Rabbit Hole
Page 9
Yeah.
JASON
Sure. I mean, if space is infinite, which is what most scientists think, then yeah, there have to be parallel universes.
BECCA
There have to be?
JASON
Yeah, because infinite space means ... it means it goes on and on forever, so there’s a never-ending stream of possibilities.
BECCA
Okay.
JASON
So even the most unlikely events have to take place somewhere, including other universes with versions of us leading different lives, or maybe the same lives with a couple things changed.
BECCA
And you think that’s plausible.
JASON
Not just plausible—probable. If you accept the most basic laws of science.
BECCA
Huh.
(Beat.)
So somewhere out there, there’s a version of me—what?—making pancakes?
JASON
Sure.
BECCA
Or at a water park.
JASON
Wherever, yeah. Both. If space is infinite. Then there are tons of you’s out there, and tons of me’s.
BECCA
And so this is just the sad version of us.
(Beat.)
JASON
I guess.
BECCA
But there are other versions where everything goes our way.
JASON
Right.
(Beat. A change.)
BECCA
And those other versions exist. They’re not hypothetical, they’re actual, real people.
JASON
Yeah, assuming you believe in science.
BECCA
Well that’s a nice thought. That somewhere out there I’m having a good time.
JASON
(After a pause) So, could you tell your husband for me? How I might’ve been going a little over the limit? I know he’s probably still mad but—
BECCA
He’s not mad. Nobody’s mad.
JASON
Okay.
(Beat.)
Can you tell him though?
(Beat.)
BECCA
Sure.
(Jason goes for the milk. He drinks it as the lights fade.)
SCENE FOUR
Eat-in kitchen. Dusk. Nat enters with a box of toys and books from Danny’s room. She places them on the table. Izzy follows, reading The Runaway Bunny.
IZZY
I don’t remember The Runaway Bunny book being so weird. The mother’s like a stalker.
NAT
Oh come on. She’s not a stalker.
IZZY
Well of course you don’t think so. But look, she turns into wind and shit, a mountain climber. Poor kid needs to get himself a restraining order.
(Izzy puts the book in the box, and finds the obnoxious yappy dog toy she had given to Danny.)
Heyyy, I remember this. She said I could have it?
NAT
Oh yes, that one especially she wants you to have.
(Becca enters with a recipe she’s printed out for Izzy.)
BECCA
Here. I typed it all out for you. I put down lime zest in the filling, but you can also use orange zest, or even a little grapefruit. Or lemon, obviously.
IZZY
(Looking at the recipe) Jesus. It’s like three pages long. This looks hard, Becca.
BECCA
It’s not. I promise. I put everything down.
IZZY
I hope the oven works. I don’t think Auggie’s ever used it. He keeps dishes in there.
BECCA
If you get stuck, you can call me.
IZZY
Okay.
(Beat. Chuckles.)
Me—baking. Auggie’s gonna be shocked.
NAT
Well, anyone in their right mind would be.
IZZY
Ha ha.
(Howie enters, home from work, calling as he enters:)
HOWIE
Hello-hellooo ...
(He’s carrying something in tinfoil. Becca is surprised to see him.)
IZZY
Hey, Howie.
NAT
Hello.
HOWIE
Hi.
BECCA
You’re home.
HOWIE
(Taking off his jacket) Yeah.
BECCA
I thought you had group.
HOWIE
I decided to skip it.
(Beat.)
IZZY
Mom, we should get going, if you wanna get to bingo.
NAT
Why, what time is it?
IZZY
We gotta go. Auggie wants me to register for lamaze, so I can learn how to shove a baby out of my body.
(Regarding box of toys) Thanks for the stuff.
BECCA
You’re welcome.
IZZY
Bye, Howie.
NAT
(To Becca) Bye, sweetie.
HOWIE
Bye, guys.
(As they exit with the box of stuff ...)
NAT
Bingo’s just at Saint Catherine’s, you know. What’s the bum’s rush for?
IZZY
Can we talk about this in the car please?
NAT
I didn’t even get a lemon square.
(And they’re gone.)
HOWIE
(Regarding tinfoil) Alan brought in his zucchini bread again. He made me take what was left. He wants you to try it.
BECCA
That was nice of him. You’ll have to thank him for me.
(Howie gets himself a beer.)
We had paillard if you’re hungry. It’s in there.
HOWIE
No, Alan kept pushing that bread on me all day.
BECCA
Okay.
HOWIE
(After a couple beats) So how’d it go with the kid?
BECCA
Fine. It was totally fine.
HOWIE
What’d he want?
BECCA
Just to ... I don’t know, introduce himself, I guess, talk a little.
HOWIE
Did you let him off the hook?
BECCA
What do you mean?
HOWIE
Well, he seemed pretty intent on sitting down with us. I assumed he wanted to be absolved or something.
(No response.)
Is that what he wanted?
BECCA
Not really. Not in so many words, no.
HOWIE
Huh. Did you tell him we didn’t blame him?
BECCA
We don’t blame him.
HOWIE
No, I know, but did you let him know that?
BECCA
I guess so.
(Beat.)
HOWIE
That’s good.
(Beat.)
So I don’t have to meet him then, do I?
BECCA
Not if you don’t want to, no.
HOWIE
Okay.
(He sits at the table.)
BECCA
Why aren’t you at group?
HOWIE
I just decided to skip it tonight. Wasn’t up to it.
BECCA
How come?
HOWIE
I think I might be done. With the group. I don’t think I’m gonna go back.
BECCA
Why, what happened?
HOWIE
Nothing. I just don’t think it’s as helpful to me anymore. I wanna try it on my own for a while. I mean, not on my own, obviously, but ... without the group.
(Beat.)
That sound okay?
BECCA
Sure. If you’re not getting anything out of it then why go?
HOWIE
Exactly.
(Beat.)
BECCA
Are you oka
y?
HOWIE
Yeah. I’m just tired. And full of zucchini bread.
BECCA
All right. I’m gonna have a piece. It’s good?
HOWIE
Yeah, it’s great.
(Becca goes to cut a piece of the zucchini bread.)
BECCA
So Rick and Debbie invited us over for a cookout this weekend.
(Beat.)
HOWIE
Really?
BECCA
Sunday they said. Are you free?
HOWIE
Yeah. You talked to Rick?
BECCA
No. Debbie.
HOWIE
You talked to Debbie.
BECCA
Yeah. I called her.
HOWIE
Wow. She must’ve been surprised.
BECCA
She was.
HOWIE
What’d she say?
BECCA
Oh you know, she cried mostly, and then apologized about sixty times, and then cried some more.
HOWIE
Sounds great.
BECCA
It was okay. She said she kept meaning to call, but she felt freaked-out about everything and so she kept putting it off, and before she knew it months had gone by, and so then she really couldn’t call because she felt like such an asshole, and assumed I hated her, so it just seemed easier to not pick up the phone.
HOWIE
And that was good enough for you?
BECCA
I don’t know. Probably. We’ll see how the barbecue goes.
(She joins him at the table.)
HOWIE
Are the kids gonna be there?
BECCA
Of course.
(Beat.)
HOWIE
That’ll be hard.
BECCA
Yeah. It’ll be good to see them though. We should get something for Emily. We missed her birthday. She turned four last week.
HOWIE
Right. Okay.
(Beat.)
Danny’s is coming up.
BECCA
I know.
HOWIE
That’s gonna be a tough one.
BECCA
Yeah.
(Silence as Becca eats the bread.)
(Regarding zucchini bread) It’s good.
HOWIE
I’ll tell Alan you liked it.
(More silence.)
It’s so quiet.
BECCA
That’s because I slipped Taz a couple Ambien.
HOWIE
(Smiles) You’re funny.
BECCA
You think I’m joking.
(Becca takes another bite of zucchini bread.)
(After a beat) You think we should reconsider the house?
(Beat.)
HOWIE
If nobody bids, we might have to.
BECCA
There are worse things, I guess.
HOWIE
Yeah.
BECCA
It’s a nice house.
HOWIE
I know.
BECCA
(After a pause) So what are we gonna do?
HOWIE
About what?
BECCA
I don’t know, pick something.
HOWIE
Well ... (Thinks it over) We could go to Village Toys tomorrow and pick up Candy Land for Emily. That’s probably something she’d like.
BECCA
Okay, Candy Land. That’s a start. Then what?
HOWIE
Then we wrap it.
BECCA
Uh-huh.
HOWIE
And then on Sunday we go to the cookout, and we give her the gift, and we talk to Rick and Debbie, and to make them feel comfortable we ask the kids a bunch of questions about what they’ve been up to, and we’ll pretend that we’re really interested. And then we’ll wait for Rick and/or Debbie to bring up Danny while the kids are playing in the rec room. And maybe that’ll go on for a little while. And after that we’ll come home.
(Beat.)
BECCA
And then what?
(Beat.)
HOWIE
I don’t know. Something though. We’ll figure it out.
BECCA
Will we?
HOWIE
I think so. I think we will.
(Silence. They just sit for several beats, not even looking at each other. They’re scared.
Then Becca takes Howie’s hand. They hold on tight.
And the lights slowly fade.)
END OF PLAY
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Rabbit Hole is a delicate play tonally, and its balance can be easily thrown out of whack. With that in mind, a little guidance from the playwright ...
Yes, Rabbit Hole is a play about a bereaved family, but that does not mean they go through the day glazed-over, on the verge of tears, morose or inconsolable. That would be a torturous and very uninteresting play to sit through. The characters are, instead, highly functional, unsentimental, spirited and, often, funny people who are trying to maneuver their way through their grief and around each other as best they can. Sure, they hit bumps along the way, and are overcome by various emotions, but I’ve tried to be very clear about exactly when and how that happens.
It’s a sad play. Don’t make it any sadder than it needs to be. Avoid sentimentality and histrionics at all costs. If you don’t, the play will flatten out and come across as a bad movie-of-the-week.
Tears: if the stage directions don’t mention tears, please resist adding them. Howie gets some at the end of Act One. Becca cries at one point during her scene with Jason. Nat might almost cry when she finds Danny’s shoes in his room. But I think that’s about it. I’m pretty sure Izzy doesn’t need to cry in this play. And I know Jason shouldn’t cry, ever. (Yes, he’s haunted by the death of Danny, but his emotions aren’t especially accessible to him. Please, no choked-up kids openly racked with guilt. That’s not who he is. Restraint, please.)
Laughter: there are, I hope, many funny parts in the play. They are important. Especially to the audience. Without the laughs, the play becomes pretty much unbearable. Don’t ignore the jokes. They are your friends.
Please, no extra embracing, or holding of hands. Avoid resolution at all costs. Becca and Nat, for example, shouldn’t hug at the end of their scene in Danny’s room. It’s not that kind of play. There can and should be moments of hope and genuine connection between these characters, but I don’t ever want a moment (not even the very end) where the audience sighs and says, “Oh good, they’re gonna be okay now.” Rabbit Hole is not a tidy play. Resist smoothing out its edges.
DAVID LINDSAY-A BAIRE is the author of Fuddy Meers, Kimberly Akimbo (L.A. Drama Critics Circle Award, Kesselring Prize, Garland Award), A Devil Inside, Wonder of the World and Rabbit Hole. His plays have been produced at theaters throughout the U.S. and around the world, including Manhattan Theatre Club, Minetta Lane Theatre, Soho Rep, Woolly Mammoth Theatre Company, South Coast Repertory and the Arts Theatre on London’s West End, among others. David is currently working on the Broadway-bound musicals High Fidelity and Shrek. He is a graduate of Sarah Lawrence College and the Juilliard School, as well as a proud member of New Dramatists, The Dramatists Guild and the Writers Guild of America. He was born in Boston, and currently resides in Brooklyn with his wife, Chris, and their five-year-old son, Nicholas.
Rabbit Hole is copyright © 2006 by David Lindsay-Abaire
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