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By Dylan Freno

 

2020 Winter Showcase Playwriting Award Winner

 

SCENE 1

The steps of a brownstone, New York City, Fall, 1980s. A mother, JULIET, 35, sits on the second step, head in hands, silently crying. She wears a plain brown shirt and jeans. Her son, CLINT, 9, enters from left. He wears a ripped red shirt and shorts, and has scrapes and bruises on his elbows and knees. He walks to the base of the steps. JULIET hears his footsteps and looks up at him, then envelops him in her arms.

CLINT: I’m sorry, Mom.

JULIET: Come here, come here. Let me look at you.

(JULIET pushes CLINT a foot away, then inspects his injuries.)

CLINT: Just a little scraped up. You’re not mad?

JULIET: I was scared. I hate hearing that you got into more fights. I hate not knowing what happened to you until you get home. It’s just happened too many times.

CLINT: I’m sorry, Ma. Some kids at school started calling me names, and I started losing control. I got so angry, Ma.

(JULIET sighs, then pulls CLINT close to her.)

JULIET: I know how it feels Clint. When I was your age, sometimes, sometimes…

CLINT: Sometimes what?

(JULIET pats the steps to her left, and CLINT sits next to her.)

JULIET: Sometimes when I was younger the same thing would  happen to me. These girls would call me stupid or ugly and I would just see red. I would pull their hair. I used to get into so much trouble.

CLINT: That’s just how I feel. I start seein’ red too! Did you ever get hurt like me?

JULIET: All the damn time. One time I broke my pinkie finger.

(JULIET lifts up left hand and holds up her pinkie finger.)

JULIET: When your grampa took me to the hospital, he wasn’t mad either. I don’t have any right to be mad at you. You know what he said to me?

CLINT: What, Ma?

JULIET: He leaned in to me, and he said, “Jules, you’re a fighter. Just like me. The anger that’s inside of  you, I feel it too. It’s in our blood, Jules.” Your  grampa loved to say that. Every time my momma got mad at me for fighting, he would say, “Relax, it’s in her  blood! She can’t help but fight!” That’s just like you, Clint. The fighting is in our blood, both of us.

CLINT: So grampa would get into these fights too?

JULIET: You know grampa was a boxer! He would get so riled up during his matches, it was like watching a whirlwind, the way that man moved.

CLINT: I wish I got to meet him.

JULIET: Me too. We keep him alive like this though.  Remembering him sometimes is all we have left.

(JULIET holds out her arms and CLINT embraces her. The lights fade.)

 

SCENE 2

A bedroom in a house in the suburbs of New York, 2010s. Packed boxes are on the bed and floor. An adult CLINT stands, well dressed, phone to his ear, face warped in anger. An aging JULIET sits in a wooden chair to his right.

CLINT: I’m telling you- don’t bullshit me on this! I’m the one who closed the goddamn Wexler Plastics deal! If you so much as insinuate that I can’t handle- oh that’s just great! You wanna be like that? FINE!

(CLINT shuts his phone, and JULIET chuckles.)

JULIET: Just like when you were younger. So fiery, my little boy.

(Juliet frowns and crosses her arms.)

JULIET: Don’t get fussy with me, I’m too old to be gettin’  into arguments.

CLINT: Sure, Ma. Come on, let’s go through these.

(CLINT opens up a box, and lifts up a folded envelope, then hands it to JULIET. She carefully opens it, and her eyes widen.)

JULIET: It’s from your grampa. The date, he wrote it when I was just a baby.

CLINT: Tell me what it says!

JULIET: My dearest Juliet…

(The lights fade.)

 

SCENE 3

The same bedroom, 1950s. There is a crib in the corner, with a sleeping baby in it. TONY, 24,dressed in a white tank-top and slacks, stands over the crib, then moves to his desk and starts  writing on a piece of paper.

TONY: My dearest Juliet, how lovely you look today. You are two months old, and this is the first time I have laid eyes on you. Your mother and I finalized the adoption papers today. She says you’re young enough that you won’t remember ever being anywhere else. We  agreed to keep it a secret from you. This letter, I don’t know if I’ll ever give it to you. I don’t know if you need to know the truth. From this day onward, you are my daughter, no matter what. I can’t wait to watch you grow, and I know I’ll see myself in you. I am worried that I’m missing something. Maybe there’s some part of being a dad you only realize when you see your child being born. Maybe I’m just not cut out for it. Maybe I’ll be too mean to be a father, maybe I’ll lose my temper too often. But I’ll try to make you happy every day. I’m worried you’ll find out the truth someday and you’ll resent me for never telling you. I’m worried about you not trusting me. But most of all I’m just worried I won’t be good enough for  you. My little ball of sunshine. Even if my blood does not flow through you, you are still mine. And maybe I’m worried about all this for nothing. I love you, Juliet. Your dad, Tony.

(TONY puts down his pen, then looks at the crib, then walks over to it. He smiles as he looks at JULIET.)

(Lights fade to black.)


Bio:

Dylan’s expected graduation year is 2024, and his hometown is Old Bridge, New Jersey. Dylan is a filmmaking major who loves to write and make short films!