Etiquette and Vitriol by Nicky Silver (classic fiction .txt) 📗

it up.

ARTHUR: This is garbage.

TODD: These are bones.

ARTHUR: So, a dog buried bones.

TODD: We don’t have a dog.

ARTHUR: Maybe your sister.

TODD (Sorting through the bones, on the floor): I think this house was built on a burial ground.

ARTHUR: So what?

TODD: Or maybe there’s been a murder.

ARTHUR: What are you talking about?

TODD: Or maybe these are fossils.

ARTHUR: Put them away.

TODD: I’m going to find out. I’m going to put them together.

ARTHUR: I’d like to talk to you.

TODD (Fitting the bones together): Talk.

ARTHUR: Your mother tells me . . .

TODD: What?

ARTHUR: She says you’re dying.

TODD (Ignoring Arthur, pulling more bones from the sack): Does she?

ARTHUR: She’s very upset.

TODD: Is she?

ARTHUR: Of course.

TODD: She registers it oddly.

ARTHUR: Listen to me.

TODD (Not looking): I am listening.

ARTHUR: She says you’re going to die.

TODD: We’re all going to die.

ARTHUR: Is it true?

TODD (Looks at Arthur): Is what true?

ARTHUR: Are you dying?

TODD (Returning to his work): No.

ARTHUR: Is this a joke? I don’t find it funny.

TODD: I never said I was dying.

ARTHUR: Your mother said—

TODD: I have AIDS. So what? I have no symptoms. I am asymptomatic. I’m healthy. I’m strong. I’m not dying.

ARTHUR: Is there something you want?

TODD: I’d like a Diet Coke.

ARTHUR: I’d like us to be close.

TODD: Uh-huh.

ARTHUR: I’d like us to be friends, Buzz. I’d like us to share things.

TODD: Such as?

ARTHUR: I don’t know. You’re my son.

TODD: Uh-huh.

ARTHUR: Buzzy, do you remember when you were ten? Your sister was eight. She was very sick, in the hospital. You were in a play in school. Do you remember that, Buzzboy?

TODD: What was the play?

ARTHUR: Oliver.

TODD: It was The Birthday Party, by Harold Pinter.

ARTHUR: Is that a musical about British pickpockets and lovable street urchins?

TODD: It’s about a man pursued by mysterious strangers on his birthday until he’s driven to rape.

ARTHUR: Really?

TODD: Yes.

ARTHUR: I remember urchins.

TODD: You’re mistaken.

ARTHUR: Who did you play?

TODD: The rapist.

ARTHUR: You were ten.

TODD: It was a private school.

ARTHUR: I never cared for Pinter. I like Oliver. I like a nice story with a song. Don’t you?

TODD: What’s the point.

ARTHUR: I left the hospital the minute your sister was out of surgery. The minute they said she’d be okay I rushed to your school to see the second act. I’d missed the first . . .

TODD: Thus your confusion as to the subject matter.

ARTHUR: You played a rapist?

TODD: In the sixth grade.

ARTHUR: That can’t have been healthy. But I remember, you looked so cute. I was standing in the back and I was so proud.

TODD: I raped with aplomb.

ARTHUR: Don’t sully the story—I remember it so clearly. I thought, “My daughter is safe, and my son is up there, on that stage, with all the other fathers looking and watching.” I felt we were close. It was a wonderful moment. Can’t we be again?

TODD: What?

ARTHUR: Close.

TODD: We’re close.

ARTHUR: No, we’re not, Buzzy.

TODD: Todd.

ARTHUR: Not really.

TODD: I don’t know what you want.

ARTHUR: I’m your father.

TODD: So?

ARTHUR: We should do things together. Why can’t you just try? Why can’t you try to be my friend. Let me in? Confide in me.

TODD: I want to take a nap.

ARTHUR: How did you get this?

TODD: What?

ARTHUR: How did you get this disease?

TODD: That’s none of your business.

ARTHUR: You can trust me, Buzz!

TODD: I don’t think so.

ARTHUR: Try me!

TODD: I sat on a dirty toilet seat.

ARTHUR: I’m asking.

TODD: I ignored a chain letter.

ARTHUR: I want some rapport. When you were little we had catches, we had fun. Remember Sundays? They were your day. They were Buzz-day. Let me in.

TODD: I fucked men.

ARTHUR (After a moment): Why?

TODD: It feels good.

ARTHUR (Hopeful): But they didn’t fuck you?

TODD: It feels great. It feels better than great.

ARTHUR: It’s all right. I’m not shocked.

TODD (As he continues, he speaks without anger): I fucked prostitutes I picked up on the street.

ARTHUR: That can’t have been healthy.

TODD: I fucked women and men in bathrooms. In beds. On rooftops, in subways and basements and attics.

ARTHUR: I understand.

TODD: I took their fists up my ass and their cum down my throat. I gave blow jobs to people I never met, in dark rooms crowded with strangers. I buried my face in their asses, suffocating. I jerked off strangers, and wiped their cum on my face. And I knew what I was doing. I knew it was “not safe.” And knowing drove me on. I was killing myself night after night. You want some rapport? Well, I can do nothing more to please you.

(Pause.)

ARTHUR: Why are you here, Buzz?

TODD: This is my family.

ARTHUR (After a moment): I feel good about our talk.

(Todd reaches into the sack and pulls out a dinosaur skull.)

TODD: Look.

ARTHUR: What?

TODD: It’s a dinosaur! (He holds the skull up to show Arthur)

ARTHUR: I’ll see you at dinner. (He exits)

TODD: (Addressing the audience): I was ten and, the night before the play, my mother came to see me.

(The lights shift, in either angle or color. Todd lies down on the sofa. Grace enters. She carries a drink.)

GRACE: Todd? (No response) Todd, are you sleeping? (No response) Todd!

TODD (Groggy): What?

GRACE: Are you sleeping?

TODD: Mommy?

GRACE: Are you?

TODD: No.

GRACE: That’s good. I didn’t want to wake you.

TODD: What time is it?

GRACE: Two-thirty.

TODD: What do you want?

GRACE: Would you like me to run your lines?

TODD: I want to sleep.

GRACE: Are you nervous about tomorrow?

TODD: No.

GRACE (Sitting): You’re going to be wonderful. I was in plays when I was a girl. You and I are just alike. I’m sorry I won’t be there. You know what’s going on, don’t you?

TODD: I think so. You’ve crept into my room in the middle of the night.

GRACE: I meant with your sister.

TODD: Oh yes. She ate a shoe.

GRACE: That’s right. And it’s stuck in her stomach. It’s stuck in her bowel, and they have to operate to get it out.

TODD: Why’d she eat it?

GRACE: I have no idea. I don’t understand anything she does. She’s five.

TODD: She’s eight.

GRACE: There were beets in the fridge. Perfectly good, delicious beets.

TODD: I hate beets.

GRACE: Me too. We’re just alike.

TODD: They make me sick.

GRACE (After a moment):