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Caller on the Line CHARACTERS: STAN, an executive, MOM, Stan’s mother, SECRETARY, offstage. SETTING: An office. A light illuminates STAN, sitting at a desk working on a laptop. He drinks from a cup of coffee from time to time. A telephone sits on one corner of the desk. (Telephone makes a beeping sound.) SECRETARY Mister Garland. STAN (Presses button on telephone.) Yeah? SECRETARY I have your mother on line one. (Stan does not respond.) Mister Garland? STAN Yeah. I’m here. SECRETARY Should I go ahead and take a message? STAN (Pauses, then sighs.) No. Go ahead, put her through. STAN (Presses telephone button.) Yeah, Ma. Hey! (A spotlight illuminates MOM, stage left. She is sitting in an armchair with a telephone in her lap.) MOM Your father’s circling the drain. STAN (Yawns and leans back.) Do what, now? MOM Your father. He’s circling the drain. Pulling the dirt in over him. Giving up the ghost. You know? STAN Are you trying to say he’s dying? MOM (Sarcastically.) You always were my brightest boy, Stanny. STAN Yeah, so what’s the old bastard’s problem this time? Ebola? Black plague? Alien anal probe? What? MOM He’s in the hospital. STAN So he’s graduated from daily doctor visits to inpatient mode? Way to go, Dad! MOM He’s decided to starve himself to death. Just decided it was a good idea, you know? (Long pause.) Stanny? You still there? STAN Yeah, Ma. Yeah. I’m here. (Long pause. Laughs awkwardly.) Well, you have to give him credit. It’s original. The old man thinks he’s Gandhi, or what? MOM Have you been drinking, Stanny? STAN No, Ma. No. I’m good. Just real tired is all. MOM OK. Because you sound like you’ve been drinking, and it’s only two in the afternoon, is why I’m asking. STAN I’m sober as a judge, Ma. Cross my heart and hope to die. OK? MOM OK, that’s good. But like I was saying about your father, it’s like he’s set his mind to it, you know? I mean, it’s not like there’s anything wrong with him. (Pause.) He just decided to go ahead and starve himself to death. (Pause.) Just like that. STAN Yeah, OK. So why are you of all people breaking a sweat over it? MOM I’m not. I just always seem to wind up getting stuck playing messenger boy between our dear old father and you kids every time he does one of his little psychodramas. Why the hell is that, Stanny? STAN Simple, Ma. You’re the only one that’ll still take his calls. (Chuckles.) The rest of us got call screening. (Long pause.) MOM Do you think you should give him a call, Stanny? STAN No. What for? MOM I don’t know. Sort out any unfinished business? Try and penetrate that thick skull of his? Tell him to stop being so melodramatic? Whatever? (Long pause.) Do you think maybe you should call him? (Long pause.) Are you there, Stan? STAN No. MOM No, you’re not there? Could’ve fooled me. STAN No, I don’t think I should call him. MOM Ah. (Long pause.) OK. (Awkward pause.) I mean I’m not saying you should or anything, I’m the last person who’d say any of you should give the bastard the time of day, you know? I just figured, you know, because of how everything went, and how it all ended up, that— STAN (Interrupts.) Like I said. I don’t think I should call him. MOM Why not? STAN (Long pause.) Because I don’t think I should call him, that’s all. It’s not complicated. (Pause.) Look, Ma. We both know that as soon as the old man realizes his little drama routine isn’t going to make him the center of attention, he’ll get bored with the whole thing and get back to drinking his Scotch and smoking his smokes and flashing that phony million-dollar smile. MOM I don’t think so. (Pause.) No, I don’t think so this time. I really do believe he means to do it. He seems, I can’t explain it exactly, it’s almost like he’s relieved somehow, like he’s okay with it. STAN Ma, come on. (Pause.) You can’t possibly think he’s serious. MOM Stanny, you know how his mind works, if anybody does. I sure as hell never did. Took me a long time to figure that one out, let me tell you. It’s like this. Your father’s going to starve himself to death because he doesn’t have an audience anymore. (Pause.) It’s like your father’s not even there when there’s no people around. (Long pause.) Looking back, I really do think it’s always been that way. Always. If he walks into an empty room, it’s like it’s still empty. (Pause.) You there, Stanny? STAN (Quietly.) Yeah, Ma. MOM What? I can’t even hear you, Stanny. STAN Yeah, Ma. I’m still here. (Pauses. Sighs.) And like I said, I don’t think I should call him, that’s all. MOM Listen, I’m telling you, Stanny, you need to be the one to call him. It needs to be you. You need to call your father up and you need to tell him it’s wrong. Tell him it’s selfish and melodramatic, and tell him it’s just wrong! He’ll listen to you. If the idiot ever listened to anybody, he listened to you. STAN (Quietly.) I can’t do that to him, Ma. MOM God damn these phones! Are you sure you don’t have me on speaker? What did you say? STAN (A bit louder.) I said, I can’t do that to him, Ma. MOM What? Do what ‘to’ him? What are you talking about? STAN He decided, Ma. I’m not going to take that away from him. He decided. He did. I’m not going to help him be weak again, now that he’s finally decided. I won’t do that to him. MOM What the hell do you mean? You are making no sense to me, Stanny. (Pause.) You’re drunk, aren’t you? STAN (Quietly, bitterly.) Not yet, I’m not. MOM No, I didn’t get any of that. Can you hear me? Stupid phones. Hello? STAN (Speaking almost to himself.) Judge, jury, and executioner. I can’t tell him he’s wrong to be any of those things. MOM Look, Stanny, you’re talking gibberish, you know what I mean? What the hell is this ‘I can’t tell him he’s wrong’ crap? What is that supposed to mean? Yes, you can! You sure can tell him, and you’re going to, you’re going to call him and tell him not to do this. Tell him he’s wrong to do this, God damn it! STAN (After a long pause.) I can’t, Ma. I can’t. (Long pause.) Because he’s not wrong, Ma. He’s never been less wrong about anything in his whole sorry-ass life. Leave it be, Ma. Leave him be. He needs to do this, and he’s right to do this. He’s been waiting to do this most of his life, just waiting around trying to work up the guts to finally do it and get it over with. The best thing we can do is leave him alone to do this one thing right. Please. MOM Stan. (Pause.) Stan, listen. Please. You have to save him. (Long pause.) Stan? (Long pause.) Did I lose you? STAN (Quietly.) I am saving him, Ma. MOM I can’t hear you, damn it. I told you a long time ago that these new high-tech phones aren’t worth a damn. STAN Yeah, Ma, look. I got calls stacked up like crazy here, and I’m five minutes late for a pretty important meeting. I really do have to get off this phone and get to work. MOM Stanny—– STAN (Interrupting.) Love you, Ma. Look, I got to go. I’ll call you later in the month, I think your birthday is coming up soon, I’ll call you then, you know? MOM (Quietly.) It was four weeks ago. STAN Ah, yeah. Damn it. (Laughs awkwardly.) You know me, I’m an airhead about that kind of stuff. I’ll swing by the mall and get you something nice for your birthday on the way home tonight. MOM Get your secretary to swing by, you mean. STAN Ma, look, they’re all standing right outside my office and I’m holding up all these people, so I have to go like right now. Bye, love you. (Pushes the button to hang up.) (Spotlight over Mom immediately fades to black. Stan sits at his desk, staring, for a long time.) STAN (Presses button on telephone.) Sarah? What’s my calendar look like for the rest of the day? SECRETARY You have the weekly download meeting in fifteen minutes, then the mid-Atlantic forecast briefing from four to five-thirty. STAN Cancel them all, will you? SECRETARY (After long pause.) Sure, boss. No problem. (Pause.) Is everything okay? (Long pause.) Mister Garland? STAN Yeah, I’m good. Couldn’t be better. I’m just thinking I’ll take off early today. (Pause.) You’ll take care of rescheduling all that for me, right? SECRETARY Of course. I’ve got you covered. (Pause.) You take it easy for the rest of the day, okay? STAN (Smiles a little.) Yeah. I will. (Stan packs laptop in briefcase and exits stage left. Immediate fade to black.) THE END |
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