Nick: We still gotta get to the campsite and set up the tent —
Marion: When we heard you were camping, we laughed soooo hard.
Marion and Reid crack up at the thought.
Nick: Yeah. (re: food) This looks really —
Reid: (re: food) Pretty fucking nice, eh?
Nick: Thank you for having us, Marion —
Reid: (re: food) You know what that is, Nicky boy?
Marion: Are you kidding? Finally pulled you away from Montréal —
Reid: That right there, Nicksters —
Marion: About time for a Thunder Bay pick-me-up!
Reid: — is one big-ass roast beast!
Nick: I know what it is, Reid. But I forgot to tell you — Gerome’s gone vegan.
Marion: No, you didn’t tell us that at all —
Nick: It’s a new thing — not a big a deal —
Reid: Naw, no biggie — we got chicken — Marion’ll cook him up some chick-chick.
Nick: He’s vegan.
Reid: He eats chicken.
Nick: Vegan.
Marion: All right, we might all have different definitions of the term vaygen —
(calling off) Michael, i am counting to three — one . . .
Reid: (calling off) Gerome! What’d you want, my man? Want some chick-chick?
Marion: There’s broccoli, will he eat broccoli?
(calling off) Two!
Nick: Yep, that’s great —
Marion: Two and a half . . . Last warning, young man!
Michael enters from upstairs with headphones on.
Michael: Hey, Reeeeon, how about we practise our inside voice?
Marion gives Michael a hug.
Marion: Squishes — you missed the hugs!
Michael pushes her away.
Michael: We’d like you better if you weren’t so friggin’ crazy.
Marion: Oooh-kay uh-uh — remember what we talked about.
Reid yanks off Michael’s headphones and gestures to Nick.
Michael: Hi, Uncle N.
Nick: Hey, Mike.
Gerome enters and keeps his distance from the table. Throughout the following, Nick will try to keep checking in with his son. Gerome mostly ignores him.
Marion: And your cousin — say “hi” to Geromey.
Michael gives him a single wave. Reid flicks him.
Michael: Ow! Dad! What’s your problem?
Reid gestures to Gerome.
Michael makes an exaggerated wave at Gerome.
Hello!
Gerome gives Michael the Vulcan “live long and prosper” salute. Michael snickers at him. Pause.
Reid: Oh well done, boys. Don’t spend yourselves all at once — save it for the Get-To-Know-You-Better-slash-Catch-Up-Shit we got planned for later tonight . . . Talk to each other!
Marion: (to Gerome) What’s wrong? You’re being so quiet!
Marion tries to mouth the words “can he speak?” to Nick, pointing at Gerome.
Nick: What?
Marion tries to whisper — unsuccessfully.
Marion: Can he speak?
Nick: Of course —
Gerome: (blurting, nervously) I am happy to be here eating with you all.
Michael laughs. Gerome joins in.
Marion: There he is!
(to Nick) I thought maybe that was a symptom.
Nick: Nope. He’s just taking you all in.
Marion gestures for Gerome to sit down. He does, sitting between Marion and Michael. Nick is caught between Reid and Marion, and Gerome is caught between Michael and Marion for the rest of the meal.
Reid: So is anyone partaking in the fucking roast beast now?
Marion: Babe, please! We have a vaygen present.
Gerome holds out his plate.
Reid: Lookie here — our wimpy-ass veggie’s first in line —
Marion: (to Nick) Holding out his plate like that — what is that? What does it mean?
Reid: Gee I dunno, Marion — seems like pretty universal fucking English for “load me up some beast”!
Reid & Michael: (chanting) Load up the beast! Load up the beast! Load up the beast!
Nick: (to Gerome) You really want some?
Reid: Lay off — we’re curing him the ol’ fashioned way. Who’s next?
Marion: What would people like to drink? We’ve got water and — ah — more water!
Michael: Pop! Can I have pop?
Marion: Um, not on the menu —
(to Nick) We’re on a cleanse: eat everything, but you only get water.
(to Michael) Meaning no soda pop.
Michael: Dad, I get all the caffeine I want at Mom’s house.
Reid: So go back to your mom’s house.
Marion: (to Reid) Drinks — ? Can you — ?
Reid: What’s everybody having again? Oh yeah — round of water on the house.
Reid exits to the kitchen. Nick tries to make eye contact with Gerome, who is still ignoring him.
Marion: Your brother and I missed you soooo much —
(calling off) Right, Reid?
Reid: (off) What?
Marion: And see — how hard is it to stop in for dinner and a catch-up?
Nick: It’s a nineteen-and-a-half-hour drive.
Marion: And a three-hour flight — give us a little more warning, we’ll buy you tickets.
Nick: Will do.
Nick is giving Gerome an inquisitive “thumbs up,” trying to get him to respond. Marion responds instead with two big thumbs up at Nick.
(to Gerome) Bud? Okay?
Gerome nods.
Pause. The sound of cutlery on plates.
Marion: (to Nick) What are you up to right now — still at that restaurant?
Nick: Atomic Cowboy’s a club actually —
Michael: You work at a club?
Marion: I love that it was cowboys — when I heard that I’m sitting here thinking every night must be like yee-ha!
Michael: That’s so cool.
Nick: But I’m at home full time now.
Marion: Why didn’t you tell us?
(calling off) Reid!
Michael: (to Nick) How many shots can you do before you puke?
Marion: Your brother is unemployed!
Nick: No, actually —
Michael: Did you get super drunk every night?
Reid: (off) I thought he was babysitting Gerome!
Michael: Uncle N!
Nick: Yes, Mike?
Marion: (calling off) Come on, Reid!
Michael: “Yes,” you got super drunk? Did you get fired?
Reid: (off) What? He got fired?
Nick: No!
Marion: (calling off) Offer him a darn job!
Reid: (off) Know anything about private security, Nicky?
Marion: (calling off) Teach him!
(to Nick) We’d love you to come work for us.
Nick: Thank you, I don’t need —
Marion: No standing on ceremony. We’re the second-largest private security solutions provider in northwestern Ontario, and we gotta be generous — we gotta hire family.
Nick: Be a hell of a commute every morning.
Marion: Where’s the gun to your head saying you can’t move back to the Thunder Dome?
Nick: I already have a job —
(to Gerome) We already have a job.
Reid enters from the kitchen with four glasses of water.
Reid: Okay, got a water — that yours? Another water here. And looks like — yep — water, water.
Marion: Where’s yours?
Reid: I’m saving myself for a better offer.
Michael: Dad! Work in a bar like Uncle N before he got fired and get hammered for free.
Reid: (to Nick) You’re a fucking layabout now?
Nick: I’m home-schooling Gerome.
Reid: (to Gerome) What’s he teaching you?
Michael: (to Nick) Have you taught him black holes?
Marion: Michael did a presentation on black holes in scien
ce today.
Nick: We haven’t done —
Gerome: (quickly, softly) Black holes: leftover star bits with gravitational tidal forces strong enough to crush everything while tearing it to nothingness at the same time.
Marion: Wowzers, there’s our A+ student!
Michael: Actually, they’re black and they suck up light is the answer. “Black hole.” Can you do like a backflip?
Gerome shakes his head.
How about a front flip?
Gerome shakes his head.
Gawd, what’s wrong with you?
Marion: There’s nothing wrong with him, hun. I can’t do a backflip either.
Michael: We know you can’t Mary-rion. But what’s he got?
Marion: Why don’t you tell Geromey about gymnastics?
Reid: Hey, how ’bout we not call it that? “Gymnastics.” He’s not hanging out with a bunch of six-year-old girls and doing somersaults.
Marion: (to Nick) We signed him up for after-school gymnastics, and he loves it.
Reid: Acrobatic Arts! Your nephew — my son — is a competitive gymnast. No joke, this kid — prodigy. You didn’t hear it from me cuz I’m biased, but put these words together in your head: Michael Pinel — Pommel Horse Genius — Olympics 2028, Los Angeles. Be there — he’s gonna get a gold for his ol’ man, I swear to god!
Michael: Can you do a backflip, Uncle N?
Nick: No.
Michael: I can.
Gerome puts his hand up.
Marion: Uh — yes, Geromey?
Reid: Look at that plate! Pile of meat — decimated! My man, you’re kicking a vegan’s ass right now. This is you getting better.
Marion: But save room for dessert —
(announcing) Everyone save room for dessert! We’re having pineapple!
Reid: No we aren’t. Really — again?
Marion: Who doesn’t love pineapple? It’s full of vitamins and it’ll make us fertile.
Reid: Watch your language.
Marion: There’s nothing wrong with talking about fertilization.
Reid: No one wants to be more fertile but you!
Marion: Babe! Why don’t we ask Nick and Geromey about their big trip?
Nick: We’re doing a papa-son camping trip for the weekend.
Gerome: And meeting my birther.
Reid: Your — Oh.
Marion: He means his —
Reid: I got it.
Marion: That is so, so — mmm! Yes. You go find her.
Reid: Oh Christ.
Marion: And when you do, you shake her hand — because that’s what I would do if I met her.
Reid: We know you would, babe, but that’s retarded.
Marion: Language!
Nick: Can we keep our voices down?
Marion: That’s fine. I’m not yelling and we’re not using language like that — not a nice word!
Reid: Says who?
(re: Gerome) He’s not retarded. He’s wacko.
Marion: Can we stop using nasty words!
Nick: Really, Reid? Really?
Gerome and Michael are both laughing at the adults.
Reid: He gets it. We’re pissing around.
Marion: (to Gerome) Don’t listen to him — shake her hand and tell her . . . “hi” from me.
Reid: Let’s not get him too excited about meeting a lady who —
Marion: She’s not some random lady — she’s his biological mommy —
Nick: Hang on — “mommy”?
Marion: What else are we gonna call Geromey’s —
Nick: Gerome. He doesn’t like “Geromey” anymore.
Marion: (to Gerome) Oh that’s how come I don’t exist! Is that why you haven’t been answering me?
Marion, trying to be playful, speaks in exaggerated tones.
“Quit it with the baby names, Auntie Marion”?
Nick: Can we be cognizant of the tension level? It can affect —
Marion: “Cognizant”?
Nick: It means —
Marion: I know what it means. I just don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone real use it in a sentence. I don’t understand who that’s — was that directed at me?
Nick: Not you — everyone.
Marion: Excuse me. I’m going to get the salad.
Marion exits to the kitchen. Pause.
Reid: (to Michael, re: Gerome) Take him outside and play.
Michael: I’ll only do it for five cans of pop.
Reid: Get the hell outta here, no deal.
Michael: Okay — one can, one can!
Reid: Go!
Michael stands up from the table and sizes Gerome up.
Michael: (to Gerome) I’ll start you off with cartwheels.
Gerome stands to follow Michael out. Nick takes off the tie and goes to put it back on his son, but Gerome grabs the tie and puts it on himself.
Nick: You gonna be okay?
Reid: They’ll be fine.
Gerome and Michael exit outside.
Nick: (calling after) Have fun!
Reid: Let’s go shooting tomorrow.
Nick: No.
Reid: Come on, why not?
Nick: Cuz no.
Reid: How you making out right now? You need money?
Nick: Toby got a second job — he’s making enough.
Reid offers some money. Nick takes it.
Reid: But you won’t come shooting?
Nick: How’s he look to you?
Reid: Gerome? . . . Ahhhh. The same basically. He was always weird.
Nick: He’s mostly nervous — he just gets anxious sometimes.
Reid: What the hell for? It’s just us. He knows us.
Nick: Yeah, that’s probably why he’s anxious.
Reid slaps Nick too hard on the back.
Reid: That’s probably why you’re anxious, Nicky boy.
Marion enters from the kitchen with a salad. She’s quietly crying.
What the fuck are you doing?
Marion: What does it look like? I’m serving salad.
Reid: Quit making those sounds.
Marion: Oh, I’m so sorry, are you getting a little upset too? Well, good, because this is upsetting this whole thing is. Nick, we were reading up online —
Nick: Oh god.
Marion: There’s a new drug — look, I printed it out —
(to Reid) Where’s the paper?
Reid: I dunno.
Nick: These are some Dr. Google search results, right?
Marion looks around for the paper.
Marion: You call us up and announce you’re showing up for dinner and drop this bomb that our nephew — Reid, I gave it to you! Where is it?
Reid: I don’t know!
Marion: What medication do they have him on?
Nick: We’re exploring different options. How much did you tell Michael?
Reid: Are we keeping it hush-hush?
Nick: He’s too young to understand. And Gerome’s fine.
Marion: We know, but with his, his . . . phreeeenia.
Nick: His what?
Marion: His schizophreeeenia. We have to be careful.
Nick: Okay, it’s getting pretty late —
Marion: Your beds are all made up. Why go camping when you can visit?
Nick: Because I want to do something normal with my son.
Marion: You’re gonna invite his biological mommy over to your tent for marshmallows?
Nick: There’s no plan. We haven’t even talked to her yet.
Marion: Bring her over here so she can see that his adoptive family is — is —
Reid: Fuckin’ bitchin’.
Marion: Exactly — flippin’ terrific! Come on, do you think camping is healthy in his condition?
Nick: He’s in recovery —
Reid: What happened? Did he lose it?
Nick: No — he was having trouble.
Reid: With what?
Nick: Reality.
Reid: I think that’s what “losing it” means.
Marion: He w
as hospitalized?
Nick: A few weeks ago.
Marion: A few weeks ago!
Nick: For a few days!
Marion: Okay, okay, okay. Well, if I were him, I’d want to meet my mommm — ah, my biological parents too. It’s genetic.
Nick: They don’t know that. They don’t know anything.
Marion: But chances are. According to WebMD.
Reid holds up the paper.
Reid: (to Marion) Right in front of your face.
Marion takes the paper.
Marion: The most important thing is to find the right medication, and they’ve had some real success with this drug. “Patients suffering from schizophrenia . . . show markedly reduced paranoia — hallucinations — ”
Marion scans the page.
Oh boy, “side effects” — this one might make him fat —
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