JENKINS: I just need to ask him a couple of questions. Won't take but a minute.

RONNIE: Long as you talk in English, Cecil. You start talking in Latin and you’ll kill this
young man. (Starts to leave)

JENKINS: I think he can take care ofhimself.

RONNIE: You remember to call me now Mr. Monroe, remember our plans.
JOE: I will.

RONNIE: (Exiting) Four more days!

JENKINS: You all have big plans for the summer?

JOE: Oh no. (Laughs nervously) We’re gonna walk sometimes, for exercise.

JENKINS: That right? She’s got a lot of drive!

52

JOE: She does.

JENKINS: She was one of my students once. My very first year.
JOE: I didn't know that.

JENKINS: (Grins) She never cared much for Latin.

JOE: I guess not.

JENKINS: Over thirty years ago. (Looks around the room) Never dreamed then I'd still be
here now.

JOE: I can't imagine.

JENKINS: This your first year here?
JOE: Yes sir.

JENKINS: How'd you like it?

JOE: I liked it fine sir. It's been—(Groping for words—he ’s nervous—wants to say the
right thing)——challenging but—good.

JENKINS: That's good to hear. How’s life in Ahna?

JOE: Oh, fine.

JENKINS: I'm glad to hear that, Joe. I was afiaid you were going to say it was a curse.
JOE: Oh no—

JENKINS: That's the hardest thing for most of our new teachers—small town life.

JOE: (Feeling he 's said something wrong) Oh I like it. I grew up in a small town.
JENKINS: Is that right? I thought you were fi'om Baltimore.

JOE: I’ve been living there, but I’m originally fi'om Skyler, little town about seventy miles
south of here.

JENKINS: Is that right? You don’t sound like a Southerner.

53

JOE: I went to college in New York City.

JENKINS: New York City, I visited there once. All those fist yellow cabs’ll scare the
tongue out of anybody!

JOE: (Smiling) Yes sir.

JENKINS: Look Joe, I'm just here on a errand——

RONNIE: (Poking her head through the door) Are you still here? Your time is up!
JENKINS: Good lord—

RONNIE: I'm gonna charge you a fine!

JENKINS: You want him back already, huh?

RONNIE: No, I just wanted to say bye, and thank Mr. Monroe for the talk.

JOE: Oh, thank you.

RONNIE: (T 0 Joe) I bet I know what he's here for. He wants you put more Latin in your
lesson plans. He wants everybody to speak Latin, even the RE. teachers!

JENKINS: Mens sana in corpore sano. Tell him what that means, Miss Staples.
RONNIE: I don't hold conversations with corpses, Mr. Jenkins.
JENKINS: She means her memory's getting bad.

RONNIE: Not mine! It's the one thing I've got that's getting better. (Laughs and exits)
Four more days!

JENKINS: Don’t let her fool you Joe. She’ll spend every day this summer counting down
till fill.

JOE: Yes sir. You said you had an errand?

JENKINS: Oh, that’s right. Dr. Turner asked me to come around and see that everybody
got copies of their new contract.

JOE: I got it this morning, and I plan to read over it tonight.

54

JENKINS: Fine, fine. If you don’t mind my asking, are you planning on signing it?
JOE: I am sir. I’ll drop it ofi‘in the morning.

JENKINS: Excellent. Glad to hear it. (Writes on his clipboard) I’m delighted we haven’t
scared you away.

JOE: No sir, I’m very content.
JENKINS: Fine, fine. Well, that’s all I had to say. (Starts to exit)
JOE: Thank you.

JENKINS: (Stops at the door, turns back) Oh, one more thing, Joe. Are things are going
okay for you here in the classroom?

JOE: Everything’s fine sir.

JENKINS: No problems with the students?

JOE: Nothing out of the ordinary.

JENKINS: Parents?

JOE: Not yet.

JENKINS: Good, good. (Lingers, appears to be lost in thought)
JOE: Is something the matter, sir?

JENKINS: Not if you say there’s not. I just ran into somebody yesterday, and from what
he was saying, I thought there might be something you’d like to talk about.

JOE: I’m not sure I know what you mean.

JENKINS: Well, you know Bob Hargrove, Will’s daddy. He tells me you and he have a
meeting coming up.

JOE: That’s right. I just sent him a note.

JENKINS: That’s what he said. Said Will was having problems, which doesn’t surprise
me a lick.

55

JOE: Yes sir. Will’s in danger of failing my civics class.

JENKINS: I see. (Moves back into the room) I’m gonna speak frankly Joe—you’re not
the first teacher that boy’s had trouble with I’m not sure he belongs here at Wilcox,
though I don’t know where else we could send him. Not back to the public schools, no
sirree.

JOE: Will’s plenty capable. He just needs to finish what he starts.
JENKINS: Is that what your meeting’s about? If you don’t mind my asking.
JOE: Pretty much sir, that’s right.

JENKINS: That’s good to know, because old Bob had me a little bit worried. Something
seemed to be troubling him immensely, but he wouldn’t say what. Said he was sure he
could work it out with you.

JOE: I expect we can

JENKINS: Good, good. That’s just what I wanted to hear. (Begins to leave, then turns
back) Not that any of this is any of my business. I’ve just been around here longer than
anybody Joe, I’m quickly approaching the point of petrification. One of the ladies in the
oflice was saying how, when I retire, there are plans to put a statue of me out in the
courtyard next to my fiiend Grover Staples. And I replied that they could save a whole
heap ofmoney byjust dragging out my body—as is—and setting it up on a couple of
cinder blocks! And yet I believe that experience is worth a little something, don’t you? I
was hoping Bob would tell me what was bothering him so I could help you all work it out,
and maybe he wouldn’t even need to come here. I don’t think a man like Bob Hargrove is
gonm be comfortable talking to an educated man like yourself.

JOE: I’ll do my best to be respectful.

JENKINS: I know you will. Now listen, if old Bob starts to get belligerent, you won’t
hesitate to call on me, will you?

(Joe doesn ’t answer right away)

RONNIE: (Enters) Are you still here?! It thought you'd be home watering your monkey
grass!

JENKINS: I thought you'd be home helping your daddy cheat his crossword. You just
can't leave.

56

RONNIE: Not without my purse I can't. Did I leave it in here?
JOE: (Looking around) I don't think so.

RONNIE: (T o Jenkins) I bet you took it, and turned it inside out! (T 0 Joe) He likes
knowing all my secrets.

JENKINS: I know this much—she likes your company Mr. Monroe.
RONNIE: Well that's not a secret, is it?
JENKINS: I'm gonna leave you two to make your plans. I've got monkey grass to water.

RONNIE: That’s all you can grow. Monkey grass. It's cause you teach that old dead
language! (Looks around) Maybe I threw it in the back seat. I better go check.

JENKINS: (Stops at the door) Well come on, I'll walk you out there. (To Joe) I'll make
sure she drives 011’ this time.

RONNIE: He likes to follow me home.
JOE: Goodbye.

(Blackout)

Act 1, Scene 2

Setting: Joe '3 apartment, about 8:00 at night. Susan is sitting in an arm chair and busily
poring over Joe ’s school contract, while Joe sits on the couch grading papers. These two
siblings squabble throughout the scene, tossing barbs at each other that, at times, seemed
aimed at breaking the skin. Yet this simply is the nature of their relationship—they
communicate best through sarcasm and deprecation (self and otherwise), and there
should never be any doubt about their aflection and deep concern for each other ’s well-
being.

SUSAN: (Suddenly stops, then reads aloud with drama) “Teachers are expected to
conduct their private lives in a manner that conforms to community standards.” What the
hell does that mean?

JOE: (Still grading papers, not looking up) It means I can’t get caught screwing students.

SUSAN: Do you screw students?

57

JOE: I don’t get caught.

SUSAN: That’s good.

JOB: So I don’t need a lawyer.

SUSAN: I’m not your lawyer, I’m your sister. (Crumples the paper a bit)
JOE: (Looks up) You’re crumpling it.

SUSAN: If you’d just let me finish (Crumples it some more; Joe sighs, resumes grading)
You know—there’s something here they’re not telling you.

JOE: About what?

SUSAN: About what’s gonna happen if you sign this thing.
JOE: (Looks up) What’s gonna happen?

SUSAN: You’re not planning to sign it?

JOE: If I ever get it back.

SUSAN: You’re not gonna want it back. Look. (Turns the document over and holds it
out, pointing to the blank side) See right there.

JOE: Yeah?

SUSAN: What does it say?

JOE: Nothing.

SUSAN: Of course not! You think they’d admit what they’re gonna do to you?
JOE: What are they gonna do?

SUSAN: They’re gonna cut out your brain!

JOE: Really?

SUSAN: For every year you stay, they take out a portion.

JOE: Wow.

58

SUSAN: Like eating an orange. You’ve eaten oranges, right?

JOE: They eat my brain?

SUSAN: I don’t know what they do with it.

JOE: (Laughing) How do you know any of this?

SUSAN: I know these little cracker towns.

JOE: You’ve been here all of three hours!

SUSAN: Haven’t you noticed how all the old men around here have sticky fingers?
JOE: Hadn’t noticed.

SUSAN: (Shivers) Well—wait till you get patted on the ass at the Welcome Center.
JOE: (Starts to resume grading, then stops) Why’d you stop at the Welcome Center?
SUSAN: I don’t know—it looked——homey. There was this little old man out on the
porch—he looked like Grandpa Walton. I thought he’d give me a key chain or something.
But he was lecherous old Southern coat, and soon as he touched me, I knew you were
screwed. (Crumples the paper)

JOE: Would you please quit crumpling it?

SUSAN: I’m not hurting it.

JOE: You’re crushing it.

SUSAN: If you’d just let me finish

JOE: Okay. (Joe puts away his papers, goes over and rummages through her bag which
lies on the floor, then pulls out a copy of a paperback she’s been reading)

RONNIE: What are you doing—hey, hey, stop.
JOE: I knew it. (Brandishes the book)
SUSAN: Put it back!

JOE: Goddamn Tennessee Williams.

59

SUSAN: Leave him out of this!

JOE: This stufi rmkes you paranoid.

SUSAN: It makes me vigilant.

JOE: Everytime you come home you’re reading this!

SUSAN: It’s my travel guide—put it back!

JOE: Give me back my contract.

SUSAN: I’ll give it back when I’m finished.

JOE: I’ll put it back when I’m finished. (Opens the book, as if to read it)
SUSAN: Well be careful. It’s old.

JOE: (They both read for a moment, then Joe speaks, disparagingly) Is this the play
where the woman gets lobotomized?

SUSAN: No. But you should read that one.

JOE: I have. I’ve read them all.

SUSAN: Read them again.

JOE: (Closes book) I’ve had my fill of Southern hysterics.

SUSAN: Hey. (Lays down the contract) I remember something little brother. You wrote
a play once and signed it “Boll Weevil Joe.” And my boyfriend called you a Tennessee
Williams wannabe and you got mad and called him a Yankee snob. A Yankee—you
actually said Yankee! (She laughs) I think I dumped the poor guy because of that, for
which you never said thanks.

JOE: Thanks.

SUSAN: He was a snob, actually.

JOE: It was Joe Boll Weevil. And I was a child.

SUSAN: Yeah, well, I say they’re after your brain. And your soul is next. (Goes back to
reading the document)

60

JOE: I’d like it back now please—-

SUSAN: A—ha! I found it. It’s in really tiny print. (Holds the document close to her eyes)

JOE: (Grabs for it) Let me see.
SUSAN: (Snatches it back) Trust your attorney.

JOE: All right. If you wanna play, let’s play. (Grabs her Tennessee Williams book, makes
like he ’s going to tear it down the spine) Say goodbye.

SUSAN: Hey!

JOE: I’ll do it—

SUSAN: Don’t you touch him.

JOE: (With relish) I’ll tear him in two—

SUSAN: (Jumps up, holds out the document) Here—take it. (Joe hands her the book,
then takes the document, which he immediately smooths and lays on a table; she kisses
the book) Poor sweetheart.

JOE: You’ve smudged it nicely.

SUSAN: Good. Now I want you to burn that danm thing.

JOE: Why? Are you cold?

SUSAN: No. Because you’re coming back to New York with me.

JOE: It’s cold as Russia in New York.

SUSAN: It’s hot as hell here.

JOE: (Goes over and parts the curtains, then opens the door) It’s cool outside.
SUSAN: Leave the door open.

JOE: (Closing door) There’s no screen.

SUSAN: (Fanning herself; speaks in an exaggerated Southern accent) Well I am starting

61

to suh-woon.

JOE: There’s NC in the bedroom

SUSAN: Lotta good that does the rest of us.

JOE: (Doubles over as if hit in the gut) Ooohhh, a reminder. Joe sleeps alone.
SUSAN: Yes he does, and it’s a shame.

JOE: He’s no less happy than when his bed was full.

SUSAN: His bed was never full for long.

JOE: His point exactly.

SUSAN: (Feigning indignation) Well, the whole thing’s embarrassing for his sister. Her
friends ask what he’s up to, and not only does she have to say he’s teaching at a private
school in Alma, but that he wakes up there alone.

JOE: (Sits) Sorry for the burden. You want a beer? (Rises)

SUSAN: No thanks. (Sits) I thought you quit drinking?

JOE: I did. I just bought a couple for my last day of school celebration.

SUSAN: A-ha! The end of school is cause for celebration.

JOE: It’s always a cause for celebration—

SUSAN: Bullshit—

JOE: It is—

SUSAN: Bullshit! I’ve got a fiiend who teaches in Harlem and she’s sad as hell when the
day comes to an end. Every sunset she weeps.

JOE: Sorry. I’m not apt to weep.
SUSAN: Well I’ll do it for you, Joey. It’s pretty damn sad.

JOE: (Genuime hurt) I’m sorry I embarrass you.

62

SUSAN: That’s not what I meant.
JOE: That’s what you said.

SUSAN: I didn’t mean it was your fiult. I’m absolutely certain you’re teaching the little
bigots a billion times more than they’re worth

JOE: Gee, thanks.

SUSAN: But the fict is, you teach at a school that was founded to keep out black kids.
(Shrugs, as if challenging him to dispute her) It bugs you.

JOE: Not halfas much as it bugs you.

SUSAN: For six months you lied to me about where you were teaching.
JOE: All I lied about was the name of the school.

SUSAN: (Grunts a laugh) That was a pretty huge lie!

JOE: I knew I’d have to hear a bunch of self-righteous crap.

SUSAN: I’m only self-righteous when I’m right.

JOE: Fine. Go back to Harlem and tell them all about my sell-out. I’m teaching at a
school without metal detectors or drug dogs—which are of course essential for a
meaningful experience. But we do have a dress code: every kid has to wear a clean sheet,
or we send them home. Instead of the Key Club, we have the Key Key Key Club. At pep
rallies we burn bonfires and crosses. In fict, I might burn a cross in here right now. It’s
what I usually do for entertainment, that and carving swastikas in my flesh And I’d do it
too if it weren’t so goddamn hot in here. I don’t know if it’s the weather or the
righteousness, but it’s starting to give me a headache. (Goes over and opens the door,
fans the room with the door, closes it, then he sits on the couch)

SUSAN: (Rises and sits beside him on the couch) The Key Key Key Club. That was
pretty good. (Begins rubbing his knee)

JOE: You sure you don’t want a beer?
SUSAN: (Shakes her head) I wouldn’t last a goddamn week here.

JOE: You just gotta have a plan (Slight pause) I’ve got one.

63

SUSAN: Do tell
JOE: You’ll just grow] at it. (Susan growls) You have to be nice and self-deprecating.

SUSAN: Robert told me once that I probably was born growling. He thinks it was my
first word. He doesn’t believe that I wasn’t always like this. He doesn’t believe that I
used to have a Southern accent.

JOE: I remember. You used to say mama ’n diddy.

SUSAN: I think it all started in ninth grade. Roots was on—you remember Roots? Kunte
Kinte? (Joe nods) I was sitting in home room before school—just me, this really skinny
black kid named Reginald Edwards, and these two Good-Ole-Boys named Tracey and
Jarred. Actually I don’t remember their names, but that sounds about right. Anyway, the
G-O-B’s started whispering—~Cunt-uh Kinte, Cunt-uh Kinte—and snickering, and poor
Reggie was sitting therethinkingtheywereracebaiting whenl knewitwasaimedatme.
I was the cunt—that was the G—O-B word of the week. And a part of me wanted to lean
over and tell Reggie that it was me, not him, but I have to admit—and this sucks—that I
was glad he was there. (Slightpause) I let him squirm.

JOE: I think I teach Tracey and Jarred.

SUSAN: Anyway, in the middle of this pimply purgatory, Reggie turned around and just
growled. And for a second, they fine. It wasn’t long, but I figured, if needed, it
would’ve given us a chance to escape. And that’s how I escaped. I growled at Mama and
Daddy for a whole year till they finally froze long enough for me to slip away. (Slight
pause) So have I earned it?

JOE: You’re getting there.

SUSAN: Hey, I know how to make you like me. I brought you a present. (Goes to her
bag, takes out a package of photographs)

JOE: Looks like a letter bomb.

SUSAN: It’s not really a present. They’re yours—l got them fiom one of your boxes.
(Hands them to him)

JOE: (Opens the package, removes a few of the photographs) Oh my god. I haven’t seen
these in ages.

SUSAN: They’re cute. There’s some of you in there too.

JOE: (Looking through the photos) Jesus Christ. That’s not me—it’s Boll Weevil Joe!
God, whatever happened to these people? I haven’t heard from a soul since I left New
York.

SUSAN: There’s more. (Retrieves a couple more packages, gives them to him)

JOE: (Opening a second package) Have you looked at these?

SUSAN: Why? (Cranes her neck to look) Any good stuff?

JOE: We had a deal—you wouldn’t go through my things.

SUSAN: I didn’t look at them, I swear. I saw them in a box, thought you might like to
see them.

JOE: (Looking through the second package) They are pretty fimny.
SUSAN: I’ll be honest—they’re bait.
JOE: To lure me back? (She nods vigorously) No thanks.

SUSAN: I know tons of women! I’ll take you out to lunch every Friday! I’ll find you a
job—

J OE: (Opens third package, seems stunned by its contents) Jesus Christ.
SUSAN: (Looking) What?
JOE: My production. My play.

SUSAN: Your Eden play? (Joe nods) Lemme see! (He hands her a few photos) I didn’t
know you had any pictures!

JOE: Yeah The last show. You never saw them?

SUSAN: (Looking through them with him) These are so cool! God, the actors were
babies. I didn’t remember them being that young. That was such a great play!

JOE: (Rolls his eyes) Please.
SUSAN: It was. It was beautiful.

JOE: Kids taking their clothes off. (Keeps looking) Granted, they were damn good

65

looking.

SUSAN: (Holds up a couple of photos) This was the highlight of your life, Joey! You got
a production in New York City—

JOE: In a bookstore! With a bunch of amateur actors whose artistic vision was to not get
erections on stage.

SUSAN: So? It was a highly symbolic piece. It deserved better.

JOE: Genitals aren’t symbols, clear. You ever touched one?

SUSAN: You’re just pissed of}~ cause nobody liked it.

JOE: Are you kidding? They loved it. They just didn’t get it.

SUSAN: I got it. And I think you were crazy to stop writing.

JOE: l was crazy for not burning these.

SUSAN: (Tries to grab the package fiom him) No you don’t. I’ll take them back.

J OE: (Holding onto them) I’m not gonna burn them. (Begins putting the other photos
back in the package) I’m gonna put them in my baby book, where they belong.

SUSAN: The play was great, Joey. You were great. You wanted to change the world.

JOE: (Rises and puts the photos on the bookshelf) You don’t change the world with
naked actors. (Winks playfully) Besides, I’ve got a better plan

SUSAN: For god sakes tell me.
JOE: You’ll just scoff.

SUSAN: I won’t scoff, I promise. (Holds up several fingers, as if she ’s giving a scout ’s
pledge)

JOE: All right, you promised. (Slight pause) I’m gonna start a revolution, but it’s gonna
start so quiet and small that nobody’ll hardly notice. In fict it’s already started. I think I
mayhavefiredthefirstshot,andit’sasmallone,Iadmit,butstillldidit—

SUSAN: What are you talking about?

66

JOE: What do you think I’m talking about? Wilcox Academy. Jim Crow’s last hideout,
and I’m gonna kill him. It may take me five, ten years, but when I’m donehwhen I leave
this place—it’ll be integrated. One kid, a hundred kids, it doesn’t matter. My job is just
to get it going.

SUSAN: Doing what?

JOE: Little things. Hang a portrait of Martin Luther King beneath the flag. Make them
read The Invisible Man. I’ve gotta start small, because I’ve gotta be trusted. A few years
down the road, when I’m well-known and liked, I start having private conversations with
influential parents, fit cat boosters, board of trustees. I get them to see that it’s the
twenty-first century, that it’s a goddamn disgrace to be living in a social cesspool. Then
somebody, one of the big wigs, decides the time is right, and brings in a black kid for a
sort of trial run. The old-timers will all raise hell, and a lot of the students will too, and
that kid’s gonna need somebody on the inside watching out for him. That’s gonna be me.

SUSAN: I don’t know—
JOE: You don’t know what?

SUSAN: It’s a nice—vision—Joey, it’s beautiful It’s exactly the kind of thing you should
write a play about! But back in New York.

JOE: Oh—I should write about it and not do it.
SUSAN: You can ’t do it. That’s why it’s a vision.

JOE: (Wended) Of comse I can do it.

SUSAN: You can try. These people down here are mean, and you’re tender, Joey. I love
you for it, but it scares me.

JOE: Thanks for your vote of confidence. (T urns his back to her)

SUSAN: Hey—(Puts her hand on his shoulder)——I’m just jealous. I still occasionally
have dreams, but thenl go to work and realize that most of the people I deal with would
be better off living alone. Sorry. (He turns back around) But that’s great, Joey, really, I
say fuck those racists where it hurts. You think you can pull it oh?

JOE: I gotta try. (Shrugs) I always thought, if I could just have been born twenty or thirty
years earlier, I could’ve been a fieedom rider and gotten shot. I could’ve marclwd to
Montgomery and gotten a beer bottle cracked across my head! When I was working on
the docks, I was terrified that I was gonna get knocked into the water and drowned. And

67

it wasn’t dying I was afraid of—it was dying for six dollars an hour. (Shrugs) At least now
I’ve got a vision. Never had one before. (Slightly shivers)

SUSAN: Just don’t get too comfortable here.
JOE: (Grins) Mthout central air? Shoot.
SUSAN: For god sakes don’t get married.
JOE: Don’t worry. I’m keeping my love life amply miserable.
SUSAN: How miserable?

JOE: I’m pretty damn lonely.

SUSAN: And what’s this shot you fired?
JOE: Just an assignment I gave.

SUSAN: About what?

JOE: You ever heard of Frank T. Welch?
SUSAN: Who?

JOE: Frank—

(Knock at the door)

SUSAN: Company?

JOE: It’s usually a Jehovah’s Witness. (Opens the door; steps back with surprise) Miss
Staples—hello—come in——

RONNIE: (Teasingly) I'm not coming in till you say Rahn-nee.
JOE: I'm sorry Ronnie, I was just surprised—very surprised—
RONNIE: (Enters) You sound just like ole what’s-his-narne!
JOE: Ma'am?

RONNIE: Sur-prize! sur-prize! sur-prize! Oh what’s his name? (Slight pause)

68

SUSAN: (Amused) Gomer Pyle—
RONNIE: Yes—Gomer Pyle! Gomer Pyle. That’s not his name—what’s his real name?
SUSAN: Jim Nabors.

RONNIE: Yes—Jim Nabors! Grew up not twenty miles down the road, and here I forgot
his name!

JOE: Susan, this is Miss Staples, from school.

RONNIE: (T 0 Susan) Please call me Ronnie. (eExtends her hand, they shake) I don’t
know why your brother’s so afi'aid to!

SUSAN: Are you a teacher?

RONNIE: I better be. School’s got my name on it.

JOE: Her father founded it.

SUSAN: Wow.

RONNIE: (Talks directly to Susan like she knows her already) Wilcox is my middle
name—my mother’s maiden name—though sometimes I wish it was something else. You
cannot imagine the size of your shadow when a whole building bears your name!

SUSAN: I’m Joe’s sister Susan.

RONNIE: Of course you are! I saw a car outside with New York tags, and I just had to
come say hello.

SUSAN: Pleased to meet you.

RONNIE: We had a nice, long talk about you today.
SUSAN: (Looks at Joe) Really?

JOE: I was telling Ronnie today about your exercise routine.
SUSAN: Oh, yeah (To Ronnie) Sweating to the oldies.

RONNIE: (Trying to catch her breath) Speaking of oldies——-I just about lost my breath

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walking up those stairs.

JOE: Would you like something to drink?

RONNIE: Yes I would, thank you. Water’s fine.

JOE: Susan?

SUSAN: Nah

JOE: I’ll be right back. (Exits back to kitchen)

RONNIE: Didn’t know walking up stairs could be such an event.
SUSAN: So what exactly did Joey say about me?

RONNIE: Oh, nothing much He said you’re a regular—oh, what’s her name? Who’m I
thinking oft—the woman with the exercise tapes?—the movie star?—

SUSAN: Jane Fonda.

RONNIE: Yes! Yes—Jane Fonda I can’t remember anything tonight!
SUSAN: (Playfully) Can I tell you a secret? About Joe?
RONNIE: Good heavens yes.

SUSAN: I figure I owe him that much.

RONNIE: I love secrets.

SUSAN: Joe’s a big fin of Jane Fonda.

RONNIE: Oh?

SUSAN: I th'mk he’s halfin love with her.

RONNIE: (Disappointed) Goodness. She is a handsome woman.
SUSAN: It’s her attitude. Joe likes women who cause trouble.

RONNIE: Goodness.

7O

SUSAN: He also was crazy for Maud Gonne.

RONNIE: I don’t keep up much with movie stars.

SUSAN: When he was a teenager, all his fi'iends Ind Farrah F awcett on their walls—Joe
had Maud Gonne and Zelda Fitzgerald! Worried Mother to death. In fict, she went out
and bought him a Farrah F awcett poster, which he refused to even unroll—they had a
terrible squabble. I shouldn’t be telling you all this. (Joe enters empty-handed) Should 1,
Joey?

JOE: Should you what?

SUSAN: Tell Ronnie about all your old flames.

JOE: If you want a quick conversation.

SUSAN: He’s being modest.

RONNIE: He’s just shy around me—I don’t know why.

JOE: (T 0 Ronnie) You have to be careful around her. She’s a lawyer.

SUSAN: You forgot the water.

JOE: I’m out of bottled water. And the tap water here’s brown.

RONNIE: Don’t worry about it.

JOE: No, listen, I’m gonna run downstairs and ask my landlady. I do it all the time.
RONNIE: Really, I’m fine!

JOE: I’ll be right back, I promise. (Exits)

SUSAN: I’ve never seem him so polite. What’s got into him?

RONNIE: May I ask you something? Who’s Farrah Fawcett?

SUSAN: She was one of Charlie’s Angels.

RONNIE: Oh. You must think I'm the most ignorant Southern woman you've ever seen.

SUSAN: Not at all.

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RONNIE: I just don't know anything about movie stars. I do know Jane Fonda. I bought
one of her exercise tapes once, but my daddy hollered, Get that slut off my TV! (Suddenly
embarrassed) I told him, “Daddy, it’s my TV—I paid for it.” By then I’d lost my energy.

SUSAN: I used to bug Joey about his health, but lately I’ve been pretty lazy myself. I
haven’t done anything much but roller blade in Central Park.

RONNIE: Ooo, Cental Park. Is it safe there?

SUSAN: Oh, sure. It’s like any other city park.

RONNIE: I don’t know much about big cities.

SUSAN: Come up and see for yourself sometime. And bring Joey with you.

RONNIE: Lord, my daddy’d have a fit! If I told him I’s going to New York City—he’d
die.

SUSAN: Bring him too.

RONNIE: My daddy? Honey, you don’t know my daddy. He’d rather go to Siberia.
JOE: (Enters shrugging) She's out too.

RONNIE: That's okay.

JOE: Why don't I run to the store real quick.

RONNIE: Goodness no! Talking to Susan's fi'eshened me up.

JOE: Still talking about me?

RONNIE: We've been talking about New York City.

SUSAN: Joe’s not a big New York fin. Though I’m trying to change his mind.

JOE: She’s been trying all night.

RONNIE: This oughta be fun to watch!

SUSAN: He’s worn me out, too. I should be thinking about heading back to the hotel.

RONNIE: (With drama) Oh no.

72

SUSAN: I’m suddenly exhausted.
RONNIE: I hope I’m not intruding.

SUSAN: No, no, I’m just tired. Joey, thanks for the talk. (To Ronnie) Maybe we’ll meet
again fiter.

RONNIE: I ‘spect we will!

JOE: Call me when you get back.

SUSAN: I will. (To Ronnie) I hope you understand.

RONNIE: Course I do.

SUSAN: Good night. (Exits)

JOE: Drive safe. (Door closes)

RONNIE: Well. I hope I didn’t run her off.

JOE: Oh no. She’s driving down tomorrow to see Mother.
RONNIE: Still, I probably should have called first.

JOE: No, I’m glad you stopped by. I’m sorry I acted so surprised.

RONNIE: Well—(Sits)—I know I’m the last person you expected to come knocking on
your door.

JOE: Well, yes—

RONNIE: Who'd you think it was? Tell the truth

JOE: To be honest—I thought you might be a Jehovah's Witness.
RONNIE: A Jehovah’s Witness?

JOE: They’ve come before.

RONNIE: You thought I was a Witness.

JOE: For a moment, yes—-

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RONNIE: I'd make a good one, too. You know why?
JOE: Why?

RONNIE: (Reaches over and touches his knee on the word ’Iove') Because I love
knocking on doors. I think that might’ve been my calling!

JOE: You'd be a good one.

RONNIE: That's what we oughta do this summer. Become Witnesses!

JOE: I don't know—

RONNIE: We'd get our exercise, every day!

JOE: I—I think I'd rather rim laps. I'm not much for churches.

RONNIE: Oh Mr. Monroe, I'm just playing. (Lowers voice) You gotta be black to join the
Kingdom Hall, and unless my eyes deceive me——( Winks and grins; Joey grins back,
perfunctorily). Look at us, acting like a couple of teenagers. Next thing you know we'll
be playing footsie. (Taps his shin with her foot; he smiles uncomfortably) I apologize Mr.
Monroe. My daddy says I'm much too silly.

JOE: That's okay.

RONNIE: (Rises) I shouldn’t have come barging in like this. I do apologize.

JOE: Please don't.

RONNIE: I was just in the neighborhood, and—I don't know what got into me, really.
JOE: Don‘t apologize-—

RONNIE: Well, no, I do know wlmt got into me. It was the talk we had this afternoon
That was the best talk I've had in a long, long time.

JOE: I enjoyed it myself.
RONNIE: If I'd known what good company you are, I'd have stopped by sooner.
JOE: You should have.

RONNIE: To tell you the truth Mr. Monroe, I'm always a little leery of being too fiiendly

74

with first-year teachers, till I know they’re gomra stay. And when I heard you were
coming back next year, I thought, I better run over there and get to know this young man!
We were all quite nervous you'd be leaving.

JOE: I'm not leaving.

RONNIE: Then you signed your contract?

JOE: I'm going to sign it right now, before I forget. (Retrieves the document and a pen,
signs it)

RONNIE: And I’m gonna be your witness! (Slight pause) I ought not tell you this, but I
had this silly idea when I saw you with Cecil Jenkins that maybe something was the
matter.

JOE: Not at all.

RONNIE: Nothing's wrong?—I mean it's not my business.

JOE: He was just running an errand.

RONNIE: Mr. Monroe, that’s music to my ears.

JOE: Please call me Joe. It's only fiir.

RONNIE: (Shyly, despite herself) All right. Joe.

(A moment ’3 silence)

JOE: I'm out of water but I do have soft drinks. I know it’s hot in here.

RONNIE: Oh A glass of Coke would be nice.

JOE: All right.

RONNIE: I sure got thirsty walking up your stairs!

JOE: (Exiting to the kitchen) Those stairs are like a moat. I've gotten to where I don't
even lock my door.

RONNIE: (Calls to him) I forget to lock mine too sometimes, and Daddy throws a fit!
(She rises and walks a bit around the room, stops at the bookshelf; sees the package of
photographs; she starts to pick it up, but then moves away when she hears Joe returning)

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JOE: (Returning with a glass of Coke and a beer) I decided to have myselfa beer. I hope
you don't mind. (Hands her the water)

RONNIE: Aren't you a man of the world!

JOE: I’m not much of a beer drinker anymore. I bought a couple for the last day of
school—I don’t know why. I was so worried about students seeing me that I drove
fifteen miles to Gaston to buy them!

RONNIE: Don't you hate that! I used to feel like the most watched woman in Ahna! And
I was. Men from church used to ask me to the movies, and I'd say, "Only if you'll take me
to Gaston. I don't want to feel like I'm being chaperoned by halfof my home room!"
JOE: It’s awfirl.

RONNIE: ThenI switched to third grade, and that all disappeared. I love to see my
babies, and they don‘t spy. They just wanna give you sugar—(Hugs herself tightly).
Course by then all my suitors had found women who, well, didn't mind being watched. So
I just married myselfto Wilcox.

(Joe smiles at this admission, but he doesn't respond with the kind of jocularity she had
hoped for, and she’s confronted with implications of her statement; then an awkwardness
besets them both, and she drinks her Coke in a single gulp)

RONNIE: I didn't know just how thirsty I was.

JOE: Listen, would you like?———I'm not sure if I should ask this.

RONNIE: I trust your judgment. (He swigsfi'om his beer)

JOE: I was just going to ask if you'd like some wine. I don't know if you drink.
RONNIE: (Pause) Well I can't say that I do.

JOE: I understand.

RONNIE: But then I'm not quite ready to say that I don 't.

JOE: Great. I’ll get some wine. (Rises, moves toward kitchen)

RONNIE: Joe? Would you mind if I tried a beer? I’ve always wanted to.

JOE: Of course not. I’ll get you a beer. (Moves toward the kitchen)

76

RONNIE: I feel bad, though, taking your last one.

JOE: Don’t. If I want more I can drive to Gaston.

RONNIE: Yes you can! And maybe I'll go with you.

(Joe exits; Ronnie rises and moves about with nervous energy—she grins, breathes
heavily, puts her hand to her mouth, then looks back at the open window with parted
curtains; she goes to the window, touches the curtain, looks back toward the kitchen, then
quickly pulls the curtain shut and returns to her seat)

JOE: (Returns, hands her the beer) I took the hberty of opening it for you.

RONNIE: Then I guess that makes me h'berated!

JOE: (Sits, drinks from his beer, watching Ronnie who's holding her can like it was a
baby) I hope you don’t think Susan was rude for leaving so quickly.

RONNIE: Of came not. And I just love that name——Susan. (Sips at her beer) My
mother used to plant black-eyed Susans out by the flagpole, but they’d always get

trampled.

JOE: (Chuckles) That's what they called her in law school: black-eyed Susan.
RONNIE: Oh?

JOE: Because she was always picking fights with her professors.

RONNIE: Goodness. (Sips grow bigger) Listen Joe, I took the liberty of drawing your
curtains. You know—those eyes.

JOE: Well——now I'm liberated. (Drinks, and she joins him) How's the beer?

RONNIE: Oh, it's fine. Tastes just like I always thought it would—a little thick, a little
wicked. (Winks)

JOE: It’s been a while since I had beer.
RONNIE: This ain‘t gonna get me tipsy, is it? (Sips)
JOE: I doubt it.

RONNIE: I don‘t mind ifit does. In fict it might already be doing it!

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JOE: (Concerned) Do you feel all right?

RONNIE: (Sips) I feel different.

J OE: Different how?

RONNIE: (Sips) Well—right now I feel about fourteen years old.
JOE: (Laughs) Don't say that!

RONNIE: (A little hurt) Why not?

JOE: Because you'll remind me of one of my students, and then I'll think you're here to spy
on me.

RONNIE: (Laughs) Maybe I am here to spy on you!

JOE: Oh no!

RONNIE: Maybe I'm in disguise!

JOE: I'm in trouble!

RONNIE: That's right, I'm fourteen disguised as forty-three! I’ve been fourteen years old
my whole life, and each year my disguise gets better! (Rises) Look at me Joe—do I look
fourteen years old?

JOE: No, but—

RONNIE: Well I am.

JOE: But you don't look forty-three either.

RONNIE: (Suddenly puts her hand to her mouth) My god, I told you my age, without
you even asking. (Sits)

JOE: Age never mattered much to me.
RONNIE: I want to pay you for this beer—I know I'm not gonna finish it.
JOE: Don't be silly. Drink as much as you want.

RONNIE: I sure enjoyed what I had. Don't tell my daddy though He really does think

78

I'm fourteen.

JOE: Listen, if you don't feel up to driving, I'll be happy to take you home.

RONNIE: Oh, I don't have my car Joe, I walked.

JOE: Really? Do you live near here?

RONNIE: I live down by the river.

JOE: Wow. That's a ways.

RONNIE: I told you I'm a walker. Or I can be.

JOE: I'm impressed.

RONNIE: I don't know what got into me tonight. I finished my dinner, and without even
putting away the dishes, I had a sudden itch to go out walking—and I followed it!
Beautifirlnightforit,brightandbreezy. StilLitwasastrangethingformetodo,justto
take ofl” without a plan Luckily Daddy was asleep. Still I did think to leave him a note. I
hope he doesn't wake up though—he won't understand it. He’ll think I’ve gone OE and
left him. (Slight pause, seems to consider the implications of her words) It took me ten
minutes to find these old sneakers. They turned out pretty comfortable, even though I'd
never done much walking in them. Know what I used to use them for? (Joey shakes his
head) Working in the yard. Gardening. Isn‘t that something?

JOE: You're all set for summer.

RONNIE: I told you Joe, I could be young with some encouragement.

JOE: How did you know where I lived?

RONNIE: (Rises) Honey, I know everything in Alma. (Seems a bit lightheaded, steadies
herself; sits)

JOE: I really don't mind taking you home.

RONNIE: (Rises again slowly, moves for the door) I appreciate it Joe, but I'm gonna take
advantage of my enthusiasm. I'm gonna go look for shooting stars. (Opens door)

JOE: (Steps in the doorstep, looks out) It is cool outside. Much cooler than in here.

RONNIE: You're welcome to walk with me a ways. It's not that I don't want your

79

company.

JOE: (Moves back into the room) Thanks, but I've got to get ready for tomorrow.
RONNIE: (Closes the door) Big day tomorrow?

JOE: Well—nmybe.

RONNIE: (Moves back into the room) You look spooked Joe. You all right?
JOE: I‘ve got a parent conference tomorrow, and it's been worrying me a little.
RONNIE: Oh?

JOE: The boy's sort of a problem.

RONNIE: Anybody I know?

JOE: I probably shouldn’t say.

RONNIE: Well (Touches his arm) You'll be fine. I know it.

J OE: Thanks.

RONNIE: (Starts to exit and stumbles a bit; Joe helps to steady her) You must think I’m
a child, getting dizzy item a sip of beer.

JOE: Don’t apologize.

RONNIE: That’s all we’ve done tonight, Joe. Tell each other to stop apologizing. (Looks
at her watch) Maybe I will let you take me home. I might not oughta be out alone this
late.

JOE: Great. Let me find my keys. (Begins searching)

RONNIE: What if your sister calls? Won't she worry?

JOE: (Still searching) She'll figure I went out with my company. I'm allowed to do that.
RONNIE: (Goes over to the window, parts the curtains, looks out) It's been a long time
since I've been called company. I like it. And I do want you to tell me all about what’s

bothering you. I’m not gonna tell anybody, I promise. I know lots of folks around Alma,
and if it’s somebody I know, maybe I can help.

80

JOE: (Still searching) I appreciate that.

RONNIE: Look Joe! Was that a shooting star?

JOE: I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking.

RONNIE: Of course you weren’t looking! Aren’t I silly? It was probably just a moth that
flew by my eyes! (Slight pause; during this speech, Joe leaves the room to continue his
search, though she doesn ’t see him and keeps talking) You must think I’m crazy, mixing
up a moth with a shooting star. The thing is, when I get hopeful about something, my
whole boay gets hopeful, including my eyes, and then they want that moth to be a star as
bad as I do. I do Joe, I believe what my eyes tell me. That’s the nature of my fiith, that
I’m hopeful.

JOE: (Returning) I found them.

RONNIE: I was almost hoping you wouldn’t. Then you’d be forced to walk me home.
Would that be too much trouble?

JOE: I wouldn’t mind.

RONNIE: I’ll have to try that sometime—causing trouble.
JOE: My sister would approve.

RONNIE: Would you?

JOE: Would you rather walk? I know it’s late, but—
RONNIE: I’d love to. I’d love to take a walk.

JOE: Let’s walk then (Opens the door) It is gorgeous out here, and—I don’t know. I
suddenly feel like walking.

RONNIE: (Gently pushes her arm between his arm and side) You’re gonna like it here
Joe. You’re gonna stay here a long, longtime.

(Blackout)

81

ACT TWO

Scene 1

The next day, in Cecil Jenkins ’s classroom. Bob Hargrove sits brooding in a student
desk. Jenkins stands before his desk School recently has let out for the day.

HARGROVE: What are we waiting on?

JENKINS: I’ve asked someone to join us Bob. I think she can help.
HARGROVE: It ain’t that woman with the hair on her chin?
JENKINS: (Grins) No, not Dr. Turner. It’s Veronica Staples.

HARGROVE: All right. (Nodding) She oughta know about this. She oughta go straight
home and tell her daddy—‘cept it might kill him.

JENKINS: That’s what I’m hoping she’ll do.

HARGROVE: Kill him? (Winks and grins maliciously) Or just tell him?

JENKINS: Bob, I have nothing but respect for Grover Staples.

HARGROVE: I know you do. I also know you can’t stand the sonuvabitch
JENKINS: Is that the word on the street?

HARGROVE: (Shrugs) Only street I know is 1-85.

JENKINS: Anyway, I called Veronica on account of her fiiendship with Mr. Monroe.
HARGROVE: What kind of fiiendship?

JENKINS: (Waves his hand) Oh, it’s nothing. She firsses over every man teacher who’s
not married.

HARGROVE: I figured he wasn’t married. He looks queer.
JENKINS: I’m hoping she can put some sense into him.

HARGROVE: I’d like to put my foot in his ass.

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JENKINS: Bob, we’re gonna try to work this out-—
HARGROVE: Yeah, well, you’ll get your shot.

JENKINS: Don’t misunderstand. (Begins walking toward door) If what you’ve said is
true, I’d love nothing better than to see him get the boot. (Looks out the door, turns back)

HARGROVE: Then go do it.
JENKINS: I don’t make those decisions Bob. I don’t.
HARGROVE: You don’t make ‘em, but you get ‘em made.

JENKINS: He’s got a following. There’s a group of parents that sing his praises all over
town.

HARGROVE: Go fire the sonuvabitch, let them sing about that.

JENKINS: It’s not like that anymore.

HARGROVE: You sound like him Cecil. I told him how dare you write that on the black
board—in this school. And then he said it’s the twenty-first century, it’s time to shed the
past. That’s whenl shed my coat and almost hit him.

JENKINS: He wrote what on the black board?

HARGROVE: Frank T. Welch. In big fit letters.

JENKINS: Good lord.

HARGROVE: (Leaps up) I’ll show you.

JENKINS: I believe you Bob.

HARGROVE: I want you to see what I had to see. (Writes ‘Frank T. Welch ’ in large
letters on the board)

JENKINS: Good lord.
HARGROVE: Don’t it burn?

JENKINS: What’s the T. stand for?

83

HARGROVE: That’s what I asked him. He said that’s how it was listed in the phone
book.

JENKINS: Why was be looking in the phone book?

HARGROVE: That’s how this bullshit all started! He gave Will Frank Welch’s phone
number, told Will to call him!

JENKINS: I didn’t know all that.

HARGROVE: Hell yes! Call him and then go over to his house! Ask him questions!
Interview the bastard.

JENKINS: Oh my god.

HARGROVE: If that ain’t grounds for firing him, I don’t know what it is. Course my
opinion don’t pack much punch around here.

JENKINS: Don’t start that, Bob.
HARGROVE: We ain’t country club.
JENKINS: I’m not either.

HARGROVE: But we’re all paid up. And I don’t send him here for his education Will’s
not bright.

JENKINS: Will’s a good boy.

HARGROVE: Good and dumb. I send him here for one reason only: so neither him or me
would ever have to see that sight. (Glares back at the board) I made Monroe write it
down. IhadtoseeitlikeWillhadseenit.

JENKINS: Poor boy.

HARGROVE: It shocked him Cecil Shocked me when he told me about it. I got so hot
I wanted to kill the sonuvabitch

JENKINS: I wish you’d told me all this before.

HARGROVE: I didn’t know if it was true. Will bullshits sometime. And if it was true I
thought I could handle it.

84

JENKINS: I’m glad you came to me today.
HARGROVE: We don’t want him fiiling that class. Not over this.

RONNIE: (Knocks, doesn’t wait for and answer, enters) Hello Mr. Bob! I don’t think
I’ve seen you since the time you bumped my car!

HARGROVE: That’s been a good five years.

RONNIE: Has it been that long?

HARGROVE: I’s hoping you didn’t remember that.

RONNIE: How could I forget! (Turns to Cecil) He bumped me when I was backing out
of Dairy Queen one Sunday. I had a chocolate blizzard on the dash and it spilled all down
my snow-white sweater!

JENKINS: A parking lot’s too small for a man like Bob.

HARGROVE: It wasn’t hardly a bump. Didn’t do no damage.

RONNIE: (Teasingly) That’s not what my dry cleaner said!

HARGROVE: If I recall Miss Staples, you owned up to bumping me.

RONNIE: Did I really?

HARGROVE: If I recall you talked me outa calling it in.

RONNIE: Is that right?

JENKINS: Miss Staples’s memory tends to wander.

RONNIE: Oh hush Cecil. You weren’t there. (T urns to Hargrove) Mr. Bob, I have
nothing but fond memories of that aftemoon. I didn’t like that old sweater anyway. And
that bump—that ice-cold blizzard tumbling down into my lap—was the most excitement
I’d had in years! My lord, to have you jump out of your car to see if I was okay——
HARGROVE: It coulda been my fiult, I don’t remember.

RONNIE: Well, I do. I remember every second. (Slight pause) Goodness, now you all

know how dull my life can be! Sundays at Dairy Queen, good heavens. I think I’ll just sit
down. (Sits in a student desk)

85

JENKINS: This isn’t gonna take long

RONNIE: What isn’t?

JENKINS: Just need your advice on a teaching matter.

RONNIE: Your note said it was a personal matter.

JENKINS: It’s a little of both, I guess.

RONNIE: Don’t see how it could be.

JENKINS: It’s about Mr. Monroe. He’s a teacher but he’s also your fi'iend.
RONNIE: Yes he is.

JENKINS: I was hoping you could talk to him about something. Bob’s boy Will’s having
problems in Mr. Monroe’s civics class.

RONNIE: What’s that got to do with me?
HARGROVE: She ain’t got to talk to him. I ‘spect we can handle this.

RONNIE: Handle what? (T urns to Cecil) Well for heaven’s sake tell me. You all got me
so nervous now I’m starting to perspire. (Sits, fans herself)

HARGROVE: I’m sorry ma’am.
JENKINS: She’s okay, Bob. She’s fine.

RONNIE: (Showing real irritation, for the first time in the play) Would please tell me
what this is about?

JENKINS: (Looks to Bob, to give him the opportunity to tell her; Bob shakes his head)
Mr. Monroe gave Will an assignment. The whole class was supposed to go interview
sornebody—sormone in the community.

RONNIE: I know all about that assignment. I think it sounds fine.

JENKINS: Who told you about it?

RONNIE: (Hesitates) I heard it fi'om folks in town. They all liked it.

86

JENKINS: They don’t know the whole story.

RONNIE: (T o Hargrove) He’s just jealous ‘cause nobody came to interview him.
JENKINS: (Laughs lightly) Who’d want to interview me?

RONNIE: Nobody living, that’s for sure!

HARGROVE: What I wanna know is who’d want to interview Frank Welch

RONNIE: (Clearly feigning innocence) Frank Welch? Who's that?

JENKINS: Go home and ask your daddy who he is.

RONNIE: My daddy’s taking a nap.

HARGROVE: I’ll tell you who he is. He’s the goddamn nigger who—

RONNIE: (With enough force to stop him) Goodness.

JENKINS: She knows who he is Bob. She’s knows good and well.

RONNIE: I might have once. Aren’t I allowed to forget?

JENKINS: You’re not gonna forget who made your daddy fimous.

RONNIE: (With irritation) How did Frank Welch make my daddy fimous?

JENKINS: If it wasn’t for Frank Welch there’d be no Wilcox Academy. Ask Grover. I’m
not saying anything against him. I’m personally thankful he had the vision to look ahead.
That vision became my livelihood Veronica, yours too. But the fict is, if Frank Welch
hadn’t done what he did, we likely wouldn’t be in this room. There’d be no room. Your
friend Mr. Monroe wouldn’t have a job. He’d be back up in Baltimore, I bet, doing
whatever he did up there.

RONNIE: My daddy founded this school on Christian principles. (Turns to Hargrove) He
said it was his calling.

JENKINS: Maybe so, but it was Frank Welch who called him.
RONNIE: What’s this got to do with Mr. Monroe?

HARGROVE: He told Will to go see him. Go out to his house and talk to him

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RONNIE: Whose house?
HARGROVE: Frank Welch
RONNIE: Oh.

JENKINS: (Mocking her) Oh.

RONNIE: I bet Mr. Monroe doesn’t even know who Frank Welch is. He just picked his
name out of the phone book!

HARGROVE: He knows all right.

JENKINS: Maybe he doesn’t know the seriousness of it. I’m willing to grant him that.
RONNIE: I’m sure he doesn‘t Cecil! How could he?

JENKINS: You’re gonna tell him, that’s how.

RONNIE: You tell him Cecil. You’re his boss.

JENKINS: Dr. Turner is his boss.

RONNIE: Well let her tell him.

JENKINS: I don’t think she’d sympathize with our position. She’d sympathize—but
she’d say it was between Mr. Monroe and Will.

HARGROVE: I don’t want Will fiiling. Personally I don’t give a damn, but his mama
does.

RONNIE: (T o Hargrove) Why didn’t Will say something to him? I’m sure Mr. Monroe
would’ve listened.

JENKINS: I wondered about that myself, Bob. Seems like Will could’ve said something.
HARGROVE: (Hesitates) Turn around and look at that name. (They do) It don’t burn,
does it? Well it burns me. It burned Will I got nothing but hate for Frank Welch My
daddy was a fiiend of Deke Bledsoe—a good fiiend—and he saw that man get crucified
on account of Frank Welch's little stunt. Y'all must not feel the same way as me and Will.
Hell, y’all just got through thanking the bastard—he brought you this school

JENKINS: I was just pointing out a reality Bob. I’ve got no affection for Frank Welch.

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HARGROVE: Then you should understand. Here Will is, sitting in a class he already
hates, when this sonuvabitch teacher starts writing names up on the board of people
they’re supposed to go talk to. They’re all supposed to choose somebody to go bother.
What the hell is that? In my day you read books and took tests. It was always hard for
me, but at least I knew what to expect. With that Monroe you never know what he’s
gomra pull! But the last thing Will expected to see was Frank T. Welch sitting up on the
board. Course none of the others hardly know that name, but Will does—it’s all he can
see. Everybody’s making their choices, while Will’s just sitting there feeling like he just
got whacked on the head with a skillet. So he gets stuck with Frank T. Welch. Of course
he didn’t say nothing Cecil. His throat was too swoled up to talk.

JENKINS: (Walks over and puts his hand on Bob ’s shoulder) I’m not blaming Will for
anything. I just want to work this out, so everybody’s satisfied. (Turns back to Ronnie)
Mr. Monroe told Bob that it was important for Will to finish what he started. Normally I
agree with that—but this case isn’t normal.

RONNIE: He doesn’t know it’s not normal

JENKINS: But you’re going to explain it to him, right?

RONNIE: I’ll talk to him, yes.

JENKINS: The other thing that occurs to me is that Will never started anything. So
there’s nothing for him to finish

HARGROVE: I told him that myself, but the sonuvabitch said—

JENKINS: Hold on Bob, hear me out. The problem is that Will never started—that’s Mr.
Monroe’s point. So if we can find somebody proper for Will to interview, and he does it,
then I don’t why he can’t pass the class.

HARGROVE: I don’t neither.

JENKINS: You tell Mr. Monroe that Will Hargrove’s gonna interview me.

RONNIE: You?

JENKINS: I’ve been around longer than anybody. He’s gonna do it tomorrow morning
before school, and he’ll bring Mr. Monroe the results the next day. Is that okay Bob?

HARGROVE: I’ll send him over early.

JENKINS: You send him over with a notebook and a package of pens. I’ll talk his ear

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offl (To Ronnie) Tell Mr. Monroe to call me if he Ms any questions. Will’s gonna do the
assigmnent, he’s gonna pass the class, and Mr. Monroe’s gonna teach his lesson.
Everybody’s satisfied. Right Bob?

HARGROVE: I won’t say satisfied, but I’ll say tided over. I appreciate your help, Cecil.
You too, Miss Staples. (Ronnie doesn ’t seem to hear him)

JENKINS: Glad to help Bob, anytime. (Hargrove exits) You know where Monroe lives?
I ‘spect it’s gonna take more than a phone call.

RONNIE: Course I know where he lives.

JENKINS: And you’ll call me tonight? Let me know what he said? I should be home all
evening.

RONNIE: Course you’ll be home. Where do you Mve to go? (Jenkins grins) Why’d you
call me here Cecil? This isn’t none of my business.

JENKINS: You’re his fiiend. I’m not.
RONNIE: That doesn’t mean he’ll listen to me. Not about this.

JENKINS: Then you make him listen You better, or you just might lose your newfound
companion

(Blackout)

Act 2, Scene 2

Joe ’s apartment. Eight PM of the same day. Joe is sitting nervously on the couch.
Ronnie picks up the phone on a stand by the door and slowly dials numbers, breathing
heavily.

RONNIE: Hello, Cecil? (Slight pause; Ronnie speaks teasingly at first) You know good
and well who it is! Who else would it be? Your secret admirer? (Laughs nervously) I
couldn’t if I wanted to Cecil, you know that! I never could keep secrets! 1 just wanted
you to know that I talked—with—Mr. Monroe—and—(Gropes for words, Cecil
speaks)——no, I can’t just blurt it out. It’s not a one-worded answer. It’s complicated,
Cecil, like most things. (Slight pause) Well, the short of it is that Mr. Monroe thinks this
whole situation is an—opportunity——to teach Bob’s boy a lesson that’s got nothing to do
with civics class. (Slight pause) That he’s got to play by the rules. To let him cMnge now
wouldn’t be fiir to the other students! They all did their work on time. That’s all he

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wants Cecil, to be fiir to the other students! (Pause; Ronnie grows increasingly less
confident throughout the remainder of the conversation) Of course I know that. I—-I
wish so too—so does Mr. Monroe—but it can’t be undone. Not now. That’s what he
said. That’s what he said to tell you. (Pause) You’ll Mve to talk to him yourselfthen
(Slight pause) I don’t know Cecil. (Slight pause) Where am I? I’m where I’m supposed
to be, if it’s any of your business. (Slight pause) No you can not. Daddy’s asleep. Don’t
you bother him tonight—I mean it. (Slight pause) Listen Cecil, you and I can talk about
this later. When school’s out, and we have time, we’ll straighten this out, okay? (Slight
pause) Goodnight Cecil. (Hangs up) Well, that’s that!

JOE: What did he say?

RONNIE: Oh, nothing much. When are we gonna take that drive? (Walks toward the
window)

JOE: Is he going to call me?

RONNIE: I don’t see why he would. (Opens the curtains, looks out) It’s dark enough
now that nobody would see us. (Turns back to Joe) I say we go right this minute!

JOE: I’d like to wait a few minutes, in case he calls.

RONNIE: Don’t want to wait too long—else it’ll be too late. (Looks at her watch) It is
getting late.

JOE: Maybe you should go home and check on your fither.

RONNIE: (Puts her hand to her mouth) My god. I haven’t been home since this morning.
When’s the last time that happened? (Sits in the arm chair)

JOE: We can go to Gaston any time.

RONNIE: Oh no, Daddy’s fine! I called Rosa from school and told her we’d had a crisis.
She’ll staywithhimallnight,ifneedbe.

JOE: I know, but still—

RONNIE: I want to take that trip to Gaston And I’m gonna buy that beer myselfl You
wait and see.

JOE: I wonder if he’ll come by to see me.

RONNIE: Cecil? You mean here?

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JOE: Maybe you shouldn’t be here—for your sake.

RONNIE: Cecil won’t come here——he won’t do nothing for a while. Besides, even if he
did, we’ll be gone to Gaston!

JOE: He might see your car.

RONNIE: That’s why I parked over there behind the bank! (Ronnie again walks to the
window and looks out) You can’t see it from here.

JOE: I’m gonna Mve to see him sometime.
RONNIE: I ‘spect this whole thing’s gonna blow over soon as school lets out.

JOE: Ronnie, I feel I’ve put you in a bad position. Your fither’s bound to hear about all
this.

RONNIE: Oh, don’t worry about Daddy. Cecil might go to see him, but not tonight. I’ll
talk to Daddy first.

JOE: Why would he go see your fither?

RONNIE: Because he knows he can’t do nothing without Daddy’s blessing.

JOE: (Concerned) What’s he planning to do?

RONNIE: Oh, probably just firss a bit. I wouldn’t worry. (Again looks out the window)
JOE: How’s your fither gonna feel about all this?

RONNIE: He’ll be a little confused. But I’ll set him straight! He won’t give Cecil his
blessing for nothing without talking to me about it. He tolerates Cecil, but that’s all And
Cecil can’t stand Daddy. That’s as well-known fict.

JOE: Still I feel bad.

RONNIE: About what?

JOE: About dragging you into something that might get complicated.

RONNIE: Honey, the day my daddy founded Wilcox Academy my life got complicated.

For twenty-five years I was the headmaster’s daughter, which meant I Md the whole
town’s eyes stuck on me like mud! I was thirty-one years old before I felt free to look

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around, and by then I discovered tMt nobody was looking back.
JOE: Now they’re all gonna look at me.

RONNIE: Let them look! It didn’t kill me. Besides, there’s just a few more days of
school. Over summer this whole thing’ll be forgotten. Summer’s like a big ole broom!

JOE: This thing may not end with summer.
RONNIE: (Trying to sound nonchalant) Oh? (Sits in the arm chair)

JOE: Will’s not gonna interview Frank Welch He’ll just take his “F” and curse me for the
rest of his life. But I will get an interview. If it takes ten years, I’ll keep trying——

RONNIE: I don’t think it’ll last that long. I ‘spect soon we’ll get a stroke of luck!
JOE: Like wMt?

RONNIE: Well—like maybe Frank Welch will move.

JOE: (Skeptically) I doubt it. He’s over seventy.

RONNIE: Maybe he’ll die.

JOE: What?

RONNIE: They don’t live as long as we do.

JOE: Let’s not wish him dead for my sake!

RONNIE: I don’t wish nobody dead honey! I’m just saying that sometimes nature takes
care of our problems.

J OE: Frank Welch isn’t my problem.

RONNIE: Oh?

JOE: Bob Hargrove is my problem Cecil Jenkins is my problem
RONNIE: But it’s Frank Welch that started the whole thing.

J OE: (Becoming visibly angry) What whole thing?

93

RONNIE: I don’t know—back in 1965—all that mess. It’s not you that Cecil’s md at.
It’s all that mess fiom the past. I don’t know much about it—I always shut my cars. But
I do know that some folks believe it’s the worst thing that ever Mppened to Alma.

JOE: Is that what you believe?

RONNIE: Me? I don’t know much about it! I always shut my ears—that was Daddy’s
advice—said there was no way to know what the truth was. Shut your ears. . . .(Seems
lost in thought)

JOE: I think you should know what I believe. I think—

RONNIE: (Stands to tell her story) I do remember this! Not long after all that mess
happened, there was this photographer out by the playground at Alma Elementary taking
pictures. Daddy was principal then, and he went out to ask him what he was doing. Then
the man—he talked like a Yankee—said the strangest thing Daddy’d ever heard. He said,
“I’m looking for Negro children. Where are they?” You can imagine what Daddy told
him! But as he was walking away, the man turned back and said something even stranger.
He said, “They’re here all right. You just can’t see them yet.” And that very night Daddy
started drafting his proposal for the school he’d name not for my mother, like people
think, but for me. (Slight pause) I guess I am one of those folks.

JOE: What folks?
RONNIE: Whose life was changed by Frank Welch.
JOE: Do you blame him?

RONNIE: I don’t blame nobody! I just wish this whole thing between you and Cecil
would go away.

JOE: It’s not going away.

RONNIE: It will if you let it. (Sits)

JOE: I can’t.

RONNIE: But you won today Joe! Cecil tried to bully you, and you stood up to him.
Bob’s boy is gonna flunk your class. Ain’t that enough? Yes, Cecil’s gonna raise Cain,
but I’ll talk to Cecil. By the time next fall gets here this whole thing’ll be forgotten.

JOE: Not by me.

94

RONNIE: Why, Joe? (Slight pause) I’ve been wanting to ask that all day.

J OE: (Hesitates, realizes that is a crucial moment in their relationship, wants to say the
right thing) Have you ever seen those pictures in Life magazine? Of Frank Welch’s legs?

RONNIE: I never wanted to.

JOE: You should. And you should read the story of wMt Mppened to him.
RONNIE: Whose story?

JOE: His story, told in his own words.

RONNIE: Everybody had a story!

JOE: That’s right. And I imagine you heard Deke Bledsoe’s version.
RONNIE: Who?

JOE: The sheriff.

RONNIE: I didn’t hear any of it! I shut my ears.

JOE: Deke Bledsoe Md a damn interesting version. Let me tell you about it.
RONNIE: I don’t care to hear it, thank you.

JOE: And then I’m gonna tell you Frank Welch’s version.

RONNIE: I sure don’t care to hear that.

JOE: And then I’m gonna show you the pictures. (Walks over to the bookshelf: retrieves a
copy of an old Life magazine) You decide who you believe.

RONNIE: I don’t want to hear those stories, and I’m sure not gonna look at any pictures.
I just want to drive to Gaston before it gets too late.

JOE: We can’t drive to Gaston till I do this.
RONNIE: Do wMt?

JOE: Tell you wMt I believe.

95

RONNIE: (Anguished) I don’t care wMt you believe. I don’t care what Cecil or anybody
else believes! I’m on your side because I believe in you, Joe. That’s all that matters.

JOE: I’m not trying to be cruel.

RONNIE: I know tMt, honey.

JOE: This is important to me.

RONNIE: (Hopeful) Let’s drive to Gaston. We can talk on the way.

JOE: We can’t yet—

RONNIE: Why not?

JOE: You need to hear this.

RONNIE: I don’t—

JOE: Or else we can’t be fiiends.

RONNIE: Oh—don’t say that! We can always be fiiends! We don’t Mve to agree on
everything. And I don’t disagree Joe, I just don’t know much about it. I never listen
when folks are arguing—that way I never have to choose sides. But I’m on your side Joe,
whatever you believe.

JOE: This is wMt I believe——

RONNIE: Joe—

JOE: (Speaks forcefully enough that, for once, she is silenced) I believe that Deke
Bledsoe, with two of his deputies, went and hid in Frank Welch’s home, and when he
came in, they beat him to a pulp. They crippled him. They broke his legs in seven places.
You know why? Everybody knows why. Somebody said he’d made a pass at Deke’s
wife, which meant he might Mve looked her in the eyes, or accidentally kicked a little dust
on her shoes. Who knows? But it was known that Deke Bledsoe wasn’t too secure about
his marriage, and likely somebody told him just to torment him His wife probably told him
herself. But wMt Deke did was nothing compared to wMt the rest of the town did. They
believed what he told them You know his story, don’t you?

RONNIE: (Softly) I don’t—I never listened.

JOE: He said Frank Welch’s wrfe had done it to him She’d caught him drunk, and she’d

96

beaten him to a pulp. His wife. She weighed ninety-seven pounds.
RONNIE: Nobody believed that.

JOE: They pretended to. And the whole story would’ve been squelched if Life magazine
hadn’t had a reporter traveling across the state. (Opens the magazine to the photographs,
looks at it for a moment, then lays it on her lap) TMt’s why I’m doing this. That man’s
still alive and I’d like my students to know wMt he remembers.

(Ronnie sits motionless for a moment. Slowly she lowers her eyes, flinches for a moment,
then looks steadily at the pictures. She turns a couple of pages, then closes the magazine
and keeps it in her lap.)

JOE: It’s not gonna go away over the summer.

RONNIE: No.

JOE: Maybe I could talk to Dr. Turner. I think she’ll understand.

RONNIE: Maybe—but she can’t help you by herself. You’ll need a lot more than her.

JOE: I know. (Goes over and takes the magazine from her, opens it again and looks at
the pictures) I was in a library one day last year, browsing through old magazines, and I
came across this story. I couldn’t believe I’d never heard about it, Mving grown up in this
state. So I found out all I could—I even wrote the Alma Chamber of Commerce asking
for information And they sent me a whole packet of stuff, but none of it mentioned a
single word about this incident. WMt it did mention was tMt Alma had a wonderful
private school, complete with pictures of the happiest, most carefiee kids I’d ever seen I
figured, those students Mve never heard of Frank Welch Their parents and teachers
must’ve all forgotten about it. So I thought, what a wonderful opporttmity. I’ll move
there, talk my way into a job, and then do my best to teach those kids about all the things
the town forgot. I have to admit, I moved pretty slow. It became clear real quick that
nobody wanted to learn those things, and I waited all year for the right time to try
something. Ifinallyfiguredoutthattherighttirnewaswheneverl got upthenerveto
make it the right time.

RONNIE: (Looks up at him) You’ll be okay. I’ll talk to Cecil.

JOE: I appreciate it. I do. (Walks toward the door) Thanks again for keeping me company
all afternoon I am sorry you got dragged into this.

RONNIE: (Rising) I needed to be dragged into something. It’s been a long time.

97

JOE: (Opens the door) Again, I’m sorry.
RONNIE: We’re not going to Gaston?
JOE: (Closes door) You still want to go?

RONNIE: We Mve to now. After all this.

JOE: I suppose so. (Starts to move past her; she appears to start to reach out for him but
hesitates; he stops for a moment, their hands almost touch, and he moves on) I’ve got to
find my keys.

RONNIE: I could drive Joe. (Joe stops) Course I probably shouldn’t. I’m nervous myself.
JOE: I’m sorry I was so—headstrong back there.

RONNIE: I’m glad you were, I am. I survived it—I’m tougher than they thought. My
daddy always kept those kind of things fiom me. No, that’s not right—he taught me to
keep them fiom myself. (Increasingly angry) I should go home right now and tell him I
found out anyway—tell him all his tricks didn’t work. I should tell him it was me that
wrote Frank Welch on the black board! I know just what he’d say too—what ’s your
interest in old Frank Welch? I’d just let him sit with that for a while. (T urns to Joe) I’d
do it too, ‘cept it might kill him That’s been my whole life’s problem—anything I do
could kill my fither. Can’t do nothing to call attention to myself—it’s my name on that
school—remember, it’s my name—(Puts her hand on her brow)—I suddenly feel dizzy—

JOE: (Moving to help her) Here—sit down

RONNIE: (Sitting) I’m all right. I was suddenly just blinded by a thought: why’s my car
hid over behind the bank? Am I gonna Mve it to hide it every time we’re together? (Joe
sits beside on the couch, a distance from her) It makes me so blankety—blank mad, I
get—dizzy—

JOE: I don’t think we should go anywhere till you get to feeling better.

RONNIE: (Rises, and Joe rises also) We Mve to go !——I been looking forward to it all
day. Haven’t you?

JOE: Of course.
RONNIE: (Moves towards him) Don’t you want to go?

JOE: Yes——

98

RONNIE: Aren’t you lonely here each night? Don’t you need company?
JOE: Of course—

RONNIE: What’s making me dizzy is the thought of us not going—(They’re an arm ’s
length apart)—the thought of us each ending this night alone—( Takes Joe’s hands)

JOE: (Looks down) I’m tired of being alone—more than I knew—

RONNIE: (Moving backwards she begins pulling him slowly towards the door) You let
me drive—I’m in charge of this evening—we’re gonna forget about Cecil—we’re gonna
forget about everything!—

J OE: (Starts to pull away, though she holds him) Maybe I should drive—-

RONNIE: Why?

JOE: If he comes by, he’ll see my car—he’ll knock—he’ll know I’ve gone out with
someone-

RONNIE: I don’t care if he knows—I don’t care who knows—
JOE: All right—
RONNIE: I’m in charge now—this evening’s mine, Joe—yours and mine—

She pulls him into an embrace as the lights slowly fade to black

Act 2 Scene 3

 

It is Thursday afternoon, two days after the last scene. School has recently let out. Joe is
sitting at his desk with his head lowered. He looks somber, nervous.

RONNIE: (Enters, stops in the doorway) One more day!
JOE: (Rising): Come in—

RONNIE: I can hear it! (Moves in the room, past Joe, to the window) Summer’s
scratching at the glass!

JOE: (Moving away from the desk) Did you get my note?

99

RONNIE: (Still looking out the window, past the playground) Look at Daddy’s statue!
He knows what’s coming.

JOE: Did you get my note?
RONNIE: Three months of solitude!
JOE: (Sighs with impatience) This is important.

RONNIE: Course I got it. (T urns to him, steps back fi'om the window) What exactly did
she say to you?

JOE: That something urgent had come up.

RONNIE: Did she say what?

JOE: No. Just that she and Cecil would come by at three o’clock.
RONNIE: (Looks at her watch) Goodness. I’m just in time.

JOEzlasked ifitwasaboutaparticularstudentandshesaiditconcernedallmystudents.
She looked distressed. I don’t know if you should stay.

RONNIE: Cecil brought me in to this. I’ll stay.

JOE: They my not see it like that.

RONNIE: Well I'm not budging.

JOE: You should probably go.

RONNIE: (Shaking her head) No no no—consider me nailed to the floor! (Walks over
and starts to pull on a desk for a dramatic representation of her steadfastness, only the
desk isn't nailed and she goes flying backwards and falls)

JOE: (Rushing to help her up) Are you okay?

RONNIE:(Nervous laughter) Lord Mve mercy! This kinda thing could only happen to an
old maid schoolteacher! (Joe picks up the desk while she brushes herself ofl) See what
time has reduced me to? Predictable.

JOE: You sure you're not hurt?

100

RONNIE: (Moves the desk) I thought these desks were miled to the floor! What
happened to the nails?

JOE: I had the janitor take them out.

RONNIE: (Sits gingerly) Well I can't go nowhere now. I'm broke!

JOE: Ronnie, are you hurt?

RONNIE: Just my pride, honey. And that’s been broke for years.

JOE: I feel like—I don’t know—

RONNIE: What?

JOE: I just cause trouble for you.

RONNIE: No—( Touches his hand). And if there's trouble I want to help.

JOE: I think I know what’s gonna Mppen (Walks slowly to the door, looks out, then
marches back with vigor) They're gonna pressure me to quit.

RONNIE: Well I won't let you.

JOE: I’ve done nothing wrong.

RONNIE: Nothing at all!

JOE: They’ve got nothing on me.

RONNIE: Do you think?—do you suppose?—

JOE: TMt they know? (Ronnie reaches over and gently squeezes his hand) I don’t see
how they could.

RONNIE: They’d Mve to fire me too.
JOE: Would they try?
RONNIE: Shoot! My daddy’s statue is right outside the window.

JOE: (Moves back towards the door) They’re just gonna bully me.

101

RONNIE: Cecil does like a fight.

JOE: So do I. (Hint of a smile) I’ve wanted this fight for years. (T urns to the door and
crouches like a boxer, then turns back) Susan would be thrilled.

RONNIE: It scares me, Joe.
JOE: That's why I think you should go.

RONNIE: But I'd die from worry. (Stands up, moves away from him) Course it's gonna
kill me to watch.

JOE: What can he do? (Slight pause) I know what he’ll do. He'll try to turn the town
against me. What's the worst thing they can say?

RONNIE: Don‘t you know?
JOE: (Hesitates) Yes I know.
RONNIE: That's wMt they'll say.

JOE: Then I'll wear it like a medal. I’ll go down to the goddamn court house and change
my name—

(Jenkins comes marching in with Dr. Turner, the headmistress, trailing)
JENKINS: What are you doing here Miss Staples?

RONNIE: Hello would've been nicer.

JENKINS: We don't Mve time for niceties right now.

RONNIE: So much for Southern courtesy.

TURNER: Veronica I apologize. We've got something important to speak about with Mr.
Monroe.

RONNIE: That's just what I been told.
JENKINS: By who?

RONNIE: Mr. Monroe of course. And when I heard you were involved I figured I needed
to be here.

102

 

JENKINS: You figured wrong.

RONNIE: You brought me in before, Cecil. I’m involved.
TURNER: We just need to speak with Mr. Monroe for a minute.
JOE: (T 0 Ronnie, privately) You don't need to stay—

RONNIE: I want to stay.

JENKINS: (T 0 Joe) Why’d you bring her here?

RONNIE: I'm his fiiend Cecil, you know that.

TURNER: I think they’re right, you don't need to hear this.
RONNIE: What could be so—black that I can't hear it?
JENKINS: You'd be surprised.

TURNER: Mr. Jenkins, I think—

RONNIE: (Sharply) Don't think I don‘t already know.
JENKINS: It’s not what you think.

TURNER: I think we should—

JENKINS: You’ve got no idea why we're here. Neither does he.
TURNER: Mr. Jenkins, please. This is best discussed in private.
JOE: Miss Staples, I'll be fine.

JENKINS: No, let her stay. She should know just wMt we know.
RONNIE: Thank you Cecil

JENKINS: But I want you to promise you'll just listen till you've heard all we Mve to say.
RONNIE: That sounds reasonable. (Sits)

JENKINS: None of your hysterics.

103

RONNIE: I'll just sit here like a schoolgirl.

TURNER: I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this.

JENKINS: Have a seat Mr. Monroe. (Joe sits) Go ahead Dr. Turner.

TURNER: I don't know how to talk about this. There's no easy way to start—
JENKINS: ThenI will I got an anonymous call early this morning, Mr. Monroe, flour a
parent of one your students. They told me their child had seen you opening one of your
desk drawers, and that what he saw almost shocked him to death

JOE: (Confused) One of my desk drawers?

JENKINS: That's wMt he said. So we had to investigate.

JOE: Isn't this about Frank Welch?

TURNER: Not as far as I know—

JOE: This is about Frank Welch! (T o Jenkins) Isn't it?

JENKINS: Don't see how it could be.

TURNER: (To Jenkins) What about Frank Welch?

JENKINS: Oh, Joe and I had a little disagreement last week, but it was nothing. It's not
my business to interfere.

JOE: TMt's crap—

JENKINS: Watch your tongue.

TURNER: This Ms nothing to do with Frank Welch That's the first I've heard of it.

J OE: Then wMt are you here for?

JENKINS: We're here about what was found in your bottom desk drawer this morning.
JOE: What were you doing in my desk drawers?

JENKINS: (Moves over to the desk, lays his hand on it) Excuse me sir, but this is school
property. We can look through it any time we please.

104

JOE: Well look through it then There's nothing there that shouldn‘t be.
JENKINS: That's right. We removed it this morning.

JOE: What did you remove?

TURNER: I think Miss Staples ought to leave now.

RONNIE: I'm not a child.

JOE: ( To Jenkins) If you took anything out of my desk, that's theft.

JENKINS: We had a legal—and a moral—obligation to remove that property, did we not,
Dr. Turner?

TURNER: I believe so.

JENKINS: I even checked with Bill Brewer.

TURNER: You did?

JOE: (To Ronnie) Who's Bill Brewer?

RONNIE: The school's attorney.

TURNER: (T o Jenkins) I thought we were going to keep this to ourselves.

JENKINS: I didn’t say who was involved. I just told him we’d found some harmful
materials, and he said we had every right to confiscate it.

JOE: (Goes over and opens the bottom right drawer of his desk, lifting out its contents)
All I keep in here are teacher's manuals. So anything you took isn't mine.

JENKINS: I think we can prove otherwise.

JOE: What did you find?

(Jenkins starts to speak but Turner motions for him to stop.)

TURNER: We found—lord this is hard—we found photographs, Mr. Monroe.

JENKINS: We found pornography.

105

 

JOE: Pornography?

TURNER: I wouldn’t call it—that. Just photographs.
JOE: Of what?

TURNER: Snapshots—

JENKINS: Snapshots are what you hang on your refi'igerator. These are of a different
breed.

TURNER: Mr. Jenkins removed them before you got here this morning. I was with him
JENKINS: (Appears to be talking mainly to Ronnie) Pictures so explicit, so profine—
JOE: Pictures of wMt?

JENKINS: Of couples—in various states of undress, committing various acts of profinity.
And on top of that—

TURNER: Mr. Jenkins, we agreed not to discuss details.

JOE: They’re not mine! Somebody planted them there, as a joke or something—
RONNIE: That's all it is!

JENKINS: You stay out of this.

TURNER: That's what I wanted to believe, but your name is printed on the package.

JENKINS: Your address too—New York City. We can always find out where they came
from.

JOE: (Suddenly realizes what they might be) If—if it’s true, if they’re mine—then they’re
my private pmperty-

JENKINS: They should’ve been
JOE: They are. Someone took them fi'om my home, and put them there.
JENKINS: Who’s been in your home Mr. Monroe?

JOE: I don’t know who’s been in my home!

106

 

TURNER: (Appears lightheaded) Let’s try to stay calm——
RONNIE: (Rises, goes to Turner) You need to sit down?
TURNER: (T 0 Ronnie) I'm sorry about all this.

JOE: Someone broke into my home. Obviously. They took my private property, and they
planted it in my desk!

TURNER: TMt did cross my mind.

JENKINS: Have you called the sheriff?

JOE: Of course not.

JENKINS: If someone burglarized your home, you should’ve called the sheriff.
JOE: I didn’t know about any of this till now.

JENKINS: They broke into your home, and you didn’t know it? No broken windows?
No busted doors?

RONNIE: He leaves his door tmlocked.

JENKINS: How do you know?

RONNIE: (Defiantly) Because he told me.

JENKINS: (T a Joe) You tell anybody else?

JOE: I don’t think so.

JENKINS: (T 0 Ronnie) Was it you who broke in his house?
RONNIE: Ha ha.

JOE: That’s absurd.

JENKINS: (To Joe) I’m just trying to find you an out. If we can’t prove somebody did
tMt, we’ve got a serious problem Man teacher keeping dirty pictures in his desk—

JOE: They’re not dirty pictures. (Looks at Ronnie) I’ll explain it all later—

107

 

JENKINS: Why don’t you tell us now? Tell us wMt they are.
TURNER: Mr. Monroe, you don’t Mve to say anything right now.

JOE: (Hesitates) I’ll tell you. If they’re wMt I think they are, they’re pictures from a play.
Some fiiends of mine were in a play—I took pictures.

JENKINS: A play? What on earth kind of play was tMt?
JOE: It’s not important.

JENKINS: You’re right, it’s not important. All that matters is that they’re yours—you
admit it—and that we found them in your desk.

RONNIE: Stolen out of his home.

TURNER: That’s a possibility.

JENKINS: By who?

JOE: I have a good idea.

JENKINS: Tell us. By all means.

JOE: I can’t prove it.

JENKINS: Give us your best guess.

JOE: I would guess it was Will Hargrove.
JENKINS: You better watch it.

TURNER: Why do you say that, Mr. Monroe?
JOE: I don’t know—

JENKINS: First you fiil him Now he’s a thief?
JOE: Forget it. I—I don’t know.

RONNIE: I bet an investigation would turn up clues.

JENKINS: Clues to wMt?

108

RONNIE: Fingerprints! (T 0 Joe) All over the door handle to your home!
JENKINS: Might not be a bad idea. Getting the sheriff involved.

JOE: I don’t think it would help.

JENKINS: Something’s gotta be done. We can’t just sweep this under the rug.
TURNER: I think we’ve gone as fir we can If it’s his private property—
JENKINS: TMt he brought to school! TMt he keeps in his desk near children!
JOE: I do not——

TURNER: He said he didn’t, Mr. Jenkins. I think we Mve to believe him
JENKINS: Oh, no ma’am, we don’t.

RONNIE: Hush Cecil.

JENKDI S: (Ignores Ronnie, talle directly to Turner) Either we’ve got a thief, who goes
around breaking into teacher’s homes, and then planting evidence. Or else we got a
teacher who keeps dirty pictures in his desk.

JOE: They’re not dirty pictures——

JENKINS: That’s for folks to decide.

RONNIE: What folks, Cecil?

JENKINS: Board of trustees. I called an emergency meeting for tomorrow night to
discuss this matter. They can decide who to believe.

JOE: Can he do that?
RONNIE: He’s just talking big——

JENKINS: You better believe I can. I already Mve. Seven thirty, Mr. Monroe. 1 hope
you’ll come.

(Joe is stunned, sits)

TURNER: (To Jenkins) You didn’t tell me about that.

109

JENKINS: I’m telling you now.

TURNER: (Rising) We should’ve discussed this. You should’ve told me.
JENKINS: I didn’t have to tell you. You’re not on the board. You work for us.
RONNIE: My daddy’s on the board.

JENKINS: Yes he is—I plan to call him too, tell him he oughta come.
RONNIE: He knows all about Mr. Monroe.

JENKINS: (Slight grin) He doesn’t know everything.

TURNER: I don’t appreciate this Mr. Jenkins.

JENKINS: You’re welcome to come. But don’t try to stop it.

RONNIE: Why are you doing this Cecil?

TURNER: If I had known all this-—

JENKINS: Am I the only one who thinks it’s wrong for a teacher to have dirty pictures in
his desk? In a room fill] of children?

TURNER: But he denied it.

JENKINS: He can deny it tomorrow night. If the board believes him, so be it. I will have
done my duty, and that’s all I can do.

RONNIE: (Contemptuously) Your duty.

JENKINS: (To Joe) If you’ve got any questions, you give me a call tonight. I’ll be home.
Good day. (Exits)

TURNER: I’m sorry Mr. Monroe. I don’t have much say with the board. (Joe tries to
speak but can ’t) This wasn’t the best way to handle it—I am sorry.

JOE: Where are the pictures?
TURNER: Mr. Jenkins has them I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to keep them.

JOE: Can you get them back?

110

RONNIE: Cecil’s seen them, Joe. They’ll believe whatever he tells them

TURNER: You might want to contact an attorney, Mr. Monroe. (shakes her head) This
has turned into a mess.

JOE: (To Ronnie) I don’t know what to do.
TURNER: Cecil took charge of this thing. I shouldn’t have let him
JOE: Not your fault.

TURNER: (To Joe) You might want to call the sherifi' about your home. (Starts to leave,
turns back) I’ll see what I can do, Mr. Monroe. I’m sorry about all this.

JOE: Thank you.

(Turner exits; Joe and Ronnie sit in silence for a moment)

JOE: Those pictures were taken years ago. Susan brought them—
RONNIE: I don’t wanna know nothing about them

JOE: They’re not pornographic. They’re a little risque, that’s all-—

RONNIE: (Covers her ears) Stop! I don’t care about those pictures. It’s not my
business.

JOE: You know I didn’t bring them to school.

RONNIE: (Moves to him) Of course I know that.

J OE: That little bastard Hargrove broke into my apartment. Probably last night.
RONNIE: You’ve got to say that at the meeting!

JOE: There’s not gonna be a meeting.

RONNIE: What do you mean?

JOE: I’m gonna let him humiliate me—parade me in front of the board as a pervert—

RONNIE: You’re not a pervert! You hush.

111

JOE: If I brought them to school, I am—and that’s what they’re gonna believe.

RONNIE: They won’t! I won’t let them-—

JOE: This is—(Seems at a loss for words)—this is the last goddamn thing I ever expected.
I’m not prepared for this—I don’t know what to do. Where the pictures ended up doesn’t
matter. I could prove that Jenkins himself broke in and stole them, and it wouldn’t matter.
Everyone in town’s gonna know about them—they’ll be etched in their minds. They’ll
never look at me without seeing all those bodies—

RONNIE: I don’t want to hear about those pictures! (Almost in tears) Don’t you quit Joe,
not yet. I want you to wait till the morning, okay? I’m gonna talk to Cecil

JOE: It doesn’t matter—

RONNIE: Of course it matters. You staying here is all that matters. Just promise me
you’ll wait.

JOE: I can’t stay—

RONNIE: You can. Nobody’s gonna see those pictures. I’m gonna go talk to Cecil.
He’s gonna drop the whole thing, I promise.

JOE: I wish you wouldn’t—

RONNIE: Well I am You just go on home, and I’ll be over shortly. You wait for me,
okay? And don’t you do a thing till I come over. I mean it.

(Blackout)

Act 2 Scene 4

 

Quick curtain. Ronnie has remained in Joe ’s classroom. She ’s looking out at the
playground when the child fi'om Scene 1 comes running in the doorway.

CHILD: I found him Miss Staples! I found him!
RONNIE: You did?!
CHILD: He’s coming! He’s behind me.

RONNIE: Bless your heart!

112

CHILD: He’s slow.

RONNIE: That’s cause he’s old! Come over here and get your reward. (The girl eagerly
moves to receive a long hug, then Ronnie gives her a piece of hard candy from her
pocket) Aren’t you a lump of sugar. (Sees Cecil appear at the doorway) Going to fetch a
scary old man.

JENKINS: You called?

RONNIE: ( To child) You get plenty of sleep tonight, okay? You know what tomorrow
is!

CHILD: A party!

RONNIE: That’s right—a party. Last day of school.
CHILD: Bye Miss Staples! (Exiting)

RONNIE: Bye bye angel! Tell your mama I said hey!
JENKINS: She said you needed me?

RONNIE: (Flirtatious)Yes—I mean no—that’s not what I told her.
JENKINS: That’s what she said.

RONNIE: She must’ve misunderstood.

JENKINS: Must have.

RONNIE: I told her go get Mr. Jenkins because he needs me.
JENKINS: I do?

RONNIE: (Rushes forward) Yes you do. Come in.
JENKINS: (Smiling) I’m intrigued.

RONNIE: (Motioning) Come on in! I’m not gonna bite.
JENKINS: I’d like to know what I need.

RONNIE: It’s simple. You md the opportunity to be a gentleman.

113

JENKINS: (Moves in, grinning) I do?

RONNIE: Yes you do!

JENKINS: I thought I was a gentleman.

RONNIE: You have to work at it Cecil. Like health.

JENKINS: Shall I walk you to your car?

RONNIE: It’s easier than that!

JENKINS: Clean your black boards?

RONNIE: Goodness no!

JENKINS: Then wlmt?

RONNIE: All you need to do—all you have to do—is give Mr. Monroe back his pictures.
You’ve shamed him good, now end this mess. (Cecil appears to be about to speak when
she cuts him off) Furthermore, I want you to find out who put those things in Mr.
Monroe’s desk, and tell him he’s never to mention a word to anybody, or else he’ll have
Cecil Jenkins to deal with.

JENKINS: I know who put them there. (Smugly) I’m dealing with him

RONNIE: You disappoint me Cecil.

JENKINS: (Chuckling) So what’s new?

RONNIE: I thought you were decent.

JENKINS: (Moves inside, suddenly forceful) Why are you still in this room?

RONNIE: Because. (Recovers) I want to show you something Cecil. (Standing beside the

desk, she begins opening drawers as Cecil joins her) Come look in these drawers.
Workbooks and gem clips and low fat granola bars! He even keeps cough drops and

aspirin for the kids. Mama used to do that, you remember? She even kept two separate
boxes of tissues! One for colds, one for tears.
JENKINS: I do remember.

RONNIE: This is not the desk of a bad man.

114

JENKINS: (Lifts out a hair brush fi'om a drawer) What’s this for?

RONNIE: For doing what’s natural. (Snatches the brush from him and puts it back) He’s
a normal, decent man.

JENKINS: (Shrugs) That’s for the board to decide.
RONNIE: You’re not gonna bring it to the board.
JENKINS: I surely am.

RONNIE: Cecil Jenkins, be a gentleman!
JENKINS: I have no choice in the matter.

RONNIE: What’s the matter is your lack of manners. (Turns her back to him) Don’t even
know why I called you.

JENKINS: (Shakes his head and chuckles, then starts to leave) I’ve seen it all today.

RONNIE: (Turns to him) Cecil—if you bring it to the board I’m gonna stand up and say I
stole those pictm‘es and put them in his desk.

JENKINS: (Stops in the doorway) Are you that lonely?

RONNIE: Yes, and mixed-up too! And if the board wants to fire me for that, then they’ll
have to fire halfthe teachers in this school, most of the secretaries, all the lunch ladies.
They’ll have to fire you too, cause you’re the worst of all.

JENKINS: I wouldn’t mind some time off.

RONNIE: Why don’t you just go on and retire.

JENKINS: It won’t be long.

RONNIE: (Looks at her watch) I’m counting.

JENKINS: (Moves back in a few steps) By the way, what’s Grover gonna say about all
this? I bet he’ll be there tomorrow.

RONNIE: Daddy ain’t sat with the board in years.

JENKINS: This is a crisis.

115

RONNIE: Daddy does what I tell him. (Slight pause) But all this is just chit chat, because
I’m confident you’re gonna grant me a favor.

JENKINS: I’m afi-aid—
RONNIE: I’m confident Cecil! Rock solid.

JENKINS: I’m afiaid your confidence is built on sand.

RONNIE: (Overly dramatic—plays to an imagined audience) Well so much for Southern
courtesy! Just slipping through our hands.

JENKINS: (Moves in a few steps more) Isn’t that what you want? The South to slip
away?

RONNIE: I love my home.
JENKINS: That’s what Mr. Monroe wants!

RONNIE: I can’t say what he wants Cecil! All I know’s I’m giving you a chance to be a
gentleman, and you’re declining.

JENKINS: I’m being a gentleman. (Picks up the waist basket by the door and shakes it)
I’m taking out the trash. (Puts it down)

RONNIE: You hush your mouth.

JENKINS: Ifyou’d seen those pictures, you’d agree this whole damn room oughta be
bumed—

RONNIE: I don’t want to hear about those pictures.

JENKINS: You need to hear about those pictures—

RONNIE: No I don’t! I don’t snoop in other people’s business. It makes me feel—dirty.
JENKINS: Onlythingdirtyiswhatlsaw—

RONNIE: (Putting her hands over her ears) Stop it! You say one more thing, I’m ending
this conversation.

JENKINS: (Smiles, turns for the door) Fine.

116

 

RONNIE: (With force) You don’t want me to end this conversation.

JENKINS: (He stops, grinning) I don’t?

RONNIE: Not till we’re through.

JENKINS: When will I know?

RONNIE: You’ll know.

JENKINS: Well get to it, lady. I’m busy.

RONNIE: Not one more word about those pictures.

JENKINS: All right. But you best stay away tomorrow evening. We’re gonna see it all.
RONNIE: Nothing worth seeing.

JENKINS: Nothing decent, I admit.

RONNIE: He was young, Cecil. He left all that behind.

JENKINS: That’s not where he left his pictures.

RONNIE: You know good and well he didn’t bring those things to school!
JENKINS: I don’t know that.

RONNIE: (Moves to the desk, puts her hand on it) I bet you stole them yom'selfl
JENKINS: I’m gonna be honest Veronica——

RONNIE: You put them here—

JENKINS: (Joins her at the desk) I don’t give a damn who put them here. They ended up
here because that’s where they belong. (Brings his hand down on the desk on ‘belong ')

RONNIE: (Feigning laughter)You’re a silly man—
JENKINS: He’s the only one who’d tolerate them being here!

RONNIE: So silly—

117

JENKINS: He’d say they have a right to be there because they’re part of the great big
world outside of Alma! And if we don’t tolerate them then we ’re the deviants.

RONNIE: He’d say no such thing.

JENKINS: I thought you’d figured him out by now.
RONNIE: I guess I need more time.

JENKINS: Well, his time is up.

RONNIE: Maybe I need a whole summer——

JENKINS: Good lord—

RONNIE: -——in his company——

JENKINS: Doing what?

RONNIE: We’re gonna walk, every day. Walk and walk and walk.
JENKINS: Walk where?

RONNIE: Everywhere! If it’s any of your business.
JENKINS: I know where you’d like to walk. Down the aisle.
(A moment ’s pause)

RONNIE: What if it is?

JENKINS: Frank Welch gonna be there? Joe’s best man?
RONNIE: Might be.

JENKINS: What’s Grover gonna say?

RONNIE: Daddy knows me fine.

JENKINS: He doesn’t know everything.

RONNIE: He knows I’m forty-three years old! He knows it’s his fault, too.

118

JENKINS: (Genuinely surprised) Are you forty-three?
RONNIE: Did you forget?

JENKINS: (Slowly, calmly) I forgot my own age I guess. Lord have mercy, I must be
close to sixty.

RONNIE: You think I’m still fourteen.

JENKINS: I wish it sometimes. Back then I knew what to expect. Now I just get
srmcked with surprises, every day.

RONNIE: (Puts her hands on Cecil’s arms) I know Joe’s not perfect, but he’s—I’m
running out of time. And he’s just trying to find his place here, Cecil. I can give him that,
then he’ll forget about old Frank Welch.

JENKINS: (He grabs her wrists and holds them for a moment, staring at her intensely)
There was a time I would’ve done anything you asked.

RONNIE: Cecil, please. Give him back his pictures.
JENKINS: That time’s past.

RONNIE: (Breaks out of his hold) Don’t you mean Mama?
JENKINS: What?

RONNIE: It’s Mama you would’ve done anything for, not me.
JENKINS: I was very fond of your mother, as was everyone.
RONNIE: Everybody else knew where to stop.

JENKINS: (Steps back from her) You may be more mixed-up than I imagined.
RONNIE: Don’t forget lonely. That’s why I’m standing here.
JENKINS: I offered you a cure for that many times.

RONNIE: It’s more than just a headache, Cecil.

JENKINS: And I offered you more than just an aspirin. You ignored me, every time.

119

RONNIE: (Quickly) And you never asked why. You just smiled and shuflled ofi‘ home.
JENKINS: I thought it was best.

RONNIE: I should’ve made you ask me, cause I had the need to tell you. Lord knows I
had the need.

JENKINS: Well for god sake tell me now. I don’t want you spilling your soul to
strangers.

RONNIE: You don’t want me talking to Joe.
JENKINS: It’s none of his business!
RONNIE: You’re right. I don’t want him knowing anything about our past.

JENKINS: (Goes over and closes the door, returns) We have no past. Just my foolish
proposals, your nervous giggles.

RONNIE: I was wrong about that. I should’ve explained myself.

JENKINS: I know you didn’t love me.

RONNIE: You didn’t love me either, so at least we would’ve been equals. (slight pause) I
wouldn’t marry you Cecil because it wouldn’t have been fair to Mama, not while she was
living. I couldn’t marry the man she loved.

JENKINS: (Appears stuck) You don’t know what you’re saying——

RONNIE: Crying her eyes out on the last day of school, cause she wouldn’t see you much
for three whole months. You poking your head in her classroom six times a day. Course
I knew.

JENKINS: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

RONNIE: You’re the only one. You and Daddy, and he doesn’t know cause he stayed
cooped up in his ofice.

JENKINS: This is nonsense!—

RONNIE: I never told him Cecil. I knew someday I’d find love and you’d be happy for
me. You’d do all you could to help me.

120

JENKINS: It’s not love. Not with Joe Monroe.

RONNIE: It’s close.

JENKINS: I don’t believe that.

RONNIE: I don’t need your blessing.

JENKINS: You need your father’s.

RONNIE: If Joe goes away, I’m gonna feel spiteful. And in my loneliness and spite, I
might tell Daddy the one thing he never knew, so he’ll feel cheated. Because I ’11 feel
cheated, and I’ll need company in that big ole lonely house.

JENKINS: Veronica, are you threatening me? With lies?

RONNIE: I’m offering you the chance to be a gentleman.

JENKINS: You’re willing to sully your mother’s name—

RONNIE: Mama had love Cecil—I don ’t.

JENKINS: She had love because she was decent—

RONNIE: Iwas decent! I had to be decent, because my daddy said so! He said Yankee
magazines had photographers hiding behind trees, waiting for white folks to act colored.
He said nothing would please them more than to catch his daughter acting shameless!
Said if I got caught fooling around in the bushes, then my naked behind was liable to end
up on the cover of Time magazine! I believed him Cecil, till I was almost forty years
old—I believed him I couldn’t risk doing anything to hurt my daddy. He had his school
andhehadto guarditwithhislife—andlhadto helpguarditwithmine,andthat’swhatl
did! I gave my life to this school, and Mama did not. She didn’t care what I knew, and
neither did you Cecil, so don’t you talk to me about decency.

JENKINS: I feel awful for you Veronica.

RONNIE: I feel awful for me too.

JENKINS: You’re speaking from pain. It’s got no more sense in it than—a baby’s cry.
RONNIE: Mama cried all the time, and Daddy never knew why.

JENKINS: I cared for your mother deeply. I don’t deny it. She was in pain herself—

121

 

RONNIE: And you convinced her it was love—
JENKINS: She convinced herself! I tried—I could not make her understand—I tried—
RONNIE: I’m not sure Daddy would feel much pity.

JENKINS: I won’t deny there were feelings, but your mother and I never did anything
indecent That is the God’s honest truth.

RONNIE: I suppose you could read it that way. I don’t know how Daddy would read it.
(Slight pause) I’d probably have to read it to him

CECIL: Read what?

RONNIE: A letter I found, in Mama’s desk, after she died It had gotten wedged between
drawers, fell out when I removed them It doesn’t say a whole lot, just tells her to hang
on though the long, lonely months—I’m guessing summer months. It’s signed “C” at the
bottom—looks like your C.

CECIL: I can’t write notes of encouragement?

RONNIE: There’s also a poem, Cecil—looks like a poem It’s written in Latin. Mama
started to translate it, in blue ink at the side. She didn’t get too far. I do recall the word
“love,” in blue ink. I bet I could finish it, with Daddy’s help. He may not always
remember what day it is, but he remembers his Latin.

JENKINS: (Suddenly moves towards her with fury) You have no right to pry into my past.
RONNIE: You have no right to pry into my future!

JENKINS: (Steps back, as if stunned by his own fury) You would betray everything you
were raised for—you would betray your home for a summer with—him.

RONNIE: My home betrayed me! I’ve been faithful for forty-three years—where’s my
gold star? If you bring Joe to the board, he’s lost. Those pictures’ll grow so big they’ll
swallow him

JENKINS: Grover’s an old man now. You show him whatever you want.

RONNIE: It’s still his school.

JENKINS: This is nonsense. You’re talking out of your head. (Starts to exit)

122

RONNIE: What should I tell him Cecil?
JENKINS: Tell who?

RONNIE: Joe.

JENKINS: There’s no place for him here.
RONNIE: What can he expect, Cecil?
JENKINS: He can expect to pack his bags.
RONNIE: Then I’ll pack mine too.
JENKINS: If that’s what you want.

RONNIE: But before I leave, we’re gonna translate that poem Me and Daddy. He’s
liable to get so mad he’ll call a meeting of his own.

JENKINS: I don’t believe you’ll do it.

RONNIE: You don’t know me at all.

JENKINS: I’ve known you your whole life.

RONNIE: That’s gone, Cecil.

JENKINS: It won’t be the same for you here. It won’t ever be the same.
RONNIE: Thank God. Thank goodness God.

(Cecil broods for a minute, and Ronnie knows that Joe is safe)
JENKINS: This ain’t over—I’m not through—

RONNIE: We’re done Cecil, go home. Go home.

(Slow fade to black)

123

ACT THREE
It ’s early evening of the next day. Susan is sitting in Joe ’s apartment, reading, when she
hears a knock at the door. She rises and answers it to find Ronnie, who is holding a
grocery sack full of items.
RONNIE: You’re back! How was your trip?
SUSAN: Hot. Dull.
RONNIE: (Moving inside, past Susan) That is the South!
SUSAN: Joe’s not here—
RONNIE: Mind if I take this back to the kitchen?
SUSAN: It’s not my apartment.
RONNIE: (Exiting) I’m ‘fiaid this ice cream’s going limp!

(Susan walks over and fans the room by swinging the door to and fio a few times, then
shuts it. She appears hot and tired and annoyed, and looks at her watch.)

RONNIE: (Pokes her head through the kitchen door) How long’s Joe been gone?
SUSAN: (Shrugs) I was taking a nap.

RONNIE: I’ll be right back! (Exits; Susan picks up the note Joe left and sits on the
couch; Ronnie returns) I ‘spect he’ll be back any minute. He had to go to school.

SUSAN: I know where he went.

RONNIE: He called me before he left.

SUSAN: He lefi a note.

RONNIE: He said to wait till he got back, but I was bored. Have you eaten?
SUSAN: I just got up.

RONNIE: We’re gonna try us a chicken!

SUSAN: I’m not hungry.

124

RONNIE: (Hasn ’t heard her) You like chicken fi'ied?

SUSAN: I said I’m not hungry.

RONNIE: I’m sorry. Everything today’s just slid past my ears! Had a little girl ask me if
she could take off her shoes—I never let them do that—but without even hearing her I
nodded yes. By the time I looked up I had a room full of barefooted babies!

SUSAN: Why can’t they take off their shoes?

RONNIE: Well——there might be something sharp.

SUSAN: Like what?

RONNIE: Well——

SUSAN: Barbed wire?

RONNIE: (Laughing) Goodness no! Where would there be barbed wire?

SUSAN: Never mind. (Picks up her book and resumes reading)

RONNIE: Maybe thumb tacks—no barbed wire! (Slight pause) It was one of my
mother’s rules—no child could take ofi‘ their shoes—she’d pitch a fit. She’d say, ‘What if
Mr. Staples happened to pop his head through the door? I wouldn’t want him to find a
bunch of wild barefooted savages!’ Course Daddy never popped his head through her
door. I think she just didn’t like bare feet. (Sees that Susan isn ’t listening, speaks directly
to her) That may be a rule I have to clunge!

SUSAN: Would you mind if I go back to the bedroom to read? (Fans herself with the
book) I don’t feel good.

RONNIE: I’m sorry.
SUSAN: I’m very tired.

RONNIE: You go right ahead. I’m gonna make myself useful. (Begins picking up loose
newspapers from the floor)

SUSAN: You don’t have to do that.

RONNIE: I can’t start cooking till Joe gets here. He wants to help.

125

SUSAN: Joe wants to cook?

RONNIE: (Winks) He wants to help. (Resumes picking up)

SUSAN: You really shouldn’t do that.

RONNIE: It’ll be a surprise!

SUSAN: (With growing annoyance) It’s his mess.

RONNIE: (Hints of fighting back) I’m not gonna change anything. Just straighten up.
SUSAN: It’s not your stuff to straighten.

RONNIE: (Ignoring her) He’s had so much on his mind.

(Susan has left some books and magazines scattered beside one of her travel bags, which
lies on the floor. Ronnie has been careful to avoid the bag, but not knowing they belong
to Susan, she picks up the magazines and starts to pile them with Joe ’s.)

SUSAN: (Stepping back into the room) Hey—put those down.

RONNIE: (Lays the magazines on the stack) I’m just trying to help.

SUSAN: (Moves over and takes them from her) These are mine, thank you. (Putting them
back in the same spot on the floor) I’ll take care of my stufi‘.

RONNIE: (Hurt) I was just trying to help.
SUSAN: You’re not the maid.
RONNIE: Don’t see why you had to snap.

SUSAN: I’ll tell you why. Because I’m hot, and I’m tired, and I’m pissed of about what
happened while I was gone. Joey told me the whole thing.

RONNIE: He did?

SUSAN: Then we got into a shouting match, and I had to go lie down because it hurt my
head.

RONNIE: But everything turned out okay. Didn’t he tell you?

126

SUSAN: Jesus Christ. It couldn’t be fucking worse.

RONNIE: I’m not comfortable with that kind of language.
SUSAN: I’m not comfortable with this heat. (Fans herself) You get used to it.
RONNIE: Joe doesn’t speak that way.

SUSAN: Really? You read any of the plays he wrote in college?
RONNIE: No.

SUSAN: Ask him about The Man with the Hungry Cock.
RONNIE: I don’t believe it.

SUSAN: Believe what?

RONNIE: That he’d write something like tlnt.

SUSAN: That’s just the title. You should see the climax!
RONNIE: Not the Joe I know. He’s decent.

SUSAN: (Rolling her eyes) Oh my god.

RONNIE: I don’t care what he wrote back then. Today he’s a gentleman. (Begins
straightening the pile of papers she 's collected)

SUSAN: It just dawned on me. You didn’t see the pictures.
RONNIE: What pictures?

SUSAN: The ones from his play, that caused all the stink
RONNIE: He wrote that play?

SUSAN: Of course he wrote it!

RONNIE: I didn’t know.

SUSAN: And you didn’t see the pictures, did you?

127

RONNIE: Why are you being so hatefitl? You were nice to me before.
SUSAN: I thought you were noisily harmless.

RONNIE: I am!

SUSAN: Like a bird.

RONNIE: Didn’t he tell you?—

SUSAN: Yes he told me—

RONNIE: I saved him! They tried to hurt him—I saved him.

SUSAN: What they did was sleazy, typical, Southern bullshit crap—but they were right.
RONNIE: They were cruel.

SUSAN: He doesn’t belong here.

RONNIE: It doesn’t matter now. I stood up to them I saved his job.
SUSAN: That’s what I mean! If it weren’t for you he’d be packing his bags.

RONNIE: Well he’s not. (With an air of triumph) He’s over there right now talking to Dr.
Turner. He’s gonna stay.

SUSAN: Maybe he’s telling her to go to hell.
RONNIE: Joe wouldn’t do that. He’s a gentleman.
SUSAN: He’s not a goddamn gentleman.
RONNIE: I don’t like that language—

SUSAN: Too bad.

RONNIE: Joe’d be ashamed of you right now—
SUSAN: Bullshit—

RONNIE: ——-treating me like dirt.

128

SUSAN: Bullshit. I treat everyone like dirt.

RONNIE: Well I’m different.

SUSAN: Why?

RONNIE: I just am—

SUSAN: Why?

RONNIE: Because Joe’s in love with me. (Slight pause) He didn’t tell you everything.
SUSAN: He didn’t say love.

RONNIE: That’s cause it’s private.

SUSAN: That’s when I started shouting.

RONNIE: You think I’m too old?

SUSAN: No.

RONNIE: I’m too simple? Cause I’ve never been to New York City?

SUSAN: Because you never wanted to go to New York City.

RONNIE: I never wanted to go to the moon! (Slight pause) I have been to Gaston. Did
he tell you about that? We rolled down the windows and played rock music on the
radio—I didn’t know a single song. But I liked every one—I liked every song I heard.
And I liked every bump in the road, I liked every time the car jostled, and I kept wishing
that I was holding a hot dog full of chile so it would tumble down my blouse, and put a
stain across my lap that would never come clean. I know, there’s a wildness I’ve missed
out on, that Joe’s known and I haven’t, but there’s a quiet I’ve known that he hasn’t.
SUSAN: Do you know what he wants to do here? Has he told you?

RONNIE: He just wants to find his place.

SUSAN: He wants to integrate your school, dear. Black feet in your classroom
RONNIE: I don’t care about that old school anymore.

SUSAN: Joey cares. If he stays, that’s the reason.

129

RONNIE: He will stay. That’s all that matters.

(Resumes picking up papers)

SUSAN: Are you moving in here? Is that why you’re cleaning?

RONNIE: Of course not. I live with my daddy, and that’s how it is till he dies.

SUSAN: Some of these old Southern patriarchs die slowly. They like to stretch it out,
like a story.

RONNIE: Daddy’s in his last days. I want them to be peaceful.

(Ronnie seems to finish her task, looks for something else to do)

SUSAN: You should read Joey’s plays.

RONNIE: I don’t like to read. I like to do.

SUSAN: Then make him show you those pictures.

RONNIE: Why?

SUSAN: You might bump into them some day. You don’t want to live in fear.
RONNIE: You think I’m scared of a naked Lady? Is that what they’re of—naked ladies?
SUSAN: Is that what you think?

RONNIE: I don’t know what to think! I just know Cecil got all rufiled, and that’s what
came to mind, naked ladies.

SUSAN: It’s more than just naked ladies.
RONNIE: Then what is it?

SUSAN: Make him show you—

(Joe enters)

JOE: Ronnie—you’re here—

RONNIE: Course I’m here! I got bored at home.

130

JOE: (To Susan) How long have you been up?

SUSAN: I never really went to sleep. I’m too tired.
RONNIE: I told her about our supper plans!

SUSAN: I think I’m gonna take a walk.

JOE: You sure?

RONNIE: Hope I haven’t run you off!

SUSAN: It’s cooler outside. I want to find a place to read.
JOE: Have you eaten anything? We’re gonna cook.
SUSAN: So I heard.

JOE: Are you hungry?

SUSAN: (Shaking her head) You two go ahead.

JOE: It’ll be dark soon.

SUSAN: I won’t go far. (To Joe) Enjoy your lesson. (Exits)

JOE: (Calling) Be careful. (Joe and Ronnie look at each other for a moment, then Ronnie
moves toward him and they awkwardly embrace)

RONNIE: Glad I’m here?

JOE: (Moving away) Well—I hoped you’d wait.
RONNIE: What happened at school?

JOE: Was Susan rude?

RONNIE: Why do you ask?

JOE: I know Susan.

RONNIE: She got a little upset.

131

JOE: She was very upset earlier.

RONNIE: Why’d you tell her, Joe?

JOE: (Shrugs) She’s my sister. She’d figure it all out anyway.

RONNIE: She’s sharp—

JOE: As a terrier.

RONNIE: She barks like one too.

JOE: Was she rude?

RONNIE: Can’t say I care much for her language.

JOE: I’m sorry——

RONNIE: (Quickly) But I got used to it.

JOE: She means well. She thinks that to love me she has to protect me.

RONNIE: (Moves towards him) So do 1. (Joe doesn ’t respond immediately, she slowly
retreats; he appears to be about to speak when she cuts him ofi') What happened at
school? What’d Jeanette have to say? (Sits in the chair)

JOE: She said I had every reason in the world to leave—

SUSAN: She’s wrong—

JOE: ——but hoped I wouldn’t.

RONNIE: I hope so too!

JOE: I said I won this round, but Cecil’s not gonna stop.

RONNIE: Oh, Cecil—Cecil’s dead, Joe—he’s slain.

JOE: It’s not just Cecil. It’s Bob Hargrove. It’s the board of trustees. It’s anyone who’s
gonna take offense whenl bring Frank Welch to school.

RONNIE: Bring him to school?

132

JOE: Yep. If I stay, that’s the first thing I’ll do—-invite him to speak to my class.
RONNIE: Did you tell Jeanette?

JOE: I told her.

RONNIE: What’d she say?

JOE: Not much at first.

RONNIE: Guess not.

JOE: But then she pulled down the shades, and we talked for an hour. Turns out she
wants pretty much the same thing I do.

RONNIE: Really?

JOE: Not as much as I want, but enough. It was a good talk.
RONNIE: Daddy hired her you know! Made Cecil furious.
JOE: I know, and I—

RONNIE: Did it just get his goat—and got it.

JOE: Ronnie, I need to tell you something. What I said to her I should say to you.
Everything.

RONNIE: (Rises) You don’t have to say anything to me—
JOE: I do—
RONNIE: ——because I already know. I know what you want.

JOE: (Moves to the window, as if to draw the blinds, but they ’re already drawn) I want to
change your father’s school.

RONNIE: I know.
JOE: I want to—

RONNIE: I know, Joe. I’ve known all the time.

133

JOE: I don’t expect you to agree.

RONNIE: Why can’t I agree? (Starts to speak, hesitates, collects her thoughts) My lord,
after forty-three years of solitude, I fell in love in a single day! I’m not scared of
change—I crave it.

JOE: What about your father? Don’t imagine he wants his school messed with.
RONNIE: Don’t worry about Daddy. He’s on his last leg.

JOE: I don’t mean I want him to die.

RONNIE: He needs to die Joe, he’s old. Your plan’s never gonna lmppen till he does.
JOE: It may never happen.

RONNIE: You gotta stay hopeful.

JOE: I was, till yesterday.

RONNIE: Yesterday’s over.

JOE: Who knows what else they’ll do. They broke in here once, why not again?
RONNIE: Cause I won’t let them

JOE: (Instinctively goes to the window, again sees the blinds drawn) Right now I’ve got
all the resolve of a tossed coin. A part of me wants to just say to hell with it—go back to
pumping gas. I can’t live like this for five, ten more years—I’ll have no stomach.
RONNIE: You’re gonna be fine, Joe, cause I’m gonna help you. Every step of the way!
J OE: I appreciate it—

RONNIE: I have a prediction honey! I predict that coin’s gonna drop real soon, and I
know just what it’s gonna say! It’s gonna say give it a summer Joe, at least one summer.
Rest up, take walks, go on slow drives to Gaston! Don’t make any kind of plans till
you’ve at least spent one summer here with me. Then I predict you’ll change your mind.
You may just wanna stay here forever! May wanna grow fat and old in Ahna! Might

even decide to run for mayor!

JOE: No I won’t-—

134

RONNIE: I bet you will! You’re gonna take over this place, and I’m gonna help you.
JOE: I’d——I’d rather you didn’t. Please.

RONNIE: (Suddenly deflated) Thought you wanted my help?

JOE: I don’t want to be mayor.

RONNIE: Honey, I’m teasing you. (Touches his arm) But you will grow happy here, I
know it.

JOE: I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to stay another day.
RONNIE: I thought—
JOE: I’m not sure I have the nerve. Even with your help.

RONNIE: Course you have the nerve. (Regaining her confidence) You stood up to Cecil!
You stood up to Bob Hargrove.

JOE: And I’m wiped out. (Sits on the couch) I’m exhausted.

RONNIE: I know, but we got the whole summer to revive!

JOE: Maybe——

RONNIE: Not maybe—positively! (Playfully, to mask her concern) What’s got in to you?
JOE: I’m just tired. (Ronnie moves behind him and begins rubbing his shoulders for a
minute)

RONNIE: I know you are. School year cleans a body out. Course, I always say that
come June, and then a week later I’m ready for fall! Now—how’s that? (Joe seems lost in
thought) Joe?

JOE: Ronnie, if I do stay, it won’t be forever.

RONNIE: (Stops rubbing) I know.

JOE: I don’t want to grow old here. I’m sorry.

RONNIE: (Moves around and sits beside him) Neither do I honey. Neither do I.

135

(Pause)

JOE: Would you want to come with me?
RONNIE: Soon as Daddy’s gone. Of course.
JOE: I don’t know where I’d go.

RONNIE: I’d love to see Baltimore.

JOE: Maybe back to New York.

RONNIE: Oh—

JOE: Maybe go back to school.

RONNIE: New York City—

JOE: It doesn’t have to be there.

RONNIE: I’d go to the moon with you Joe—if you loved me. (Pause) I just can’t keep
my hands ofi' that word.

JOE: It’s all right. (T entatively) I owe you a response.

RONNIE: Not owed. Just wanted.

(Joe rises, moves away for a moment, then returns to the couch with resolve)

JOE: You’ve done wonderful things for me, without my even asking.

RONNIE: You don’t have to ask—ever.

JOE: You saved my job—Jesus. You took on Cecil Jenkins. No one’s ever taken that
kind of risk for me—or me for anyone else. And I feel—I feel—as much as I’ve ever felt,
I guess, as warm, as comfortable, as glad to see you—

RONNIE: (Puts her hand on his mouth) Hush. That’s enough. (Withdraws her hand)
JOE: Is it?

RONNIE: I make my father glad to see me. I know he loves me, much as he loves
anything. (Ronnie touches his face; he takes her hand and holds it for a moment; then he

136

moves over to kiss her cheek, but when he starts to draw away she pulls him back to her
lips; she rises, stumbles a moment, as if tipsy) It’s all come so quick—I can’t hardly
believe it. (She starts to stumble and Joe rises to help steady her; she kisses him again,
longer than before, then he sits) It does seem impossible, doesn’t it? Grover Staples’s
daughter and—

JOE: That degenerate from New York.

RONNIE: You hush. You’ve got all kind of talents Joe—you wrote plays!

JOE: Susan told you about my plays?

RONNIE: She surely did!

J OE: Oh God.

RONNIE: She said I should read them! I want to read them Joe.

JOE: Sorry, but—

RONNIE: I want to, I do.

JOE: I don’t have them anymore.

RONNIE: Where are they?

JOE: I burned them one night, before I moved here. Please don’t tell Susan.
RONNIE: You burned them?

JOE: Just like Hedda Gabler.

RONNIE: Why?

JOE: I had a trip to make. It lightened me.

RONNIE: Then I’m glad they’re gone.

JOE: You wouldn’t have liked them anyway.

RONNIE: But I would’ve read them

JOE: I was pretty young when I wrote them

137

RONNIE: I like things young!

JOE: They were obscene.

RONNIE: I’d learn to love them just the same.
JOE: I doubt it—

RONNIE: You think I’m still an old maid teacher. I can change Joe Monroe, I have
changed.

JOE: I believe you.
RONNIE: I wish I could prove it.
JOE: You don’t have to prove anything.

RONNIE: I wish I knew how. (Speaks with a strength here that builds to its high point a
few lines down) Listen Joe—I want to see those pictures. Did you get them back?

JOE: Yes, but—-

RONNIE: Are they in that package you brought in? (Indicates a package he laid on the
table)

JOE: Yes, but——

RONNIE: Let me see them, before you burn those too!
JOE: Let’s forget about those pictures——

RONNIE: Not till I’ve seen them! I can’t.

JOE: I don’t—I don’t want you to get the wrong picture.
RONNIE: That’s all they are—pictures from a play.

J OE: (Hesitates) It was my play.

RONNIE: I know.

JOE: You do?

138

RONNIE: You should’ve told me.

JOE: I didn’t want Cecil to know.

RONNIE: I don’t blame you.

(Slight pause)

JOE: My first and last production. I was twenty-two years old.
RONNIE: (Recovering) That’s something though, Jowyour own play.

JOE: Staged in a bookstore stockroom The audience was mostly my fiiends, and nosy
customers who heard the commotion.

RONNIE: Still—that’s something. People clapping for something you made up. Lord, I
get goose bumps when my babies clap for me! And that’s just when I make up a song
about a bunny rabbit, or a goose—

JOE: Nobody clapped very loud. They were too surprised.

RONNIE: Surprised about what?

JOE: They were expecting something quiet, and polite.

RONNIE: Like you.

J OE: I mean they liked it—-but they were shocked.

RONNIE: I bet they loved it.

JOE: They loved seeing actors take off their clothes. That’s how I got it produced. The
dialogue was pointless, but so what? The stage directions were great!

RONNIE: I figured that’s what it was. I don’t reckon Cecil’s seen many naked ladies.
JOE: There wasn’t much nudity till the end. A lot of underclothes, a lot of—simulation.
RONNIE: Well, I’ve taken baths before—I’m not scared of naked ladies.

JOE: It’s not just a woman. A

RONNIE: Oh.

139

JOE: It’s a couple. The whole play was about couples.

RONNIE: Well—you can’t have Eve without Adam! That wouldn’t be no fun.
J OE: (Looks surprised) It’s funny you say that.

RONNIE: Why?

JOE: The play was called Eden and 105‘“ Street. The main couple were my Adam and
Eve.

RONNIE: Really? And I figured that out?

JOE: Isn’t that fumiy?

RONNIE: (Proud of herself) I should’ve written plays!

JOE: You could’ve written a better one than mine—

RONNIE: Adam and Eve! I might just write me a play about that!
JOE: You should——

RONNIE: I could, too, as much church as I had to sweat through! Lord. . . .(Appears lost
in memory)

JOE: The thing was, nobody understood it. Nobody got it.

RONNIE: I bet they did.

JOE: No—all they saw were some good-looking actors taking ofi‘ their clothes.
RONNIE: How do you know that?

JOE: I watched their faces! Nobody got it. It broke my twenty-two year old heart.
RONNIE: I would’ve got it—I do get it. That’s why I want to see those pictures.
JOE: Let’s forget about those pictures.

RONNIE: Why’d you bring them home?

JOE: To give them back to Susan-—

140

RONNIE: Not till I’ve seen them! I at least get to see what Cecil saw. Haven’t I earned
that much?

JOE: I suppose so.
RONNIE: Please?

JOE: (Sighs) All right.
RONNIE: Thank you, Joe.

JOE: But remember, it’s just a play. And a bad one. (Rises, retrieves the package, then
starts looking through a few of the pictures himself and fieezes)

RONNIE: Don’t reckon you can have a play about Adam and Eve without somebody
getting naked. That’s all you had to tell Cecil—it’s just Adam and Eve! He teaches
Sunday School—he knows. (Notices that Joe isn ’t listening to her) What’s so interesting?
J OE: Just reminiscing.

RONNIE: You’re gonna stare holes in them before I ever get the chance!

JOE: I’m sorry. (Puts them back in the package) I forgot how much power those kids had
over me. I think I was in love with the entire cast.

RONNIE: In love?
JOE: In awe, in—worship. (Sees she looks confused) They had courage, Ronnie—to
come to life, every night, in fiont of strangers. It took every nerve I had just to write

down an idea.

RONNIE: (Awkwardly plajful) In love with them I’m scared to see them now—I might
get jealous!

J OE: Then I’ll put them away.

RONNIE: Don’t, Joe—I need to see them
JOE: Why?

RONNIE: So you’ll know I have courage.

JOE: I know that already.

141

RONNIE: Cause I stood up to Cecil? I was mad, not brave. Listen Joe, I’ve got to see
your play. Unless you plan on writing more—

JOE: (Moves slowly toward her) I don’t plan on writing more. At least not like this one.
Joe sits beside her, opens the package, hands it to her. After looking at each photo she
hands it to Joe. At this point slides should begin to appear on a screen at the center of
the stage, perhaps attached on the back of the portable white board used in the
schoolroom set. Each slide should represent the picture that Ronnie is viewing at that
moment. The first few photos should show various young couples, in various types of
embrace.

RONNIE: So this is Eden—

JOE: And 105m Street.

RONNIE: These are some beautiful faces—lord. Look at all that young, thick hair——that
clear, pink skin. (A bruptly stops) This is making me feel plain—and old.

JOE: You’re not old.

RONNIE: It’s hard to look at young folks in love—
JOE: They were just actors.

RONNIE: They’re good actors, I can tell.

JOE: It’s all a pose.

RONNIE: I wouldn’t mind posing for that.

JOE: (Awkwardly) I’ll take your picture sometime.

RONNIE: No you won’t. (Slight pause) When I was young enough to pose, I was scared
for men to look at me. Now I’m not scared, I’m just—old.

JOE: You’re not old at all.

RONNIE: You’re sweet Joe—but I am—I’m old—(Resumes looking at the photos, more
couples)

JOE: Well, don’t envy them. They’re all about to meet the devil.

142

RONNIE: Where’s the devil?

JOE: You never see him. The devil was—history. He was the past.

RONNIE: I don’t think I know what that means.

JOE: (Smiling) It didn’t make much sense.

RONNIE: Is there a snake?

(The next few photos show gestapo-like thugs beating a couple of the young people.)
JOE: There—lots of snakes!

RONNIE: The police?—

JOE: The gestapo—sent to wipe us all out.

RONNIE: (Frustrated) I’m more confused than ever.

JOE: Itwasafantasyplay. ThedevflwasthepasLandthepastwastryingto destroythe
firtme. So he sent his goons to kill all the young people, all the lovers. By day the kids
wouldhidedowninthe subways, andwhenitwasdarkthey’dsneakoutandmeetinthis

tiny, hidden little park on 105‘” Street. (Photos show more couples, looking more
passionate and desperate, simulating various Opes of sexual relations)

RONNIE: Lord.
JOE: Are you all right?
RONNIE: (Slowly nods) Just keep talking.

JOE: All night they’d make wild, desperate love—that’s how they thought they’d save the
world.

RONNIE: They do look wild——
JOE: Do you want to stop?
RONNIE: Not till it’s done. (Resumes looking at the photos)

JOE: It may get worse.

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RONNIE: What’s happening now?

JOE: Well—the kids grew more desperate, loving indiscriminately, until there was no
longer any love, just—lust.

RONNIE: Oh my lord—

JOE: We can stop.

RONNIE: (Breathes deeply) No, I’m fine.

(Pictures now show bodies strewn across the stage.)

JOE: And that made them vulnerable, and more and more of them got caught, or lost hope
and threw themselves in front of trains. In the end only one young couple survived, and
they were the only ones who had managed to stay in love. Everybody else got old and
died, or were destroyed, except for this one couple.

RONNIE: Adam and Eve-—

JOE: Adam and Eve. (Final slides show the couple—a black man and a white woman;
there should be a considerable pause here, and Joe notices that Ronnie is not looking at
the photo, but is nervously rubbing her eyes) And as it ends, they take their clothes OE
and begin to make love—and history starts over— (Slide starts to change when Ronnie
suddenly dumps the package in Joe ’s lap—the screen goes black)

RONNIE: (Rises and walks toward the door) It’s too much—(Breathless)—we should’ve
stopped—

JOE: You said you were fine—

RONNIE: (Snaps) Well I’m not fine now.

JOE: Is it this? (Rises, holds up the last photo)
RONNIE: It’s all too much.

JOE: (Moves toward her) It’s not just this one?
RONNIE: It’s all of them, I’m sure.

JOE: (Holds it out to her) Look at it again.

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RONNIE: Why?

JOE: I want to know.

RONNIE: (Turns her head fiom it, continually) I told you I was sure.
JOE: I just want you to look at it—

RONNIE: Why are you being hateful?

JOE: (Continues hold it out to her) I’m just asking you to look at a picture.

RONNIE: And I told you I don’t want to. I don’t feel good. I wish you’d put that thing
away.

(They stand apart for a moment. Both actors should appear to grow ill, as if their energy
were literally bleeding out of them.)

JOE: All right. (Pulls it away) I’ll put it away. (Moves to Susan ’s bag and tucks the
package in it; he keeps the last photo though, and studies it; there should be a
considerable pause here)

RONNIE: My eyes feel like they’re—bleeding. My whole lace feels like it’s bleeding. I
might need to lie down. (Joe remains crouched beside the bag, staring at the photo) You
don’t have to ignore me.

JOE: I just realized the end was wrong. (Rises) This couple never would have rmde it.
They would’ve been the first to go.

RONNIE: I thought you were gonna put it away.
JOE: That’s why nobody took it seriously. It was too fantastic.
RONNIE: Is there nothing else we can talk about?

JOE: They could survive history, sure, if history was just a bunch of goons. But it’s not.
It’s people you know, and live with.

RONNIE: I don’t know what any of that means. I just know my head aches.
JOE: (Holds up the photo) Why does this hurt you so badly?

RONNIE: It’s not that—(F ans herseIf)—it’s the heat in this place.

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JOE: You can’t even look at them
RONNIE: (Sharply) And you can’t take your eyes ofi‘them

JOE: (Speaks with as much animation and force as at any point in the play) They’re in
love! I never wrote about people in love! It was a crappy play—almost everything I
wrote was crap—but this—(Holds out the photo)—this was my best moment. Maybe
Susan’s right—I was dumb to stop writing. Maybe I could start over. (Looks hard at the
photo) I never knew how powerfirl this stuff can be, till right now. It doesn’t matter who
gets it. What matters is that I wrote it.

RONNIE: I get it—I just don’t think it seems very real.
JOE: It’s not real.

RONNIE: I believe in Adam and Eve—I always have. That’s just not how I pictured
them

JOE: (With malice) Of course it’s not. This could never happen here. You wouldn’t let
it.

RONNIE: I’m not ignorant, Joe—

JOE: I never said you were ignorant.
RONNIE: That’s how you’re looking at me.
JOE: I can’t help howl look.

RONNIE: I’m not a fool. I knew girls who did that—ran away up north, starting running
around with black men—I went to school with them, I taught a couple. And I’d see them
come back fi'om time to time. They always looked hungry and unloved, and they’d look
at me like I was ignorant Southern trash for being well-fed and clean and teaching at my
daddy’s pittfitl little school! And for some of them—I’m not saying all—but for some,
kissing a black man on the mouth would make them feel like they were that much farther
on top of me.

JOE: It’s not possible they might be in love?

RONNIE: I’m not saying that. All I’m trying to tell you is that I know these kind of
women. They’ll kiss a black man to prove how much smarter they are. And once they’ve
proved it, you think they stay with them? I know these kind of people. They use blacks
or Mexicans or anybody like that to prove how ashamed they are for being white, when

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really they’re just trying to prove how much whiter they are than the rest of us! I’m sorry,
it just makes me—mad. (Joe moves slowly to the bag, puts the photo in the package with
the others) I know you think I’m awful, but it’s the truth And you were looking at me
like they used to, like I was ignorant for having spent my whole life here in Alma.

JOE: I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. (Sits)

RONNIE: I know you didn’t. (Long pause) I don’t know what got into me. I guess this
week has worn me out. I know I sounded awful—don’t be mad.

JOE: I’m not mad. I’m tired too—I’m exhausted.

RONNIE: What we need to do is eat. Let’s forget about cooking tonight. (Moves toward
the door, as if to open it) Why don’t we drive to Gaston?

JOE: I’ve made up my mind about something.
RONNIE: (Turns back) I know the sweetest little diner.
JOE: I’m not up to anything right now.

RONNIE: No?

JOE: I’ve decided something though—I need to tell you.
RONNIE: Tell me, honey.

JOE: I’m leaving Alma.

RONNIE: When?

JOE: As soon as I can. I don’t have the strength to stay.
RONNIE: Course you do, Joe. Are you mad at me?
JOE: I’m not mad. I’m just—

RONNIE: Joe—

JOE: You all don’t need me here.

RONNIE: Course we do—Joe. Why do you say that?

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JOE: It was dumb to come down here. I made a mistake.

RONNIE: (Growing urgent) But I’m not ready to go yet. I can’t leave my father.
JOE: You shouldn’t.

RONNIE: You’re mad at me Joe—

JOE: I’m not mad—

RONNIE: I didn’t mean those things—I just got upset for a minute. I couldn’t help it,
Joe. Don’t you believe me? I couldn’t help it.

JOE: I know you couldn’t. But—I can’t stay—I don’t want to stay.
RONNIE: I thought that—

JOE: If I knew—I don’t—I’m sick with doubt—I’m scared—I’m suddenly terrified here.
I don’t want to be here another hour.

RONNIE: But I can’t leave yet.

JOE: You shouldn’t.

RONNIE: I will though—

JOE: No—

RONNIE: Yes I will—if you want me too. Don’t you want me too?
JOE: I don’t know what I’m going back to. I’ll probably stay with Susan—
RONNIE: Susan?

JOE: Maybe I could write full time.

RONNIE: You can write here Joe—you don’t need Susan!

JOE: I couldn’t write here—

RONNIE: Of course you can!

JOE: I can’t do anything here—

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RONNIE: Joe, listen to me. I couldn’t stop how that picture made me feel, any more than
I can stop blood rushing to my face—if I looked at it again, I’d feel the same way, but—I
will—I’ll look at it again, and keep looking at it till the blood goes down——but I need you
with me Joe—I can’t do it alone-—

JOE: Wlmt you said—(Covers his eyes with his hands)

RONNIE: I couldn’t help it—

JOE: (Uncovers his eyes) I don’t blame you, but it happened. There’s suddenly
this—wall—and I don’t know that I can ever look past it.

RONNIE: Then we gotta get rid of it! We gotta knock it down! Go someplace new—
J OE: (Shaking his head) You’d be miserable in New York——
RONNIE: I don’t care! I’ll grow used to it, with time—

JOE: I don’t have time. I can’t throw my life into anything doubtful. I’m sorry—I can’t
stay—I don’t want to—I won’t.

RONNIE: (Sits very still for a moment, not crying, then bursts forth with anger) You
want to change the world, but you’re not willing to help one person!—you’re not willing
to help me, and I’ve done everything to help you! It’s selfish Joe, and I don’t understand
it—I’ve done all I can do—I can’t do any more—I don ’t brow what else to do—

J OE: I’m sorry—

RONNIE: Tell me what to do—(Sits)

(Phone rings, startles them both; Joe answers it, only because the ringing seems
unbearable.)

JOE: Hello. . . .what?. . . .no, it’s all right. . . .where are you? (Pause) I know where it is. .
. .no, stay where you are, I’ll come. . . .all right. (Hangs up; long pause) Susan got lost.
She was reading while she walked. I should go get her.

RONNIE: (Calm) Don’t go yet. I don’t want to be alone.

JOE: You can come.

RONNIE: I don’t want her seeing me like this.

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JOE: She’s not very far. I won’t be long.

RONNIE: Stay just a little bit longer. I don’t want to be here by myself.
JOE: She’s lost. I don’t want her out there alone.

RONNIE: I’m lost, Joe. . . .

JOE: We’ll talk later. (Makes sure he has his keys) I won’t be long. I have to go. I’m
sorry. (Exits)

Ronnie covers her face for a moment, perhaps crying softly, then rises and goes slowly to
Susan ’s bag, takes out the package, holds it for a moment, breathes heavily, then begins
to open it as the lights fade to black.

THE END

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