Quick Bright Things

by Christopher Cook

  Reid: So the kid’s a little chunky — so what the fuck? As long as they uncrazy him, we’re fine.

  Nick: “Uncrazy him”?

  Marion offers Nick the paper.

  Marion: Show it to Toby. What’s the harm?

  Nick: The harm is —

  Nick catches himself.

  You know how many antipsychotic meds are out there?

  Reid: Yeah, but this one sounds like the best.

  Nick takes the paper.

  Nick: He could try a new one every year until he’s almost forty and maybe — just maybe — they’ll figure out one that works without costing him who he is.

  Reid: What are you talking about?

  Nick: I’m talking about the effects —

  Reid: Who cares if he’s a little chunky! They’re just side effects!

  Nick: No, listen! They aren’t side effects! They’re not minor — they’re-they’re-they’re not off to one side, out of view, these are what the drugs do to him — real effects that are lethal. And it’s all guesswork anyway! “Hmmm, what should his dosage be? Let’s try two spoonfuls. Nope! That didn’t work!” They’re wailing on his brain with their fists — nuking him with these pills — and what’s the difference? He keeps on getting further from me.

  Michael enters from outside.

  Michael: Uncle N?

  Marion: What is it, hun?

  Michael: I don’t know where Gerome went.

  Marion: What do you mean?

  Nick jumps up and the others follow him outside.

  Nick: (calling out) Gerome!

  Reid: Which way did he go?

  Michael shakes his head.

  Michael: I was in the middle of a cartwheel.

  Marion: Check all the shrubs! Ninety-nine percent of the time they’re in the bushes — that’s the first place you look —

  Reid pulls out an extendable baton and pops it open.

  Nick: What are you doing?

  Reid: Standard procedure.

  Nick: This isn’t your security detail!

  Reid: The bushes are prickly!

  Nick: Put it away!

  (calling out) Gerome! We’re leaving now!

  Marion: (calling out) But you can stay if you want to!

  (to Nick) If I were him, I might be hiding because I don’t wanna go.

  Michael does cartwheels behind them throughout the following.

  Nick: He’s probably walking into town. I’m gonna circle the block —

  Reid: I’ll drive.

  Marion takes out her cell.

  Marion: Do we call 911?

  Nick: It’s under control.

  Marion: Excuse me — you don’t know if your son is dancing down the middle of the highway or attacking one of our poor neighbours’ pets because he’s mixed it up with a demon or a furry black hole — and you don’t think we need backup?

  Michael winds up for another cartwheel.

  Michael! You are soooo talented and I love you very very much, but please stay still.

  Michael: Um . . .

  They all look to Michael. Michael points up. They look off.

  Marion: Oh sweet baby Jay.

  Nick: (calling off) Bud. No one’s mad —

  Marion grabs the baton from Reid and starts waving it in the air.

  Marion: (calling off) You! Down! Now! That roof is not a playground!

  Nick: (calling off) Ready to go set up camp?

  Marion: (calling off) Don’t think I can’t see that wine bottle! If I see you sip, you are in big trouble! I’m calling the fire department.

  Reid: Stop, stop — watch.

  (calling off) I’ll give you twenty bucks if you come down here right now.

  They wait.

  Gerome: (off) Michael taught me to do a cartwheel.

  Marion: Oh my dear lord, he’s having a psychotic attack!

  Nick: No, he’s all right!

  Marion starts climbing onto Reid.

  Marion: Help me up there —

  Reid: Get off me!

  Nick: We have a system. He says “red alert” in Klingon when he’s having trouble. That’s our signal.

  Reid laughs.

  Reid: No shit?

  (to Marion) Babe, my favourite Trekkie ever — he likes Star Trek as much as you do! What’s “red alert” in Klingon?

  Marion: This isn’t time for laughing — or Star Trek!

  Reid removes a twenty from his wallet and holds it up. He whistles and waves it in Gerome’s direction. They watch as Gerome climbs down.

  Reid: (to Nick, quietly) Bam! What’d I tell you? A little game I like to call Compensation Reinforcement.

  Gerome enters with the wine bottle and gives it to Marion. There are big wet blotches on his pants.

  Michael: He peed himself.

  Marion: A little pee’s okay — we’re happy you’re down safe.

  Reid: Come on, it’s gross. You still get twenty bucks but . . . gross.

  Nick: Did you get upset?

  Gerome reaches into both his pockets and pulls out two dripping fistfuls of roast beef.

  Marion: Oh, look — leftover roast beast.

  Reid: Wimpy-ass veggie after all. Bedtime, Mikey. Say goodbye.

  Michael: Wait.

  (to Gerome) Show them.

  Gerome gives the meat to Marion. Marion awkwardly accepts it.

  Marion: Ah — yep, sure.

  Gerome takes some space. He tries a cartwheel and fails. He lies splayed out on his back where he landed. A pause.

  Gerome: I want to stay the night.

  Blackout.

  Scene Two

  Later that Friday night. Gerome is flossing in the bathroom. He wears sweatpants, his jacket, and his tie. Michael is in pyjamas and drinking a can of cola.

  Michael: . . . My mom’s like, “Keep it in the top of the toilet so Stinky doesn’t find it.” Marion’s not actually stinky, but that’s what my mom and I call her —

  Michael offers the can to Gerome.

  Want some?

  Gerome shakes his head and keeps on flossing.

  What meds are you on? Do you have any Ritalin? I got some from the kid across the street — it’s pretty much the best — then we got caffeine pills from his older sister and I was shaking for like two whole weeks, so now I only do this stuff —

  Michael gestures to the cola.

  How many girlfriends have you had?

  Gerome keeps flossing.

  Gerome: Fi — wa — two —

  Michael: What — how many? Do you know what a newt is? It’s like a water lizard — I’ll trade you mine for your meds. Deal?

  Gerome keeps flossing.

  Gerome: Um.

  Michael: Deal. Do you have any tattoos? I have like three I want already but I’m not allowed till I’m sixteen. One of them I drew myself and it’s sort of Hercules inspired, but like Hercules at the turn of the next millennium, and I showed Marion and she’s like, “That’s Justin Bieber with his shirt off.” And I’m like, “No, it’s not.” She’s like, “Yes, it is and it’s really good.” I’m like, “Stinky! So Stinky!” Seriously, man, as soon as I have enough money, I’m outta here. I need my space. Do you have tattoos?

  Gerome shakes his head.

  Wait here.

  Michael exits. Gerome stops flossing. He regards himself in the mirror, then opens his mouth wide as if he’s screaming and trying to look down his throat at the same time. He goes back to flossing. Michael enters with a permanent marker.

  You’re a super dedicated flosser — I like that.

  Michael moves in front of Gerome with the marker. Gerome backs away.

  One question: Do you wanna be a badass?

  Gerome hesitates, then takes a big chug of Michael’s cola. He finishes the can and tosses it to the ground. He crouches to let Michael write on his forehead.

  Yeah! F-U-C —

  Marion enters and grabs the marker.

  Marion: Michael!

  Michael: In case we lose him again, tell the cops we
’re looking for the guy with “Fu — ”

  Marion: “Fun!” The boy with “fun” written on him, and he’s not the only one —

  Marion uses the mirror and writes carefully on her forehead.

  I’m right here beside you, Geromey — my forehead too.

  Marion writes “FUN,” but it’s backwards. Reid enters playing on an iPad.

  Reid: (to Marion) I thought I was checking on them.

  Marion presents her forehead to Reid.

  Marion: Ta-daaaa!

  Reid: What’d you do to your face? “NUF”?

  Marion: “FUN,” Reid! We’re having so much “FUN!”

  Michael grabs the marker and starts drawing on his forehead.

  (to Gerome) Guess what would be even more fun? Why don’t we give your mom a call and see if she’s free for dinner tomorrow night! Would you like that?

  Michael: (re: Gerome) Wait — where’s he sleeping?

  Reid: The bottom bunk — quit drawing shit on yourself.

  Michael: Which bottom bunk?

  Reid: Only one bottom bunk in the house.

  Michael: Why are you making me sleep with him?

  Marion: Uncle Nick’ll be there on the air mattress.

  (to Gerome, too loudly) Give it a think and you let me know, okay?

  Michael: What if he flips out?

  Marion: We know it might be scary —

  Reid: He’s not scared.

  Michael: Yes I am.

  Marion: Go get your bike helmet. If it can protect you from cement, it can protect you from Geromey.

  Michael: Christ.

  Marion: Language, Michael!

  Michael points at the drawing on his forehead.

  Michael: It’s “Hercules 3000” to you!

  Reid shakes his head and chuckles at him.

  (voice cracking) Fuck off, Dad.

  Michael storms out.

  Marion: (calling after him) Watch your mouth!

  Reid: (calling after him) Was that your voice cracking?

  Marion: (calling after him) What kind of example are you for your cousin?

  Reid: (calling after him) Yeah, thirteen years old and your balls haven’t dropped yet!

  Marion comes at Reid with the marker.

  Get away from me!

  Marion: (to Gerome) How’d your uncle look with an Aunt Marion original on his face?

  Reid sees Gerome nodding.

  Reid: Gimme that!

  Reid exits with the marker. Gerome starts brushing his teeth.

  Michael: (off) Reeeeion! Where’s my helmet?

  Marion: (calling off) Where you left it!

  Pause.

  Michael: (off) Marioooon!

  Marion: (calling off) Michael!

  Michael: (off) I can’t find it!

  Marion: Oh golly.

  Marion exits. Gerome stops brushing his teeth and starts flossing again. Nick can be heard on his cell as he approaches. He hangs back from the bathroom as he speaks.

  Nick: (off, to cell) Come on, Toby, call in sick, come down and be here when he meets her . . . Fine, sulk by yourself at home . . . Toby, when we agreed to let Gerome decide, it meant he could say, “Yes! I do want to meet my birther!” That’s his name for her, not mine . . . Look, I’ve seen massive changes in him already on this trip — he’s in everyone’s face, talkative — he loves it. The campsite is pretty niiii — Actually, we decided to spend the night at Reid and Marion’s . . .

  As Nick is on the phone, Gerome finds a pair of scissors. He looks at himself in the mirror and cuts off his tie right below the knot.

  (off, to cell) Because, Toby, they’re family and Gerome wants to stay with them . . . He’s handling them very well . . . Yes, I’m also handling them very well.

  Nick enters the bathroom.

  (to cell) Sure, ask him yourself.

  Nick takes in Gerome’s cut tie.

  (to Gerome, offering cell) Dad wants to do a check-in.

  Gerome waves twice, “hello” and “goodbye.”

  What happened to your tie?

  Gerome: It broke.

  Nick: (to cell) Gerome says “hi-bye” . . . I dunno, the tie you gave him ripped.

  Marion enters.

  (to cell) I gotta go . . . Yep, bye.

  (to Gerome) Dad says, “love.” And he might come down.

  Marion hands Nick a marker.

  Marion: (whispering) Write something on your forehead so he doesn’t feel left out.

  Nick hands the marker back to Marion.

  Nick: (to Gerome) Almost ready for bed?

  Marion: You know what Geromey suggested?

  Marion gives Gerome a wink.

  And I’m thrilled! We’re gonna invite his mama for dinner tomorrow!

  Nick: (to Gerome) You want that?

  Gerome stops flossing, nods, and immediately goes back to flossing.

  Marion: Don’t you think that’s enough flossing?

  Nick: Marion —

  Marion: Sorry! Sorry!

  Gerome: “Poor personal hygiene” — a telltale symptom of an in-patient.

  Nick: You’re not an in-patient.

  Marion: But keep flossing — why not?

  Nick holds out his cell.

  Nick: If she’s coming for dinner, you better call and introduce yourself.

  Gerome shakes his head.

  Marion: You want me to call?

  Nick looks at her.

  (to Gerome) You know what? You do it. Ooooh! We are gonna have such a special day tomorrow!

  Marion goes to exit but stops, picking up the empty cola can.

  Michael!

  Marion yells off at Michael as she leaves.

  Michael! Soda pop is rotting your brain! Soda pop is not the answer!

  Marion exits, but then sticks her head back in.

  Nighty-night!

  And Marion is gone. Gerome stops flossing.

  Gerome: Why doesn’t Dad want me to meet my birther?

  Nick: Dad wants you to know you can change your mind. The trip won’t be a waste. You and I’ll go camping and —

  Gerome: I wish I came by myself.

  Nick: You’re not really talking to anyone, so it might be kinda tricky if you were here alone. And I wanna be here. If that makes any difference.

  Gerome: I’m moving out next summer.

  Nick: We said we’d talk about you moving out sometime.

  Gerome: Seriously, man, I need my space —

  Nick: (imitating) Yeah totally, man —

  Gerome: Papa! If you’re not gonna take me seriously, go home.

  Nick: I love that you wanna be independent. But if I go back to Montreal, who’s gonna make first contact?

  Nick holds out the phone. Gerome won’t take it.

  Are you scared of her or the phone? You can be scared of talking to her — I’m petrified. But the phone itself — not scary, perfectly safe. Don’t play into the delusions.

  Gerome: I can still hate cellular communication devices but recognize they won’t suck out my thoughts and broadcast them to a quasi-merciful alien archangel named Serotonin.

  Nick: Nope, no thought-sucking alien–angel things here — serotonin’s a neuro brain chemical.

  Gerome: (correcting) Neurotransmitter.

  Nick: Yeah, exactly, let’s focus on what’s real —

  Gerome: My hatred of cellphones! Pills, please.

  Nick ignores the request.

  Nick: Let’s use this trip as a commitment to healthy living. You said you wanted to try to eat vegan, no sugar, no caffeine, we’re gonna spend time in nature —

  Gerome: What is with you and camping?

  Nick: Like we used to.

  Gerome: You’ve taken me camping twice. In my entire life.

  Gerome holds out his hand.

  Pills. Please.

  After a moment of hesitation, Nick hands him a bottle of pills.

  Dad takes them out for me.

  Gerome fumbles to open the pill bottle.

  Nick: Is this
what you want your healed self to look like?

  Gerome: What else is my healed self gonna look like?

  Gerome opens the pill bottle and shakes one out into his palm.

  They make me squeeze everything I am through a pinhole and it doesn’t fit. But this weekend is too big, and Dad says, “Take your pills — ”

  Nick: “Your pills are what help.” Uh-huh. And the doctors have given you this big diagnosis. Which just means they’ve caught up. Because you’ve been getting by your whole life without their help.

  Gerome: Papa. If it was you and me in a tent until the year 2362 when they launch the Enterprise, I’d never have to worry. You could handle me and my voices. Did you see how they were looking at me at dinner?

  Nick: No, no —

  Gerome: Yes, they were! What’s my birther gonna see?

  Nick: I want her to see you.

  Gerome: Imagine there’s a pill given to me by an archalien —