Final One-Act Play

JAKE: sixteen years old, hard of hearing son of HELEN, sarcastic and a bit of a punk, can read lips

HELEN: late thirties, husband Tom recently passed, recent alcoholic, JAKE takes frustrations out on her, blames herself for Tom's death


 

 It is a dark and damp morning as a young boy enters the living room. It is adorned with three tall bookshelves on the backside of the house facing due east. Among the books are various plays and novels by all the famous authors. A single statue stands in between each bookshelf with a bronze sword stabbing the floor. In the middle of the room there is an arm chair made of a fine black leather and a side table of maple upon which a lamp of ivory rests. Under this lamp there is a book already marked with a bent page a little over half way through the tomb. The wood floor is almost naked except for a single rug under which these objects rest. A persian rug spun many years ago is now soiled in patches and unraveling at all ends. It is a beige sort of eggshell color and so dull it never seems brighter than the dirt it carries. The fireplace across from the bookshelves is slowly dying out as little cracks and pops wrestle for air. Along the wall opposite the hall the characters are entering (facing north) there are a series of two hallways and betwixt <great word< them is a hefty liquor cabinet left slightly ajar. One hallway leads into the kitchen and the other to the bedrooms. The boy is entering from the main hall and foyer having just come from outside. His mother walks over to the front door where he left the door open. As she closes it she picks up a small box. She stands in the doorway; framed like an elegant oil painting.


 

HELEN: Aren't we forgetting something?

JAKE: (turns around to sign sarcastically to HELEN) I don't understand what you mean.

HELEN: (signing with martini slipped between her fingers) <great visual What the hell do you want, JAKE?

JAKE: I'm just going into the kitchen for a snack.

HELEN: I give you everything a boy would want and it's never enough. I mean, my own son resorting to these?!

(pulling a small red box from her dress pocket)

(JAKE checks all of his pockets for the cigarettes that used to be there)

Aren't we forgetting something? I found these in your pocket. Rather, they fell out of your pocket. Did you bring this into my house? Are you ever going to change?

JAKE: Those aren't mine. They're probably yours. Or maybe one of my friends. They love to play practical jokes on me like that.  <is Jake signing too, or he can talk b/c he's only "hard of hearing"?

HELEN: (revolving martini in left hand, gazing solemnly into the gin. She shakes the box) They're empty. You stole them from me, didn't you? Third night in a row you stole from me. I'll have to lock my purse in room at night if you keep this up. What do you take me for?

JAKE: (glancing at the box with a smirk on his face) It's not even my brand.

HELEN: (spilling all the martini on the floor except the olive) Ah ha! I knew you were smoking!<of course! Kids generally smoke when their parents do:) 

JAKE: (walking into the kitchen) Yeah? If you knew why didn't you do something about it?

(Helen is left in the living room alone. She grabs a towel off of the liquor cabinet and cleans up the gin. We see JAKE enter the kitchen and pull a small saran wrapped bag with weed from a cookie jar on the counter.)

JAKE: Huh. It seems lighter than usual. Mom must have used some. How dare she accuse me of taking her smokes. Ever since I got my own job I've been paying for all the groceries so she can fix her habits. I mean, I'm sixteen, not five. I don't need her anyway. I ought to just leave this house and let it fall apart without me. It's not like my mom needs me either. She's just living long enough to torture me before she dies. If I left now it'd end sooner. Less painful for everyone.  <who is Jake talking to, himself??

(JAKE pulls the weed out of the bag and pulls a grinder from his backpack. He sits down at the head of the table, facing the living room, and splays everything he needs out on the table top. As he begins his work with intense concentration he looks back up and into the living room with a disgusted look of frustration on his face. It quickly disappears as he catches HELEN on her knees, gripping the liquor cabinet, praying and crying)

HELEN: (crying softly with head bowed) Jesus. Where did I go wrong? Is it because his father died? I swear I didn't want him to die. I loved Tom so much. Why did you take him away from me Lord? Why did he have to die in that car accident? Ever since you stole Tom away from us Jake has hated me and resents me. I just…I try so hard to make him love me but he only pulls farther away from me. Why do you take everyone away from me, Lord?

(JAKE has read her lips the entire time. He shakes his head and curses under his breath. He grabs the joint he has created while HELEN was praying and puts the rest in his bag again. He walks back into the living room and takes Helen's hand. She looks up at him with tears in her eyes.)

JAKE: (setting HELEN in her chair and moving back to the liquor cabinet) Let me make you a drink.<a sad ending

(JAKE mixes her another martini while HELEN wipes away her tears, looking away from JAKE as to try to hide her embarrassment. JAKE hands her the drink and pulls out a cigarette for both of them. HELEN starts to protest but sighs heavily and accepts the idea that her son, like herself, has resorted to drugs for comfort. JAKE pulls up a seat from the foyer and sits next to HELEN. HELEN takes her martini from JAKE, takes a sip, and rests her head on his shoulder. JAKE lights his cigarette,<thought he was going to smoke the joint?? What happened?  <end play w/ this theme: like mother like son.   takes a drag and pats her hands, folded neatly in her lap.)

JAKE: sixteen years old, hard of hearing son of HELEN, sarcastic and a bit of a punk, can read lips

HELEN: late thirties, husband Tom recently passed, recent alcoholic, JAKE takes frustrations out on her, blames herself for Tom's death


 

 It is a dark and damp morning as a young boy enters the living room. It is adorned with three tall bookshelves on the backside of the house facing due east. Among the books are various plays and novels by all the famous authors. A single statue stands in between each bookshelf with a bronze sword stabbing the floor. In the middle of the room there is an arm chair made of a fine black leather and a side table of maple upon which a lamp of ivory rests. Under this lamp there is a book already marked with a bent page a little over half way through the tomb. The wood floor is almost naked except for a single rug under which these objects rest. A persian rug spun many years ago is now soiled in patches and unraveling at all ends. It is a beige sort of eggshell color and so dull it never seems brighter than the dirt it carries. The fireplace across from the bookshelves is slowly dying out as little cracks and pops wrestle for air. Along the wall opposite the hall the characters are entering (facing north) there are a series of two hallways and betwixt them is a hefty liquor cabinet left slightly ajar. One hallway leads into the kitchen and the other to the bedrooms. The boy is entering from the main hall and foyer having just come from outside. His mother walks over to the front door where he left the door open. As she closes it she picks up a small box. She stands in the doorway; framed like an elegant oil painting.


 

HELEN: Aren't we forgetting something?

JAKE: (turns around to sign sarcastically to HELEN) I don't understand what you mean.

HELEN: (signing with martini slipped between her fingers) What the hell do you want, JAKE?

JAKE: I'm just going into the kitchen for a snack.

HELEN: I give you everything a boy would want and it's never enough. I mean, my own son resorting to these?!

(pulling a small red box from her dress pocket)

(JAKE checks all of his pockets for the cigarettes that used to be there)

Aren't we forgetting something? I found these in your pocket. Rather, they fell out of your pocket. Did you bring this into my house? Are you ever going to change?

JAKE: (signing) Those aren't mine. They're probably yours. Or maybe one of my friends. They love to play practical jokes on me like that.

HELEN: (revolving martini in left hand, gazing solemnly into the gin. She shakes the box) They're empty. You stole them from me, didn't you? Third night in a row you stole from me. I'll have to lock my purse in room at night if you keep this up. What do you take me for?

JAKE: (glancing at the box with a smirk on his face) It's not even my brand.

HELEN: (spilling all the martini on the floor except the olive) Ah ha! I knew you were smoking!

JAKE: (walking into the kitchen) Yeah? If you knew why didn't you do something about it?

(Helen is left in the living room alone. She grabs a towel off of the liquor cabinet and cleans up the gin. We see JAKE enter the kitchen and pull a small saran wrapped bag with weed from a cookie jar on the counter.)

JAKE: (talking to himself and facing the audience) Huh. It seems lighter than usual. Mom must have used some. How dare she accuse me of taking her smokes. Ever since I got my own job I've been paying for all the groceries so she can fix her habits. I mean, I'm sixteen, not five. I don't need her anyway. I ought to just leave this house and let it fall apart without me. It's not like my mom needs me either. She's just living long enough to torture me before she dies. If I left now it'd end sooner. Less painful for everyone.

(JAKE pulls the weed out of the bag and pulls a grinder from his backpack. He sits down at the head of the table, facing the living room, and splays everything he needs out on the table top. As he begins his work with intense concentration he looks back up and into the living room with a disgusted look of frustration on his face. It quickly disappears as he catches HELEN on her knees, gripping the liquor cabinet, praying and crying)

HELEN: (crying softly with head bowed) Jesus. Where did I go wrong? Is it because his father died? I swear I didn't want him to die. I loved Tom so much. Why did you take him away from me Lord? Why did he have to die in that car accident? Ever since you stole Tom away from us Jake has hated me and resents me. I just…I try so hard to make him love me but he only pulls farther away from me. Why do you take everyone away from me, Lord?

(JAKE has read her lips the entire time. He shakes his head and curses under his breath. He grabs the joint he has created while HELEN was praying and puts the rest in his bag again. He walks back into the living room and takes Helen's hand. She looks up at him with tears in her eyes.)

JAKE: (setting HELEN in her chair and moving back to the liquor cabinet) Let me make you a drink.

(JAKE mixes her another martini while HELEN wipes away her tears, looking away from JAKE as to try to hide her embarrassment. JAKE hands her the drink and pulls out the joint for both of them. HELEN starts to protest but sighs heavily and accepts the idea that her son, like herself, has resorted to drugs for comfort. JAKE pulls up a seat from the foyer and sits next to HELEN. HELEN takes her martini from JAKE, takes a sip, and rests her head on his shoulder. JAKE lights his joint, takes a drag and pats her hands, folded neatly in her lap.)