American Pies, Happy Lives, Blue Skies And Other Lies. David W. Christner This ebook available in following formats: Web version
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ACT I, SCENE I SCENE: The interior of a lovely American home in a fashionable section of Cambridge, MA is visible on a dimly illuminated stage. Four rooms are at least partially visible--a master bedroom and nursery upstairs; downstairs there is a dining room and an adjacent den/family room. In the dining room the table is set elegantly for three with fine crystal and china, and in the den a gun case is visible along with a bar and an abundance of green plants. The flavor of the furnishings in the house is distinguished by an air of patriotism. In the dim light, VOICES can be heard coming from the bedroom. SAM (impatiently) What’s wrong? ANGEL (irritated) Nothing! Nothing’s wrong! (Bed sounds, silence, then:) SAM You’re not concentrating. ANGEL I shouldn’t have to concentrate; it’s supposed to be natural. SAM Then be natural. ANGEL I can’t. SAM Why not? ANGEL I’m concentrating. SAM Jesus! (SAM switches on a bedside lamp, and the lights come up. He is in bed with ANGEL, his wife. Both are about thirty. He is plump; she, thin, a very attractive blue eyed blond, cut from the Miss America mold.) SAM What the hell? ANGEL I’m sorry, Sam, but I just can’t do it like this. I have to feel something. SAM (grabbing her hand) Feel this. ANGEL (jerking away) Stop it! (She gets up, slips on a robe, and goes to her dressing table.) SAM Come here, baby. Come to uncle Sam. ANGEL No! This is insane; there isn’t time; I’m nervous. And I don’t understand why you came home demanding sex. SAM There’s plenty of time. ANGEL (checks time) No, there isn’t. He’ll be early. I remember that; he always came early. SAM That’s too bad. ANGEL He always arrived early. SAM Oh, well, he won’t be early tonight. (A beat.) Nine years is a long time. You don’t even know what he’s like now. He could have changed. Come here. ANGEL No. SAM Angel. Baby. ANGEL Why? Why? SAM I want you. ANGEL Why now? (Silence.) I know why . . . you want him to catch us, don’t you? That’s it, isn’t it, Sam? SAM What are you talking about? ANGEL Oh, I see it clearly now. You want to answer the door while you’re pulling up your pants so he’ll know. You want to rub it in. SAM He does know. We’re married. ANGEL But you have to rub it in. Don’t you? SAM You’re crazy! ANGEL Why do you hate him so much? SAM Hate him? (SAM rises and puts on a robe.) SAM Hate him! We grew up together, went through hell together. See these? (Displays scars on back of legs and buttocks.) I owe him my life! ANGEL (snaps) So do I. SAM What is that supposed to mean? ANGEL Just that if it weren’t for Tom Charles, I wouldn’t be where I am today. SAM And just where is that? ANGEL Under the limitless blue skies of Cambridge, Massachusetts. SAM You go to hell! ANGEL I already have! SAM God, I see you’re going to be your own sweet self tonight. ANGEL I’ll try. SAM I don’t give a damn how you treat me, but the least you can do is to treat Tom like a guest. ANGEL Because he’s such a dear friend? SAM Yes! Because he’s a friend, an old and dear friend. ANGEL Then why didn’t you see him before now? Why did you wait all these year to get together with your old and dear friend Tom? SAM You know why. Because--because I didn’t know how he’d react to my-- ANGEL Marrying me? Marrying his girl, his lover? SAM You weren’t his girl when I married you, Angel. You weren’t anybody’s girl, or is that what you were-anybody’s girl? ANGEL (hurt, reflectively) No, I guess I wasn’t Tom’s girl. If he had wanted me, he would have come home. SAM You just keep that in mind tonight. Okay? (ANGEL just stares at him.) SAM Anyway, I lost contact with him when I got back. I didn’t even know where to begin looking for him. ANGEL Or you didn’t want to find him. SAM Because of you? ANGEL No, because of you. Or him. SAM Don’t be ridiculous. TOM was my best friend, the best friend I ever had. ANGEL Was? Had? SAM Is! Okay? Have. ANGEL Okay. (A beat.) He certainly has you upset; I’ll say that for him. SAM Me? What about you? When you can’t even screw there’s definitely something wrong. And I’m not upset--just anxious. ANGEL To see your dear friend, Tom? SAM Yeah, yeah! To see my friend, Tom. Okay? (ANGEL just smiles.) Angel, you don’t know what war does to men-being that close to dying, to have your friends dying all around you. It--it means something; it . . . I can’t explain it. It’s something you have to experience, something you have to live through. ANGEL Sam, please, spare me the macho Hemingway bullshit. Before- before Tom stopped writing he told me what the war was like for both of you. Until the TET offensive you’d had a pretty easy time of it. SAM That’s a lie! We were into all kinds of bad shit from day one. He--he just didn’t want you to worry. ANGEL (bitterly) Ha! Didn’t want me to worry. He didn’t give a damn whether I worried or not. SAM What else did he tell you . . . before he stopped writing? ANGEL (hard, then nearly breaking) Oh, he wrote often of his love and adoration for me. Of plans for our future, of how we would love each other, grow old and finally die together because neither of us would want to go on living without the other. (A beat.) He had a way with words. SAM Things changed. ANGEL Dammit, I know that! And I want to know what changed them. I want to know what happened over there! SAM A war happened, a great big beautiful war. The men that left here weren’t the same ones that came back. Some men it made better, some-- ANGEL It made you better? SAM It made a man out of me, made me grow up. ANGEL And what did it do to Tom Charles? He was already a man. What did that "great big beautiful war" of yours do to the men that didn’t need to grow up? SAM I don’t know. Ask Tom. ANGEL I intend to. SAM Well, let me tell you something first, for your own good. ANGEL Something about Tom? SAM And you. (A beat.) If he loved you, he sure as hell didn’t show it, not over there anyway? ANGEL Liar! SAM TOM had more whores than supply chits. ANGEL I don’t believe that . . . besides, why should I care? We weren’t married. I didn’t expect him to abstain from sex for a year. (A beat.) I didn’t. Did I? SAM (smiling) You sure didn’t. ANGEL Oh no, while your best friend, no--no, your--your war buddy was still in Nha Trang, you were shacked up with his best girl in Boston. SAM It was just one of those things. ANGEL Just one of those wonderful things--you got me pregnant! SAM And an abortion. Don’t forget the good part. ANGEL After we were married! SAM I didn’t want you to be stuck with a kid and a husband you didn’t want. ANGEL But you didn’t mind getting stuck with a woman you didn’t love, but also one that you still refuse to give up. (A beat.) Why did you marry me, Sam? (Silence.) To hurt Tom? Why? SAM Darling, I married you for love. ANGEL You don’t know what love is. You didn’t then; you don’t now. SAM What about you, Angel? You didn’t have to marry me. ANGEL But I did have to. I was pregnant. That was almost nine years ago; things were different then, and I was a respectable, if slightly tarnished, young woman from a good family. I had to that’s all. (A beat.) You don’t think I married you for love? SAM Why did you then? Or do you even know? ANGEL I know. I know all right. SAM My charm, huh? Or was it my body? Just couldn’t get enough of it, could you? (A beat.) At least there’s the money now-this house, the club, that BMW you drive, nice clothes. You could have done a lot worse. ANGEL You could have too. SAM Jesus! Why don’t we quit this? Nothing changes. ANGEL Only because you won’t let it. SAM And because you don’t want things to get better. ANGEL Better! Better than what? Sam, I can’t love a man that doesn’t love me and never has. SAM Does the tennis pro at the club love you? I know all about that, you know. Been working overtime on your backhand, Angel darling? ANGEL And I know all about your . . . lady friends. SAM You don’t know jack shit! ANGEL I know what I am to you--a receptacle, nothing more. SAM And you love it. ANGEL Like hell I do. I want . . . to be needed, cared for. There’s nothing here but sex. No need, no commitment-- SAM No, "love, sweet love." ANGEL Bastard! (A beat.) I have a surprise for you, Sam. SAM Great! I love surprises. ANGEL You won’t love this one. SAM No? ANGEL (sweetly) No. I’m pregnant, again. Surprise. SAM What? ANGEL I’m pregnant, knocked up, heavy with child. I’m going to have a little baby, a child. SAM How the hell could-- ANGEL It’s not yours. SAM Bitch! Slut! You’d better be lying. (SAM slaps her.) If you’re not-- ANGEL Not what? Pregnant? Or lying? SAM Whose is it? ANGEL I don’t know. Could be almost anyone’s. (He slaps her again.) SAM Liar! Whose? ANGEL Tom’s. SAM Liar! Bitch! Slut! Tell me the truth. ANGEL Yours. (SAM slaps her again and again. ANGEL is laughing and crying almost hysterically.) SAM Damn you! Bitch! Whore! ANGEL You talk so nice. SAM Shut up! (He thinks while her laughter/crying dies away.) Angel--Angel! Are you pregnant? Dammit, don’t you lie to me; I’m warning you. Don’t you lie to me. ANGEL (smiles) No. (Silence. Then:) SAM Fucking liar! By god, I’m telling you. This kid had better have blue eyes and my blood type. ANGEL What about skin? Almond? Chocolate brown? Yellow? SAM You’re such a sweet bitch. No wonder I love you so. ANGEL Don’t flatter me so, Sam. It just makes me all weak and wet inside. SAM I love you so. ANGEL You’re so good to me, always hitting me with your open hand. In all these years of marriage you’ve never left a mark. I really appreciate that. SAM I do what I can. We’re such a great team. (Checks time.) Almost seven. Shall we get ready to greet our guest? ANGEL Your guest, darling. He’s your friend. SAM But he’s an old friend of yours too, a close friend. ANGEL But not a war buddy; that makes a difference. SAM You bet it does. It’s like-- ANGEL Don’t try to explain. I wouldn’t understand. You have to live through that sort of thing. (A beat.) What are you going to wear, Sam? (Pause.) I know. Your uniform! Why don’t you wear your uniform just for old times sake? SAM I don’t think that’s necessary. ANGEL Yes, yes of course. Your uniform! Full dress with medals, Purple Heart, Cross of Gallantry, everything. That would be splendid. SAM No, Angel. ANGEL Are you ashamed, Sam? Sorry you defended American democracy from the yellow peril? SAM No! I’m not ashamed. ANGEL Wear it then. You look so--heroic; and I just melt when I see a man in uniform. You want to wear it; I know you do. You had the coat on just yesterday, studying yourself in front of the mirror. I saw you. Chest out, head up, chin down--is that the way it goes? I’ll put on some marching tunes, and you and Tom can march around, call cadence, just have a grand ole time. And I’ll even act like the whore that I am for you two soldier boys. SAM That’s enough! I’ll wear the uniform if it will make you shut up, but nothing else. No music, no marching. And you just be yourself--that’s whore enough for both of us. ANGEL I’ll be with the two men who would know best. (Silently they begin dressing. He drags a Marine dress uniform from the closet; ANGEL removes an ao-dai from her dresser. She places it on the bed as SAM almost unconsciously begins humming the Marine Corps Hymn. After a moment he turns and sees the ao-dai.) SAM What the hell is that? ANGEL An ao-dai; it’s what the women in Vietnam wear. SAM I know that! ANGEL Then why did you ask me what it was? SAM Where did it come from? ANGEL (checking label) Saigon. A shop called-- SAM Shit! Where did you get it? ANGEL From Tom. He sent it to me years ago. (She holds it up to her body.) You like soldier? SAM You’re not wearing it! I won’t have you looking like some gook whore. Not in my house. ANGEL Don’t tell me what clothes to wear. If you can play soldier then I can play my game too. SAM Jesus! Why tonight? Why did you have to drag it out tonight? ANGEL For Tom. I want to wear it for Tom, if he was so fond of Vietnamese women. And I want to wear it because-- because tonight is going to be a very special night. I can feel it. SAM Special? How? ANGEL Tonight is going to be special because I’m going to find out what happened over there. I’m going to find out why TOM didn’t come home, and why I married you instead of him. SAM TOM didn’t come back because he didn’t want to, because he didn’t want you. ANGEL I don’t believe that. SAM He’s not here is he? Hasn’t been here for nine years, has he? (Silence.) Angel? ANGEL No. No! He’s not!. (A beat.) And I want to know why. SAM You just keep your mouth shut. What happened over there happened to us; it happened to the guys who fought the war. ANGEL No. It happened to me too; it happened to all of us. How can you say it didn’t happen to us? We . . . what is it, Sam? Does this talk of the war frighten you? SAM No, it doesn’t frighten me. It’s just that--that some things are best not remembered. If Tom wants to talk, I’ll let him, but don’t push him. It would be hard on him because--because he was--different from the rest of us. He didn’t like--to talk about it. ANGEL Oh, I’ve never pushed Tom. If I had maybe he’d married me before he left, and-- SAM Well, aren’t you the lucky one? ANGEL Oh, I get down on my knees and thank God every night. SAM Is that what you’re doing down there? ANGEL You go to hell! SAM Show me the way, Angel. You seem to think you know it. ANGEL You know why I detest you so much? SAM Can’t be my charm. ANGEL Because you make me hate myself. You’ve made me such a bitch. SAM I have a knack for bringing out the best in people. ANGEL How about, Tom? Did you bring out the best in Tom? SAM (reflects, then) Oh, yes. I brought out the best in Tom, the very best. I made us both heroes--Tom terrific and Sam-- ANGEL The sham! SAM Very funny, Angel. ANGEL So, Tom’s a hero too? You never told me that. SAM I don’t like to talk about it. ANGEL What? The war! SAM Yeah! The war! I don’t like to talk about it. ANGEL But that’s practically all you ever talk about. Your glory days as a Cong killer. You’ve never mentioned Tom though, except in a derogatory sense. SAM That’s a lie! TOM . . . ANGEL TOM . . . what? SAM TOM was a good soldier; he just didn’t--fit all the time. I already told you he was different. ANGEL I know he was different. But you fit just fine, an exemplary grunt. SAM I did my job. ANGEL Which was what? SAM To do what I was told, to keep my mouth shut. To serve my country. I’m not ashamed; I can hold my head up. ANGEL To whom? SAM God, you are a bitch. You can’t see the good side of anything. ANGEL Good side! My God, Sam, you know how many kids on both sides died in that war? And for what? (The bell rings below.) SAM There he is. ANGEL You get it. I’ll be down in a while. SAM Don’t be long. I know he’ll be anxious to see you. ANGEL Oh, yes, I know he’s very anxious to see me--after all these years. SAM You just keep that in mind, okay? Nine years. Nine years! ANGEL I can count, Sam. Just get the door. SAM Don’t be long. ANGEL I’ll just give you boys a chance to reminisce about all those things a wife and former lover wouldn’t want to hear about. You know--man talk. I mean, Jesus, how many super bowls did you boys miss seeing together? (Bell rings again, longer.) SAM I’ll get the door now. ANGEL Do that, Sam. I’ll be down indirectly. (SAM goes below while ANGEL continues dressing. She sits down at a dressing table with her back to the audience and begins applying her make-up. Downstairs, SAM goes to the bar, pours some scotch, gulps it down, and starts for the door. The bell rings again. SAM hesitates at then door, then finally opens it.) SAM Tom! TOM Charles! Goddammit man! Come in; come in here! (TOM CHARLES, a thin sullen but attractive man of about 30 enters. Somehow he looks used, almost broken.) SAM Son of a bitch, it’s good to see you! Come on in. Get in here. Let me look at you for chrissake! TOM (woodenly) Hello, Sam. SAM Goddamn. Gooooodamn! You look. . . great, a little on the thin side maybe, but great. Let me get you a drink. Son of a bitch! Nine years. Nine fucking years! Haven’t changed a bit. TOM I’ve changed. SAM So, how has life been treating you? TOM Indifferently. SAM (at stairs) Honey. Honey! Come on down. He’s here. Tom’s here! (SAM goes to bar.) Scotch, Tom? Still drinking scotch? TOM Never did. Rum. You drink scotch. You and Hal, at least Hal used too. SAM Right, rum. You used to say, "Right as rum, right?" How could I forget? TOM Just slipped your mind, I guess. SAM Yeah, well . . . one rum-coco coming up. (A beat.) Hal drank scotch, yeah. How the hell is ole Hal? TOM Dead. SAM What? TOM He’s dead; ole Hal is dead as a boot. SAM No shit? TOM No. Dead! SAM How? TOM Mortar frag took his face off a month after you got out. SAM Goddammit, that’s rough. Lousy fucking war. TOM I thought you liked it, Sam? SAM No, no, I didn’t like it. I mean it was a war, the only one we had. You--you had to make the best of it. But shit . . . mortar frag, that’s rough. TOM He may be better off than a lot of us. SAM His family all right? Didn’t he have a wife, a couple of kids? TOM They got their check. . . and a flag. The government game them the flag that the box was wrapped in--no charge. SAM Well, that’s something. Ten grand, nothing to bitch about. TOM And they can use that flag for a bedspread, a beach towel, all kinds of things. SAM Look, Tom, I’m serious. TOM So am I. SAM The gooks didn’t give their people anything. TOM Gave’em hell. The same thing that we gave’em. SAM Still bitter, aren’t you? TOM Me? Bitter? SAM Shit, Tom, let’s not get off on that track. There’s been too much of that already. Let’s remember the good times. (SAM hands TOM a drink then pours himself another tumbler of scotch.) SAM To the good times. TOM Jesus! There were so many of them I hardly know which one to toast. To--all of them, all the good times. SAM (uncomfortably) Yeah . . . cheers. (Silence. Then:) TOM You look . . . fit enough, Sam. SAM Yeah, I’m fine, great. TOM Uniform’s a little tight though. SAM (pats his stomach) A hazard of the good life, I guess, but I can still squeeze into it. Once a Marine-- TOM Always a Marine. SAM Took the words right out of my mouth. TOM Sorry. (Silence.) SAM Damn! Nine years. Seems like a hundred. TOM Two. SAM Two? TOM Two hundred. SAM Yeah, yeah, two hundred. Time flies-- TOM Like a speeding bullet. SAM (nervously) Yeah, shit . . . too bad about Hal. TOM Especially for him. SAM Yeah . . . shit I can’t believe you’re really here, Tom. TOM I can’t either. SAM In the flesh. (A beat.) Jesus, Nam! We had some times, didn’t we? TOM Did we? (SAM gulps his drink and pours another.) SAM Goddammit, Tom, I’m trying to be civil. You called, told me you were in town. I--I invited you into my house, as an old friend, a war buddy. I wanted you to see Angel. Now what the hell? TOM You’re right. I’m sorry, Sam; I’m being a shit--nerves, I guess. Things have been a little rough. You understand. SAM Yeah, yeah, it’s all right. Sorry I flared up; I’m a little on edge myself. (Goes to stairs.) Angel. Angel! Hurry up. (To TOM.) Women. TOM Yeah . . . women. SAM So, how are things? TOM Which things? SAM You know, just--things, things in general. TOM We lost the war. SAM (confused) What? TOM The war. The one we fought in . . . we lost. SAM Yeah, yeah . . . I know. Jesus! (TOM surveys the surroundings.) TOM Nice place, Sam. SAM (shrugs) Thanks. It works for us. And at two hundred grand, believe me, it was a steal. TOM I bet. (A beat.) You’re doing all right then? SAM Hey, I’m doing a whole lot better than all right. I make a killing in the market every day--buy and sell, buy and sell, I get paid a commission for both regardless of what a stock does. (A beat.) It’s amazing what you can do with a few brains in this country. TOM And amazing what a few brains in this country can do. SAM Isn’t that what I just said? TOM Was it? SAM (lost) I thought so. Jesus . . . TOM You’re a broker, huh? SAM Yeah, right, a broker. Just started my own firm-- business thriving, bull market, money pouring in from all over. Let me tell you something. TOM A hot tip? Inside info? SAM No. Just a fundamental principle of our economic system. TOM Shoot. SAM If you’ve got it, it ain’t hard to make it. Cheers! TOM That’s what they say, all right. SAM It’s true. Absolutely. TOM Happy huh? SAM Happy? That’s not the word for it. TOM I didn’t think so. SAM I’ve got it all: beautiful wife-- TOM I know. SAM Lovely home, position, respect-- TOM All the ingredients of an American pie. SAM Yeah, right--what?! TOM An American pie. SAM I don’t get it. (TOM stares at him for a moment.) TOM Of course you don’t. It’s got you--and me and damn near everybody else. That’s the thing about an American pie. SAM Jesus, Tom! What the shit? What the hell’s an American pie? TOM Don’t you know, Sam? Some honor, or what we mistake as honor; some noble intentions, a sprinkling of twisted logic, a dash of fear, two cups of greed, power--lots of power, and a plausible excuse. Put it all together. Cover it with some palatable lies, simmer for two hundred years, and you come up with a Vietnam, or a Korea, or a Wounded Knee, or some other goddamn thing. (SAM just stares at him; he still doesn’t get it.) TOM Dig it, Sam! That’s what got me: swallowed too much pie, and I just got a small piece. But you. You’re still trying to swallow the whole damn thing, but you can’t. When you do that you become part of the whole. SAM Tom! What the hell are you talking about? American Pie? TOM You. Me. Angel. This country. Can’t you see that? SAM I can see that your mind is still somewhere out there in left field. What have you been reading anyway? TOM (sighs heavily) The Betty Crocker Cookbook. SAM I thought so. That American pie business sure sounds like a crock to me. (A beat.) Another drink? TOM I’m fine. You go ahead though. (He does.) How’s Angel? SAM Angel? Good. Fine. You know Angel. TOM Yeah, I know her. SAM I didn’t mean that. TOM Didn’t mean what? SAM That--that you knew her. I mean, I know that you knew her before . . . shit, forget it. TOM It’s a hard thing to forget, Sam. SAM I didn’t mean that! TOM I didn’t either. SAM No, I . . . anyway, Angel is fine, just fine. She’s not hard to please. TOM I know that too. (A beat.) You married well, Sam. SAM My charm, I guess. TOM Undoubtedly. SAM Shit it’s good to see you, Tom. I really mean that. TOM I’ve been looking forward to it for a long time. Seeing both you and Angel, re-establishing ties, making contact. (A beat.) I guess I owe her some kind of an explanation. Did you ever . . . SAM No, no! I never said anything--about that. I--I-- didn’t think it was my place to tell her. Of course she wondered what happened; she would naturally be curious, but . . . I just never said. TOM I appreciate that, Sam; I really do. It’s the least you couldn’t have done. SAM Goddammit, Tom! You keep playing these word games. I never know when you’re serious. "The least I couldn’t have done." What the fuck does that mean? TOM It simply means that you couldn’t have done more--and you didn’t. SAM Shit! TOM It’s the scotch, Sam. You do drink scotch. It has your mind all muddled. It’s perfectly clear to me. SAM Don’t try to explain. TOM I couldn’t if I wanted to, which I don’t. (Silence.) Did you hear about Captain Able? SAM No, no I didn’t. What about him? TOM He made Major. SAM Oh. (A beat.) That’s it? That’s all? TOM No, that’s not all. It was a field promotion. He attacked an NVA tank with a handful of grenades and his .45. SAM Jesus! And he made Major posthumously. That’s not funny, Tom. TOM Not funny? It’s hilarious--he took the tank, dropped a grenade down the hatch, just like John Wayne. Finished off the crew with his .45. SAM No shit? TOM True story. Got a Silver Star for his trouble. Would have won a Medal of Honor if he’d had taken even the slightest wound. SAM Some fucking guy--took a tank with a .45! No shit! You seen him? TOM Why, I wouldn’t go near him. But I understand he’s an instructor at the Academy--undoubtedly teaching Middies how to take tanks with .45s. SAM Even you’ve got to admit that took some guts. Jesus! TOM Sure as hell wasn’t brains. (SAM goes to stairs.) SAM Angel. Angel! Goddammit, get down here! ANGEL Coming dear. Is Tom here? SAM Hell yes! I told you he was. ANGEL Was? SAM Is! TOM is here, right here, right now, in the flesh. Now hurry up. ANGEL Don’t you mean down? SAM Okay, down. (To TOM.) Great sense of humor, that girl. TOM Terrific. (As a final touch ANGEL takes out a black wig and places it carefully on her head. Then she turns away from the mirror. She has made herself up to look like an Oriental, and in the wig and ao-dai she bears a striking resemblance to a Vietnamese beauty.) SAM Wait ’til you see her, Tom; she’s as beautiful as ever. Hasn’t changed a bit. (Looks up the stairs and sees her.) Jesus Christ! (Bolts up a few steps and grabs her.) What the hell are you doing? ANGEL Let me go! SAM Not like that. ANGEL Don’t cause a scene, Sam. You know how you hate scenes. And you don’t want to make our friend Tom uncomfortable. (She continues on down.) SAM Angel! ANGEL (ignoring SAM) Hello, Tom. (He turns see her and just stares.) SAM I--I guess she has--changed a little. TOM Angel. ANGEL Long time. TOM Yeah, long time. I . . . (He shrugs and looks away.) ANGEL You’re what? Sorry? TOM Yes, I’m sorry. At the very least, I’m very sorry. I should have called-- ANGEL Or written, or wired, or sent a runner, or a message by drums. You could have done something! TOM Angel, you don’t . . . understand. ANGEL I--"don’t understand." Of course you’re right; I don’t. I don’t even fully comprehend what it is that I don’t understand. How absolutely silly of me. Must be my sex; you know how daffy and gullible women are. SAM Angel! You’re not being very nice to Tom. (She composes herself for a moment.) ANGEL I’m sorry, Tom. I’m just--nervous. (Silence.) You look . . . reasonably well. TOM I am, I suppose--reasonably. (A beat.) The ao-dai looks lovely. ANGEL A gift from an old friend. TOM I know. The wig doesn’t do much for you though. ANGEL Really? SAM Angel! Easy now. ANGEL This is the first time I’ve worn the ao-dai. TOM It’s very attractive. Really. SAM Angel can wear anything with her figure. ANGEL What Sam means is that he likes to put me on his leash and take me out in public. Would you take me out like this, Sam? SAM Sure, on Halloween. ANGEL How about you, Tom? SAM He’s trying to be civil. Give him a chance. ANGEL (snaps) He had his chance! (Silence.) Well, isn’t this a delightful little reunion? A trio; I mean that in the carnal sense. A carnal trio. Sounds like a porno novel. You could write it, Tom. You do still write? TOM I still write. ANGEL Oh, no, you don’t. I forgot. You quit writing, at least to me. Where I was concerned, you never wrote another word. TOM Angel . . . ANGEL (hard) What? Angel what? TOM Let’s--keep it friendly. All right? ANGEL Friendly. Of course, we are old friends after all. I nearly forgot. You’ll have to forgive me. I’m sorry for the lapse of memory, but it’s just been so long. TOM You don’t have to be sorry. ANGEL But I do. I do have to be sorry. That’s what I do best is apologize. I’m sorry for this, sorry for that. I have so much to be sorry for. Mostly I’m sorry for myself, but that’s another story completely, one you probably wouldn’t want to hear. TOM Another time maybe. ANGEL Maybe. Say in another nine years. Or are you planning on dropping in on my life again before then? TOM I couldn’t say. ANGEL You, "couldn’t say." TOM (snaps) That’s what I said! SAM Why don’t you two knock it off? ANGEL (ignores SAM) I know what you said. You said you, "couldn’t say," but what I want to know is what it is that you can’t say. TOM There are a number of things I can’t say. ANGEL Anymore? TOM Anymore. SAM Well, shit, I think I’ll mosey over here to the bar and fix myself another drink. You folks interested? (A beat.) In drinks? ANGEL How about this one, Tom? "I can’t," no, no, "I don’t want to live without you." Can you say that anymore? TOM (looks away) I don’t have anyone to say it to. ANGEL Or, "I’ll never let you go." Remember that? TOM That was a long time ago. ANGEL (pressing) Do you remember? TOM Yes, I remember. ANGEL Do you say that anymore? TOM Angel, there’s something that you don’t know. ANGEL (bitterly) Oh, there’s plenty that I don’t know! (A beat.) Dammit! There I go again being a bitch. Forgive me, Tom. You’re our guest, having come all the way from . . . from where to see us. TOM Manhattan. SAM Shit, Tom! I didn’t know you were a New Yorker. TOM I’m not. SAM Oh. . . ANGEL So, how are things in, or is it, on, Manhattan? TOM I wouldn’t know. ANGEL Know what? Whether it’s on or in? Or know how things are in, or, on Manhattan? TOM Neither. Or both. ANGEL You clever boy. Isn’t Tom clever, Sam? SAM He always did have a way with words. ANGEL I was just saying that very thing earlier--that Tom always did have a way with words. SAM Right, Tom. She said it all right. I was right there in the room with her, upstairs, our bedroom. TOM What do you want, Angel? ANGEL Me? Why, I want . . . only to be the perfect hostess, of course. To please the man in my life, and the man not in it. SAM Shit! ANGEL (to TOM) What do you want? TOM I want somehow for you . . . to understand. ANGEL Dammit! For nine years I’ve been trying to understand. But how could I understand without hearing anything from you? TOM I should have come sooner; I thought that maybe Sam had said something. ANGEL Sam did! Sam said plenty. SAM Wait a minute, Angel. ANGEL But Sam has a way of dealing with the truth. SAM (covering) I--I told her the truth--that--that you went a little crazy towards the end. All that talk about us being the enemy, the gooks the good guys. You were all screwed up; that talk about getting out, joining up with the hippies when you got home. Then you wouldn’t even associate with your own Company, starting hanging out with the gooks all the time. You went Oriental, Tom. It happens, Angel. A guy gets mixed up with some chick, thinks he’s in love, marries her. She either won’t leave or can’t so he stays on--buys a bar, puts on a pair of thongs, eats nothing but rice and fish, maybe a little tofu and never comes back. Happens all the time--Hong Kong, Taiwan, Japan, the Philippines. TOM But that’s not what happened to me, Sam. You know that. Maybe I did go Oriental to some degree, but that’s not what happened. Don’t you remember? SAM No, no. I thought that was it. No shit. ANGEL Did you have a girl, Tom? A little Oriental flower? TOM I had a friend. ANGEL A friend? Sounds cozy. TOM It wasn’t like that. ANGEL No? What was it like? Tell me about her. Was she young? Or an older, but not necessarily wiser, woman? Long black hair like this? Small? Dark eyes I bet. Slight smile. Delicate features. Did you buy her drinks? Saigon tea? TOM She wasn’t a whore. ANGEL None of them are. Hey, soldier boy, buy me drink? Saigon tea? TOM (digs it) You go upstairs? You give number one blow job? ANGEL (rushes at him) Bastard! (SAM grabs her and tries to laugh the whole thing off.) SAM Hey, hold on there tiger. Told you about her sense of humor, Tom. And--and he took right to you, Honey. But let’s stop the game now or play something else. Freshen our drinks, Angel. (He practically drags her to the bar.) I’m drinking scotch, Tom, rum-coco. (ANGEL is all torn up inside now, breaking and trying to keep from breaking. She starts working on the drinks, and pours one for herself, a healthy shot of gin.) ANGEL I’m sorry, Tom. TOM So am I. ANGEL For what? TOM Everything. Nothing. (Gestures to room.) This. ANGEL No you’re not. (ANGEL gives TOM his drink then goes back to the bar where she climbs on a bar stool and crosses her legs provocatively.) ANGEL Is this the way they do it? (TOM refuses to answer.) SAM Well, this is a little more like it. Old friends getting together for a civil drink. Talking about old times. ANGEL (woodenly) Cheers. SAM Right. Right! Cheers! To Tom--and--and Angel. All of us. ANGEL All the happy people. (They drink.) ANGEL So, how have things been, Tom? SAM You have to specify which things you want to know about, Angel. I’ve already been down this road with Tom. ANGEL So, how’s your love life, Tom? SAM (under his breath) Jesus Christ! ANGEL Married? TOM No. ANGEL Divorced? TOM Never married. ANGEL Living with someone? Cohabitating? TOM A cat; I have a cat. ANGEL You have a little pussy around then? SAM Goddammit, Angel! ANGEL You stay out of this! SAM He’s our guest. TOM It’s all right, Sam. I don’t blame her. ANGEL (suddenly moved) Tom, you look terrible. What’s wrong? TOM What’s right? ANGEL "What’s right?" (Reflects, then:) Right is what you do with God’s blessing, or your government’s. TOM No, that’s wrong. ANGEL Is than an opinion or a definition? TOM Both. ANGEL I see. SAM I don’t! (A beat.) Jesus! Hey, look, Tom, what have you been doing since the war? Where the hell you been? TOM (dramatically) What-- have I been doing since the war? SAM Yeah, that’s what I asked. TOM Since the war, I have been--drifting--writing--and, somewhere along the line that I drifted along, I acquired a cat. SAM Writing, huh? ANGEL And drifting and acquiring cats. TOM One cat, a Siamese. ANGEL Pardon me. One cat. SAM What are you writing about, Tom? TOM People, places and things. SAM Good subject matter. ANGEL Jesus! SAM What--kinds of people? TOM Good ones, some that aren’t so good. Heroes--cowards. Grunts. ANGEL A book, Tom? Articles? Stories? A novel, what? TOM The great American novel, of course. ANGEL Has it got a title? TOM I call it War Games. SAM Never heard of it. TOM It hasn’t been published. SAM Oh, well--I’ll be looking for it. TOM I bet you will. SAM Did you put that chaplain in it? That crazy bastard-- what was his name? You remember, Tom. TOM Goodman. SAM Yeah, yeah, Goodman, crazy bastard! Did you put him in it? TOM No, I put a chaplain in it, of course, but not Goodman. None of my characters, you see, are based on real people, either living or dead. ANGEL Of course not. SAM Should have seen this guy, Angel. A chaplain, a man of God, you know, the clergy? ANGEL A preacher in uniform. I think I have it figured out. SAM Always packed a sidearm, and knew what to do with it. Said he’d blow Charlie to hell if he couldn’t get there on his own. Used to say the damndest things. (A beat.) Hey, and you could do him, Tom! TOM Hal did him. I couldn’t do him. (SAM shows some disappointment.) SAM No, it was you. I remember. Hal did Westmoreland; you did Goodman. Do him now; do Chaplain Goodman for Angel. She’d get a kick out of that. TOM I don’t do Marines anymore. SAM He was Navy. Come on, Tom. Do him for Angel. ANGEL You could always act, Tom. Give me another free show. SAM Yeah, do the funny stuff. God he was funny. Said he had a laugh for every bullet in Nam. Come on, Tom. TOM All right, all right. I’ll do one thing, but for you, Sam, not Angel. Just for you; Angel wouldn’t understand. SAM Okay, fine, but Angel can watch. TOM Sure. Angel can watch. (Tom goes to the dinner table, takes a white napkin and stuffs it around his collar. Then he takes up a position somewhere behind the bar, using it as a podium.) TOM You have to remember that my podium is constructed from empty ammo crates, my candle holders from expended recoiless rifle shells, and that my government issue religious icon is dual purpose, reversible--having the Protestant cross on one side, a crucifix on the other. SAM And that--that he’s packing a .45 on his hip. TOM That too. (Brief pause for TOM to get into character.) Now, if we might close this service with a prayer, but let me ask you not to bow your heads, but to hold them up high like the proud soldiers that you are-- SAM That’s it. Yeah--yeah, he used to say that. TOM (clears his throat) -- like the proud soldiers that you are for you have no reason whatsoever to hang your heads. Hold them up high so that you might see God, and so that God might see the shining faces of his young servants. Let us pray: Our most gracious and loving Heavenly Father, today we come to thee humbly, asking only that we might serve Thee while in the service of our Christian brothers in this pitiless and war torn land. We pray that Thou wouldst-- SAM "Wouldst." He was always saying shit like that. "Wouldst, Thou, Thine, Jesus! Go on, Tom, I mean, Reverend. TOM We pray that Thou wouldst give us the strength and courage so that we might dispatch-- SAM "Dispatch!" We didn’t even know what he was talking about - whether the VC were in dispatch or datpatch; remember that guy, Tom? From Mobile? Black dude! (TOM just stares at him.) Oh, sorry--Reverend. Go on. TOM --give us the strength and courage so that we might dispatch Thine enemies. We pray most humbly that we might make widows of Thine enemy’s women, orphans of his children. We pray that they might feel the sting of death and-- SAM (disturbed) Wait, Tom. TOM --the sharp edge of Thy sword. May the beast of fear enter their cold hearts, the pain of hunger touch their empty bellies. We pray that they may be left homeless and destitute, that they will be no stranger to suffering, not unacquainted with death. And may the souls of Thine enemies burn in everlasting hell, and may Thine Almighty hand crush his will to resist the love we offer. We beg also Dear Lord that Thine blanket of everlasting love and mercy cover Thine servants as they go forth to do Thine will. Protect them from the spears of the heathen, from the barbs of unChristian souls. And finally Dear Lord, in the loving name of our savior, Jesus Christ, our Lord, we beseech Thee that Thy will be done. Amen. SAM (confused) No, no. He--he never said that shit. That--that was all wrong. Goodman was funny! What he told us was funny. He made us all laugh, made a joke out of everything. TOM (removing "collar") Don’t you see, Sam? That was just the flip side of what he said, the unspecified, the consequences of having his prayers answered. SAM No, that’s not right; he was funny. He didn’t mean any harm. I mean--they were gooks he was talking about. They--they weren’t like us. Remember a--a "gook a day to pave the Lord’s way?" TOM That’s right! They were fond of dying, didn’t care about life. And they were yellow and had those funny looking eyes. SAM Yeah, yeah. And they ate such shit. And the whole country smelled. Dammit, Tom! You turn everything around. TOM I don’t turn things around, Sam. You do--you and Goodman and all the rest. SAM No, that’s not true. I . . . ANGEL Tom . . . Tom? What happened over there? SAM (anxiously) What about dinner? About ready, Honey? ANGEL Tom? (He doesn’t answer. Irritated with him, ANGEL starts to leave.) ANGEL I’ll check on dinner. (She exits to kitchen off dining room.) SAM I’m sorry about her, Tom. I don’t know what she’s trying to do--that getup. I didn’t even know she had it. TOM I sent her the ao-dai from Saigon. SAM Yeah, that’s what she said. TOM I sent it before you married her. SAM Oh, yeah, yeah, I understand that. I didn’t mean anything. It’s . . . okay. Another drink? TOM I’m fine. SAM Don’t mind if I have another? For the nerves. (A beat.) And I’m just so damn glad to see you. TOM I know what you mean. SAM Dammit! I mean . . . that I am glad to see you. TOM That’s exactly what I thought you meant. (TOM wanders over to the gun cabinet.) Yours, Sam? SAM Yeah, mine. Some--memorabilia from Nam. TOM I can see that. (A beat.) Funny, but--a lot of guys I know are trying to forget the war. I guess you never know what people are going to be interested in. SAM No, you never know. (ANGEL enters.) SAM All ready? ANGEL Two hours. SAM What?! ANGEL I forgot to turn on the oven; it will be two hours. SAM How could you? ANGEL Simple. There’s a little switch on the range; you distracted me when you got home, and I forgot to flip it. Sorry. So, you can have it raw, which you boys might like, or we can wait. Or, I could whip up a little fish and rice for you boys, just for old times sake. SAM No, none of that shit. I want the roast; we’ll wait. There’s plenty of booze, and it will give us more time to talk with Tom. Right, Tom? TOM Right on, ole buddy. It will give us more time to talk, time to re-acquaint ourselves with ourselves and each other. ANGEL Well . . . what shall we talk about? (Silence.) Did you notice the heat today, Tom. TOM I can stand the heat. SAM And the humidity. TOM Doesn’t bother me either. SAM Jesus! Hot and humid, just like-- TOM Nam? Is that what you were going to say? SAM Yeah, like Nam. TOM Don’t be afraid to say it, Sam. I understand. It was hot over there, hot and humid. That’s the truth. SAM Damn, I’ll say. And mosquitoes as big as your fist. TOM Rats and skunks, all manner of vermin. SAM Skunks? TOM Oh, yeah, they were all over the place. SAM Dammit, Angel! How could you forget the roast? ANGEL Oh, I just got all excited when you got home and completely forgot about it. I told you. (A beat.) More drinks? SAM She never was worth a damn at doing the little domestic chores around the house, but she’s-- TOM Great in the ole sack! I know. (SAM chokes on his drink; ANGEL glares at TOM.) SAM (forcing it) Jesus! What a sense of humor. You haven’t changed one bit. TOM Naw, not a bit. The same ole happy-go-lucky guy I always was. Maybe even more so. SAM Hey, I know all about that, about you two, remember? And what the hell! You can’t wear one of those things out . . . least of all her’s. Believe me, I’ve tried. ANGEL And you’ve had plenty of help too, Sam. SAM Hey, both of you--such characters. What a gang, our own little gang of stand up comics. Such humor I’ve hardly seen before. ANGEL Did Sam tell you that I’m pregnant, Tom? SAM Angel! TOM No, he didn’t mention it. ANGEL It’s true. There’s a beautiful little brown baby or yellow baby or red baby or white baby growing inside me at this very moment. TOM (uncomfortably) Congratulations. (A beat.) Your first? SAM Yes. ANGEL (simultaneously with SAM) No. TOM (confused) I’m sorry, I don’t understand. ANGEL It’s not my first, but it is his first, if it is his at all. SAM That’s a lie! You had a baby before. Why don’t you tell Tom about your baby? Tell our friend Tom. Show him the nursery. ANGEL You go to hell! SAM You shut up then. And quit acting like a slut; Tom’s liable to get the right idea about you. (They glare at each other through a long silence. Then ANGEL goes on.) ANGEL Well, Tom, you should feel honored that Sam and I can relax and just be ourselves even with you here; you haven’t upset the domestic tranquility that characterizes our lives together a bit. Most of the time Sam gets all uptight when his friends come over. SAM Tom isn’t just my friend, Angel. ANGEL Of course. You’re right. How could I forget? And I haven’t even given him a proper greeting. (She goes to TOM and kisses him hard on the mouth. Afterward he just stares at her.) ANGEL Did you feel the French influence? TOM (hard) Parlez-vous francais? ANGEL No, you see I’m not really Vietnamese, but I can do it the French way, if you’re interested. TOM What’s happened to you, Angel? ANGEL Me? (A beat.) A war. Sam. You. They all took their toll. TOM I’m sorry, I-- ANGEL Oh, I can see how sorry you are! SAM Goddammit, will you two just stop it? Let’s just . . . be mellow. Okay? ANGEL Laid back, Sam. Mellow was last year. (To TOM.) Sam just can’t keep up with the vernacular; he’s such a devoted husband he hardly has time for anything else, catering to my every whim. Now, I’ll just sit here by Tom, and we’ll get nice and laid back, but not too far back, of course, not in my delicate condition. Because that would complicate an already highly complicated situation, wouldn’t it? Oh, Tom, I didn’t even ask: You don’t have anything against Orientals do you? TOM Nothing at all. ANGEL I didn’t think so. And I know I’m safe with you. Because you would never do anything to degrade them, particularly their women, would you? TOM Angel, you don’t know what you’re talking about. ANGEL No? TOM Hell no! ANGEL Then why don’t you tell me all about what I’m talking about? (TOM doesn’t respond.) Sam told me all about your affinity for the Vietnamese ladies. I thought I would please you. SAM I--I just told her how you treated them; told her that you were nice to them. I never said how nice. And you did like their women; you said so, said you thought they were a beautiful people. TOM (To ANGEL) Yeah, I found Vietnamese women to be very attractive--when they weren’t made up like whores. ANGEL Well, pardon me, but when a woman gets treated like a whore, she eventually begins to feel like one. TOM I never treated you like a whore. ANGEL You left and didn’t come back; the only thing you didn’t do was to toss a few bills on my bureau. TOM I was going to come back. ANGEL But you didn’t. Why? TOM I couldn’t. ANGEL (screams) Dammit, why? I want to know why! (Silence. She looks at both of them.) ANGEL Damn you! Damn both of you. SAM Seen anymore of the guys, Tom. Evans? Thompson? I haven’t seen anybody for years. (No response from TOM.) Tom? TOM (woodenly) Thompson shipped over. He’s D.I. in San Diego. SAM Shipped over? Thompson? TOM That’s what I said--shipped over. SAM He’s the guy that couldn’t wait to get out; and he’s a D.I., giving those boots hell I bet. TOM That’s his job, to make men out of boys. (A beat.) Making boys out of men comes later. SAM What about Evans? I heard he took a hit after I got out, but I never did confirm it or hear how he made out. TOM Evans is in a V.A. hospital in Philly; they haven’t gotten him put back together yet. SAM That sucks. TOM Sorry you asked? SAM Yeah--no, I’m not sorry. Dammit, Tom, gimme a break. TOM What about me, Sam? You going to ask about me? SAM I already asked about you. And I can see--that you’re doing all right, getting along; you might be a little thin is all. TOM Right. I’m fine, a little thin maybe, but otherwise just great--considering. ANGEL (from bar) Considering what? TOM Considering . . . an unfortunate sequence of events. SAM (anxiously) What about--Mehan? Where’s Mehan? TOM Mehan is a short-order cook at a greasy spoon outside Dallas. About six months ago he made me a sandwich and gave my cat a warm bowl of milk. SAM Damn! Still cooking. (To ANGEL.) This guy--Mehan--was Charlie Company cook; we called him, "Cookie." ANGEL Was that your idea, Sam? SAM Yeah, he hated it though, but that’s what we called him. God, he used to put together some rank shit. Remember those rabbit burgers, Tom? Nobody knew what was in them, but he told us that it was rabbit and mule in equal proportions-one rabbit to one mule. He was a funny son of a bitch too. TOM Couple a guys nearly died laughing. SAM I don’t remember that. Anyway, not only could he not cook, but he never made enough of anything. And his girl -what was her name, Tom? TOM Cynthia. She’s his wife now, and she’s actually the one that made me the sandwich in Dallas. ANGEL You mean their romance wasn’t a casualty of the war? SAM His wife? No, shit. Anyway, she used to write him the wildest letters, and he’d read them to the whole company every intimate detail. Mehan, what a fucking guy. ANGEL Tom used to get lots of letters too. Didn’t you, Tom? TOM I got my share. ANGEL But you didn’t read them to the boys? TOM No. ANGEL I’m surprised. TOM I didn’t have to read them to the anybody. Everybody knew I- ANGEL Had a girl? TOM Yes, everybody knew that. ANGEL But they didn’t know that you were in love with this girl . . . because you weren’t. Never mind what you told that girl; that was just soldier talk. TOM I didn’t tell her anything that wasn’t true at the time. SAM Jesus! I gotta go to the head. (He exits.) ANGEL You did love this girl then? This anonymous author of these letters that you didn’t share with the boys. TOM Stop it Angel. ANGEL You didn’t love her? TOM Angel, please. ANGEL You did? Yes? No? Maybe? You just loved her in bed? What? TOM Yes, dammit, I loved her! ANGEL (bitterly) At the time? TOM At the time. ANGEL But something changed? TOM You know it did. ANGEL But I don’t know what. I want to know what! What changed? (TOM turns away refusing to answer.) ANGEL Tom . . . please. Tell me. TOM I did. I changed; the war changed me. ANGEL (acidly) Oh, my poor wounded soldier, living through all that Hemingway slop. Poor Jake, poor Bret, poor Papa. (A beat.) Can’t you be honest with me? TOM No, I can’t. ANGEL I know what’s wrong with you. You’re just like he is, like Sam. You loved it; you adored it. You were so sure you’d hate it--gentle, sensitive Tom. You were sure you’d hate the filth and misery and the killing and the degeneracy, but, no, no, you loved it instead, loved every minute of it. For you it held all the romance of all the war movies and novels that you’d ever seen and read. I’m sure the war still holds your fondest memories- -the girls, the bars, the escapades, the camaraderie. What a bunch of crap! TOM You don’t know, Angel. You just don’t know. ANGEL Of course, I know. You loved it, loved everything about it; you just can’t admit that to yourself. TOM I detested it, hated it! ANGEL You loved it! TOM Dammit, Angel, I hated it! ANGEL You loved it! Admit it! Be honest with yourself: Men love war. TOM Stop it! ANGEL No, I won’t stop! Face it. You loved it; you love war. You’d like to go back. TOM (grabs her) Goddammit, I hated it! Hated what we did, hated being part of it. (Suddenly he pulls her against him savagely; they cling to one another for a long moment.) Angel . . . didn’t you read my letters? Couldn’t you feel my pain? ANGEL (confused) Yes, I felt it. TOM Then you must have known how I felt, what I felt. ANGEL I thought I did, but then--then you didn’t come back. You never came back; the letters stopped and you disappeared. Then I didn’t know what to believe--about the war, about you, us. TOM I loved you, Angel. Christ I loved you. (They kiss hard, passionately; TOM finally breaks away and walks off.) ANGEL What is it? TOM Sam. He’ll be back. ANGEL I hate him. TOM You married him. ANGEL I still hate him. TOM Why? ANGEL Because he corrupts everything he touches. TOM Why did you marry him? ANGEL Don’t you know? (He has a hard time looking at her now.) Because you didn’t come back. TOM God, Angel . . . this is all crazy. What am I doing here? ANGEL Hold me, Tom. Just hold me for a moment--please. (He goes to her and wraps her in his arms.) I don’t think I ever stopped loving you, not really. There were times, plenty of times, when I hated you for leaving me, but what I felt for you wouldn’t die. Not even Sam could kill that. Tom, there still time-- TOM Oh, Jesus, Angel, don’t. Please. ANGEL Why? (A beat.) I don’t understand. (SAM wanders back into the room from the head; he is pretty drunk by now.) SAM Well, isn’t this sweet. I’m glad to see that you two are getting on a little better now. ANGEL I love him, Sam. SAM (not threatened at all) Goddamn, Tom! You must have really turned on the old charm. I walk out of the room to take a leak, and my wife falls for you. I guess this means that you were getting it on, instead of just getting on just now. You work fast. ANGEL I never stopped loving him. And I never started loving you. SAM Well, now, I find that somewhat surprising . . . considering. ANGEL That I married you? SAM That’s a good point. ANGEL I married you for the same reason that you married me: To hurt Tom. He left me; the only way I had to get back at him was to marry you. I’ve never loved you. SAM Now I find that interesting, considering how you love to get down on your knees and-- ANGEL You shut up! SAM Or is it just my body that you can’t do without? (A beat.) You’ve got to watch her, Tom. She’ll treat a man like a sex object. ANGEL Take me away from this, Tom. Please take me away. SAM Go ahead, Tom. Take her, but keep this in mind: she’s a hard woman to keep satisfied. She just can’t seem to get enough of it. TOM You go to hell, Sam! You go goddamn straight to hell! SAM What’d I do, Tom, touch a soft spot? TOM Screw you, Sam! SAM I’m ready. What are friends for? TOM I didn’t come here for this. I swear I didn’t, but don’t push me, Sam, or we’ll play war games. I don’t want . .. to hurt you. That’s not what I’m here for. I came here to-- SAM I’m not afraid of your games. TOM Let’s play then. Let’s play, "Sam in the bunker." Want to play that one, Sam? SAM Hey, can’t you take a little ribbing, a joke, just for old times’ sake. (Crosses to ANGEL.) Why, I adore this little angel; I wouldn’t let her go for anything, not even for an old friend. Not with her about to give me another beautiful baby. TOM I thought there wasn’t a baby. SAM Of course, there’s a baby. Isn’t there, Angel? ANGEL No, we’ve never had a baby. SAM What? Why, what’s that we keep up there in the nursery then? ANGEL Hopes. Dreams. Memories. Nothing that you know anything about. SAM Because you won’t share them. ANGEL You’re damn right I won’t, not with you. Because all you’d do is corrupt them! SAM There will be plenty of room for a new baby then. A sweet innocent child. My own flesh and blood. ANGEL She’s not yours. I already told you. SAM Angel! Tom’s going to get the impression that your moral fiber is--somewhat frayed, talking like that. Why you’re as faithful as a--as a bitch in heat. And dressed like that too. He’s going to take you for some gook whore. (A beat.) But you wouldn’t mind that, would you Tom? ANGEL You’re such a shit. SAM I try to be sociable. I cooperate. ANGEL Then why don’t you play war games with Tom? I think I’d like to see that. Tom? TOM No, no, I don’t want to play. I shouldn’t have brought it up. ANGEL Come on, Tom, play. SAM I know what we can play! (Pushes ANGEL to the bar.) Let’s play the bar girl game; it’s a variation on a theme, and Tom already knows how to play. You sit here, Angel; you’re the bar girl, obviously, and you be the handsome soldier, Tom. I’ll direct. ANGEL I don’t want to play. SAM Yes, yes, come on. I insist. And you might learn something. First, we need music--some period piece. (SAM goes to boom box and inserts a tape of Black is Black I Want My Baby Back.) Oh, that’s just right--perfect. But there’s too much light. (Dims lights.) Better. Much better. Okay-Angel, you’re the whore, pardon me, the bar girl. And, Tom, is, of course, the handsome soldier like I said before, number one virgin from midland U.S.A. (Thinks, then:) Imagine there’s this big overhead fan- whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, a few mosquitoes, and the faint smell of something . . . burning. Ready? Let’s begin. Tom you enter from over there, and just say what I say, you too, Angel. You just came out of the bright sun, and you have to let your eyes adjust to the darkness. You spot him right off Angel--the handsome soldier, with money-and you give him a faint, somewhat provocative smile. Not too much because you don’t want him to think you’re a whore--yet. Come and sit down at the bar now Tom, away from her. You don’t want her to think you’re just interested in her body--yet. I’ll be the barkeep. (SAM takes station behind the bar.) Tom, you say: Sumbitch, some kinda hot out there. (Pause.) Say it. TOM Sumbitch, some kinda hot out there. SAM Saigon always hot afternoon. Even war stop because heat. Very bad. Drink handsome soldier? Just say beer, Tom. TOM Rum-coco. SAM Goddammit Tom! I said to say beer. TOM I don’t want a beer. I want a rum-coco. SAM Well, say, "beer," and I’ll give you a goddamn rum-coco! (A beat.) Say it. TOM Gimme a beer. SAM Okay, Tiger beer for number one handsome soldier. (SAM mixes a rum-coco and serves it to TOM. TOM takes a sip and looks at SAM.) TOM This is a rum-coco. SAM Goddammit, Tom, you’re really beginning to piss me off! Now quit fucking around with me. I’m warning you. (SAM moves down to ANGEL.) SAM Angel, you say: Tell handsome soldier buy Saigon tea. ANGEL (tight-lipped) Tell handsome soldier buy Saigon tea. (SAM goes back to TOM.) SAM (nods to ANGEL) Lady like you buy Saigon tea. TOM Tell her I’ll buy her a rum-coco. SAM Dammit, Tom! Nobody but you drank rum-cocos in Nam. Now play it right. Shit! ANGEL Easy Sam, it’s only a game. SAM But I want it to be played right. (A beat.) Okay, that’s better. We’ll go on. Now, again, Tom: Lady like you buy Saigon tea. TOM All right--gimme a Saigon tea. SAM Not you. Her! TOM You didn’t say that. SAM You know what I meant . . . fuck it! I don’t want to play if you’re not going to play right. ANGEL This is fun now. Let’s go on; we’ll play right. SAM (pouting) Tom won’t. TOM Give me one more chance, Sam. I’ll play right. SAM No you won’t. TOM I will--for you. I promise. SAM Okay. One more chance, and no bullshit. Make a proper response this time. (Pause.) Okay: Lady like you buy Saigon tea. TOM Okay, give the lady a Saigon tea. SAM That’s better. (SAM serves a drink to ANGEL.) SAM Angel, now you move on down here next to the handsome soldier. (She does.) Good. Good. Nice movement; you really know your stuff. ANGEL I’ve had lots of practice. SAM I can see that you have. Sit down next to him now and thank him. ANGEL Thank you Saigon tea. TOM I’m a soldier, not a drink. You mean, thank you soldier for the Saigon tea. SAM Don’t get grammatical, Tom. Just play along. (A beat.) Ask him where he’s from, Angel. ANGEL Where from handsome soldier? TOM America. North. The United States. SAM Shit! (SAM is clearly angry now.) TOM Kansas! I’m from Independence, Kansas ma’am. How ’bout chew? ANGEL Vietnam. TOM No shit? SAM Wait a minute! He knows you’re from Vietnam, Angel. Christ! Where in Vietnam? ANGEL How the hell do I know? You didn’t tell me. SAM Hanoi! Just say Hanoi. ANGEL (yells) Hanoi! TOM (reflects, then:) Oh . . . that near here? ANGEL Closer than Kansas. SAM Knock it off. No bullshit. Ask him how he likes Vietnamese women. ANGEL Hey, number one handsome soldier from Independence, Kansas, how you like Vietnamese womens? SAM Tell her you like’em with big tits like hers. ANGEL I don’t like this game now. SAM Tell her! TOM (wavering) I--I like’em with . . . big tits like yours. SAM Rub against him now, Angel. Ask him if he’d like to see them, feel them skin to skin. ANGEL No! (SAM leans over the bar and grabs her hand.) SAM Ask him if he wants to fucky--fuck. Tell him you want to see what he’s got right there! (He forces her hand into TOM’S crotch.) TOM Goddamn you! (TOM jumps up and smashes SAM in the face. SAM goes down behind the bar, unconscious. TOM starts to go after him, but is restrained by ANGEL.) ANGEL Leave him alone, Tom; he’s out. He’s drunk and sick. TOM (To SAM) By god you keep it up and we’ll play my game before this night is over! You hear me. Get up you lousy bastard! (TOM pulls away from ANGEL and comes downstage. In a moment she follows him, taking his arm.) ANGEL I’ll go away with you, Tom. I’ll pack a bag and leave right now. (He laughs bitterly.) TOM . . . I mean it. I’ll leave him. TOM Angel, I don’t even have a place to take you. You know where I live? Nowhere. What I do? Whatever it takes to keep me alive for another week. I drift, I exist . . . why? I don’t even know why I go to the trouble. (ANGEL touches his shoulder.) ANGEL I won’t be a burden; I can carry my share of the load, live anywhere, do whatever I have to do. (TOM goes to the dinner table.) TOM Waterford crystal, sterling, fine china, real roses. It all has a way of getting under your skin. After a while you tend to think that you deserve it. You couldn’t give it up so easily. ANGEL They’re all for show, for Sam and his friends; it’s like they’re having some huge contest. They mean nothing to me; symbols of something I don’t even care about. I could give them up. TOM (bitterly, starting to break) If you gave them up for me you’d be giving them up for nothing. Because that’s what I am--nothing. Not even a man. ANGEL I . . . don’t understand. TOM Angel, I want to love you; I do love you, but I can’t love you. ANGEL Why not? What’s wrong with me? TOM It’s not you, Angel. It’s me. ANGEL Then what’s wrong with you? (No response.) Can a war so change someone? TOM It did me. ANGEL Tom, the war was horrible for all of us; you changed, I changed, the entire country changed, except maybe for Sam. But in spite of those changes you have to go on living. You can’t lock yourself away in a cloak of unresolved guilt; you can’t live with the memories that you had nothing to do with making. Get out of this sullen hole. Live again! Love someone! Love me! TOM I can’t, Angel. ANGEL Then I pity you. Because if you can’t love, you don’t have anything to live for. TOM I’m very well aware of that. (A beat.) Who do you love, Angel? What do you live for? ANGEL For almost nine years I didn’t think I loved anybody, least of all myself. And malice is what I’ve lived for during that time. I married Sam and stayed with him all this time waiting for this moment, the moment you came through that door. I wanted to hurt you because you deserted me, but I only hurt myself. I should hate you; I have every reason to hate you. Look what you’ve done to me, you and Sam. I’m a bitch. Cheerful, optimistic, Angel, the girl that used to love just getting up to see what every new day would bring, the girl with unlimited potential for doing something good, something useful. Even when you left for Vietnam I felt good because I knew that you were really still with me in an important way. Then that feeling went away; it went away when you did, and everything came crashing down around me. Dreams die hard, Tom, and when you find you don’t have any anymore, you have to replace them with something else. With malice or anger or hate or a self destructive kind of cynicism. I went so long without feeling anything good that I didn’t know if I had that capacity in me any longer. But you’ve shown me that I do. It isn’t all lost yet. (She touches his face.) TOM God, Angel, don’t. Please. ANGEL Why? Why are you rejecting me? (He turns away from her.) Tom, I’m reaching out for you, trying to make some kind of human contact. Why can’t you hold out your hand? TOM Don’t you know? Don’t you know what happened to me over there. (A beat.) When Sam pushed you hand into my crotch what did you feel? ANGEL Nothing. I didn’t . . . feel anything. (A beat.) Oh, my baby. My poor, poor baby. How could they do that to you? How could they do it to anyone? TOM (woodenly) With no trouble at all. ANGEL Oh, god . . . dammit! TOM That’s why I didn’t, couldn’t, come back; why you didn’t hear from me. I wanted you to think that I was dead, because I was--am. Only they wouldn’t let me die like I wanted to. Chaplain Goodman was very kind, very understanding. He explained to me how I should feel honored to make such a sacrifice for my country--as if democracy in Asia depended on my balls. Goddamn him! Goddamn them every one! (TOM breaks, cries. She cradles him then takes his hand.) ANGEL Come with me. TOM I can’t. ANGEL Yes. TOM Where? ANGEL To my room. TOM I can’t. No. I--don’t want you to see me. ANGEL Tom, just touch me, hold me. I have to have you hold me. TOM Angel, I . . . ANGEL Please. Come with me. (She starts up the stairs, still holding his hand. He finally follows her reluctantly. As they climb the stairs the lights slowly fade to darkness. END ACT I.)

ACT II, SCENE I SCENE: The same an hour later. ANGEL is on the bed; she has on a slip. Her wig and Oriental make-up are gone; she is an American again. TOM is sitting on the edge of the bed, dressing. He is quiet, distant. As they begin talking, SAM gets up from behind the bar downstairs, shakes his head, then stumbles off into the head.) ANGEL Tom . . . I feel so close to you. (No response.) It was good, Tom, so good--really. TOM But not--enough. ANGEL More than enough. (A beat.) You made me feel--whole, instead of like a hole. I feel good now, about you, about myself. And I haven’t felt good in years. If we were together we could work something out. TOM Work something out? For you, you mean, other men? Whole men? ANGEL Don’t spoil this moment; don’t be bitter. TOM "Don’t be bitter!" Goddammit, Angel, you don’t now what I feel . . . or what I don’t. ANGEL Tom, if I love you, and I think I still do, it’s because of what you are, not because of--of what you can do to or for me physically. I love another human being. Not an object. TOM But not a man. ANGEL You are a man, a man full of love and compassion. TOM And bitterness and hate and envy, especially envy. I envy every man I pass on the street--rich or poor, black or white, dead or alive. I’m not even a person anymore, and certainly not the person you fell in love with. ANGEL Neither am I. TOM In a week you’d despise me, and I you for trying to make me into something that I can’t possibly be. I’m a different person, Angel, and not necessarily a better person. What I lost in that war goes far beyond what I lost with my wound. ANGEL We all lost something. TOM Everybody but Sam. And I lost more than anyone. ANGEL It could have been worse. TOM How? Goddammit, you tell me how! ANGEL You could have lost your self-respect. Sam did. TOM I don’t have an ounce of self-respect left. ANGEL I don’t believe that. TOM Believe it. It’s true. I often find myself detesting myself. ANGEL Then tell me this. Why do you go on at all? Why don’t you just quit, drop out, kill yourself? Why don’t you just let the world rush by and collect your disability check every month? (No response.) Tom? TOM Screw them! Blood money! They can’t buy me off. I know what I saw, what we did. I’ve never touched a cent of that. ANGEL Sam has. He gets a tax-free check every month for some movement he lost in his left leg, but you’d never know it if you saw him scurrying after the twenty year olds at the country club. TOM Sam’s a shit . . . but he’s still a man. ANGEL Only in one sense. TOM The most important one. Angel. There’s no way I can explain to you what I feel. I would gladly trade a foot, an arm, a leg, an eye--both eyes, anything to be whole again. ANGEL I don’t believe it; it’s not that important, not to you, not even to me. What we had before wasn’t based on sex. You’ve just forgotten how to love because you think you can’t love anymore, but you can. You can love with something that comes from inside you, something that has nothing to do with your body. You just showed that to me. TOM It was awful for me in a way. I was frightened. ANGEL Tom, just let me love you again. That’s all I want, that chance. TOM Why? ANGEL Because if there’s any love left in me I want to share it with you. I can’t exist any longer without loving someone. TOM Dammit, why does it have to be me? ANGEL Because it’s always been you; because I’m enough of a romantic, even now, to believe you’re the only one I can love. Maybe because I’m nuts or a blind idealist. I don’t know! Why does anybody love anybody? TOM Because their love is returned. ANGEL You’re just afraid. You’re afraid to feel anything good again because you don’t think that you should ever feel good because of what you did in the war and what it did to you. TOM I don’t deny that. ANGEL And I don’t believe that you’re that frightened. TOM I am! Take my word for it. I don’t want to feel again. I don’t want to love. It hurts too much when you lose it. ANGEL You never stopped loving, and you know it. You just managed to suppress it with hate and envy, but it kept breaking through because your capacity to love is so much greater than your capacity for anything evil. TOM My capacity for love is gone; it no longer exists. ANGEL Love comes from the human heart, not the groin. It can exist without sex. TOM Can it? What of passion, desire? You’re a young woman, Angel. ANGEL You just satisfied my desires, my passion. TOM For how long? And was it enough? (No response.) Angel? ANGEL I don’t know. TOM Goddammit, Angel, you’re making me feel things that I don’t have any way of deal with. ANGEL You came here tonight because you felt something. TOM I don’t know why I came. ANGEL It wasn’t to see Sam; we both know that. He was never your friend, not before the war, certainly not now. So, if you didn’t come for Sam, you must have come for me. It’s that simple. TOM It’s not that simple. I might very well have come for Sam, but you’re right, not because he was my friend. ANGEL (curiously) Why then? (A beat.) Is he your enemy, your nemesis? TOM (evasively) Get dressed. I--I don’t want to talk about it. ANGEL About what? TOM Anything. (They finish dressing in silence. ANGEL slips on a short silk kimono. TOM finishes first and waits for her in the hall across from the nursery. After a moment he starts to go in.) ************************************************************* ANGEL Don’t go in there! TOM (entering the nursery) Is the baby, sleeping? (He goes to the crib and looks in. He looks back at ANGEL and is clearly confused.) TOM I--don’t understand. ANGEL Neither do I. (She takes his hand, and they descend the stairs without speaking. At the bottom she turns, kisses him, and they both try to smile.) ANGEL Fix me a drink, would you, Tom? TOM (cheerfully) Saigon tea? ANGEL Rum-coco. (A beat.) You spoiled his game, you know. Really treated him like a shit. He’s not used to that, thinks he deserves much better. TOM I know what he deserves. ANGEL And what he doesn’t? TOM Yeah, I know that too. (A beat.) What do you want, Angel? ANGEL Gin. TOM Not to drink. ANGEL Oh . . . I want someone to touch me, somebody to touch me like you used to. Not my body, but something else deep down inside the very quick of my being. I want to be needed, for my existence to be something of value, to get back what I’ve lost. TOM To get back what you’ve lost? I don’t think you’re any more capable of doing that than I am. ANGEL Then I want to start over again. (A beat.) You, Tom? What do you want? TOM Answers. Reasons. But not the ones that I’ve already heard. I want someone to justify what happed to me, to my friends, to you and me. ANGEL To all of us. TOM Yeah. ANGEL We’re not innocent anymore, or young, or naive. Or even stupid. You can’t even blame it on stupidity. It was something else--fear, greed, someone’s dream of what the world should be like, the inability to swallow what we mistake as pride. TOM God, I hate it. I just hate it. ANGEL It’s time you stopped hating, time for you to start living . . . with me. (A beat.) Please don’t shut me out, Tom. TOM You can make me a drink now, okay? Rum-coco. (ANGEL shakes off a sudden chill.) ANGEL Is it cold in here, or is it just me? TOM I’m afraid it’s me. (She touches his face gently.) ANGEL No it’s not. (SAM enters and clears his throat. He is still pretty drunk.) ********************************************************** SAM Well, where have you two been? (No response.) Upstairs? You took this boy upstairs? For what? ANGEL Stop it! SAM I’m sorry. I got the wrong idea. You couldn’t have taken him up there for that. You took him up to show him the baby, of course. Did you show Tom your baby, Angel? TOM Leave her alone, Sam. SAM You go to hell, buddy; she’s my wife, not yours. (To ANGEL.) Did you? Did you show Tom the baby, your precious baby? ANGEL There’s not a baby! SAM No, no, I didn’t think there was a baby; but there was a baby at one time. Did you tell Tom about the baby that isn’t anymore but was once upon a time? Did you tell him about what pretty babies you make? TOM I don’t want to hear about the baby. SAM But you must hear about the baby; it’s imperative that you hear about the baby. Angel? TOM What are you drinking, Sam? SAM (checks) What am I drinking? Yes, now that’s a good question. What am I drinking? Why, I’m not drinking anything at the moment. What a pity. I was drinking scotch, but it all came out of me and went into the potty. Chivas too; I should get a gold potty. Tell me Tom, how do you-- TOM (handing him a drink) Here! SAM Why, thank you, Tom. How very good of you. And here I thought we were on bad terms when you smashed my nose. Well, you never know; you think you know, but you never do. (Drinks.) Ah, now that is what I call smooth, so very, very smooth. Thank you, Tom, Tommy, best friend of mine. TOM How is the nose? SAM Well, broken I think. But I’ve decided not to file suit, since you gave me a scotch. Even though it is my scotch. Chivas too. And it was my game. I just never realized that it was going to get so rough, but--when the going gets rough- ANGEL Somebody gets a broken nose. SAM Exactly. (A beat.) By the way, Tom, how is your wound? (TOM stares at him hard.) TOM I’ve learned to live with--out it. SAM Now that is clever. Did you hear what Tom said, Angel? "I’ve learned to live with--out it." That’s what I call clever. You alway did have a way with words. Keep it up. Oh, sorry, I was referring to your writing, of course. TOM You’re pushing awfully hard, Sam. I didn’t come here to destroy you, but you’d better stop pushing. SAM Destroy me! You certainly didn’t do my nose any good. And I’m a crippled war veteran too, card carrying member of the V.F.W. in good standing. TOM How is your wound, Sam? SAM Just a few scars remain. Old Ernest would love it, not as much as he would love yours, of course. ANGEL Sam wasn’t hurt seriously. TOM I know. SAM Now that’s a matter of perspective. It could have been much more serious. Right, Tom? TOM She knows, Sam. She knows! Okay? SAM Then you two were playing bedroom games. I should have known, but then the husband is always the last to know. I may just have to file suit after all. (A beat.) But then I don’t suppose anything happened, under the circumstances. And I didn’t hear the vibrator. ANGEL See why I’m so fond of him, Tom? SAM Tom ain’t seen nothing yet. No, that’s not right, on the contrary, you see nothing all the time, don’t you, Tom? (Tom turns away, angry.) SAM Oh, darling, I’m afraid I’ve offended our oldest and dearest friend. What could I possibly do to make amends? ANGEL Why don’t you hang yourself? SAM Because I’m already hung. Oh, God, there I go again; what an insensitive lout I am. I can’t seem to open my mouth without steeping on my . . . without putting my foot in it. And I realize how sensitive Tom must be about-- these things. (TOM turns on him abruptly.) TOM All right, Sam. Time for one of my games now: The wounded soldier game. I want to play this one because-- because I want to see if it’s possible for you to feel anything. SAM Why, I feel just fine, but it sounds like fun. How do you play? TOM Oh, you know how to play, Sam. You were there, but . . . I want you to have my wound, instead of yours. But you don’t know what it is that you’ve lost, no, not in the beginning. That’s what I’ll be there for--Chaplain Goodman-to tell you, to break it to you gently. But you’ll sense that you’ve suffered--a loss, that you’ve lost . . . something, but you don’t know what it is because it’s no longer there. You see, you can’t feel what’s not there, so you don’t know if it’s there until you feel there and find that it’s not. (A beat.) Lie down on the couch there. Angel, we’ll need a sheet, a clean white sheet to put over the remains of the wounded soldier. **************************************************** (ANGEL gets a white table cloth from a cabinet in the dining room.) ANGEL This work? TOM Fine. Perfect. (Covers SAM on the couch.) Now, Sam, remember, you must keep your hands outside the sheet until- until . . . you’ll know when. Okay? Everybody ready? SAM Ready, Doc. TOM No, that’s wrong. I’m the chaplain, not the doctor. The doctors have already done as much as they can do; it’s out of their hands now. SAM Out of yours too. TOM Don’t be nasty, Sam. SAM Right, sorry. It’s only a game. TOM To you maybe! (A beat.) Angel, you sit over there and observe--observe the story of the wounded soldier. ANGEL Are you sure you want to do this, Tom? TOM I’m not sure of anything right now, least of all of what I want to do, but maybe--I need to do this. In any case, it will help pass the time until the roast is done. ANGEL I don’t think I can stand it. SAM What, the roast? ANGEL The game! SAM If he wants to play, Angel, let him play. It might help him. ANGEL Help him what? SAM Face--the situation. TOM It might at that. Who knows? But we’re not really playing for me, Sam. We’re playing for you. Ready: Lights. Camera. Action. The scene: The recovery area of a field hospital in IV Corps. The time: post op-- after surgery. The weather: Hot and humid. The situation: The blues. You wake up, Sam. You have some vague memory of being hit, sort of, but not when--or where. SAM (sings) I can’t remember where or when. TOM Shut up and listen. As your eyes come slowly into focus the first thing you see is the smiling face of the Charlie Company chaplain--the reverend Armstrong T. Goodman. Now go ahead, just ad-lib, you know what happened. I’ll fill in the gaps. SAM Ah, ahhh--who’s that. Who’s there. TOM Why it’s the most reverend Armstrong T. Goodman, the Charlie Company chaplain, my son. (To ANGEL.) He always referred to you as "my son" when you were dying or when you suffered a "terrible" wound. ANGEL (woodenly) I see. SAM Was I hit? I remember getting hit. Where? Where was I hit. TOM A rice paddy north of Vung Tau. (To ANGEL.) The chaplain always got right to the point. SAM No, no. Where was I hit? Am I all here? TOM My son, you’re going to be fine. SAM What’s wrong? What happened? My legs! My God, my legs! I can’t feel my legs. TOM (tapping SAM’S foot) Feel that? It’s just the anesthetic; it takes time to wear off. Your legs are fine. SAM Thank God. TOM Yes, thank God. You are alive. SAM What is wrong? (No response from TOM.) What is it? TOM My son, you have suffered . . . a terrible wound. SAM What?! Terrible wound? What--my God, no, no! (Feels beneath the sheet.) Oh, my God. No, no, no! (Begins yelling then stops abruptly.) How’s that, Tom? About right? More? Louder? A little more anguish? (TOM doesn’t respond, so SAM begins yelling again.) Ahhh . . . TOM You have suffered a terrible wound, but you have your life. SAM My life? TOM Don’t say anything else, Sam. Just listen, and think, feel, if you can. (Pause.) You have your life, son, and your sight, the full use of your arms and legs. You’re really very fortunate. And your government won’t forget what you sacrificed for it; you’ll receive full compensation. But more importantly, you can hold your head up high because you served your country in a time of great need. Whatever any of us gives is really too little when you consider what we get in return. SAM What did you give, Reverend? TOM I give the VC hell everyday, and twice on Sunday. In the spiritual sense, of course. SAM Of course. ANGEL Please stop. No more. (TOM glances at her and nods.) TOM Okay. Game’s over. SAM How’d I do, Tom? How about that scream? I just tried to imagine what--it would be like to-- TOM You did a fine job, Sam. Absolutely first rate, a very sensitive performance. SAM And you know I felt something too, Tom. When I put my hands under the sheet, I really did feel something. (A beat.) Any more games? TOM (lashing out) How about Sam in the bunker? That’s a good one. Want to play that? SAM I guess I’ve had enough fun for one night. Let’s eat. Check the roast, Angel. TOM Come on, Sam. One more game. SAM You go to hell! I don’t want to play one more game. TOM Then get off my case and stay off of it! SAM You’re absolutely right; that’s no way for me to treat a friend, an old war dog like yourself. Let’s just settle down now. Let’s get nice and mellow--laid back. I’ll even fix some soft drinks to show they’re no hard feeling, or should it be hard drinks to show that they are no soft feelings? Angel, the roast. ANGEL Come with me, Tom. (ANGEL takes his hand and they exit to the kitchen. SAM hurries over to the gun cabinet, loads a revolver, and puts it in a drawer of the cabinet. Then he goes to the bar and gulps down a scotch and pours another. TOM and ANGEL return.) ********************************************************** SAM Ready or not? (ANGEL stays very close to TOM now.) ANGEL A few more minutes. SAM Don’t overcook it now. I like it rare, Tom too. ANGEL I know how you like it. SAM Prime rib, Tom. Good American beef, corn fed, best beef in the world. None of that gook shit here, and--and fine crystal, sterling silver-- ANGEL He’s seen it, Sam. TOM And I can’t tell you how impressed I am. And to think that I was right there in the trenches with you. SAM The best money can buy. No wooden bowls, no chopsticks, no rice, no fish, no gooks. TOM Don’t call them that! SAM Tom . . . buddy, let’s call a gook a gook, huh? At least in my house. TOM Don’t you call them anything. SAM That’s right, I forgot. You liked the little yellow bastards. (TOM shakes his head almost in pity.) TOM They’re people, Sam. Just like you and me and Angel. They live and die, same as we do. SAM Animals! Live like them, smell like them. TOM You never should have been given the opportunity to find out, none of us should have. SAM Oh, here it comes again, still alive after all these years the holier-than-thou trip. If you detested the war so much you could have split. We could have--fought it without you. TOM You almost said won, didn’t you? You didn’t win, Sam. You lost. For the first time in history we were the losers. SAM And you were right there with us ole buddy, ole pal of mine. TOM I know. I already told you why: Swallowed too much pie. It was 1967, and I was a red-blooded American boy following his heart instead of his head. I didn’t think this country was capable of making such a mistake, of being so wrong. But I learned, and I detest myself for having to learn the way I learned. SAM Well, let me tell you something. I’m not ashamed that we fought there, not at all. We didn’t do anything that our fathers and our grandfathers didn’t do. My only shame comes from the fact that we didn’t do it as well. TOM Oh, we killed as well, Sam; we invented new ways of killing. We just didn’t kill as much. SAM And that’s a shame. ANGEL I think I’m going to be sick. SAM Morning sickness? Or mourn-ing sickness. ANGEL I pity you, Sam. I pity you because you can’t feel anything for anybody but yourself. SAM Nothing could be further from the truth. Why I feel absolutely awful for all those good Americans who had their hard-earned money invested in the arms industry and suddenly had the war shut off right in their faces. Now I’m faced with the task of turning a profit for them during peacetime, and that is a difficult proposition. Why in Vietnam I never heard a round go off or saw napalm illuminate the distant horizon that I didn’t thank my lucky stars and stripes forever. ANGEL Excuse me. (She rushes out.) SAM Just you and me, Tom, Tommy. Just like in Nam. Jesus, we had some times, didn’t we? The bars. The girls. Kicking those street kids’ asses. TOM You must be thinking of somebody else. SAM No, you were there. Always there, never with us, but always there. I never turned around that I didn’t see you looking down on me. (A beat.) Can’t look down now though. TOM Is that why you married Angel, Sam? To somehow defeat me, to somehow beat me down because what I did for you was something you couldn’t do for yourself? SAM Tom, it was love. I married Angel for love. TOM You didn’t get it. SAM That’s where you’re wrong. I get it all the time. TOM Shut up! SAM And it’s such a pleasure, because I know when I’m fucking Angel, I’m giving you a real good fucking too. TOM I hate your guts. SAM Tom! Is that anyway to talk to an old war buddy, a chum, a comrade in arms? I should say not. TOM She’s leaving you. Do you know that? SAM For you? What for? (A beat.) You have to understand Angel, Tom. Now I know her, know what she likes, and, Tom, I’m sorry, but you just can’t give it to her. I mean, under the circumstances. TOM (reflects, then:) Sam, I can destroy you. I know exactly how too destroy you, you and your Purple Heart and your Cross of Gallantry, your business and your life, everything you stand for. Don’t make me do that. Don’t make me play anymore war games. SAM Don’t even try, Tom. I’ll kill you if you even try. TOM Are you afraid, afraid of what the truth would do to you? SAM I’m not afraid of you. TOM The truth, Sam. I’m talking about the truth. I’m talking about looking into the mirror and seeing who we really are. SAM Just don’t talk at all. TOM Then you are afraid? (No response.) I don’t blame you. Fear does funny things to a man. It makes you do things that you didn’t know you were capable of doing, and it keeps you from doing the things that you were sure you could do. Funny thing--fear. (A beat.) Now what about Angel? SAM Angel? She’s not afraid of anything. TOM Sammy? SAM So, you think you’d like to have Angel. (TOM nods.) Jesus, Tom, I’d like to help, I really would, but the fact is: I’ve grown accustomed to her face. Is that the way it goes? Her breathing out and breathing in? Her smile, her frown, her ups and downs? TOM Why? SAM Tom, Tommy, I’m thinking of you. Believe me. It just wouldn’t, couldn’t work. A passionate young woman like Angel. You must realize that she’d need to see other men. I mean, she has other men now, and I’m banging her three, fours time a week minimum. TOM She wouldn’t have to love them; she doesn’t love you. SAM Still, be a realist. Think of what it would be like-- the waiting, the wondering. Who is it this time--the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker? Did the baker maker? Or did the candlestick maker? (A beat.) Who is it that said that both heaven and hell dwell between a woman’s legs? TOM Shakespeare. SAM Was . . . no, why Tom, such Tomfoolery, trying to trick your uncle Sam. I think it was more likely Henry Miller. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that it would be pure hell for you, Tom, pure unadulterated hell. TOM I’ve been through worse things. SAM Have you now? (Calls.) Angel. Angel, come back in here. We need you. (After a moment ANGEL enters. SAM goes to her, hugs her from behind, cupping her breasts.) ANGEL (pulling away) Get away from me! SAM No, no, you don’t understand. We’re going upstairs. Not for me. For you and Tom. It’s a test. (She looks at TOM, confused.) SAM (grabs her) Come on. (TOM pulls ANGEL away from him.) TOM No! SAM Now what did I just explain to you, Tom. It just wouldn’t work. I want to protect you from what would most certainly be a tragic mistake. You and Angel . . . really.. ANGEL What’s going on? Tom? (He turns away..) TOM I’m leaving. ANGEL No! Not without me. (She catches him and takes his arm.) TOM Angel, I . . . ANGEL What did he say to you? What happened? SAM I just gave Tom a lesson in--in how to deal with the truth. ANGEL A lot you know about that! Tom? TOM I shouldn’t have come here; I don’t even know why I did. ANGEL You came for me. TOM I don’t know. It could have been for Sam; I could have come for Sam. I don’t know anymore. I’m . . . sorry. ANGEL You came to find out why we hurt you, why Sam hurt you, and why I did. That’s why you came. TOM For whatever reason it was, it was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come. (He starts to leave.) SAM Don’t go away mad, Tom. Or hungry. Roast will be ready in time now. ANGEL (to SAM) What did you say to him? SAM Like I said. Just showed him the truth, baby. A simple fact of life about the facts of life. ANGEL About me? SAM And himself. Huh, Tom? ANGEL What truth? SAM That no man can sit idly by while another man is banging his woman. TOM Shut up! (SAM shrugs and goes to bar.) SAM Have it your way. ANGEL Tom, somehow we could make it. SAM A little play on words there, Tom. Purely unintentional on Angel’s part, I’m sure. (They ignore him.) ANGEL Give it a chance, Tom. TOM Shit, Angel. What chance has it got? ANGEL I don’t know--one in ten? A hundred, a thousand? I don’t know, but anything is better than this. (Silence. Then:) TOM Your baby? What about your baby? ANGEL (woodenly) There isn’t a baby. SAM Her name is Betsy. ANGEL She’s dead. SAM She’s three now, nearly four. ANGEL She would have been. SAM Angel gives her dolls and clothes, pretty dresses. ANGEL I don’t even cry anymore. SAM But the baby does. Listen! I think I hear her crying now. ANGEL (frightened) No! SAM Yes, she’s crying. I’m sure. Don’t you hear her? ANGEL No, no. I don’t. She not crying! SAM Yes. Yes, she is. Listen. It’s getting louder; she’s screaming. ANGEL No! No! She’s dead. Betsy is dead! (ANGEL suddenly lunges at SAM and begins hitting him. TOM pulls her away. SAM stumbles to the bar, hurt, rests for a moment then pours himself a shot of scotch. TOM shakes ANGEL hard then pulls her against him where she nearly collapses.) TOM (To SAM) You lousy bastard! I should have let her kill you. (Now to ANGEL.) It’s okay. It’s okay, all over. Go on and cry, cry all you want. Don’t talk. ANGEL I have to tell you now. I want to finish. TOM Not now. ANGEL Yes, I want to tell you. TOM Later. Just let me hold you. ANGEL No, now. I have to tell you now. (She takes a moment to regain her composure.) I--I did have a baby, a beautiful baby. SAM It was retarded. ANGEL That’s not true; she was a lovely baby a beautiful baby with pretty eyes and skin and hair. And she was a good baby, such a good baby. SAM It cried; it screamed all the time. ANGEL No, no. She never cried with me, only him because- because she knew. SAM Knew what? ANGEL Knew that you represented all the evil and base and vile things in the world. She never cried with me; she was a good baby, a beautiful, innocent baby, my only child. She . . . (She begins to break.) TOM That’s enough, Angel. ANGEL No, let me finish. You have to know what happened to my baby. SAM Our baby. ANGEL My baby. You hated her. SAM It always cried; it never stopped screaming. TOM What happened? ANGEL She died. My baby died. TOM Good God. (He pulls ANGEL close to him.) ANGEL (woodenly) There was nothing wrong with her; she just died, and then she was dead. SAM Tell him when it died. What day. He’ll love that. ANGEL My baby died on the day that Saigon fell. Do you understand? SAM Crib death. ANGEL No, she just died. There was no logical reason for her death, no disease, nobody benefited from it. It didn’t mean anything; it didn’t do any good. She just died, that’s all. TOM I’m sorry. ANGEL It wasn’t your fault; it wasn’t anybody’s fault. She . . . just . . . died. For no reason. TOM I’m sorry, baby; I’m so sorry. SAM It’s gone, Tom, but it’s still alive in her head. She says it’s dead, but she knows it’s not, not for her. It never will be. She sings to it, talks to it, buys things for it. It’s one of those little things you have to learn to live with. TOM Angel, I could learn. I could try. (No response.) Do you hear what I’m saying, Angel? I’ll try, give it a chance, like you said. I’m willing to do that, willing to go with you, take you with me. SAM Isn’t this touching: I’m all choked up. A tender moment in the annals of humankind. I’ve got it! Maybe you two could have another baby, one of your own. Oh, sorry, you couldn’t, I forgot. I could recommend a good stud service then, and you could be part of the postwar baby boom after all. I know a good diaper service too. TOM You’re all heart, Sam. (To ANGEL.) You all right? ANGEL I think so. You? TOM Frightened. Frightened half to death. ANGEL How did things get so screwed up? TOM How? It started a long time ago, and we didn’t even have that much to do with it. It was that goddamn "manifest destiny" thing again. Save the world for American democracy-and sources of revenue. ANGEL And then it happened all at once. Suddenly I was married to the wrong man for the wrong reason. There was a war. My baby died. You were mutilated for no reason at all, and Sam came home a hero. Oh, goddammit, I hate it. I just hate it. Such idiocy. Such waste. TOM You should have seen it. ANGEL I did. And I see it now, in all of us, even him. (SAM lifts his drink and smiles.) SAM To the happy couple. Your future. May your sons never have to defend the motherland. TOM You’re sick. If my body was a casualty of the war then so was your mind. And mutilated or not I can live with my body; I couldn’t live with your mind. SAM Not a bad mind, Tom. Knows how to make a buck. ANGEL Don’t pay any attention to him. SAM (toasting them) Your future. (TOM pulls away from ANGEL.) ANGEL Tom? TOM Angel, maybe we don’t have any more of a future than we do a past. The memories are all dead, relics of some unobtainable dream. ANGEL Tom, don’t. What we have is right now, an entire lifetime of present moments. Don’t turn them into regrets too, not before we’ve even had a chance to live some of them. TOM I couldn’t stand losing you again; I don’t think I want to take the chance. Why don’t you just leave me alone? ANGEL You’ve been alone too long. TOM And I’ve been . . . ANGEL What? Happy? TOM As happy as you. ANGEL Then you’ve been in hell. TOM I know that! But I existed; I functioned. There was no pain. ANGEL Simply existing isn’t living. You need human contact. I know that because I need it too. TOM I didn’t need it before. ANGEL Then you weren’t living. TOM I don’t want all this pain! ANGEL What do you want? TOM To be whole! I want to be a man again. ANGEL Oh, dammit, dammit, Tom. What can I do? SAM (drunkenly) Maybe you could get him one of those dildos. TOM Don’t make me live again, Angel. Leave me alone. ANGEL It’s too late for that. You see, I need you as much as you need me. SAM She has needs all right, Tom. ANGEL Take me with you. TOM I can’t. ANGEL Can’t accept my love? TOM Can’t return it. ANGEL If that’s true, I’ll leave you. (A beat.) I know you love me, and that you love me as a human being, not an object. Not like he does. If we’re to start over, that’s where we have to start--with fundamental human feelings. TOM I can’t not love you, Angel. I tried to stop loving you, but I couldn’t do it. ANGEL I’ll pack a few things then. We’ll go . . . all right? TOM (nods) All right . . . Jesus! (ANGEL goes upstairs and begins packing a small suitcase. After a moment SAM starts up after her.) TOM Leave her alone, Sam. SAM (viciously) Get out! Get out of my house! TOM Not without her. SAM I’ll file suit, Tom. I’ll sue your ass good--alienation of affection. There’s a precedent. I’ll take everything you’ve got. TOM Then you’d better stock up on cat food, ole buddy because one cat is all I’ve got, and it’s a Siamese. SAM Shit! TOM Right, kitty litter too. You’ll be needing some of that. And face it, Sam: There hasn’t been any affection between you and Angel for years. SAM I still won’t let her go; it’s a matter of principle. TOM What are you going to do? Ground her! She can do as she pleases. You can’t stop her. SAM By god we’ll see about that! (SAM lunges at TOM who dodges him and easily throws him to the floor. SAM stays there for a moment hurt, breathless, then he looks up. He seems close to weeping.) SAM Goddamn you! Let me go, Tom. I’m drunk, and she is my wife. Let me talk to her; that’s all I want, just a few minutes alone with her to talk this thing out. Don’t I have that right as her husband? TOM It’s too late for talk. SAM (pleading) Tom, please! Just give me a chance. I’ll admit that things haven’t gone well for a long time, but--but we had some good years. There was some love--and the baby. She wouldn’t have made it through that on her own. TOM You expect me to believe that? SAM Tom, for chrissake, give me a chance. I love her in my own way. I do! TOM She hates you, Sam. SAM Almost nine years. You can’t just wipe that out without a word whether there’s any love left or not. Good or bad, we’ve been a part of each other’s lives for a long time. I’ve got to see her, to talk to her. Please! TOM Shit! (A beat.) Go on. (SAM hurries upstairs. Tom goes to the bar, sits, then wearily rests his head on his arms, exhausted. Upstairs, SAM enters the bedroom where ANGEL is packing.) ******************************************** SAM Put that away! ANGEL Get out, Sam. Get out of my room and get out of my life. SAM You’re not leaving, not with him. He’s not even a man. ANGEL He’s a human being, Sam, a decent human being. That’s more than you are, more than you’ve ever been. SAM He’s a loser, a born loser. He lost everything. ANGEL Not me. He didn’t lose me. SAM No? ANGEL Not for good. It just took us a while to get back together. SAM He never had you. Never! ANGEL He always had me, and he’s going to have me now--for good. SAM Over my dead body! ANGEL Don’t get dramatic, Sam. SAM (more calmly now) So, Tom is going to take you away. Sweep you away on a white stallion. ANGEL I think I’m actually taking him away. SAM Doesn’t matter. (A beat.) And where is Tom going to keep you? ANGEL He won’t have to keep me; I can take care of myself. SAM And poor Tom? ANGEL If I have to. SAM You’re not going. ANGEL Why? Why not? You don’t love me. SAM But I want you. ANGEL "I want you." You sound like a recruiting poster. SAM You mean so much to me. ANGEL You’re such a liar. The only thing that will suffer if I leave is your vanity. You don’t have any other real feelings. (SAM goes to the bed and starts throwing her things out of the bag.) ANGEL Stop it! SAM I said you’re not going. ANGEL The hell I’m not! I’ll walk out of this house naked if I have to. There’s nothing in this house, in this life, that I want. SAM Yes there is, and you know right where it is. ANGEL Bastard! SAM What’s he got? (No response.) Huh? Nothing. Nothing! That’s what. And you’re going to miss it baby. You’re going to miss it because you can’t live without it. We didn’t have much, but we did have sex, sheer animal desire, lust. And you’re not going to be able to live without it. I know you, and you know yourself. And it will be different than with me; I didn’t care how many men you had, but every time you screw somebody else when you’re with Tom, you’ll be kicking him in his empty crotch. ANGEL (a little frightened) I pity you, Sam. I