MATTIE FAE: It’s not. You need sunlight.
CHARLIE: Do you know which one of them decided on this?
IVY: I can’t really see Dad taking the initiative.
CHARLIE: No, I suppose not. I don’t know about you, but I find this whole setup depressing. Y’know, a person’s
environment
. . .
(Points to the stereo)
And what the hell, is that an Eric Clapton album? Vi’s a
Clapton fan
?
(Mattie Fae starts to peel the tape from one of the shades.)
Don’t do that.
MATTIE FAE: The body needs sunlight.
CHARLIE: It’s nighttime. And this isn’t your place, you can’t come into somebody else’s home and start changing—
MATTIE FAE: Do you believe we haven’t been here in two years?
VIOLET: He said they checked the hospitals but no Beverly.
MATTIE FAE: This is the highway patrol?
VIOLET: No, not the highway patrol, the sheriff, the Gilbeau boy.
MATTIE FAE: Gilbeau. Don’t tell me C. J. Gilbeau is the sheriff here now.
VIOLET: Not C. J., his boy Deon.
MATTIE FAE: I was gonna say—
VIOLET: He went to school with the girls, Deon did. Was he in your class, Ivy?
IVY: Barbara’s class, I think.
MATTIE FAE: Is that right?
CHARLIE: Who’s this now?
MATTIE FAE: C. J. Gilbeau was a boy we grew up with. Mean little son-of-a-bitch, juvenile delinquent—
VIOLET: His boy Deon’s the sheriff now.
MATTIE FAE: C. J. was the preacher’s son and you know—
CHARLIE: Say no more.
MATTIE FAE:—and you
know
how they are.
VIOLET: You remember he went to the penitentiary.
MATTIE FAE: Yes, I remember that, for killing what was it?
VIOLET: A boxer.
MATTIE FAE: Right, for killing this man’s boxer dog.
VIOLET: His boy Deon’s the sheriff. I sent you that subscription to the
Pawhuska Journal-Capital
. Don’t you read it?
MATTIE FAE: No, I don’t read it.
VIOLET: So you Tulsa big shots could keep up with us small-town folks.
MATTIE FAE: No, I don’t read it.
VIOLET: Well, if you read it you’d know that his boy Deon is the sheriff here now.
IVY: What hospitals did they check?
VIOLET: He rattled off a bunch of them.
IVY: What else did he say?
VIOLET: The boat’s missing.
IVY: Mom?
VIOLET: He sent a patrolman out to the dock to check if anybody had seen him and Beverly’s pontoon boat is gone.
MATTIE FAE: Oh, no.
VIOLET: He said they’ve had a couple of boats stolen in the last little while so he didn’t think it proved anything, but he was worried about it.
(Violet starts to ascend the stairs.)
CHARLIE: Vi, you think there’s a chance Bev loaded that boat onto his trailer and took it out of there? I mean if he was going somewhere’s else.
MATTIE FAE: Trailer’s out by the shed, I saw it when we pulled up.
(Violet exits. Ivy follows her. Johnna enters, occupied with housework. Charlie holds up his empty beer bottle.)
CHARLIE: ’Scuse me, dear . . . could I trouble you for another beer?
MATTIE FAE: Goddamn it, she’s not a waitress.
CHARLIE: I know that.
MATTIE FAE: Then get your own beer.
(Johnna crosses, takes the empty . . . )
JOHNNA: I’ll get it.
MATTIE FAE: I don’t believe you. Watchin’ the baseball game and drinkin’ beers. Don’t you have any sense of what’s going on around you? This situation is fraught.
CHARLIE: Am I supposed to sit here like a statue? You’re drinking whiskey.
MATTIE FAE: I’m having a cocktail.
CHARLIE: You’re drinking straight whiskey.
MATTIE FAE: Just . . . show a little class.
CHARLIE: I don’t think we need to sit here crying in the dark.
MATTIE FAE: Oh well, since you got everything all figured out, let’s party down.
CHARLIE: Mattie Fae—
MATTIE FAE: Get that Indian gal to whip us up some cheese Coneys and let’s call a few friends.
CHARLIE: Oooh, a cheese Coney sounds good.
MATTIE FAE: It does, doesn’t it? You smell something cooking?
CHARLIE: Yeah.
MATTIE FAE: Come with me to the kitchen, let’s see what it is.
CHARLIE: What do you need me for? I’ve got the Royals on.
MATTIE FAE: Just come with me.
(She takes his hand, pulls him from the couch.)
CHARLIE: That’s not good news about that boat.
(As Charlie follows Mattie Fae to the kitchen, and intercepts his beer from Johnna, the lights crossfade to Violet and Ivy on the second-floor landing. During the following, they descend the stairs and enter the dining room.)
VIOLET: Did you call Barb?
IVY: Yes.
VIOLET: When’d you call her?
IVY: This morning.
VIOLET: What’d she say?
IVY: She’s on her way.
VIOLET: How’s she getting here?
IVY: She and Bill are coming.
VIOLET: Is she driving?
IVY: I doubt it.
VIOLET: Why?
IVY: Boulder’s a long way.
VIOLET: Is she bringing Jean?
IVY: I don’t know.
VIOLET: When did she say she’d be here?
IVY: She didn’t say. She just said she was on her way.
VIOLET: What’d you tell her?
IVY: I told her Dad was missing.
VIOLET: That’s all.
IVY: Is there anything else?
VIOLET: Did you tell her how long he’d been missing?
IVY: Five days.
VIOLET: Did you tell her that?
IVY: I think so.
VIOLET: What did she say?
IVY: She said she was on her way.
VIOLET: Goddamn it, Ivy, what did she
say
? Was she irritated? Was she amused? Tell me what she said.
IVY: She said she was on her way.
VIOLET: You’re hopeless.
(Takes a pill)
Goddamn your father for putting me through this. For leaving me to handle this. You seen that office of his, all that paperwork, that mess? I can’t make heads or tails of it. He hired this Indian a week ago to look after the place for some goddamn reason and now I have a stranger in my house. I don’t know what to say to that girl. What’s her name?
IVY: Johnna.
VIOLET: He’s always paid the bills and made the phone calls and now suddenly I’m supposed to handle it? You know this house is falling apart, something about the basement or the sump pump or the foundation. I don’t know anything about it. I can’t do all this by myself.
IVY: I called Karen.
VIOLET: What did she say?
IVY: She said she’d try to get here.
VIOLET: She’ll be a big fat help, just like you.
(Takes another pill)
I need Barb.
IVY: I don’t know what Barb’s going to be able to do.
VIOLET: What did you do to your hair?
IVY: I had it straightened.
VIOLET: You had it straightened. Why would anybody do that?
IVY: I don’t know.
VIOLET: Why did
you
do it?
IVY: I just wanted a change.
VIOLET: You’re a pretty girl. You’re the prettiest of my three girls, but you always look like such a schlub. Why don’t you wear any makeup?
IVY: Do I need makeup?
VIOLET: All women need makeup. Don’t let anybody tell you different. The only woman who was pretty enough to go without makeup was Elizabeth Taylor and she wore a
ton
. Sit up straight.
IVY: Mom.
VIOLET: Your shoulders are slumped and your hair’s all straight and you don’t wear makeup. You look like a lesbian. You’re a pretty enough girl you could get a decent man if you spruced up. A bit, that’s all I’m saying.
IVY: I’m not looking for a man.
VIOLET: You should be. Everybody needs somebody.
IVY: I’m not looking for a man.
VIOLET: Listen, there are a lot of losers out there, don’t think I don’t know it. But just because you got a bad one doesn’t mean—
IVY: Barry wasn’t a loser.
VIOLET: Barry was an asshole. And I warned you from the start, didn’t I? First time you brought him over here in his ridiculous little electric car, with that stupid orange beard and that turban.
IVY: It wasn’t a turban—
VIOLET: I just don’t understand some of the choices you make. You’re forty-three years old—
IVY: Forty-four.
VIOLET: Forty-four years old. Maybe you’re past the point of having children, and that’s all right if you don’t want them, but aren’t you interested in finding a husband?
IVY: A husband. In
Pawhuska
.
VIOLET: You don’t meet people where you live, you meet them where you work. You work at a college. Don’t tell me there aren’t people coming through the door of that library every day.
IVY: You want me to marry a student, some eighteen-year-old boy from one of these hick towns?
VIOLET: They still have teachers on the Tulsa campus, don’t they? They did when your father taught there—
IVY: Barry was a teacher at TU.
VIOLET: Yeah, “Environmental Studies.” Barry was a
loser
.