Setting:

A quiet house in modern-day suburbia.  There should be indications that the house is large and has two floors, but only the main floor will be used. The house is clean and Spartan because Richard Carver, the deceased patriarch, has lived there alone for some time.  Props should be kept to a minimum so as not to detract from the items discussed by the main characters.

Characters:

Anita Carver—The forty-five year old daughter of Richard Carver. An English professor at a nearby college.

Curtis Carver—The forty-two year old son of Richard Carver. A computer whiz and designer of computer systems.

Plot:

Richard Carver has recently died at the age of seventy-two.  His two children have seen to the funeral arrangements and have buried their father next to their deceased mother, Gretchen, who died five years ago.  Now the two children have met to clean out the family home and pack up any keepsakes. 

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Act I, Scene I

The two children enter from the front door of the house, situated in the middle of the backdrop set, turn on the lights, and set down their boxes and trash bags. Each character should be looking around and touching things leisurely.

C: At least this won’t take too long; Dad didn’t keep much after Mom died did he?

A: No, he didn’t. I’d be surprised if this took us more than a day to deal with.  The house has already sold, sad to say, but there was no way I could keep up with a house this big.

C: Me either. I still don’t know how Mom managed it all.

A: Well, where shall we start?  I know all the furniture has been moved out and sold, as have most of the appliances—only the closets, pictures, and all that stuff is ours to deal with. 

C: Let’s go grab the junk out of the front closet and start sifting through it.

A:  Alright.

The two children begin to pull boxes, bags, and coats from the front closet.  Each item is laid out in the order in which it was fished from the closet.  The audience should be able to see each item as it is being laid out.

A:  Man, I am sooo glad no one decided to take this moldy Lawrence Welk record collection! I know my life will be so much better with this in it! You sure you don’t want to fight over this?

C: I’ll see you in court…seriously? Lawrence Welk?

A:  If I’m lying, I’m dying.

C:  Gag! Throw it in the box to give to other relatives.

A:  Deal. It sure was nice for them to let us sift through this stuff before they dove on it like a pack of ravening wolves, wasn’t it? 

C:  They just didn’t want to deal with all of this junk.  I don’t blame them.  (Sneezes as dust flies from a box he is opening.)

Anita throws the stack of records into a box labeled “Family” and moves over to see what Curtis has found.

A:  Whatcha' got there?

C:  (Flipping through album pages) Looks like photo albums…you, you, you….oh, here’s one of me…you, you, you…are you sure they loved me at all? 

A:  Unwritten rule of parenting bro, the oldest one gets pictures taken at everything, but the other siblings get left out in the film department.  I bet if you looked long enough, you’d find pictures of me taking a bath every night.  Apparently that was a victory for Mom.

C:  Yeah right. I’m adopted and you know it.

A:  With your nose?  Hardly, it looks just like Dad’s huge schnozz.  Just accept it, I’m better than you are.

Curtis throws something from the box at Anita’s head.  She ducks, laughing, but the bag splits open on collision with the floor to reveal a slew of silver dollars.

A:  Damn Curt! Could you throw something heavier next time?  A blackjack perhaps? Or how about an anvil with “ACME” printed on the side?  Jeeesus!

C:  It didn’t feel that heavy. I’m sorry sis. (Said as he is rising to retrieve the silver booty from the floor.)

A:  How many are there do you think?

C: (Counting) Looks like fifteen.  All old…but none of them are from the same year. Odd.

A:  Is there one from 1958?

C:  (Filing through the coins) Yeah! Why?

A:  The year of my birth.  Bet you the contents of my wallet there’s one from 1961 too.

C:  The year of my birth…. (files through the jangling coins again) Yep, here we go. ’61.  Fine year for children.

A:  (Dripping with sarcasm) Yeah, if you were planning on giving birth to the anti-Christ.

C:  What else could these represent?

A:  Well, there must be some coin from 1938, the year Dad was born and 1939…the year of Mom’s birth…oh, and one from 1955 when they got married.

C:  (Pause) Yeah, those are here.

A:  How many more are there in toto?

C:  We’ve accounted for five of them.  Two for us, two for them, and one for their wedding.  There are still ten more.

A:  Damn. What else could have been so important?  Wait!  How about 1945?

C:  Yep…oh! The end of the war!

A: Right…okay, that’s six.  Now we only have to figure out nine more. Tell you what, we’ll think while we work. Let’s leave it and come back.

Several minutes pass. Curtis has forgotten about the coins, but Anita still eyes them sitting on a stack of junk. There is still a mystery there to her.

C:  Hey! My baby blanket is in here!

Curtis lifts up a stitched quilt from the contents of the box.  The quilt is yellow and covered with the repeated “Lone Star” pattern. 

C:  Mom made this when she was pregnant with me.  I’m keeping it.

He stows the blanket carefully inside the box with his name on it.

C:  I guess yours is missing Ani.

A:  It’ll be here somewhere…(she drifts off)…let’s just keep going with this.

The lost baby blanket bothers Anita. Her father had always favored Curtis because of the obvious “Gosh, I’m proud of my boy” syndrome.  He’d always made it to Curt’s football games and science fairs, but he had somehow managed to miss half of the spelling bees, poetry readings, and other important events in her life.  Both siblings know this painful fact and they look over it.

C:  I can say one thing for the old man…he sure was boring.

A:  Yeah, Welk records and silver coins…maybe we should call Norman Rockwell back from the grave to paint the old man.  Talk about Americana. 

C:  (Once again discovering treasure in a plain brown box.) Oh wow!  I forgot that Dad used to do these!  I always wondered how he had the patience.

Curtis holds up a homemade ship in a bottle and wipes the dust from the rounded object.  The sail is at half mast, the boat unfinished.

A:  Oh yes…I remember these. He had a whole collection of them, but this one was the only one he attempted to do himself.  (She studies it carefully, lovingly.)Why is the sail down?

C:  I have no idea…you had to string each piece up with glue and tweezers…maybe he just never got around to doing it.

A:  But Dad was so nit-picky about details.  Really, a tongue depressor straight old banker.  Why would he leave a project like this…obviously important…unfinished?

C:  Who knows?  I got dibs though…

He sets the boat down near his box and goes off rummaging through other boxes…Anita gets up,  picks up the poor, journeyless boat, and rubs it almost like a talisman…suddenly she speaks aloud a poem she remembers from her studies.

A:  (Clutching the boat to her chest and speaking softly.) I have studied many times the marble which was chiseled for me -- A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor. In truth it pictures not my destination, but my life….

Curt looks up from the box he is searching through like a pig on the hunt for truffles.

C:  What?

A:  It’s a poem…”George Gray” by Edgar Lee Masters.

C:  Do you remember the rest of it?

A:  Yes…I think it went something like…For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment; Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid; Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances. Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life. (Pause) And now I know that we must lift the sail and catch the winds of destiny wherever they drive the boat. (Pause) To put meaning in one's life may end in madness, but life without meaning is the torture of restlessness and vague desire –(Pause) It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.

C:  Damn, that’s prophetic…do you think that’s what Dad was talking about?

A: I doubt he’d ever read Masters.  Mom and I were the readers, remember?  He never picked up more than the Wall Street Journal or the occasional Tom Clancy novel. How could he know?

C:  Do you think he felt that way about his life? (Reaching his hand out for the bottle.)

A:  (Handing the boat over to her brother.) Who’s to say?  Dad was a closed book…hard to know…never cried.  I guess I never questioned his happiness.  You never asked and he never told. That was his way. (She shrugs.) I’m probably reading too much into this. You know me.

C:  Yeah…word freak that you are.

A:  (Pretending like she cannot hear him. Hand to ear in gesture.) Oh, I’m sorry…did you just break down into BASIC again?  Communication in a series of ones and zeroes?

C:  Okay, smartass…

A:  Let’s just get this over with.  I don’t like being here without Mom and Dad. I feel like an intruder in my own house…rifling through my Dad’s things and thinking harsh thoughts.

C:  I agree sis. Hey, maybe if we’re lucky we’ll find something naughty…. (He wolf whistles.)

A:  Dear God, I hope not…

Fade to black. The lights go dark long enough to spread out the items and move them around on stage to indicate that some time has elapsed.  The light comes up again on the two children each lost in their own reveries.  Curtis is leafing through a stack of old magazines and Anita is looking through jackets and hats.

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Act I, Scene II

C:  Hey Ani! Guess how much a new car cost in 1949? 

A:  A buck…

C:  This isn’t a 10-10-321 commercial sis. No seriously…guess.

A:  Oh, I’d guess a couple thousand dollars…not enough for a decent down payment nowadays.

C:  Yeah. Ain’t it always the way? Something about this makes me wonder, though.  Do we know…I mean really know anything about Dad?  We’re looking through all of these knickknacks he saved for reasons to which we are oblivious. Magazines, records, and ships in bottles…I have no idea why any of these things are worth keeping, and yet I know I need to. Does that make any sense?

A:  Perfect sense. That’s why I felt like I had to come here today...to know. I want to call my own kids and let them in on a few of my secrets…I don’t want them to end up guessing about me…like we are about Dad.

C:  (Changing the uncomfortable subject.)  You got anything in those coats?

A: (Smelling the familiar smells of her father on the heavy jacket.)  Pipe tobacco, cologne, a hint of cedar…nothing earth stopping in here.

C:  Check the pockets. Maybe there’s money in one. I love it when that happens at my house.  You know, when a cold snap comes and you grab a jacket you haven’t worn in months. You reach in your pocket to drop your car keys inside and WHAMMO! There’s a five dollar bill from last winter. It’s like getting coffee and donuts for free.

A:  Good thought. (She reaches in the pockets one at a time. Turing them inside out for effect.)  Like I thought….nothing.

But there is something….a small white strip of paper floats to the floor unnoticed by Anita, but not by Curtis.

C:  Not so fast there Scrappy Doo…what’s that that just hit the floor?

A:  I have no idea…(She stoops over to pick it up. Studying it closely she replies) It’s a movie ticket stub.

C:  You’re shitting me. Dad never went to the movies…what year is it from?

A:  I don’t know…fairly recent showing. Some movie called Memento.

C:  No way! That weird ass flick starring Guy Pearse? I saw that when it came out on video…Dad saw it in a theater?

A:  So you know it? (Staring at the ticket in a bit of a stupor.) What’s it about?

C:  Uhhh…well, the main character suffered from head trauma when his wife is murdered and he can’t remember anything new.  I think his short term memory is damaged, but he can remember the past…

A:  Weird…so what does he do all day? Sit around and constantly meet new people?

C:  No, he uses tattoos and notes to himself to try and remember things. Trying to find his wife’s killer…it was actually quite good.

A:  Does he win? Does he catch the killer?

C:  Yeah, in a manner of speaking. He hires people to help him act out this scenario over and over again and then he kills them to keep it ongoing.  Very strange.

A:  I always had Dad pegged for musicals…Jimmy Stuart in “Mr. Smith Goes to Washington.” Crap like that…what on earth would make him go see what I am guessing is a violent film?

C:  How did you know it was violent?

A:  “Rated R”—says right here on the ticket. (Points to line on ticket stub. Her speech here should be quick, insistent, nearly angry.)  He went to see this after Mom died…this movie was shown in 2000, but she died in 1998. What on earth would compel him to do something like this?

C:  It’s not like he sacrificed babies on a Pagan altar Anita…it’s just a movie!

A:  Yeah, and the Hindenburg was just a blimp. This is weird Curt, and you know it.

C:  Still, it’s fun to think about Dad sitting alone in a dark theater, his hand lost in a tub of popcorn swimming in butter…licking it off his fingers…having a great time for once. Hold on, I just had a thought…what time was the showing he went to?

A:  (Looking on ticket stub.)  Eight thirty.

C:  Holy shit, the old man paid full price.  You’re right…this is getting a bit odd.

A:  I wonder if there are other tickets….

The two begin looking through all the jacket pockets. Once those are empty, they turn to drawers and their father’s wallet, but no other movie stubs are anywhere to be found.

C:  If there were other tickets, he didn’t save them. But this one is a couple years old. It can’t be the only movie he went to see in that time. There must be others we don’t know about.

A:  There we go again. All the stuff that we don’t know. Up until ten minutes ago, we were sure Dad had never seen a movie, or if he had, he never paid full price for it.  Now we know differently. How many other things have we missed!? Did we even know our own damned father?

C: (Taking Anita by the hand and sitting her down on the couch.) Anita, does it really matter? Dad’s gone now, and there is nothing we can do to bring him back. I can live with not knowing everything about him. I guarantee he had secrets from Mom…you…even me…and that’s the way it should be.

A:  But it’s not fair! (Anita cries softly.)

C:  Do your children know everything about you?  Does Gregory know? Does your own husband know everything there is to know about you?

A:  No…no one knows me completely…not even my baby brother.

C:  There you go.

A:  (Still crying. Long pause. Anita speaks after wiping her nose and eyes with the back of her hand.) I don’t know where I thought I could go with this…Dad was so distant. There was no way I could learn anything from some dusty trinkets in a box.

C: (Pause) I do sis. I know what you came here to find today…and I have a feeling that you do too. Don’t lie to your only brother about it.

A:  (Sad and slightly indignant) Oh yeah genius? What did I come here to find? The treasure of the Sierra Madre? Absolute forgiveness?

C:  Something of the sort. Something elusive. I know you always felt like Dad shafted you growing up…and when I saw your face fall earlier when I found my baby blanket, I knew.  You came to find out whether or not our old man really cared about you.

A:  (Sighing. Accepting the truth even perhaps she didn’t know.) I guess that’s the long and short of it Curt. How pitiful am I for this? (She hangs her head, elbows on knees, hands limp before her.) That’s it…I give up.

C:  Anita…you can’t let this kill you. You had a father who raised you and did what he could. Yeah, he could be a real son of a bitch sometimes, and I think the way he sometimes ignored you was brazen and cold. He died with things unsaid between you, but that is no reason to let him keep holding you back.

A:  That’s easy for you to say Curt…you were never ignored.

C:  Sometimes I think that would have been better. He could be overbearing too. That was the side I got.

A:  (Pause) He’s still in your house too, isn’t he? Sometimes you think you’re still not good enough.

C:  Yes, in a way…he is. But I had to let it go…let him go. That’s what you need to do Ani—just let the old man go so both of you can find a little peace.

A:  I know Curt, but a father’s love is something…I don’t know…that every daughter needs. And when it is found lacking…something is just never right. All the degrees, the letters after my name, the speeches, the accolades…all of it was just some lame attempt to get him to love me. I’ve lived a life geared towards gaining acceptance, and while I’m happy in my way…something…(She begins to cry again and Curt puts his arm around her shoulders.)

C:  (After some time has passed.) So what are you going to do about it now? Are you going to allow old sores to fester in a second generation of this family?

A:  (Sniffing. Shaken, but resolute.) No.  Amy and Charles will know their mother as much as is humanly possible. I can’t bear the thought of them sorting through my secrets and trying to piece me together like Humpty Dumpty…

C:  (He smiles and takes her hand in his. We know these two love each other. Body language says all.) Right. Now get your sorry ass off of this couch and help me upstairs. (He bounds off to stage left and the audience hears the stomping of shoes on a staircase.) Are you coming!?!

A:  Yeah…I’ll be right there.

Anita hesitates at the boxes, the ticket still in her hand. She looks back and forth between the one labeled “Anita” and “Trash.” She continues to stare back and forth between the two until Curt hollers for her from upstairs…calling her back to reality. She jumps, hesitates, and finally kisses the ticket stub. She says the next line quietly, with some sense of sadness and resignation.

A:  Goodbye Daddy.

She drops the ticket stub into the “Trash” box and walks towards stage left to join her brother.

Fade to black.