Breathing by Elizabeth Soloway

This Play is the copyright of the Author and must NOT be Performed without the Author's PRIOR consent

BREATHING
ACT ONE
SCENE ONE

(A living-dining room: Upstage center are a piano and piano bench and
a table holding a record player. Upstage right is the entrance and
exit for the stairs. Upstage left is the entrance and exit for
DAD’s bedroom. Downstage left is the exit for the kitchen. A
straight-backed upholstered chair (DAD’s “regular chair”) sits
in the center of the stage, a side table on wheels next to it holding
a radio and intercom. To stage left is a dining room table set with
mats and silverware, and chairs; to stage right, there is a buffet.
Downstage left is a TV set, it’s back to the audience. Downstage
right is a screen door to a porch and steps descending. A sweater and
purse hang from a hook on or near the door.

We hear MOM and DAD speak over the intercom. DAD has recently had a
stroke. He speaks slowly and with great deliberation. Speaking
requires great effort; words are forced out.)

MOM
(O.S.)
There we go, one sleeve on. Now the next. Your fingers keep getting
caught … you did it. Good. One … two … three … four …
buttons. We don’t need to bother with the fifth. Now for the
pajama bottoms. You’ll have to stand up, dear.

DAD
(O.S.)
(We HEAR a groan of effort) I’m … l … like a b… b… baby!

MOM
(O.S.)
Nonsense. You’re getting better each day. There! That wasn’t so
bad. Good, you pulled them up by yourself. We need to close the …
the fly. It’s open a bit.

DAD
(O.S.)
It’s o … k … kay!

MOM
(O.S.)
Now for your robe. One arm just slides in, then the next. There’s
still a small opening of the … fly. Let’s see what happens if I
tie the belt and leave the ends long enough to cover the … fly.

DAD
(O.S.)
I need to sit down.

MOM
(O.S.)
Yes of course, dear. You’re getting tired. Is that better? When
you sit, the fly … something about that word bothers me … gapes.
I’m just afraid it might show when Jo is around.

DAD
(O.S.)
Mother, st … stop. We go th … through this every … d … day.


MOM
(O.S.)
What would happen if Jo saw … it.

DAD
(O.S.)
I’ll keep the robe in place.

MOM
(O.S.)
But if you reach for your cane or turn on the radio, or if you have to
use the urinal … nobody talks about how to use a urinal in front of
others. Really, there should be advice.

(Enter JO into the living-room who sits down at the piano and
practices eight measures of Bach Prelude I. She plays the passage
without mistakes, first slowly, then faster and faster.)

MOM
(O.S.)
Listen! Jo has started practicing.

DAD
(O.S.)
My … d… dar … ling d … d… daugh … ter!

(JO freezes at the piano.)

MOM
(O.S.)
You said that perfectly.

DAD
(O.S.)
I’ve had a st… st …stroke of l … luck.

MOM
(O.S.)
Thank god you have a sense of humor.

(Enter MOM and DAD, MOM carrying a urinal. JO starts playing again.
DAD wears a stained maroon wool bathrobe over striped pajamas. He
wears this robe throughout the play. DAD shuffles and limps because
his right side is paralyzed. He uses a cane for balance.

MOM walks next to DAD but does not hold onto him. It is important to
set up MOM’s tightrope situation immediately. She walks a fine line
between protecting DAD and allowing him to feel independent.

DAD’s mouth is agape, and he starts to drool. He tries to take the
handkerchief out of his robe pocket. MOM reaches to help him, and DAD
flails his cane at her, almost losing his balance.

MOM places the urinal on the side table next to DAD’s “regular
chair.” DAD heads for a chair at the dining-room table.)

MOM
Dear, why don’t you sit in your regular chair? Breakfast isn’t
ready yet.

DAD
Shh! Jo’s p …play … ing.

(DAD stands at the dining room table. MOM pulls out a chair for him
and helps him sit down. She hooks the cane on the side of the table.
She adjusts his robe to cover his pajama bottoms, and then wheels the
table holding the urinal next to DAD and exits.

DAD removes his handkerchief from his pocket and wipes his mouth. He
turns in his seat, a series of awkward movements, to watch JO play the
prelude. He appears mesmerized. JO fumbles on the Prelude. She
looks straight ahead at a point above the piano, although she peeks at
DAD in sidelong glances. DAD drops his handkerchief and reaches for
it. JO watches DAD bend over to pick up his handkerchief. JO makes
more and more mistakes. DAD is half out of his chair reaching
unsuccessfully for the handkerchief, close to falling out of the
chair. JO continues to watch as Dad teeters on the edge of his chair
and at last, with one wobbly hand he grabs his handkerchief. DAD
awkwardly tries to adjust his robe to cover his fly. Finally, he puts
his handkerchief over it.

MOM enters carrying a steaming cup of cocoa and sets it down on the
dining room table in front of another chair.)

MOM
Jo, your cocoa is ready.

(JO ignores MOM, stops playing and retrieves her purse and sweater
from the hook on the screen door.

(MOM turns on the radio and we HEAR The Breakfast Club song as
background sound. DAD waves his left hand in time to the rhythm of
the song.)

Good morning Breakfast Clubbers
It’s good to sing ya
Another cheery greeting
So may we bring ya
Four … calls … to breakfast!
Kellogg’s … call … to breakfast!
So every Breakfast Clubber
Young and old,
Come and join our happy
Carefree fold;
Yes, wake up, Breakfast Clubbers,
And smile awhile,
A day begun with Kelloggs
Makes life worthwhile!

MOM
(to JO) Sit down with Dad, for just a few minutes. (to DAD) Your rice
will be ready soon, dear.

(MOM turns down the radio.)

DAD
Rice … is … a … vice!

JO
I’ve gotta’ go, Mom.

MOM
Please, Jo. Dad needs to practice speaking. Mrs. Sorenson says so.

JO
Mrs. Sorenson makes me sick.

MOM
She’s a very important part of your father’s life. Without speech
lessons, he’d have nothing to do.

JO
All right, damn it!
(MOM looks aghast at JO. JO flops down in a dining table chair next to
DAD, her purse and coat on her lap. MOM hands the cup of cocoa to JO.
JO puts it back down.)

DAD
Mother, leave!

(DAD waves his cane at MOM. His
motions are jerky and appear violent.
MOM exits. Dad hangs the cane on the table.)

DAD
(whispers to JO.) Re … member … the train?

JO
(Oh, not this story again!) The ghost train.

DAD
The car … st … stalled.

(DAD cries and grabs JO’s hand.)

JO
I know, Dad.

DAD
But we lived!

JO
Yes, Dad.

DAD
(clears his throat speaks in normal tone) I l … love … you, Jo.
You are my d … d … darling …

(JO looks away from DAD.)

MOM
(O.S.)
Dad is so proud of you, dear.

JO
Why?

MOM
(O.S.)
Does the reason make a difference?

DAD
… darling daughter!

(JO starts to get up, but DAD grabs her arm.)

MOM
(O.S.)
Jo, drink your cocoa before it turns cold.

DAD
I want you … to under … st … stand … I want you …
(DAD picks up his cane and slashes it in
the air, loses his grip on it and drops it. JO picks it up and hands
it to DAD.)

MOM
(O.S.)
Try not to start over, dear.

JO
Mom, let him finish!

DAD
… to under … stand … I know how y … you feel … how hard it
is …
(DAD starts to cry. He drops the cane as he fumbles for his
handkerchief. JO picks up the cane and hangs it on the table. MOM
enters and runs over to help DAD, adjusting his robe to cover his
pajama bottoms. A few seconds pass until he stops crying. JO looks
away.)

… to have a sick f … fath … er.

(MOM turns up the radio. JO gets up, holding her purse and coat.)

MOM
(to JO) That took a lot of courage on Dad’s part. It’s not easy
for a man-

JO
- to be sick, it’s not easy for a man to stay at home.

(We hear a door open upstairs. MOM, DAD, and JO look in that
direction, MOM and DAD appearing uneasy.)

MOM
(to Dad) Steve’s awake. Are you ready to speak with him?

DAD
Yes! Wh … where’s my … rice?

MOM
Oh, I forgot!

(MOM rushes offstage. JO hurries to the front door, pauses, then
returns to kiss DAD on his forehead. DAD opens his mouth to speak but
cannot get the words out. His mouth remains agape. Mom returns,
holding a bowl of rice with a hot pad, a spoon and a napkin.

JO enters the porch and wipes her lips on the back of her hand. MOM
follows JO out onto the porch. JO stands with her back to MOM.)

MOM
What about lunch? You didn’t pack anything.

DAD
(O.S.)
Eat rice. Pay … the … price.

MOM
Dad and I worry about you, Jo. You’re starving yourself … and you
stay out late every day.

DAD
(O.S.)
Entice w … with rice!

(MOM faces JO and puts her hands on JO’s shoulders. JO looks
away.)

MOM
Anna Kimball called yesterday. She wants to see you. Isn’t she
your friend that works at the hospital?

JO
You know she is, Mom.

DAD
(O.S.)
My advice … no rice!

MOM
She seems very polite. Asked about Dad.

JO
Mom, I know what you’re getting at. I don’t want Anna to come
over.

MOM
You never invite anyone over.

JO
Why would I? So they can see Dad cry. Besides, I have friends at
work.

MOM
Anyone I know?

JO
I doubt it.

MOM
You and I used to be so close. Now, we never talk, and none of your
new friends have names.

DAD
(O.S.)
Rice cures ar…ter…i…o…scler…o…sice. (mispronounced to
place emphasis on “sice” and rhyme with rice.}

JO
I’ve got to go, Mom.

(JO starts down the front steps.)

MOM
I told Anna she could stop by this afternoon.

(JO stops midway down the steps, her back to MOM.)


JO
Damn it, Mom!

MOM
Your job ends at two. I thought you wouldn’t mind coming home early,
this one time. And I wish you wouldn’t swear. It’s so
unbecoming.

(JO turns to MOM.)

JO
You had no right to do that. I already have plans. Damn it to hell!

MOM
Jo, nice girls don’t swear. And come to your senses … let Anna
visit.

JO
Why? To see Dad use the urinal?

MOM
Anna sounded so happy when I invited her.

JO
That’s because Anna loves sick people.

MOM
She said she’d drop by around three-thirty.

JO
All right! All right!

MOM
And don’t forget our special dinner for Steve tonight.

JO
How could I forget? We may never see him again.

MOM
Jo, what is wrong with you?

JO
Believe me, you’d never understand.

(JO runs down the remaining steps, stops, runs back up to the porch,
hesitates, runs back down.)

MOM
The air is already warm. I doubt you’ll need your sweater.

(MOM enters the house.)

DAD
(O.S.)
Eat rice for a st …roke of … gen … i … ice.

JO
(yells) Shit!

END SCENE

End of Extract