Dear Evan Hansen

by Steven Levenson

  CYNTHIA: And what was your alternative? Other than picking apart everything I did?

  LARRY: Putting him on a program and sticking to it.

  ZOE: No, you wanted to punish him.

  CYNTHIA: Listen to your daughter, Larry.

  ZOE: You treated him like a criminal.

  CYNTHIA (To Larry): Are you listening?

  ZOE (To Cynthia): You think you were any better? You let him do whatever he wanted.

  LARRY: Thank you.

  CYNTHIA (To Larry): When he threatened to kill himself the first time, do you remember what you said?

  LARRY: Oh for Christ’s sake.

  CYNTHIA: “He just wants attention.”

  LARRY: I’m not going to sit here and defend myself.

  CYNTHIA: He was getting better. Ask Evan. Tell him, Evan.

  (Evan freezes, the unmistakable sensation of his hands clamming up.)

  EVAN: I shouldn’t, um . . .

  CYNTHIA: Evan did everything he could.

  LARRY: Evan was in denial of what was happening / right in front of him.

  ZOE: / Don’t put him in the middle of this.

  CYNTHIA (Going to the computer): Read the note, Larry. Read what he said. “I wish that everything was different.” / He wanted to be different. He wanted to be better.

  LARRY: / I did the best I could, I tried to help him the only way I knew how, and if that’s not good enough . . .

  EVAN (Overlapping them): No . . . no . . . no . . .

  CYNTHIA: He was trying to be better. He was trying.

  LARRY: And he was failing.

  CYNTHIA: We failed him.

  (Evan can bear it no longer.)

  EVAN: No you didn’t.

  (They turn to look at him.)

  You didn’t fail him.

  CYNTHIA: Look at what he wrote . . .

  EVAN: He didn’t write it.

  (Long pause.)

  I wrote it.

  (Silence.)

  CYNTHIA (A ludicrous notion): You didn’t write Connor’s suicide note, Evan.

  EVAN: It wasn’t a . . . it was an assignment from my therapist. Write a letter to yourself. A pep talk. “Dear Evan Hansen: Today is going to be an amazing day and here’s why.”

  LARRY (Unable to make sense of this): I don’t think . . .

  EVAN: I was supposed to bring it to my appointment. Connor took it from me and I guess he must have had it with him when you . . . found him.

  ZOE: What are you talking about?

  EVAN: We weren’t friends.

  CYNTHIA: No. No no no.

  WORDS FAIL

  EVAN:

  I never meant to make it such a mess

  I never thought that it would go this far

  CYNTHIA: There were emails. You showed us the emails.

  EVAN:

  So I just stand here

  Sorry, searching

  For something to say

  Something to say

  LARRY: But you knew about the orchard. He took you to the orchard.

  CYNTHIA: That’s where you broke your arm.

  EVAN: I broke my arm at Ellison Park. By myself.

  CYNTHIA: No, that day at the orchard, you and Connor at the orchard . . .

  EVAN:

  Words fail

  Words fail

  There’s nothing I can say

  CYNTHIA (The truth finally beginning to sink in): Oh God.

  ZOE (Not easy to say): But you told me that he . . . that you would talk about me and that he would . . .

  (Beat.)

  How could you do this?

  EVAN:

  I guess . . . I thought I could be part of this

  I never had this kind of thing before

  I never had that perfect girl who

  Somehow could see

  The good part of me

  I never had the dad who stuck it out

  No corny jokes or baseball gloves

  No mom who just was there

  ’Cause mom was all that she had to be

  That’s not a worthy explanation

  I know there is none

  Nothing can make sense of all these things I’ve done

  Words fail

  Words fail

  There’s nothing I can say

  Except sometimes you see ev’rything you’ve wanted

  And sometimes you see ev’rything you wish you had

  And it’s right there, right there

  Right there in front of you

  And you want to believe it’s true

  So you make it true

  And you think

  Maybe ev’rybody wants it, needs it a little bit too

  (Zoe stands.

  She looks at Evan.

  She goes.

  Cynthia goes after her.

  Larry stands there for a moment.

  Finally, he, too, goes.

  Evan turns to see Connor there.

  The light slowly, very slowly goes out on Connor.

  And Evan is alone.)

  This was just a sad invention

  It wasn’t real, I know

  But we were happy

  I guess I couldn’t let that go

  I guess I couldn’t give that up

  I guess I wanted to believe

  ’Cause if I just believe

  Then I don’t have to see what’s really there

  No, I’d rather

  Pretend I’m something better than these broken parts

  Pretend I’m something other than this mess that I am

  ’Cause then I don’t have to look at it

  And no one gets to look at it

  No, no one can really see

  ’Cause I’ve learned to slam on the brake

  Before I even turn the key

  Before I make the mistake

  Before I lead with the worst of me

  I never let them see the worst of me

  ’Cause what if ev’ryone saw?

  What if ev’ryone knew?

  Would they like what they saw?

  Or would they hate it too?

  Will I just keep on running away from what’s true?

  All I ever do is run

  So how do I step in

  Step into the sun?

  Step into the sun

  (The Hansen living room. Evan enters to find Heidi sitting on the sofa, on her laptop.

  She looks up at him.)

  HEIDI: Have you seen this? The note that Connor Murphy . . .

  (Evan nods.)

  It’s all over everyone’s Facebook.

  (Beat.)

  “Dear Evan Hansen.”

  (She looks at him, the words familiar.

  Evan says nothing.)

  Did you . . . you wrote this? This note?

  (Beat.

  Evan nods.)

  I didn’t know.

  EVAN: No one did.

  HEIDI: No, that’s not what I . . . I didn’t know that you . . . that you were . . . hurting. Like that. That you felt so . . . I didn’t know. How did I not know?

  EVAN: Because I never told you.

  HEIDI: You shouldn’t have had to.

  EVAN: I lied. About . . . so many things. Not just Connor. Last summer, I just . . . I felt so alone . . .

  (He can’t go any further than this.)

  HEIDI: You can tell me.

  EVAN (Shakes his head): You’ll hate me.

  HEIDI: Oh, Evan.

  EVAN: You should. If you knew what I tried to do. If you knew who I am, how . . . broken I am.

  HEIDI: I already know you. And I love you.

  (Beat.)

  EVAN: I’m so sorry.

  HEIDI: I can promise you, some day all of this . . . this will all feel like a very long time ago.

  (Evan shrugs, not believing her.)

  EVAN: I don’t know.

  HEIDI: Your dad . . . do you remember the day he drove by to get his things?

  (Evan shakes his head.)

  It was a few weeks after he moved out. “T
emporarily,” we said . . .

  SO BIG/SO SMALL

  HEIDI:

  It was a February day

  When your dad came by before goin’ away

  A U-Haul truck in the driveway

  The day it was suddenly real

  I told you not to come outside

  But you saw that truck and you smiled so wide

  A real live truck in your driveway

  We let you sit behind the wheel

  Goodbye, goodbye

  Now it’s just me and my little guy

  And the house felt so big

  And I felt so small

  The house felt so big

  And I felt so small

  That night I tucked you into bed

  I will never forget how you sat up and said:

  “Is there another truck comin’ to our driveway

  A truck that will take Mommy away?”

  And the house felt so big

  And I felt so small

  The house felt so big

  And I . . .

  And I knew there would be moments that I’d miss

  And I knew there would be space I couldn’t fill

  And I knew I’d come up short a million diff’rent ways

  And I did, and I do, and I will

  But like that February day

  I will take your hand, squeeze it tightly and say:

  “There’s not another truck in the driveway

  Your mom isn’t goin’ anywhere

  Your mom is stayin’ right here”

  Your mom isn’t goin’ anywhere

  Your mom is stayin’ right here

  No matter what

  I’ll be here . . .

  When it all feels so big

  ’Til it all feels so small

  When it all feels so big

  ’Til it all feels so small

  ’Til it all feels so small

  (Evan goes.

  His mother lets him go.)

  You’ll see. I promise.

  (Heidi exits.

  Life goes on.

  Hearts break and mend and break once more.

  Time does its work.

  Slowly, the sky begins to open.

  It is enormous.

  A vast green field.

  As far as the eye can see: rows and columns of wooden stakes planted in the grass.

  Tied to each stake, a small, spindly tree.

  An orchard.

  Zoe, sitting on a wrought iron bench, waits, nervous.

  After a moment, Evan enters.)

  EVAN: Hey.

  ZOE: Hi.

  (They smile, a bit awkward.

  Beat.)

  EVAN: How are you?

  ZOE: Good. Pretty good.

  EVAN: You graduate soon, right?

  ZOE: In two weeks.

  EVAN: Wow. How’s being a senior?

  ZOE: Busy.

  EVAN: I remember that.

  ZOE: How’s being a freshman?

  EVAN: Oh. Well. I actually decided to take a year off . . .

  ZOE: Oh.

  EVAN: Yeah. Try to save some money. Get a job. I’ve been taking classes at the community college. So I’ll have some credits to transfer in the fall.

  ZOE: That’s smart.

  EVAN: Yeah. We’ll see.

  (Beat.)

  In the meantime, though, I can get you a friends and family discount at Pottery Barn. If you’re looking for . . . overpriced home decor.

  ZOE: You know, not at the moment . . .

  EVAN: Well, if you change your mind . . . I’m only working there for a few more months, though, so the window of opportunity is closing fast.

  (They smile.)

  ZOE: I always imagine you and Connor here. Even though, obviously . . .

  EVAN: This is my first time. I mean, I’ve probably driven by it a thousand times. I just, every time I think about getting out of the car, I feel like . . . I don’t know. I just . . . like I don’t deserve to, I guess.

  (Beat.)

  It’s nice. Peaceful.

  ZOE: My parents, they’re here all the time. We do picnics, like, every weekend. It’s helped them. A lot, actually. Having this.

  (Beat.)

  EVAN: They never told anyone. About Connor’s, about the note. About . . . who really wrote it.

  (Zoe nods.)

  They didn’t have to do that. They could have told everyone. What I did.

  ZOE: Everybody needed it for something.

  EVAN: That doesn’t mean it was okay.

  ZOE: It saved my parents.

  (Pause.)

  EVAN: It’s weird. I um . . . over the fall, I found this, um, yearbook thing my class made in eighth grade. Most people did, like, collages of their friends. Connor’s was a list of his ten favorite books. I’ve been trying to read all of them.

  (Beat.)

  I know it’s not the same thing as knowing him—it’s not, at all, but, I don’t know, it’s . . .

  ZOE: Something.

  (Pause.)

  It’s been . . . hard. It’s been a hard year.

  EVAN (For him, as well): I know.

  (Beat.)

  I’ve been wanting to call you for a long time. I didn’t really know what I would say, but then I just . . . I decided to call anyway.

  ZOE: I’m happy you did.

  (Pause.)

  EVAN: I wish we could have met now. Today. For the first time.

  ZOE: Me too.

  (They look at one another for a long time.)

  I should probably . . .

  EVAN: Of course.

  ZOE: It’s just, exams are this week . . .

  EVAN: No, totally.

  (Zoe begins to go.)

  Can I ask you, though? Why did, um, why did you want to meet here?

  (A long pause.

  Zoe looks around.)

  ZOE: I wanted to be sure you saw this.

  (A beat, and Zoe goes.

  Evan takes in the immensity of all that is around him.

  Music begins slowly, softly underneath, as one by one the company begins to enter around him.)

  EVAN: Dear Evan Hansen:

  Today is going to be a good day and here’s why. Because today, no matter what else, today at least . . . you’re you. No hiding, no lying. Just . . . you. And that’s . . . that’s enough.

  FINALE

  HEIDI/ALANA/JARED:

  All we see is sky

  For forever

  We let the world

  Pass by for forever

  HEIDI/ALANA/JARED/LARRY/CYNTHIA:

  Feels like we could

  Go on for forever

  HEIDI/ALANA/JARED/LARRY/CYNTHIA:

  EVAN: Maybe some day, every-

  This way

  thing that happened . . .

  maybe it will all feel like

  This way

  a distant memory.

  Maybe some day no one will even remember about The Connor Project. Or me. Maybe some day, some other kid is going to be standing here, staring out at the trees, feeling so . . . alone, wondering if maybe the world might look different from all the way up there. Better. Maybe he’ll start climbing, one branch at a time, and he’ll keep going, even when it seems like he can’t find another foothold. Even when it feels . . . hopeless. Like everything is telling him to let go. This time, maybe this time, he won’t let go. He’ll just . . . hold on and he’ll keep going.

  He’ll keep going until he sees the sun.

  (People slowly begin to look around, to see one another, to find one another.)

  ALL (Except Evan):

  All we see is light

  Watch the sun burn bright

  We could be all right for forever this way

  All we see is sky for forever

  (Evan steps forward.)

  EVAN:

  All I see is sky for forever.

  (A moment.

  A suspension.

  Black.)

  END

  STEVEN LEVENSON is the book writer fo
r Dear Evan Hansen. His plays include If I Forget, The Unavoidable Disappearance of Tom Durnin, Core Values, The Language of Trees, and Seven Minutes in Heaven. A former Artist in Residence at Ars Nova and a member of the Roundabout Leadership Council, he worked as a writer and producer on Showtime’s Masters of Sex. He is a founding member of Colt Coeur and an alumnus of MCC’s Playwrights Coalition and Ars Nova’s Play Group. Honors include an Obie Award, three Outer Critics Circle Awards, a Drama Desk nomination, and the Helen Hayes Award. His plays are published by Dramatists Play Service and Playscripts. A graduate of Brown University, he is a member of the Dramatists Guild of America, Inc.

  BENJ PASEK & JUSTIN PAUL are the songwriting team behind Dear Evan Hansen. They wrote the lyrics for the musical film La La Land (Lionsgate), for which they received the Academy Award for Best Original Song for “City of Stars.” Previous musicals include A Christmas Story: The Musical, Dogfight, James and the Giant Peach, and Edges. Their film projects include the animated feature Trolls (DreamWorks), the live-action movie musical Snow White (Disney), and The Greatest Showman (FOX). Their television songwriting credits include The Flash, Smash, and Johnny and the Sprites. Honors and awards include an Academy Award, a Golden Globe Award, a Tony nomination, an Emmy nomination, the Drama Desk Award, an Obie Award, the Outer Critics Circle Award, the Lucille Lortel Award, a London Evening Standard nomination, and the Jonathan Larson Award. Both are graduates of the University of Michigan Musical Theatre Program and members of the Dramatists Guild of America, Inc.