Altered Ego Entertainment

BARBED-WIRED HEARTS by Frederic Colier



                THE CHARACTERS:               SOFIA, the mother, mid-forties,

                                                    BILL, the father, early fifties, unemployed.

                                                    DREW, the son, eighteen,

                                                    EVA, the daughter, twenty-four.

                                                    MARTY, Drew's friend, a college student.

                                                    FRANK, a friend of the family, a union rep, early fifties.

Somewhere in the suburb of Detroit. Early November of the year 1989.

A large kitchen. The main room of a suburban house. There are several chairs and a table. Upstage, on a wall, there is a notice board full of postcards from Germany. Next to it a telephone. There are two doors, one on the left, leading to the world outside. The other one, located at the center-right, opens into the garage. The garage is full of old junk and has been unused for a long time. On the right of the stage, there is an armchair, and a TV in front of it. Downstage, on the left, there is a stairway; the bedrooms are supposedly upstairs.

BILL is sitting still on the armchair. He watches TV. He sips away at a can of beer. He appears melancholic and stares into the distance. He switches channels mindlessly with the remote control.

SOFIA enters carrying a grocery bag. She has been shopping on her way back from work. She is exhausted. She heads for the table and drops the bag. She looks at Bill. Her rushed and snappy gestures quite apparent in the manner she puts the shopping away betray her agitation. Still, she tries to appear composed.

ACT I

SOFIA: - I'm back! . . . What a day! You wouldn't believe how many times I had to sing "Happy Birthday" today . . . Glad those days are almost over. (She waits for an answer.) Twelve times! Isn't that something? . . . Long day! I'm worn out. Still, got the time to do some shopping for Sunday.

(BILL does not pay attention to her. He continues to flick the images on the screen.   She sits on a chair, undoes her shoes.)

SOFIA: - Goddamned shoes, they hurt my feet so badly.

(BILL does not flinch. SOFIA grabs her shoes and climbs the stairs.)

SOFIA: - Have you seen DREW at all today? (She disappears into their bedroom. Less than two seconds later, she suddenly cries out. Off.) Did you know there were messages on the answering machine? Why didn’t you listen to them? Maybe there was one for you . . . (She reappears on the banister.) I’m talking to you . . . Too far for you? (No answer.) Could you please turn off this God damned T.V! I’ve been working the whole day. I’m exhausted. If you don't mind, I’d like a bit of silence. After all since I’m the only one working in this house it shouldn't be too much to ask. (She comes down the stairs bare-footed.) I’ve got the right to it! (She goes towards BILL, wrenches the remote control from his hand and switches the set off. BILL does not protest.) Now we can breathe a little easier, don't you think? (Pause.) I can tell you've had a hell of a day again. Did you get your ass off this chair at all today? Or did you merely slob away—shoveling one can after the down your throat? (She notices a pile of empty cans next to his chair.) I see, you managed to make it up to the fridge . . . Give it back to me. I paid for those! (She wrenches the can of beer out of his grasp.) You should be ashamed of yourself, William Dombrowsky . . . Look what you've turned into, a fat slob. Soon you’ll be to fat to move . . . How do you expect things to get better for us. You do nothing to help whatsoever. You’ve become a burden to this family. . . Tell me, where’s all your pride gone? Doesn't it bother you? . . . Great example you're setting for your kids.

            (She stares at him and replaces the can of beer and the control into his hands. He takes a swig without even glancing at her.)

SOFIA: - Why didn't you listen to the messages? There could have been one for you: someone returning your calls, or responding to the applications we sent last week. It could have been for an interview. Frank could have been trying to reach you . . . (She rests on the back of his chair, her hand is tempted to stroke his head. She refrains, grabs a chair instead, and sits in front of him.) We can't go on like this anymore. With one paycheck the bills keep on piling up. I work two jobs and it’s never enough. I spend ten hours solid on my feet—at the restaurant, every weekend and it’s not enough. It's not like at the plant, we don't get breaks—my legs don't carry me anymore. My back’s killing me . . . I run from the insurance office straight to the restaurant. I don’t have a minute to myself. It’s killing me. I haven’t had a day off in six months now. And it’s not enough! What will happen once I collapse for good? I tell myself to put up with it, to stop whining, but I can’t help it . . . And all this for what? To collect more and more bills that we can't pay! Every breath we take gets us deeper and deeper into debt. I feel like a third-world country . . .

BILL: - What do you know about third-world countries?

SOFIA: - That's all they talk about on the news: the third-world's debt . . . There can’t be this much difference between our debts and their debts. Debts are debts for Christ’s sake! As if we didn’t have enough with our own misery. Now we've got to share everyone else's, too . . . You're right I don't understand anything about it. I don't have all day to waste in front of the TV to educate myself . . . (She walks to the table and once again puts the groceries away.) We’ve been turned over to a credit agency. The bank’s increased the rates on the credit card without any warning . . . We didn’t get last month’s payment in on time. In case you care, it's the last one we've got. Our credit record’s a mess. And if we declare bankruptcy, we can kiss our house goodbye. And if we don't pay the next installment on the car, the lease company will repossess it, which means I won't even be able to get to work . . . Yes, you could say we’ve got problems.

BILL: - So I take it you didn’t get the raise?

SOFIA: - They gave the job to some spring chicken. Apparently she was better qualified. Surely a lot prettier too.

BILL: - That's two hundred bucks a month we're losing.

SOFIA: - Yeah, two hundred dollars that I can't get because I look too old, because I’m too tired all the time, and I constantly complain about my feet.

            (BILL finishes his can and drops it noisily on the pile next to his chair.)

You'd better clean up your mess, because I'm not doing it for you. I pull my share at the restaurant and I really don't need any extra.

BILL: - Please, turn your record over!

SOFIA: - Don't you talk to me with that tone of voice. I don't deserve to be treated this way . . .

(She smacks the groceries on the table. She then searches for a bottle of pills in the cupboard. She opens the jar frantically and swallows a couple of pills.)

BILL: - Mail?

SOFIA: - Too far for you to drag yourself hey? . . . No, no mail. Not even a rejection letter. You can keep wallowing in your misery. (Pause.) Have you seen Drew?

BILL: - Nope. No Drew.

SOFIA: - I wonder what he's up to again? He's been worrying me lately.

BILL: - Maybe if he could find a job and leave this house he’d make it easier on us.

SOFIA: - I've asked you to never mention that again.

BILL: - What does he do? Spends his day driving around. Smokes and drinks as if there's no tomorrow.

SOFIA: - Gee, I wonder where he got that idea from.

BILL: - And who knows what else . . . How much money a week do you give him behind my back? Huh? Twenty? Forty bucks?

SOFIA: - I earned that money. It’s mine.

BILL: - What about his birthday? Last year was a trip to Florida. What are you planning to buy him this year, two weeks in the Bahamas? A new car?

SOFIA: - Don’t be ridiculous.

BILL: - It's money taken away from us. He's dropped out of school. He should be out there looking for work.

SOFIA: - You can't even get a job, how do you expect him to find one . . . Drew lives in this house, and as long as I’m alive and I put dinner on the table for this family, he is free to come and go, and remain as long as he wants.

BILL: - He’s old enough to live on his own.

SOFIA: - One more word about it and you can buy your own beer. Drew’s got every right to live in this house!

BILL: - Wake up for Christ’s sake. For the last year he's been nothing but trouble.

SOFIA: - He's going through a rough time—he's growing up. These things take time.

BILL: - When I was his age I was thinking about my future. I wouldn’t even dream spending a week without working. And if I had I can assure you my father would have inspired me with a few kicks in the pants.

SOFIA: - Your father was a callous man. A monster . . . anyway, it doesn't seem to have sunk in too deeply, does it?

BILL: - Tell me, why can't he be more like his sister then? She was never an A student like him, but she's done well for herself. She's got something to show for herself. Makes great money and lives abroad. Look at him, he’s supposed to be the smartest kid in his school . . . What a joke! You can spoil him, cover up for him as much as you want, but the fact remains your son is a bad kid!

SOFIA: - Don't twist everything around. None of this would happen if you had a job. And what do you mean by my son, he’s your son too!

BILL: – He’s your son! Your son! Your son!

(SOFIA starts sobbing.)

SOFIA: - You son of the bitch! He’s our son . . .

BILL: - Don't you start insulting me!

SOFIA: - Why not? When all goes smoothly, they’re our kids. When shit happens, they’re mine. You've got a hell of a nerve to talk to me like that after all I do for you. I'm the one working in this house.

BILL: - Don't raise your voice at me.

SOFIA: - You may have given up on yourself, but I’m still alive. I didn't marry you to let you slowly destroy me. I do what it takes to survive and for as long as I am the only one to work I deserve some respect. How dare you to tell me how to speak.

BILL: Yeah, yeah, yeah!

SOFIA: - Why is it that as soon as I come back from work you’re such a prick? Every night, when I’m so exhausted? I should be the one getting comfort. I end up having to take care of you: cleaning up your mess to make sure everything shines nicely behind you. Where is your contribution, huh?

BILL: - You’re asking me?

SOFIA: - Yes, I’m asking you where is your contribution.

BILL: - You know damned well where my contribution is. I’m talking about someone called D-R-E-W!

SOFIA: - Why is it the every year around his birthday you get so annoyed with him?

BILL: - You’d better be joking? (He gets up, puts his shoes on, and heads towards the front door.)

SOFIA: - No, I don't understand . . .

BILL: - I can’t believe you’re that dumb. (Bill grabs his jacket.)

SOFIA: - Where are you going now? Off to that lousy bar again? Why don’t you ask your great friends to help you. What have they done for you since you've lost your job? The phone isn't ringing for you that’s for sure. Or even better go and hang with your friend Frank. He sure is one to set the example. (Bill slams the door behind him. SOFIA grabs an empty can of beer and hurls it against the door. She runs to the door and opens it.) Who do you think you are? Have a few beers and leave me alone to clean up your mess. If only I had started it . . . It’s Drew’s birthday and we’re going to have a party whether you like it or not. (She collapses in the armchair.) Always blaming me . . . for everything . . . If he doesn't answer the phone, what am I supposed to do . . . (The phone rings several times. She gets up to answer the phone. The phone stops ringing. She looks at the cans on the floor.) Always me cleaning up everyone’s mess. If only I had started it. (She picks up the cans and throws them away. She puts the rests of the groceries away. Then she goes to her bedroom. She turns the answering machine on. We hear a male voice: Hi Bill! Frank. I’m calling for . . . Subsequently, the violent sound of a door slamming rumbles through the house; the voice is cut short.)

MARTY: (Off. Behind the front door.) – You can be a real moron sometimes!

DREW: (Opening the door, both enter.) – Relax. No big deal.

MARTY: - Dude, you could have got both of us killed.

DREW: - I drive safely.

MARTY: - When it's getting dark, it’s not cool. A deer could cross the road and fly right through the shield.

DREW: - Give me a break. When was the last time you heard of someone dying of a deer flying? (He waits.) Exactly.

MARTY: - Whatever. Give me the green stuff to pacify my mind.

DREW: - No, who’s had more crashes than the entire city together?

MARTY: - They weren’t my fault.

DREW: - How many cars have you totaled? Two in three years? If that isn't reckless driving what is it?

(He opens the garage door and disappears inside.)

MARTY: Dude! The first one, I got rear-ended. The insurance paid up . . . (Pause.) So let’s see the famous surprise? Is it smokeable? (Pokes his head through the door.) Wow! What a stench! It’s worse than rotten eggs.

DREW: (Off.) - Dead woodchucks. Some have dug holes underneath. That’s where we bury dead bikers who died from deer injuries.

MARTY: - Very cool. Very cool . . . Look at this mess! No wonder you can't find where the stink’s coming from.

DREW: (Off.) - My Dad says he's going to clean it, but never finds the time. I like it this way. Comes in pretty handy. Here. Look at this baby!

(He unwrapped a white grease-stained cloth. There is a gun inside.)

MARTY: - Hey man, what the hell are you doing with this shit?

DREW: - Ain't it a real beaut'? 38 mm. (He lifts the gun to eye level and aims at Marty.)

MARTY: (Ducks under the table.) - Put that thing down! Have you been smocking crack?

DREW: - Relax! I'm not going to kill you.

MARTY: (Bobs his head up again.) Dude, do you want to switch sides and see how it feels to be on the wrong side of the fence?

DREW: - What about that dooby?

MARTY: - Yeah, yeah, just put that shit away, okay.

DREW: - Some guy in the street offered it to me for fifty bucks.

MARTY: - Yeah, right! The same mystery guy that sell you the chocolate?

DREW: - Chocolate?

MARTY: - The Spanish name for you know what.

DREW: - Ain’t it cool to own one of those babies?

MARTY: - No Dude, it ain’t cool. If you want my honest opinion, it’s real bad ass backward.

DREW: - Well, I got it because I’m getting tired to be in between.

MARTY: - In between? In between what?

DREW: - (Plays with the gun.) If you look around you'll see you can't be in between. If you’re in between you're a loser.

MARTY: - That’s deep.

DREW: - It's like, you know, my parents, their friends, the teachers at school. They’re always bugging me. "So Drew, when are you going to get your shit together?" When you hear that shit all day long, you start wondering. So if having a good well-paying job is getting your shit together, well I’m getting my shit together. I’m turning 18 next Sunday and bye bye. I’m gone.

MARTY: (Gets near the gun and grabs it bashfully.) - You can’t leave town. Who’s going to supply me with my weed?

DREW: - Put it down. Don’t play with it.

MARTY: - You’re weird man. You say come home to spliff with me and you show me this.

(Drew retrieves the gun from Marty's hands. DREW hints that he is going to aim at Marty again.) Don’t dude!

DREW: - You’ll have to visit me in California.

MARTY: - Man, I’ve always wanted to go there. A lot a pretty babes I’ve heard . . . You can get that shit from Hawaii there. Dude!

DREW: - It’ll be easy to find work there.

MARTY: - Though I bet they aren't cuter than the ones in Florida. I’ll never forget those vacations. The best I ever had. Surely beats going away with the family . . .

DREW: - Guess what? My mom’s giving me a party with family and shit this Sunday.

MARTY: - Oh no. Man, we’ve got to go to Crossroads, The Aceholes from Marsh Land are playing there.

DREW: - I wish I could.

MARTY: - Hey, what happened to Mr. Hellucino Rick? I never like his trip. He’s a bad stoner. Unpredictable vibes.

DREW: - Everything scares you, even driving in a car.

MARTY: - Right. You remember that time, in Florida, we were pulling out of the parking lot on our way to see the Dolphins, and he rolled down his window, and all of a sudden said to that big guy in the car next to ours: "Hey, I recognize you. You're the asshole who smashed a bottle in my face last year." When I heard him and saw who he was talking to, I was scared shitless. The guy's arm was covered with tattoos. Four of them in the car. Four huge bearded grizzly bears. We got lucky that night; they could have killed us! I laugh about it now but I can still see their faces. They were so taken aback they didn't know what to do or say. They just sat there. Rick and you were laughing, but I was floored . . . I wouldn’t be surprised if he was dead.

DREW: - His old man died last week without seeing him again.

MARTY: - Rick's father dead?

DREW: - Of a broken-heart. At least, that's what people in town’re saying. (He makes an old woman's voice.) "He was never quite the same after his wife passed away last year."

MARTY: - So Rick’s in town and the loser sold you the gun . . . You know I've been thinking, next summer, you and I should go back to Florida for a couple of weeks. I've got a friend from college whose parents own . . .

DREW: - I don’t want to go back there.

MARTY: - We had a blast there.

DREW: - What is it each time I see you go on about Florida? You sound like my parents: re-hacking the same crap over and over again. All they talk about is their wedding day, or when they were engaged. Each time we have a guest, they pour their sauce on the table: "Do you remember Bill, the first time you kissed me? And you SOFIA the first date I went to get you and I slipped on the door steps because they were wet, and went crashing head first into the screen." Hey, can’t talk about something else.

MARTY: - Hey Dude, you need to pacify the mind of yours. (He looks at all the postcards on the board.) Hell, if I were in your shoes, I’d save my money and live with your Sis in Berlin. It looks like a cool place.

DREW: - Don't get her involved in my plans.

MARTY: - I’d love to hang with her. I bet she knows the places to go. It kills me that she was with that freak, Rick. She’s so refined, so smart.

DREW: - She's not Miss Brainiac, take it from me.

MARTY: - We should go visit her . . . (Pause.) Did you know I always dreamt of dating her?

DREW: - Maybe with a bit of patience you’d have succeeded.

MARTY: - Give me a break. She’s a suit type . . . You should come to college with me. It’s full of all types of gorgeous women! You'd love it. Party all the time.

DREW: - (He brandishes the gun.) Hands up dude. It’s dobby time.

MARTY: - Put that shit away.

DREW: - Let’s go up to my room, pothead.

MARTY: - About time dude, I’m cold turkeying. My hands are shaking.

            (They hear one of the bedroom doors opening upstairs.)

DREW: - (Whispers) – Shit. I thought she was still at work. (DREW hastens to wrap up the gun and closes the door of the garage. He shoves the gun under his shirt, tucks his shirt in.)

SOFIA: (Off.) - Is that you, Drew?

DREW: - Yeah, Mom.

SOFIA: (Comes down the stairs, dressed casually.) - It's nice to see you once in while. Where’ve you been the last two days?

DREW: - What do you mean?

SOFIA: - Please, spare me your games. I’ve got a handful with your father. Where have you been sleeping for the last two days?

DREW: - Here! In my bedroom.

SOFIA: - Well, maybe I should get my eyesight checked. I don't recall seeing you at all.

DREW: - I’ve been here all the time . . . I've just been getting up late.

SOFIA: - I must be out of my mind to work myself to death for a house full of ghosts. I don't hear them, don't see them, except for an occasional grunt or a slamming door.

DREW: - I've just been . . .

SOFIA: - I don't care what you do, where you go; you're a grown man. I just wish I could be warned in advance. I worry not knowing what you’re up to. (She crosses the kitchen without looking at him. To Marty) Hi, Marty. How is Mrs. Kolisinsky? How's college?

MARTY: - She's fine, Mrs. Dombrowsky. School could be better. Still I keep up with the middle.

SOFIA: - Good! Very wise not to waste a golden opportunity when you've got one. Hear that Drew? Coming Sunday to Drew’s party I hope?

MARTY: - Of course, Mrs. Dombrowsky . . . I should get going. It’s almost time for dinner.

SOFIA: - No, no, no. You stay here with Drew. I’m the one leaving. (To DREW.) You and your father—if he ever comes back tonight, he's gone to that lousy bar of his again—are eating together. It’s all in the fridge.

DREW: - . . . He won't go very far. The bar's closed. We just drove by, the cops have taken the place over.

SOFIA: - I trust your father. He'll find another lousy dive even if he’s got to crawl to the end of the world. There’s a meeting at the Young Women’s Club. Mrs. Delgado’s moving to Florida and we have to find her a replacement. (She moves towards the door.) Tell your father that Frank West’s been looking for him. He’ll give him to ride to the meeting. I’m taking the car . . . And bring me back my small pair of scissors you keep borrowing, before I return. (She goes out.)

MARTY: - Wow! That’s bad, man.

DREW: - Know what I’m saying now. It's gotten worse since my old man got laid off.

MARTY: - I heard about the massive job cut at the plant.

DREW: - Welcome back to loser-town!

MARTY: - I guess it's like accidents. You always think it's never going to hit you until the day you find your name in the headlines.

DREW: (Lifts his shirt, grabs his gun and aims at Marty's temple.) This is how we put dogs out of their misery in loser-town.

MARTY: - So are we smoking that dooby or not?

            (Drew bursts out laughing. He then goes to hide the gun in the garage. There is knock at the front door.)

DREW: (Off) Let’s go up my room.

MARTY: - Drew, there’s someone at the door.

DREW: (Off.) - Open the door then.

            (MARTY opens the door slightly ajar.)

MARTY: - Come in Mr. West.

FRANK: - What are doing here? I thought you were up in Cleveland.

MARTY: - I drove back for the weekend.

FRANK: - I wish I could just take off just like that. . . . Anyone home?

MARTY: - Drew, rooting through old junk in the garage.

FRANK: - Cleaning? I thought they had given up on it. (MARTY nods: no.) I didn't think they would. (He moves towards the door.) Hey, Drew, have you lost something in there? (Drew reappears and closes the door behind him.)

DREW: - I was just checking the mains.

FRANK: - Jesus, what’s that smell? I can remember your dad piling up garbage in this garage even before I can remember you both wearing diapers . . . How many years could that be?

MARTY: - Eighteen!

FRANK: - Thanks, I feel so much better . . . So where is he hiding this time, upstairs?

DREW: - Dad's gone out to the Lucky Star.

MARTY: - I’ve got to go. My parents get pissed if I miss dinner.

DREW: - Come and get me for tomorrow . . . I owe you for the stuff anyway. (Marty goes out.)

FRANK: - Did he get my message?

DREW: - Mom did. She's passed it on to me to tell him.

FRANK: - That doesn't help me much, does it? I called a couple of hours ago just so he would have time to get ready. We've got a major assembly tonight . . . Management’s planning to scrap another thousand jobs. He needs to come down. We need all the support we can get.

DREW: - I'm sure the guys at the bar will tell him.

FRANK: - That’s what I’m afraid of. It's more a matter of how he's going to come back than when. Damn it! Why doesn't he answer the phone anymore? I could have been calling him to get his ass right down to the plant because I had an opening.

DREW: - He spends his days in front of the TV without saying a word.

FRANK: - He's going through a rough time . . . What about you anyway? How are you spending your days?

DREW: - Me? I look for work.

FRANK: - Where?

DREW: - Wherever I can. At the grocery store. Stocking the shelves. It's a start.

FRANK: - Sounds more like an end to me. What the hell is the matter with you, you're young. You should be thinking about your future and getting ready for it. Think in terms of career not job. What the hell is the matter with your parents, don’t they teach you anything? Odd jobs are fine provided you don't get used to them, otherwise you get stuck in a rut. I’ll have word with your father. Just because you're out of work does not mean you forget you've got a family. If I were your Dad, believe me, I’d be a hundred per cent by your side. The more people work together the stronger.

DREW: - Maybe.

FRANK: - What about cars? Doesn't that excite you to know every second a new one comes out of the plant, that so many men have worked on them together, to assemble them, to see how well they drive? It makes me proud. A real collective effort . . . The staff’s aging fast. Soon we’re going to need young blood in those plants to build better cars.

DREW: - How good do you want them to be? . . . Maybe if they were not as good, people would have to buy cars more often.

FRANK: - If you're trying to be funny, you've lost a good opportunity to keep it quiet. We have to make better cars to get the best reputation, to make sure the people are happy and that they come back to us to buy another one. Pass it on from generation to generation. That’s a way to secure employment for all the workers. On this solid ground, we can fight for better benefits, better wages for our members.

DREW: - Can you help my Dad?

FRANK: - I’m talking to you. Making cars isn't that bad . . . We're going to need a new secretary at the Union: old McKenzy died last week. You’re smart. We could train you as a junior member. Do computer stuff . . . (He checks the time on his watch.) I've got to go. Don't sleep on it too long. Opportunities like this don’t come round too often in your lifetime.

            (They suddenly turn around towards the front door. Someone is fiddling with the doorknob.)

FRANK: - Here comes your Dad . . . Kissing the door again . . . Do you know the story when he went to pick up your Mom on their first date?

(BILL barges in, inebriated. He walks by them and sits down in his armchair.)

DREW: - FRANK’s here.

BILL: - Where’s your mother?

DREW: - At her club.

BILL: - Hasn't she got anything better to do than go cackle with them hens . . . Not clinging to your mother's skirt tonight?

(DREW storms out. He goes upstairs to his room and slams the door.)

FRANK: - That wasn't too smart.

BILL: - He's a lousy kid.

FRANK: - You’re tough on him.

BILL: - I don't understand why he can't be like his sister. She's the only pride left in this family. He’s turning 18 this week, what a mess.

FRANK: - Give him a break. He means well. Not everyone can be as lucky as she is. Hell, I know I don’t have kids. But if I had, I would—

BILL: - You would what?

FRANK: - I’d treat them like my friends, not like dogs.

BILL: - You don’t have kids. You don’t have a son. And I’m the one still married, so don’t tell me what’s what . . . He hasn't got the Dombrowsky's blood, that's for sure. We were strong workers in my family. Long days never frightened us. When my grandfather arrived in this country he had no money. A wife and four kids to feed he had. He couldn't speak a word of English, but he was proud to be an American. He would have fought . . .

FRANK: - "And died to defend his country." I know your damn story inside out.

BILL: - But it's true!

FRANK: - Everybody knows it's true. Everybody knows the great courage of the Dombrowsky family.

BILL: - Don't you dare insult the blood of the Dombrowsky’s. Asking anything from this kid is like asking blood from a turnip.

FRANK: - I’m giving you two minutes to get ready. We’ve got a meeting tonight.

BILL: - I’m not going.

FRANK: - Like hell. You promised last week you’d spur on the guys. We’ve got to win the lockout.

DREW: - (Kicks his shoes off.) I changed my mind.

FRANK: - Don’t do this. This is no game. We've got responsibilities. We're fighting for a good cause. We need your testimony to show the members what they can expect if they lose their job. Their interest’s your interest. Solidarity, that’s what it’s all about. We need to mobilize every worker. We need everyone's cooperation to organize a strike if need be. We have to remain strong and together. To show our strength. That we’ve got power. Otherwise, we're screwed. The guys at ACW needs you Bill.

BILL: - The Association of Car Workers can go to hell, for all I care. Same with your strike.

FRANK: - You owe it to me.

BILL: - I owe you shit. I've always been a good employee.

FRANK: - No one’s questioning your work. You’re a great welder.

BILL: - Five times I've been worker of the month. How many can brag about having been it once?

FRANK: - We can talk about it in the car.

BILL: - I'm not moving. Why should I go and fight for people who still have a job? Do they fight for me?

FRANK: - Of course they do! They pay their dues so that the Union can fight for you.

BILL: - Right! Where’s my job then Local 632?

FRANK: - The recession’s hitting everyone. It’s a bad flu, everyone gets it. It’s beyond anyone's control. It's plague.

BILL: (Weeping.) - Whoever started it should be able to stop it . . .

FRANK: - All we can do is limit the damage. That's why you need to give us your best testimony so we can bond the workers together.

BILL: - Why did they pick me out of the whole plant?

FRANK: - You and another two thousand.

BILL: - You've got the best part in all this—recession or not, you still get paid. You don't have to worry about nothing. You're a parasite Frank West. You and the ACW. Our hands and sweat built these cars, and, yet, we have to pay you to have the honor to be lectured by you.

FRANK: - If we didn’t have forty years friendship, I’d just walk out this door.

BILL: - Be my guest.

FRANK: - Someone has to stand up for you to defend your rights, to get better benefits, to make sure you lead a better life. Believe me, if it wasn't for the Union you wouldn't own a tenth of this house, no vacation pay, no overtime.

BILL: - I should have stayed a salesman. I was good at it. I like to work in the open, see the blue sky, see the seasons changing . . . drive by the lakes. I was the only one who had the guts to service the U.P. during the winter. The only one. Cold weather never scared me. I was making great bonuses. I was respected. Sought after. I had a future . . . I should never have entered that god damned factory.

FRANK: - Don't you think it's a bit late to feel sorry for yourself? That was twenty years ago.

BILL: - I was a good salesman and now I’ve got nothing to show for.

FRANK: - Come on! Put your shoes back on and let's go.

(BILL obediently slips his shoes back on.)

BILL: - I feel so cheated.

FRANK: - They’re no losers or winners in this mess.

BILL: - This strike’s shit. People who need a car will go somewhere else if they can't buy it from us.

FRANK: - If the Union says we need a strike, it's because we need a strike. We have the duty to defend our jobs. It's about us not losing what we have, keeping what we've won. When the profit comes down, we pay the price. Management cuts the jobs. They need to keep the profit flowing. We’re fighting for you, to prevent just that. Come on let' s go.

BILL: - Do you know what my biggest problem is FRANK? All my life I've been in love with Tomorrow . . . I listened to her voice, and I believed her. She filled me with an iron spirit and courage. I really believed I had the strength to reach for the stars . . . But she was a just little whore. A plain, short-term, provider of pleasure. She made me sweat, bend over, shovel shit for a living, and she told me to keep on smiling in the meantime. I believed her. She told me I had dignity and that I deserved the right to stand straight. But she was lying to me all this time, laughing at my expense . . . and she still demanded her fee, which I paid, obediently. Because I was so dependent on her. I should have married Today instead. I surely would have made a name for myself by now.

FRANK: - Do you know what your problem is? You want revenge but you’re barking at the wrong tree. I’m on your side.

BILL: - Do something for me then! . . . (Pause.)

FRANK: - I’m here to take you to the meeting, you idiot. (He looks at his watch.)

BILL: - Well, you know what?

FRANK: - What?

BILL: - You're wrong! I can punch. I can punch. I’m for real.

FRANK: - Fine, I'm wrong.

BILL: - You know what else? (Hesitant.) I find it strange that out of all my friends you're the only one who never asked me why I gave up my job as a salesman?

FRANK: - I don’t have time for your bullshit.

BILL: - You’re my best buddy and you never asked me.

FRANK: - Goodness Gracious, Bill.

BILL: - Why didn’t ever ask me?

FRANK: - Why are you pulling this on me now?

BILL: - See you don't know.

FRANK: - Damn you! . . . The truth is I was rather happy about it. We were going to work together again, like old school pals . . .

BILL: - Yes, but you never asked.

FRANK: - Tell me why then since it’s burning your tongue.

BILL: - It's too late now. Let's go to your damned meeting.

FRANK: - No! Please, humor me.

BILL: - What’s the point now.

FRANK: - For crying out loud tell me! If it makes you happy, I'm happy. Let's hear it.

BILL: - When SOFIA got pregnant with Drew . . . She asked me to give up my career.

FRANK: - Did she?

BILL: - Yes, she did. And I listened to her like a moron.

FRANK: - That's the big secret?

BILL: - Yes, that's the big secret.

FRANK: - That's it then. We've patched up a twenty-year grudge?

BILL: - I fucked up my life . . . gave up my fucking career.

FRANK: - More regrets?

BILL: - You bet!

FRANK: - You've had a great life down on the line. What are you complaining about?

BILL: - I could’ve become someone. The gift of gab, I had it. Looked smart, wore swell clothes. No one could turn me down . . .

FRANK: - Yes, you were the hottest ticket in town . . . That's why we wanted you at the plant. We needed people like you. The best.

BILL: - Family kills you . . . SOFIA just couldn’t handle being alone anymore . . . She couldn’t cope. Eva was a difficult kid . . . SOFIA was afraid that something might happen to her while she was pregnant with Drew . . . Too much stress. Who would have taken care of her? And I said: ”All right honey, I’ll go and get myself a job, where I can be with you every day”

FRANK: (He picks up Bill’s coat.) – You were just a responsible father.

BILL: - Ever since, it's as if I haven't been here. I’m a ghost. I forced myself to live in this town, but I’m dreaming. This ain’t my life. Nothing seems real.

(SOFIA comes back from the Young Women’s Club. She barges in, exultant.)

SOFIA: - You’re not going to believe this.

FRANK: - What? What’s the matter?

SOFIA: - They want me. They want me at the club. They want me to become the next Treasurer Officer. I walked into the room and everyone was already there. They had been talking. About all my work with the charities, all the time I’ve volunteered. My work at the insurance and handling the bills at the dinner. Sheila Cumming took me aside and told me that they had already voted me in for the position.

FRANK: - That’s fantastic.

SOFIA: - I can’t believe it . . . Dolores Delgado’s moving to Florida to be near her kids . . . That’s fantastic. All the past treasurers have become presidents. I could become president when Sheila leaves, which is just in five years.

FRANK: - See, Bill, nothing like hanging in there. You never know.

BILL: - Great. Good for her.

SOFIA: - I’m going to be someone public, important and respected

BILL: - Good for you.

SOFIA: - I’m going to be making twice as much as I’m making as a cashier. And I’m not including all the perks, the travels, the presents. Who knows, I can perhaps even leave my job at the insurance company.

FRANK: - Sofia Dombrowsky, ambassador for the Young Women’s Club. Who would have thought it? See, Bill, things are working out after all. You should be thrilled.

BILL: - Thrilled? Oh, yes I’m thrilled. My daughter’s got a job. You’ve got a job, now she’s got a career. Where does this leave me?

SOFIA: - With the people I’m going to meet I may be able to help you.

FRANK: - Sofia’s right. You never know.

BILL: - I should get a job on my own merit, not out of pity.

FRANK: - You’re being unfair.

BILL: - Don’t tell me about fairness.

SOFIA: - Well, maybe, if you’d spent more time carrying out your dreams instead of feeding on them, they’d be real today.

FRANK: - All right, now it’s not the time.

BILL: - Don’t take me there in public. Believe me it’s something you don’t want to talk about in public. Especially now you’ve got a reputation to preserve.

FRANK: - Come on. Let’s go.

SOFIA: - Where are you taking him?

FRANK: - Down to the plant.

BILL: - The men need me.

SOFIA: (To FRANK.) He's in no condition to talk. I know him. When he gets all soapy like this, it's a dead giveaway. You can kiss your revolution good-bye.

FRANK: - He'll be just fine.

SOFIA: - He can’t even save himself. But now that you've drilled it into his brain that he's got to fly to the rescue of his fellow workers. He can’t even answer the telephone for a job!

FRANK: - It's hardly the same thing . . .

BILL: - What job?

SOFIA: - The one for the meat-packer place you blew off. They called you this morning to ask if you could come down tonight at five o'clock for an interview.

BILL: - I know nothing about meat packing.

SOFIA: - Beggars can’t be choosers. You’ve got too much pride in your eyes. Everyone else in this house can do shitty jobs to survive. But not the great William Dombrowsky. He’s exempt.

BILL: - You bet! I'm a highly qualified tech!

FRANK: - Come on, let' s go now.

(Bill opens the door and goes out, Frank follows him. To FRANK.)

SOFIA: - Make sure he fastens his seat belt. He could knock his head off otherwise and be forced to wake up.

FRANK: - Congratulations, SOFIA.

SOFIA: - God bless your revolution!

(She slams the door behind them. SOFIA heads to the armchair. She sits down distraught. She undoes her shoes and mumbles to herself while rubbing her feet. She gets up, peeks around, and opens the fridge.)

Lazy bunch. Too lazy to even feed themselves! Two crosses for me to carry on my back. . . . Drew! Drew! Are you home? Drew! (She goes back to sit down, falls silent and stares into oblivion.)

            (The front door opens slowly. Enters EVA. She stands on the threshold, carrying a large suitcase. She is dressed in a business outfit and looks elegant. Eva sees her mom in the armchair. She moves towards her.)

EVA: - Mom? Mom?

SOFIA: - EVA, is that you?

EVA: - Mom, are you ok?

SOFIA: - EVA, my baby. (She gets up and gives her daughter a warm embrace.) Look at you. How beautiful you are. You're so gorgeous. Look at you.

EVA: - Where’s everyone?

SOFIA: - Why didn’t you call to say you were coming home? I would have met you at the airport, made dinner. You could have at least written.

EVA: - I wanted to surprise you all.

SOFIA: - Oh, my darling, it's so good to see you again. It's been so long. Gosh! I must look pretty awful. You should have warned me. I'm so tired . . . haven’t had a day off in . . . 254 days . . . It's not nice of you, just walking in. You put me to shame. You’re stunning. Life abroad becomes you. You've blossomed . . . Your brother’s going to be so happy to see you. Drew? Drew, could you come down a sec. We’ve got a very special guest who wants to see you . . . (They both look at the stairs.) The house is a pit, I'm sorry . . . If only I had known before. I look like a mess . . . I’m so annoyed with you . . . No I’m so happy! My hair. My God! . . . Drew, honey, come down. Come and see who's here.

EVA: - How are you?

SOFIA: - I’m feeling great . . . the best. You wouldn’t believe what happened to me. I’m the new Treasury Officer at the Club. It’s an important position.

EVA: - Oh, mother. That’s wonderful. I’m so proud of you. I always knew you’d do something with your life better than the insurance.

SOFIA: - You inspired me. You’re doing so well. So I thought if she can do it I can do it. I’m starting next month. Lots of charity work, planning, budgeting, fundraising, you know.

EVA: - . . . Is Dad here?

SOFIA: - He's going to be so happy to see you. You just missed him . . . He’s gone to the plant. There’s talk about a strike. He’s been unemployed for a while now.

(Drew comes down to the bottom of the stairs. When he notices who stands in front of him he stops short.)

Look who's here?

EVA: (To her Mom) - My god, he looks like a man. Last time I saw you you were still a baby. Hi, Drew. You do recognize me, don't you? Give me a hug.

DREW: (With a blatant lack of enthusiasm.) - Hi, EVA . . . (He then turns around and heads upstairs.) Good night. I’m tired!

SOFIA: - What's the matter with you? Your sister’s just come to surprise us. To surprise you for your birthday.

(Both women observe him in silence.)



ACT II

            The following day. Friday morning. The household is still asleep except for EVA. She is in the kitchen, wearing a dressing gown. She looks about, flutters around, daydreaming. She is on the verge of opening the garage door when her father comes back from the baker, holding a bag of doughnuts and a newspaper. He is in an exceptionally good mood. She is startled, like a kid being caught in the making mischief. She steps away from the door.

BILL: - You're already up? So much for my surprise.

EVA: - You know I'm an early bird.

BILL: - I know, but I thought you might make an exception for once. Never mind. Look what I've got . . . freshly baked worms . . . Worms for early birds? Get the joke? Bought some doughnuts. They’re so fresh they’re still warm. Smell those babies.

(He shoves the bag under her nose. In the distance, some gunshots disturb Eva's attention.)

EVA: - It’s already deer hunting season?

BILL: - Damn deer make babies faster than we can make cars. They’re starving this year. Too many of them.

EVA: - People always say there are too many of them, yet you never see them.

BILL: - You don’t see them but they’re there. They melt in the scenery.

EVA: - It breaks my heart when they shoot the young ones. Or worse display them dead on the hood of a car . . . I’ve got a headache. (She searches for some pills in one of the kitchen cabinet.)

BILL: - I got the paper, too, for the classifieds. I thought maybe you wouldn't mind browsing through them with me.

EVA: - I don't know what you're after. (Drinks some water to swallow her pills.)

BILL: - Anything really. Anything that sounds promising . . . Is your mother still sleeping?

EVA: - I haven't seen her. Do you know where Drew is?

BILL: - He stayed over at a friend’s. Ivan's son is back from college for the weekend—you must remember him—Marty?

EVA: - I've only been gone three years.

BILL: - They always hand together.

EVA: - What is he studying?

BILL: - Your brother’s dropped out.

EVA: - So I've been told. I was referring to Marty.

BILL: - Not sure, something like . . . Anthropology maybe? I haven't got a clue. But it sounds pretty impressive.

EVA: - He’s always been a smart kid.

BILL: - Yeah, but that doesn't help you make a living. His father's tried to lecture him. Apparently there’s nothing you can do once you've finished your studies but keep on reading books for the rest of your life. Can you imagine reading books for the rest of your life? What a drag!

EVA: - I should go say hello.

BILL: - Please do, Ivan and his wife would be flattered. They often ask about you: want to know what you’re up to, how you’re doing, if you've met someone . . . You've become the pride of the whole town.

EVA: - Aren't you exaggerating a little?

BILL: - No kidding. You’ve even become a role model. I'm so proud of you. And I'm your father.

EVA: - I hope you don't go around telling lies.

BILL: - Only little ones.

EVA: - Dad! . . .

BILL: - I don't have a choice. You never write to us. You don't call us. We can't reach half the time . . . You kids are ungrateful. We worry about you. Your mother especially. She loses sleep at night easily. She frets too much over you. I've got to reassure her, fool her just to make her go back to sleep--she has to get up early with the job she's got now--and I don't want her to be tired the next day. So we close our eyes and hope for the best: that you're fine. You've got to promise us you’ll make an effort to write more often from now on.

EVA: - Sorry, I’m so busy.

BILL: - It's not worth making a ton of money if you forget you’ve got a family. You've got to make more time for us. That's the kind of thing you learn when you get older.

EVA: - You're all on my mind constantly. In fact, I never stop thinking about you. But my job demands great sacrifices from the minute I get up until I go to bed. I barely have time to sit down. And with the time difference.

BILL: - I know what it’s like, I used to be in the same boat . . . What about a doughnut? (He hands the bag to her.)

EVA: - Plain or jam?

BILL: - I still know my daughter. Strawberry jam especially for you. I’ve always wondered: what's it like in Germany? Do they have jobs? Are the people nice?

EVA: - Well they all speak German, which isn’t the easiest language to learn. There are declensions . . . like in Latin. You know: rosa, rosae . . . So, if you don't know your grammar very well you’re in trouble. Of course, for us Americans, who were never taught any of it at school, it's a pain. It took me ages to get a good grasp of it.

BILL: - Dear me, seems like going through a lot of trouble just for a job.

EVA: - Well look at me now . . . As for the German people, they’re a bit cold at first, but once you break the ice they’re as friendly as anywhere else.

BILL: - Your grandfather hated them. He would bang his head in his grave if he knew who you worked for. They killed his parents you know.

EVA: - I work for an American company.

BILL: - How's the recession there?

EVA: - Recession?

BILL: - The international recession, surely you must have heard about it?

EVA: (She takes a bite of the doughnut) - Of course I have. The recession doesn’t apply to luxury items.

BILL: - I thought it attacked all the trades. (Pause.) That's very lucky because over here it's really hammering away . . . I tell you what, as soon as I get a good job, your mother and I will be able to save some money. We will come to visit you, so we can see for ourselves.

EVA: - I have a tiny apartment.

BILL: - I know you already told us. What makes you think we want you in our way anyway? We'll stay in a hotel.

EVA: - You’ll have to give me plenty of notice, so that I can take some time off to show you around. I'm always on the road prospecting for new customers.

SOFIA: (Coming down the stairs in her robe. She looks haggard, disheveled.) - Good morning everyone.

BILL: - Hi honey!

EVA: - Hi Mom!

BILL: - I was just mentioning to EVA that as soon as I get a job, we’ll save some money to visit her in Berlin. See for ourselves what it's like to live with a wall in the middle of town.

SOFIA: - The same as living with a river passing through town I guess. You end up not seeing it after a while.

BILL: - Rivers are natural, walls are not.

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