Authors: Tracy Letts

August: Osage County (12 page)

BOOK: August: Osage County

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STEVE: You smoking pot?

JEAN: No.

STEVE: You can tell me.

JEAN: No.

STEVE: Is it just me, or is it getting hot in here?

JEAN: It’s hot.

STEVE: You’re hot?

JEAN: Yeah . . .

STEVE: How hot are you?

JEAN: Really hot.

STEVE: Really hot.

JEAN: Yeah.

STEVE: Yeah . . . you a little dope smoker?

(No response.)

Well then you are in luck. Because I just happen to have some really tasty shit. Because I just happen to have some really good connects. And I am going to hook you up.

JEAN: That would be great ’cause I just smoked my last bowl, and I really need to get fucked up.

STEVE: You what?

JEAN: I really need to get fucked up—

STEVE: You need to get what?

JEAN: Fucked up—

STEVE: What? You need to get fucked what?

(She snort-laughs, pushes him away.)

JEAN: You’re bad.

STEVE: I’m just goofin’ with you.

(Karen enters from the kitchen, finds Steve on the floor, looming over Jean.)

Hi, sweetheart.

KAREN: What are you doing?

STEVE: Goofin’ with your niece.

KAREN: I think we’re getting ready to eat.

STEVE: Right, right, I’m starving.

KAREN: Did you remember to get cigarettes?

STEVE: Damn it.
(To Jean)
Didn’t I ask you what I was forgetting? I knew I was forgetting something—

KAREN: I’ll have to borrow from Momma.

JEAN: I’ve got cigarettes.

KAREN:
You’ve
got cigarettes.

JEAN: Camel Lights?

STEVE: She’s got our brand.

KAREN: Jean, honey, you’re too young to smoke.

STEVE
(Faux stern)
:
Yeah.

KAREN
(Whacks him playfully)
: Stop it now, don’t encourage her—

STEVE: Hey, she’s no kid—

KAREN: Can we borrow a couple of cigarettes?

JEAN: Yep-per.

(Jean gets cigarettes from her purse.)

STEVE: Now let’s not encourage her—

KAREN: Oh, hush.
(Takes cigarettes)
Thanks, doll. Now stop smoking.

(Jean watches TV. Karen snuggles with Steve, speaks in a baby voice.)

Hi, doodle.

STEVE: Hey, baby.

KAREN
(In a super baby voice)
: Hi, doodle!

(Steve embraces her. They kiss. His hands wander, squeeze her ass. She giggles, then breaks it.)

Come into the backyard, I want to show you our old fort. Man, the air in here just doesn’t move . . .

(She goes ahead of him. He follows, but stops . . . )

STEVE
(Privately, to Jean)
: Hook you up, later.

( . . . rubs his hand over the entirety of Jean’s face. He exits.

Lights crossfade to the front porch as Charlie and Little Charles arrive.)

LITTLE CHARLES: I’m sorry, Dad.

CHARLIE: Stop apologizing to me. Hold on a second, comb your hair.

(Charlie gives Little Charles a comb.)

LITTLE CHARLES: I know Mom’s mad at me.

CHARLIE: Don’t worry about her.

LITTLE CHARLES: What did she say?

CHARLIE: You know your mother, she says what she says.

LITTLE CHARLES: I set the alarm. I did.

CHARLIE: I know you did.

LITTLE CHARLES: I wanted to be there.

CHARLIE: You’re here now.

LITTLE CHARLES: I loved Uncle Bev, you know that—

CHARLIE: Stop apologizing.

LITTLE CHARLES: The power must’ve gone out. I woke up and the clock was blinking noon. That means the power went out, right?

CHARLIE: It’s okay.

LITTLE CHARLES: I missed his funeral!

CHARLIE: It’s a ceremony. It’s ceremonial. It doesn’t mean anything compared to what you have in your heart.

LITTLE CHARLES: Uncle Bev must be disappointed in me.

CHARLIE: Your Uncle Bev has got bigger and better things ahead of him. He doesn’t have time for spite. He wasn’t that kind of man anyway—

(Little Charles weeps.)

Hey. Little Charles. Hey. It’s okay. It’s okay, now . . .

LITTLE CHARLES: Just . . . it’s just . . . you know, I know how things are. I know how they feel about me, and when, something like this . . . you want to be there for people, and—

CHARLIE:—shhhh—

LITTLE CHARLES:—I missed Uncle Bev’s funeral, and I know how they feel about me—

CHARLIE: Who, how who feels about you? Feels what about you?

LITTLE CHARLES: All of them. I know what they say.

CHARLIE: They don’t say things about you—

LITTLE CHARLES: I see how they are. I don’t blame them. I’m sorry I let you down, Dad.

CHARLIE: You haven’t let me down. You never let me down.

Now listen here . . . you’re wrong about these people, they love you. Some of them haven’t gotten a chance to see what I see: a fine man, very loving, with a lot to offer. Now take this . . .
(Gives Little Charles a handkerchief)
Give me my comb. Stand up straight. Look folks in the eye. And stop being so hard on yourself.

LITTLE CHARLES: I love you, Dad.

CHARLIE: Love you too, son.

(Charlie claps Little Charles on the back as they enter the living room.

Lights crossfade to the dining room as Barbara and Bill enter from the kitchen. Johnna occasionally interrupts as she moves between the kitchen and the dining room, setting the table with food.)

BILL: Jean doesn’t understand all this. You think she has any concept—?

BARBARA:
Phantom of the Opera
—

BILL: Do you remember what it was like to be fourteen?

BARBARA: She’s old enough to exhibit a little character. But then I guess that’s something you normally learn from your parents.

BILL: That’s a shot across my bow, right? I missed something.

BARBARA: Really? Instilling character: our burden, as parents.

BILL: I got that part.

BARBARA: And you really haven’t been much of a parent lately, so it’s tough to expect—

BILL: Just because you and I are struggling with this Gordian knot doesn’t make me any less of a—

BARBARA: Nice, “Gordian knot,” but her little fourteen-year-old self might view it differently, might consider it “abandonment”—

BILL: Oh, come on—

BARBARA: Maybe she views her father as “absent,” or maybe “not present,” or perhaps even “a son-of-a-bitch.”

BILL: Jean’s a little more sophisticated than that, don’t you think?

BARBARA: Pretty fucking sophisticated, the restored whatever from
Phantom of the Opera
, I know that makes your dick hard—

BILL: Barbara—

BARBARA: Precocious little shit—

ILL: I’m not defending her.

BARBARA
(Voice rising)
: I’m not blaming her, because I don’t expect her to act any differently when her father is a selfish son-of-a-bitch!

BILL
(Voice rising)
: I’m on your side. How can we fight when I’m on your side? Barbara . . . Barbara, settle down!

BARBARA: Be a father! Help me!

BILL: I am her father, goddamn it!—

BARBARA: Her father
in absentia
, her father in name only!—

BILL: I have not forsook my responsibilities!—

BARBARA: It’s “forsaken,” big shot!

BILL: Actually, “forsook” is
also
an acceptable usage!—

BARBARA: Oh, “
forsook
” you and the horse you rode in on!

BILL: So we need to fight on your terms then: on topic one moment, and whimsical insults the next, all of it when it suits you—

BARBARA: We covered this around Year Three, Bill: that you’re the Master of Space and Time and I’m a spastic Pomeranian.

BILL: That’s not fair.

BARBARA: I’m sick of being fair! I’ve seen where being fair gets me! I’m sick of the whole notion of the enduring female. GROW UP! ’Cause while you’re going through your fifth puberty, the world is falling apart and I can’t handle it! More importantly, your kid can’t handle it!

BILL: Our kid is just trying to deal with this goddamn madhouse you’ve dragged her into.

BARBARA: This madhouse is my home.

BILL: Think about that statement for a second, why don’t you?

BARBARA: Jean is here with me because this is a family event.

BILL: Jean’s here with you because she’s a buffer between you and the shrill insanity of your mother.

BARBARA: Y’know, you’d have a lot more credibility if you had any credibility.

BILL: You can’t resist, can you?

BARBARA: You’re a pretty easy mark.

BILL: You’re so goddamn self-righteous, you know? You’re so—

BARBARA: Surely you must’ve known when you started porking Pippi Longstocking you were due for a little self-righteousness, just a smidgen of indignation on my part—

BILL: Maybe I split because of it.

BARBARA: Is this your confession, then, when you finally unload all—?

BOOK: August: Osage County

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