tw: suicide
The curtain opens on the interior of the Springhill, Connecticut house that Richard Church rents. It is small and plainly-furnished, but there are piles of junk and wrappers and disorganized stacks of things cluttering almost every surface. The inhabitant seems to be habitually neat, with the disorganization occurring in the near past. Downstage right, there is a bed and a nightstand, slightly removed from the rest of the house. This is Church's bedroom.
On the bed, Richard Church lies, inert and unmoving. To the left of the stage, Freddie Davis, his friend and love interest, is dialing 911 on his cell phone. He is frantic and distraught.
DAVIS, waiting for the operator to pick up: Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god…
The 911 operator picks up. Talking over her, Freddie Davis tries to overcome his own shock and gives as much information as he can.
DAVIS: Hello? Oh shit, okay, I'm at, I'm at my friend's house, um, 208 Penn View Drive in Springhill, and he's not moving. I just went in there and there are a bunch of pill bottles and he's not moving, oh god, what do I do?
He begins pacing up and down the stage, unwilling or unable to reenter the bedroom. He seems to be trying not to cry out.
DAVIS, listening to the operator: God, I don't know, I don't know, okay, I just got here, but I called before and he wasn't answering— He claps his hand to his mouth, overcome. Just please send help. Please help.
In the bedroom area, Richard Church is stirring. By the way he is acting, he is waking up from being forcibly knocked out, not from falling gently asleep. His body is stiff and sore. He is not alive anymore. This is his ghost-form, the last vestiges of his consciousness, and no one else can see him.
He seems surprised at being able to sense himself, to move and think. In another room, Freddie Davis is still sobbing on the telephone. Richard can hear him but doesn't care. It is as if he is hearing it from another world.
RICHARD, feeling his head: Oh… He looks over at Davis, glimpsing him through the doorway of the bedroom. So this is what it's like.
Davis's noises get smaller and smaller; he is either unable to speak or silenced, being now unneeded. We are in Richard's world now. The lights dim, until only an eerie glow and a soft spotlight on Richard remains. He stands.
RICHARD: To be honest, I was expecting a bit more. He glances at Davis again. God, I wish you would leave. Give me a little last bit of peace, will you?
He turns away, stricken by guilt. He tries not to show it, to rationalize it; after all, he can't do anything about it now.
RICHARD: This would have never happened if you hadn't butted in, all right? You should have listened to me.
He is lost in thought. A spotlight comes up on Davis again. He has collapsed against the wall. The operator is speaking to him, but he can't comprehend it. He can't comprehend anything. His world is shattered.
DAVIS: No! No! No!
RICHARD: Please be quiet!
Davis doesn't hear, of course, but Richard heads towards him anyway. Richard is obviously battling his emotions as he does this. The stage is still dark, but as Richard approaches Davis, he skims the edge of the spotlight. He tries to speak, but the words get lost. There is nothing that he can really say.
RICHARD, finally: Look at me!
Davis does not.
RICHARD: You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you? I told you. I told you that I could never love you. And you've killed me!
Davis gives an anguished groan, but still does not notice.
RICHARD: No— god, sorry. This is my fault. He looks on Davis sadly. I'm sorry.
DAVIS: You could have changed.
RICHARD, giving a start, but facing up to Davis: I don't understand.
DAVIS, looking up at him: You could have changed. He stands. I'm telling you.
RICHARD: You don't understand anything!
DAVIS: Hey, Richard—
Richard is turning to go, but Davis stops him. It seems like this has happened before, only now, Davis is determined to make the outcome different. Richard only looks at him, wounded.
DAVIS: Listen. Just— please listen, for once. I'm not telling you this as anything but a friend.
RICHARD: I was trying to protect you!
DAVIS: But you didn't! Don't you see— god— He looks away, tries to get himself together. You can protest, but I know you better, better than anyone else. And I know that this didn't have to happen.
RICHARD: What do you know?! What do you know about me, about anyone?! All you know is what I've showed you! You've never even seen anything else!
The scene changes and the lights come back on. It is the same house, the same furniture, but a large, threatening-looking man in coveralls is lounging in the living room area. This is Richard's father, who abused his mother until her death three years ago. His mother is standing in the corner, behind the father's sight, a shadow.
FATHER: Where's the boy? He reaches down behind his seat, grabs a glass bottle, and takes a swig of the liquid inside. Where's Richard?
MOTHER, her voice guarded: He's not home.
FATHER: The hell he is. He gestures drunkenly at something. When I… I gotta teach that son-of-a-bitch a lesson… little punk-ass… He takes another swig.
The lights dim again, with the only bright light present shining on the spot where Richard and Davis are standing. His father and mother exit.
DAVIS: Richard.
But Richard turns away angrily.
RICHARD: You couldn't have known, could you? You've never known!
Richard strides off. Davis tries to keep him from leaving, but is left standing in the same spot. The light follows Richard back to the bedroom, where he sits on the bed heavily. Davis leaves stage left.
Richard seems to be trying to grabble with something internally, something huge. The whole of his guilt, anger, and confusion shows through his movements as he tries for something to say to himself.
RICHARD: …Well, great. He looks around. What is this place, anyway? I don't think that was him. It couldn't be. He saw me. He falls silent, thinking. I couldn't do anything different, anyway. I mean, what could I have done? What is there to change?
He gets up and strolls back to the living room area, lost in thought. The lights fade on again. The slam of a door is heard from offstage, and Freddie Davis enters from stage left. This is a memory from a couple of years ago. Richard Church is unchanged, but the Davis that he sees is not crying and seems younger, more eager.
It is winter. Freddie Davis is dressed in a thick jacket, and his nose and his cheeks are pink.
DAVIS: Hey!
RICHARD, turning: Oh, you again.
DAVIS, oblivious: What do you mean? I haven't been here for— well— He shrugs off his coat, places it over the couch. Anyway. How have you been?
RICHARD: What?
DAVIS: How was Jamaica? You're still not tan. I told you, you should get some sun.
RICHARD: Oh— Jamaica. He realizes where he is and what's happening. Out of guilt, and a bit of curiosity, he decides to play along. Oh, it— it was actually a lot worse than the pictures said. There was a ton of traffic, and the slums—
DAVIS: God. He sits down on a chair, then looks up at Richard. Was that all?
RICHARD: All you need to know, you busybody.
Davis smiles at him, then glances quickly at the floor. Richard understands what's going on inside his head. He smiles at Davis, but it barely masks his awkwardness and pain.
DAVIS: Jamaica was really that bad, huh?
RICHARD: Actually, it wasn't terrible.
DAVIS: By the way, your cat was a damn sight. A thought suddenly hits Richard, but Davis is looking away and doesn't notice. I didn't seem him in the house at all whenever I came. However, I did see him two blocks down. And on Main Street. Basically… everywhere but your house.
RICHARD: He likes it out there. He'll be happy.
DAVIS: What?
RICHARD: Oh— nothing.
Davis is obviously a bit uneasy. He senses that something's wrong. Richard, however, doesn't notice. He is only trying to decide on the best thing to say. He has forgotten, perhaps, that he thinks that this situation isn't real.
DAVIS: Something's wrong.
RICHARD: Oh, what? Really, no.
DAVIS: You look sick.
RICHARD: Freddie—
DAVIS: Don't try to lie to me.
He looks at Richard intently. Richard is caught in the moment. He struggles for something to say, but Davis beats him it.
DAVIS: Look, Richard. No, look at me. He reaches out for Richard's shoulder, but hesitates. Hey, look. I know it's been really tough lately. But you know— he slips into a focused firmness that he's been trying to hide— that you don't have to hide. Okay? Not anymore.
RICHARD, to himself: Not again. He makes to leave.
DAVIS: Something's up with you. You can't just hide it in.
RICHARD: …Something's always up with me. Won't be the last time.
DAVIS, beginning to get really concerned: Is there something that you should be telling me?
RICHARD, getting exasperated: There's always something to fix with you, isn't there?
DAVIS: I'm not the one you need to worry about. Just— hey— He touches Richard's shoulder, but Richard shakes it off.
RICHARD: No. That's over.
DAVIS, beginning to get angry: Is that why you texted me, then? He reaches for his phone. "Come over when you get back, sorry, I was wrong"?
Richard winces. He had forgotten.
RICHARD: Oh— that's…
DAVIS: Am I missing something here?
RICHARD, standing: …Look. There's no easy way to say this. For the both of us, you need to leave.
DAVIS, totally uncomprehending: What?!
RICHARD: I'm… He searches for a way to say this, but can't find anything. I'm going to die.
Freddie Davis is speechless. He looks like the wind's been knocked out of him. His emotions show on his face: confusion, anger, and hurt.
DAVIS: No.
RICHARD: Just listen to me.
DAVIS: What— I—
RICHARD, steeling himself: It's not like I can change anything now.
DAVIS: What do you mean? God… He rubs his face, unable to take it in.
RICHARD: I'm going to kill myself. Then, remembering: Well, I did.
At that, Davis looks up sharply. Something fierce is taking over, some dark side. He is confused and desperate, and determined not to let this occur.
DAVIS, firmly: No. He stands, takes Richard firmly by the shoulders, almost shaking him. No, you're not.
RICHARD, trying to shake him off: God, I can't do anything about it now, okay?
DAVIS: You're not. Listen to me. I will not let you, you understand?
RICHARD: You think that you can do something, but you can't!
DAVIS: I don't want to hear you talk like this, okay! He shakes Richard. You're my best friend. I can't live without you. You cannot die.
All of this is terrible to Richard, but the guilt that it uncovers is hidden by his own regret, his own secret anger.
RICHARD: And that's all, is it?! So you're going to keep me here, selfishly?
DAVIS: It's not selfish, goddammit! He is desperate.
RICHARD, struggling: I already told you! I'm not fit to live. I don't want to. There's nothing for me here!
DAVIS, shouting: There's me! It's what he's been avoiding, and the pain of that statement cuts them both. Think about me, you selfish bastard!
RICHARD: Apparently, you were wishing that I'd been doing a lot more of that! But I don't want you, I told you!
DAVIS: What?
Richard has forgotten that he told this to Freddy Davis a few months after this scene had occurred. All of this information is old to Richard, completely new to Davis.
RICHARD: You are nothing but a temptation. And you won't go! Every day, you pace around me, not leaving my thoughts. You won't give me a break!
DAVIS, keeping back tears: I don't know what you're saying!
RICHARD, so angry that it is hard to speak: You know what I'm saying. You will not go. I told you to get out of my life. But you stay, haunting me, torturing me! You will not leave!
DAVIS: I don't know what you're saying!
RICHARD: You killed me!
Davis lets go of him, in shock. Richard steps back, looking at him with a mixture of sadness and resentment.
RICHARD: I'm sorry I had to tell you like this.
DAVIS: What? I don't— I don't—
RICHARD: It's for the best. Really. Believe me. Now… leave. Get out of here.
Davis exits the way he came. Richard looks after him for a second, then sighs and sits heavily where Davis had been sitting. The lights dim slowly, except for the light trained on Richard.
RICHARD: That didn't go so well… He wants to laugh, but can't. What was a laugh exits as kind of a shuddering sigh. Well, then. How long do I have, how long do I have? He looks around. If I'm going to Hell, I'd rather not have the suspense. He throws his arms open, and yells to the ceiling: Well, God? I'm ready! Let's have it!
Nothing happens. He drops his arms. Shoot. He's waiting for something. Well? How many less friends will I have before this is done? How much can I really change?
Unnoticed by him, Freddie enters from upstage left. He is now dressed in a uniform: white shirt, black slacks, necktie, nametag. He is a missionary. The uniform is a bit worn, but kept clean. A spotlight comes up on him.
DAVIS: We can't change.
RICHARD, without looking at him: We can!
DAVIS: I can't. Do you know how I've tried?
RICHARD: I know we can. He turns and faces Davis. It's possible. Just listen, I know.
DAVIS: Richard, I— He wants to say something that will make Richard feel like he does, but he cares more about Richard's feelings than anything else. I don't know what to tell you.
RICHARD, frustrated with Davis: Don't you love God? Don't you want to do everything you can for him?
DAVIS, quietly: I want to love.
RICHARD: Selfish.
DAVIS: I love you, Richard.
Richard winces. The knowledge is painful to him. He has tried to forget it before.
RICHARD: Forget it, Freddie.
DAVIS: And whatever you say, whatever I know, it can't change anything.
RICHARD: You're my best friend and that's it.
DAVIS: And whatever you say, it can't erase anything.
Richard has been trying to deny this. Now he storms up to Davis, wanting to punch him, wanting to take out the anger he has on something. He opens his mouth to speak, but Davis moves from the light and exits stage right without a sound.
RICHARD: Wait… Hey! He looks again at where Davis was. Even after I'm gone, you still insist on sticking around. He sighs wistfully. God, I'm going to miss you, honestly. He looks around, but can't see anything. So what's next?
Davis enters from stage right. He is dressed in the clothes he wore at the beginning of the play. He seems a little different this time: gentle, guarded. He almost seems to understand what's going on.
DAVIS: Hey.
RICHARD: Oh, not you again!
DAVIS: This is the last, I promise.
RICHARD: Your promises don't mean much.
DAVIS: I've made some mistakes.
RICHARD: Yeah, well, join the freaking club.
DAVIS: I'll join the fucking club. He realizes that he swore. Sorry. But this is the last time, I swear. He waits for Richard's reply, which doesn't come. He tries to be light-hearted. Well, aren't you a little glad to see me?
RICHARD: You're the last person I wanted to see.
DAVIS, sadly: Yeah. I thought so.
RICHARD: Not content on ruining my life, you have to make my death eventful, too.
DAVIS: This one isn't like those other times.
RICHARD, unbelieving: Oh?
DAVIS: I've just got to tell you to stop blaming yourself. And stop blaming me. Look, it didn't have to turn out like this.
RICHARD: You saw what happened, even when I knew exactly what was going on.
DAVIS: And I'm here to tell you that it didn't have to turn out like this. You've got another opportunity.
RICHARD: But I'm dead.
DAVIS: Maybe.
RICHARD: Am I dead?
DAVIS: Maybe.
RICHARD: It would have been better if we never had met.
DAVIS, a bit sadly: Aw. Who would have told you when your tie was crooked, then?
RICHARD: Come on. I would've met other people.
DAVIS: I don't know too much about that. See, I've always believed that the things that were supposed to happen would happen, no matter what we did.
RICHARD: It would be nice to think that.
DAVIS: I'm your best friend, remember.
RICHARD: You were.
DAVIS: I'm your boyfriend.
RICHARD: I was confused.
DAVIS: I'm the love of your life.
RICHARD: No.
DAVIS, getting on a roll: Whatever. Time is relative, and so are we. What's one more sin?
RICHARD: Tempter!
DAVIS, realizing what he said: I'm sorry. That was too far.
RICHARD, pacing: You never really realized that, did you?
There is a pause as both people try to figure out what to say. Both have a lifetime whizzing through their memories, and they're looking for their last words to each other. Both have something to say, but no idea how to say it.
DAVIS: Do you want another try? I could give you one, remember.
RICHARD: You're wrong. And you always have been, and you know it.
DAVIS, smiling wistfully: Yeah. But so is everyone else, remember? I try not to think about it. The silence grows between them. What now?
RICHARD: Huh?
DAVIS: What are you going to do?
RICHARD: What can I do? I can't escape.
DAVIS, knowing something that Richard doesn't: Maybe.
RICHARD: Just— look. Whatever happens, you know that I can't live like you.
DAVIS, sadly: I've known that since the day I met you.
RICHARD: So neither of us can come out of this well.
DAVIS: Can't we compromise?
RICHARD: I can't promise anything to you.
DAVIS: Well, I suppose that's that, then. He rises to leave.
RICHARD: Wait! Davis freezes. What am I supposed to do?
DAVIS: I don't know, really. But here— he tosses Richard his cell phone— call me at home if you ever get out of this mess. He looks over his shoulder. Enjoy your afterlife.
An understanding begins to dawn on Richard.
DAVIS: Well, this is good-bye, then.
RICHARD: Maybe.
Davis exits. The only light is on Richard. He looks sadly in the direction that Davis left, then down at the cell phone, then up at the ceiling, then leaves the light. It does not follow him.
Davis enters again and stands on downstage left, his cell phone to his ear. He is agitated and anxious. He is waiting for someone to pick up, and when the phone kicks him to the answering machine, he answers without waiting.
DAVIS: Hi, Richard. It's me, Freddie. Look, please pick up the phone. Please answer. This is important. Um, if you don't call me by the time that work gets out, I'm coming over. This is— this is actually important. He wants to add more, but can't bring himself to do it. Okay, bye.
He hangs up the phone and walks quickly offstage.
THE END