FAYE: How’d it turn out?
JULIE: No matter, I made another. But I do see chefly possibilities in him, he has a fine hand for a whisk.
Oh isn’t this great?
At long last: Dinner is served!
TIM (Antsy): Okay, so I’m going now.
JULIE: What?
(Beat.)
TIM: I’ve gotta go.
JULIE: . . . You can’t.
(Beat.)
TIM: The restaurant—
JULIE: No one believes that, Tim.
(Beat.)
TIM: I’ve
. . .
I’ve got to—
JULIE: You can’t.
This is Christmas.
My . . . it’s . . . there won’t be . . .
It’s Christmas
TIM: We’re, um, Jews?
JULIE: No.
I won’t allow it.
You cannot break my heart twice in one evening.
It can’t stand it, it’s too compromised.
You are staying all evening and through the night.
You’re sleeping here.
I don’t care what I have to do to make you.
I’ll pull out every stop, I’ll say, “Is this the thanks a mother gets?” I’ll hire a translator and say it in Yiddish but you cannot leave me.
(Beat.)
TIM: I’ve
gotta go
JULIE: Why?
(Beat.)
TIM: Molly
JULIE: Molly!
TIM (A plea): Mom—?
JULIE: I demand that you stay.
I demand it.
(Beat.)
I know I have . . . made mistakes
TIM: But you haven’t
JULIE: I know I have but please?
TIM: . . . I
JEFF: Tim, I have reached that point where I’m willing to break any promise I never made in the first place.
(Tim looks to Jeff. Beat.)
TIM: So like? Molly is . . . in a manner of speaking . . . pregnant?
(Consternation, exclamations from the women.)
JULIE (Scolding): Did you not use a
TIM: No
JULIE: Scotty? And you didn’t
TIM: Jeez this entire room is, like, obsessed with prophylaxis—
JULIE: I will not have two children succumb to
this dread plague
TIM: No one is succumbing to this dread plague! . . . I’m not / succumbing
JULIE: I could hit you right now, Timothy; I could
beat you up
TIM: I know.
(Beat. Julie tries to think what to ask.)
JULIE: Have you given any thought yet to
TIM: Of course I’ve thought about it, Mom
JULIE: Have you, have the two of you made any decisions?
TIM: . . . I can’t say we’ve decided anything.
JULIE: Have you weighed
TIM: We’re not either of us decisive people. Persons.
A person. Neither of us is a
JULIE: It’s time that you become
JEFF: For Christ’s sake, she’s eight months pregnant!
(Beat.)
JULIE: Is this true? She’s eight months pregnant?
TIM: Yup.
Eight months.
(Beat.)
Nine, actually.
JEFF: Nine?
TIM: Yeah. I don’t know why I shaved off that month.
(Everyone takes this in.)
He was born sixteen days ago.
(Lots of reactions.)
JEFF: Is that true?
TIM: Yeah, that one’s true.
And he’s not a girl or anything like that. These are the facts.
JULIE: . . . So . . . where . . . what—
Has he a name?
TIM: Well, he’s a boy, so obviously we were gonna name him
Scott so obviously . . . we did.
JULIE (Soft): Oh . . . Thank you.
TIM: No problem.
JULIE: Well . . . where is he?
Where is this child?
TIM: He’s in Weehawken.
JULIE: Weehawken? / Oh, yes.
TIM: At my apartment in
JULIE: And is he . . . warm . . .
and do you feed him?
You know you have to feed him, right?
TIM: Yeah, oh yeah, absolutely.
He’s
on a liquid diet so far, he’s . . .
really cute.
But I’ve gotta get back and spell Molly ’cause she gets tired.
She had this baby sixteen days ago, which is tiring
and we’ve got this great downstairs neighbor who helps out and is really great with Scotty but he does way too much crystal meth so
JULIE: Bring the baby here.
TIM: . . .
I will
JULIE: Now.
TIM: Are you sure you’re constitutionally capable of
withstanding the
JULIE: NOW!
And his mother.
TIM: How do I—
FAYE: Get them. We’ll call a car service to meet you there. Bring the baby, bring the mother, bring the frankincense, bring the myrrh, just go.
TIM: Okay . . . okay.
Okay—okay.
(To Julie) Okay?
(She smiles at him. Nods.)
Okay.
(He runs out.)
FAYE: Oy. That one.
(Julie collapses into a chair. They rush to her.)
JEFF: Are you all right?
JULIE: I am.
Yes.
I’m strong.
JEFF: Can I get you some water?
JULIE: No, no. I don’t need it.
It’s been a large night.
There’s going to be a baby here
JEFF: It seems so.
JULIE: And I realize they turn into people and we all know how that goes but still . . .
it’s hard not to . . .
do you know?
FAYE: Sure. Even Shelley—sorry.
JULIE: I’m a grandmother.
I got to be a grandmother! . . .
I haven’t lost him . . .
FAYE: No.
JULIE: I don’t know. I don’t know . . . I’m racing, my mind is . . .
I’ve never believed in God and I’m certainly not going to start now.
But it’s so hard to resist thinking that some things are portents, do you know? Symbols?
JEFF: Sure.
JULIE: You were wrong before, Faye, when you said, what a way to start a century. The century doesn’t start for another week.
And last month’s political atrocity—that was the final enormity of the last century, not the first of the new one and something about . . . the way things are working out . . .
It’s making me believe that things are about to get so much better!
FAYE: Of course they are.
JULIE: And I don’t mind missing it.
Just trusting it will happen is enough.
Jeff!
JEFF: Yes?
JULIE: You have tons of money.
JEFF: I—not—tons, I—sure . . .
JULIE: Buy this apartment.
JEFF: . . . Pardon?
JULIE: You’ve always loved this apartment.
JEFF (Yes, but . . .): I have.
JULIE: Well, then!
JEFF: . . . But
yes, but
you don’t buy things just because you love them.
JULIE: Don’t you?
It makes so much sense.
After all you’re going to be taking care of Timmy.
And his family . . .
He’s the loveliest boy ever to trod the earth but he’s . . . What’s the word, Faye?
FAYE: Meshuggeh, or if that’s overused, there’s a host of others
JULIE: No. That will do.
Though I think he’s going to be fine now. I really do.
I see the most dazzling life for him.
But he’ll need some help bridging.
And of course that will be your responsibility, Jeff;
so you might as well all be under the same roof!
Don’t you agree, Faye?
FAYE: Absolutely.
JULIE: And you’ll come, too!
FAYE: Oh?
JULIE: You’ve used up Roslyn and you belong in the city
And there are so many rooms. You can fix them up! You can bring this place back.
And you can watch over Jeff as he watches over Timmy and Molly and Scotty—
Timmy and Molly and Scotty and Faye—it’s like a cummings poem!—
Jeff! You said Scotty would be back tonight and you were right!
Prophet! You’re a prophet unrecognized in—well, everywhere, really!
FAYE: You know, it’s not an orthodox setup by my generation’s way of thinking, but it makes sense. Times change.
JULIE: Yes, times change and new symmetries develop.
It makes so much sense!
JEFF: But
JULIE: And you really haven’t made any other arrangements, have you?
JEFF: . . . No.
JULIE: Oh—one fell swoop!
I’m not going to push you for an answer.
You can think about it while I get the salad.
It will take me fifteen seconds.
(She exits.)
JEFF: This is crazy.
FAYE: Nu?
JEFF: I doubt I could afford it even if I
FAYE: Just say yes
JEFF: But
FAYE: It’s not as if she’s gonna know.
(Julie returns with salad.)
JEFF: Yes.
JULIE: Oh, lovely. (She puts down the salad and hugs him)
Thank you.
This is such a nice ending.
Of course, I’m the only one who gets to end but it’s very nice for me.
FAYE: I have to call the car service; what’s the address of their manger?
JULIE: It’s in my book on the escritoire.
FAYE: I’ll get it. What a party you’re going to have, my darling.
JULIE: Oh yes.
What a beautiful Christmas this has turned out to be.
The best ever.
Everything’s so . . . promising. Isn’t it?
So hopeful
(She looks out, sees it.)
Yes . . . yes.
(Hold.)
END OF PLAY
RICHARD GREENBERG is the author of Three Days of Rain, Take Me Out, The American Plan, The Dazzle, The Violet Hour and many other plays.
The Assembled Parties Page 9