 It's my pleasure to welcome you to the Ingram New Works Festival. Let's applaud new plays. So thanks to the Metro National Arts Commission and also to the Tennessee Arts Commission for the funding they provided for the work we do. Also some thanks to some media sponsors. So thank you to National C, to WPLN, and to now playing Nashville for providing some media support as we would like to help support this festival. So thanks to all them. We also want to say big thank you to National Public Television. They have provided for us, besides being wonderful roommates, they have provided for us access to the equipment that we need to live stream our readings on HowlRoundTV. So say hi to the internet back there everybody. Woohoo! Welcome. All right, so of course I couldn't finish my thank yous without saying thank you to the biggest person that needs the most thank yous of all. And this would be the woman who believes in how important new works are toward the life and health of American theater. And she puts her money where her heart is so big thank you to Martha Ingram for supporting the Ingram Award. It's Tennessee Rep's 30th anniversary. And so one of the things that we're doing in support of the celebration for the anniversary is we're launching a new program, a memberships program, and it's a way for you to be a donor but also get some benefits in return that help us all get to know each other a little better. I think we've got some really fun benefits. So if you're interested, go online, check out our website, see what the different levels are, and we hope you'll consider being a member of Tennessee Rep next year. And you know, while you're there, if you haven't gotten your subscription yet, you can go over to that page and go ahead and take care of that while you're there. I also want you to know we're doing a wonderful fundraising party in a week. It's on Sunday, or less on a week. It's on Sunday. And so if you've enjoyed our season, if you'd like an opportunity to sort of hang out with all the actors who are part of this year, come and join us at River of Pretty. It's dinner and it's entertainment and just a lot of fun. So there's information about it back there and also on our website. So come and join us if you have a party because it celebrates the end of the year. Let me give you a quick overview of the Ingram New Works project. It has three parts. There's the fellowship, the lab, and the festival. The fellowship is something that we offer every year to a playwright, National Repute, whose work that we really admire and someone who we are sure will continue making very valuable contributions to the American Theater. And we were very honored this year when our fellowship was accepted by the wonderful Pulitzer Prize-winning Tony Workwinning, Doug Wright. And he's here. Welcome. All those awards. He's just a wonderful person. So, coming here to play we read Thursday, Friday, Saturday night. It's called Posterity and he'll be around for you to get a chance to talk to him about it as well. So we hope you'll join us for that. So that's the fellowship. Then we have the lab, which is an ongoing, the season-long experience where we have four playwrights who are admitted to the lab and they work on a play from the beginning of the season until now to the festival. And they come into the lab with just an idea and an opportunity to birth that baby to come and make that play happen. So, I want to recognize our four playwrights. It's been a fabulous year working with them. So everybody, big round of applause for Nate Ethlearn, where are you now? And you now are here to help us with the final stage of the project, which is to be a part of the festival. One of the things that we like to provide for the playwrights that we're supporting is the opportunity that the festival provides to hear their plays read by professional actors in front of an audience. And your responses are a big part of helping the playwrights figure out what's working and what's not and all that kind of thing. So you're being here is really a valuable contribution to the process. So we thank you for that. There's also in your program a little survey form. If you've got a minute, we'd love for you to give a response on paper if you can. And then if you hate paper, like I kind of do, feel free to go online. There's the website there for you to see. And you know, give us your feedback later, especially if you, you know, a couple, three days at Bumbai and you're still thinking about it, go online and let us know how you're responding to it now. So we really appreciate that. And then, immediately following the reading tonight, we'll have a little talk back. So we just have a little chat, a chance for us to get a chance to talk about the play. So we hope that you'll stick around for that. So thanks for being here. It's really well and happy. Here's where I say we do have an intermission in tonight's play. So if you do avail yourself of the concessions during the intermission, just know that all the proceeds benefit our professional internship program. So we hope you'll just file those M&M's. And then I would also like you, if you would please, check your cell phones at this time and make sure that they are indeed silent. Or just, you know, turn off. You can be far too involved if you want to pay attention to your phone anyway. So we really appreciate that. So again, thank you for being here. Thank you for supporting the creation of the new work for the America Theater. And I know that you're going to enjoy just one of the plays tonight by Dean Coyne. And we are making a poem in honor of life by Dean Coyne. The empty garage bay of a firehouse. Night. The engine is parked outside. Some folding chairs have been set up center for support group meeting. A folding table by one wall holds the promise of coffee, snacks. They enter at different times. Unpack. Check out the coffee before they sit. Tell me the story. Tell me the story you told. The one you used to tell. When the world was kings and queens. Dragons. Superheroes. The one with a princess with golden hair. A white prince on a shining horse. A loving heartbreak. A mountain. A battle. You used to tell real good stories. You said. Start at the beginning. Once upon a time. The very start. In a land far away. Way, way, way back when. I would hang on every word. You were younger. You were a whisper. Like a leaf in a stream. Little baby. Little boy. You said secret things. Good things to him I remember. He lived in the crook of my arm. A body inside a body. Everything I needed. Enough. Tell me about the way it was. Tell me about him. Before all of this tried to remember. Started the hospital. I picked him up. You picked him up. The arms strong. Hairy. Soft. Pink. Like rubbing alcohol and fake lilac. Like a wool coat. Like a brand new dog. My insides had been torn open. I was a bleeding wound. But I had him. And he could never go back. I picked him up by myself. Us all alone. The beat worrying machine. Like the ocean. Shush shush shush. An engine roar. Like the jet stream wind. And you said. I could see his face. A smile. Look. Look. Tell me what happened. The real story. How it felt. How it was. Look it in the eye. Tell me things that sound like a story. We need to remember it right. Like words on a popsicle stick. Like loose earrings rolling on the floor. Like Fridays and Sundays together. Like old photograph. Like bones on a string. A wheel of stone. Tell me all the stories ever all at once. I want ears big enough for the whole world. In the beginning. There lived a man and a woman and a child. Tuition school clothes. A river. A fever. A flood. A father in heaven. A mother who stayed home. A cat. A dog. And a re-fi mortgage. A girl who was lost. Got found. A young man grew up. And they made a promise to each other. Paid with blood. A vow. And her bones. To keep him safe. To keep him safe. He had his mother's eyes. They look like mine, remember? Thank God he didn't get my notes. Tell me about the time. Sunlight. So much. So much. So much. So much. So much. So much. So much. So much. So much. So much. So much. So much and then a man opened a door. Tell me about how you ran. That hill, laughing and you ran so fast and so far you fell out of breath. It laid in the knee high grass. Santa Claus used to wear a red hat. And the tree angel had a bright gold trumpet he played with his lips. That day. The parking lot was full of kids. Shouting, singing. Tell me about that day. I remember an organ wheezed and groaned. There was a red fire truck. And that fake Louis Vuitton. I am a practical woman. I was getting ready. You were halfway out the door. My coat, my tie. And any on the porch, the wind in my hair. When I learned to ride a bike. I shouldn't have come here tonight because I don't have anything to say. You don't have to say anything if you're not comfortable. I shouldn't be here the kids. They'll be fine. That's what you said the last time. I remember the desert in the mornings. The sun like a thousand mirrors. Sway pine trees. And the air would bite your skin and you would be alive. There was a feeling. What was it? A white water river. Here? Inside? The rocks were flat tiles like ice tiles. Hard. Cold. Sharp taste like candy. Peppermint? Bitter. But sweet too like cinnamon rolls with cream cheese frosting or toaster oven pop tarts all hot and gooey. I had to go to work. That hallway river, there were fish that jumped like books. I'm sure there were, honey. I got on that bike and I took off. Can we talk about this when I get home? I ask myself, how did it look that day, the first time? How did it look to him? It was cold. I know that a winter day. It tasted metal like snow. Like campfire smoke in your hair. Like the end of the road. It was almost Christmas. The holidays can be a very difficult time. I hated my boss. But the kids had a list, a long list. I must have been there. I know in my head, but I don't remember a thing. You don't remember Christmas? Technically it was during Hanukkah. The Christmas story is this. God intervened in history of the world. We were late. We were always late. That day. That morning. This morning. You were humming a song. Tell me about that morning. I saw him watching. His hand. He asked me to take my tie. Tell me about the way I touched his hair with my fingers. That face. Cheeking around the corner. I put on my tie. Took up my coffee cup. It smelled like iron. Like dry dirt. I put the glass to my lips. Orange juice. I saw. The way it rolled down my body. Each water drop. The shower. Bubble soap. Toast with cinnamon. Packed a lunch cheese sandwich. A shaving cream beard. The sound of the alarm. That buzz, buzz. Late running out the door. Backpack, did you lunch? Did you have homework? Traffic was horrible. I was late for work. Hook radio. Leonard Skinner. Until they begged me for their nursery rhyme. Stupid flipping minivan. Bleeding money. Horn honk honking. The dog. A dog. No. The cat. Didn't we used to have a dog? Did we get rid of it? The day. Another day. So cold. Hotched over the air. Hot. Blowing in the car. It had scarf, gloves, boots. I drove him to school. I saw him in a line that day, that last time. That morning. Sun peeking over the white hills. Reflecting off the ground like it was on fire. I backed out of the driveway and I saw him that last time in the window waving. And I waved back. I stood on the front porch and watched you go. Then the door handle. A hand on a door. Wait. I can't start here. I left. I watched him waving out the window. You took him there and you watched him disappear into the crowd. And the handle turned down to go in. A hand turned the handle. This isn't how it goes. The handle turned down. A man. A door handle. A door open. No, not yet. And a light fell like an axe. Wait, please. Wait. Let's just go back. Sitting in the dark on the bathroom floor. Him in the parking lot. I rolled down the car window. The sun on his hair, his face. That smile. Have a good day, darling. That morning. That wonderful morning. We try to have a date night once a week when we can. But Brian and I never get to come here together anymore. It doesn't work out. We're the best for each of us alone. So tonight is my turn. Plus it's cheaper because we don't have to get us in here. The smell of bananas grounded into the back seat is like this trigger for me. I'm driving around for soccer and swimming and band lessons and homework. And I'm sitting at a stoplight and this smell hits me. And I'm crying. First time was in a mall. I swear. So this day he was right there with me and I turned around. Not even for three seconds. Not even. And he was gone. Off like a shot. I found him hiding in Junior Severance. He used to have this superhero he made up. Kimo, man. And he'd say his eyesight was better. And he had super hearing because of the radiation. He'd wear my socks, pulled up to his hips. Superhero underwear and this dish towel for a cape. He could conquer the world. Brian is so infuriating. It's like I can't even talk to him. He's closed off and distant. He doesn't want to be around the other kids. The kids, I mean. Because he says he feels awkward around them. He left. Somehow part of him is gone. And I just want him to feel like I feel. And get as much out of this group, this experience as I have. My wife said I should come here. I have to pry it out of him. I'm not sure. I'm not sure why, what I should be doing or saying. I tell him we all have to learn how to do this. Man, you're not here to help me, I guess. Just when he comes, make him feel welcome. She said that that's the thing, right? That when it's my turn to talk, nobody else speaks. I do the talking. I can say anything I want. Penises, vaginas. I like to watch porn about Republicans boating dead animals. I can talk about anything. Anything on my mind. Anything at all. There's only one thing on my mind. That I have to get a new inspection sticker for the van tomorrow. And I don't know if I can find the registration card. Because I think it's in the glove box. But I know that we took the whole book out. Because it was wet for some reason. And it was drying in the garage. But now I don't remember. That's the thing. That's all I have to say. I have some news. Since we've been coming here the whole time. Brian and I. This has been so good for me. For us. And hard too. But my life has changed a lot I guess. And things I thought were important or not. Now not very important at all. Brian found a job. I wanted you all to know first because you are all like family to us. You are family to us. And we would never have made it without you here. If it hadn't been for you all. So. That's great. I mean it's not unusual for one partner to. You know. Be more invested in the process than the other. And that can be tough. Right. I mean when you said news I thought of the news. You know from that day. You know. No. No it's. It's not you. Sorry. We've all thought things. Or said things we didn't mean I'm sure. To us. Well. It couldn't have been. It could have been a lot worse. Really happy. Who wants to go first. I don't want to talk. I don't have anything to say tonight. Well then let somebody else. You don't need to tell me how it works. Why do you. What. Right. What is wrong with you. I'm not saying. I don't want you to use the rules. We all learn from each other. Some people find comfort in the routine. You can't even see how much bullshit you're in. Okay. That's a feeling. I want to talk about that. Coffee tastes like tampon water. Did anyone see the game this weekend. Okay. I'll go. It's been a pretty good week. All told work is. Okay. And that situation with my boss is still sort of. Uncomfortable for me but it's it's okay. It's not the end of my world and. I won't let it be the end of my world you know. I woke up this morning and. That's pretty good I guess. Good for you. I guess. I guess the thing. That I've been thinking this week you know is that. It's funny. But like someone was saying this group here has been. It means a lot to me too. I don't think I've made a real friend. Of my own since the age of 41. I mean you stopped doing that after your kid. And you just sort of get by you know. And I'm glad I don't have to get by anymore. Here's the thing that I've been thinking which is the same. Thing that I've been thinking every single day since. Once upon a time when cold December when nobody was looking. 26 people got shot. You're a genius. You're hurting I can't even tell you. How I feel. You can try. Will it get him on shot. Let's let's use our first person singular protocols. Good. I can imagine. He were still alive. He would be here and. You know he would have. He would have had a whole life and we I. I can remember what would have been. And in some way he still is. My son was killed. That day. Shot. Nobody's denying that. History can't change. Facts can't change. And talking about it is as useless as imagining it didn't happen. It happened. We can't change it. Honestly for me this. Here. No I don't. I don't want to remember. He is gone and not coming back and that's a fact and facing it is hard every morning every night. It is really really hard but it is the truth. And I have to believe. That the more I point my feet in the right direction of what I think is true. You know. For me. That I'm on the right path. I'm not trying to speak for anybody else. I'm out him a lot. And what his life would be like if he were still alive. I found some used textbooks online so I've been reading those and the things he would learn. He would have had to learn. And chemistry is so hard. I am up through his junior year in high school. And he's dating. And he runs track and for a while his legs hurt and we sent him to the specialist in the city who did all these tests but then it went away. I think it was growing pains. He started running again this summer and he's doing really well. Yesterday he had this sort of weird thing happen where this girl Aaron who he really likes with dark hair and bully wise. Embraces. But with a warm smile. He's never really had the nerve to ask her out. Yesterday he was in French class and she sits right behind him and for some reason she was crying. And he felt hot like when he was angry that she was crying and he didn't know why he felt that way. He didn't know what to say. He didn't want her to cry and he wanted to make her feel better of course but he turned around and said something stupid. He said, what's wrong with under thighs? He wasn't thinking. He didn't think about it. He didn't know how that feels to a girl in high school. She looked at him and her blue eyes turned to tears. Like she didn't have a friend in the world and she ran out and the madam French teacher was like, What happened? What happened? He didn't know how to say it in French so he just said je ne sais pas. I don't know. There's so much we learn you know so much we would he would have had to learn. In some ways the cancer was easy because we knew what to do. We go to the doctor they say this he has a team it costs money so much money. But we do it because what do you do you know? I mean you don't replace the minivan you don't move into a bigger house you don't buy a new couch. Because we can't afford it yet and the couch is just going to get more milk stains. That man was capable of knowing what he was doing or not or if he just thought it was all a video game. I don't know I don't understand but it doesn't help me either way. And we sit there on that couch at night and she doesn't have anything to say. And I don't have anything to say that I haven't already said or thought or maybe a thousand times you know. And you can say it again but it's what good is it going to do. I know it's good to talk to her to share things men aren't always good at sharing things or whatever. But sometimes I don't feel like it and I know she would like for me to open up more. The truth is I take most of my lunches alone these days and I don't really want any company. And people mean well when they come over and talk but I don't really whatever you know keep up my end of the conversation I guess. And they go away after a while sounds stupid but I don't remember anything before walking in this room. I mean we all came to the firehouse here that day that first time together I remember that the policeman you know they had that list the name tags. And they read out the names and which parents should go to which room you in that room over there or you say here in this room here. To hear the news or to be reunited and you know we didn't know then anything yet I mean we didn't know why you know one room or the other. And I remember I remember it was like something and we woke up standing in line here in this room waiting to know. There's a moment when I didn't know and then I knew at some moment I knew and my whole life before that whatever it was disappeared. And I guess I mean I must have had one right but the life of me. Sorry your time is up. No it's okay. Who's next? When I try to think back it's like there's a hole blown in the picture where something was before. I remember that morning I rolled down the window I waved he waved. That day. I was driving him to school. The dog eating down his food. God touched the earth and it has never been the same. I ran all the way here as soon as I heard. The river inside. Waiting and waiting in line. We were talking one minute and then the next. I don't know I tried but I have it's hard to remember maybe I'm not very good at it. A memory cannot you can't put it in a box and send it overseas it's not a thing in the same way that candy bars and dinosaurs are a thing. Love the scary dinosaurs best. A moment gets tied up with all the others. How do they make a thing out of a pile of bones? Like ornament hooks for the Christmas tree they all come out at once. A man reading from a clipboard. The teacher said be still. Like water frozen. A hand on the bathroom door. The policeman said some words and in an instant we grew old. Before that one life and then after. A million possibilities. Not molecules. It's like when he broke the pearls from his mother's necklace and they scattered on the floor. We were in this room not the other room with everyone else. A man walked through a door and nobody stopped him. Nobody could stop him. If we were in the wrong room what if we are in the wrong room do you think? There was something summer we were outside and I was running and he was running after me chasing me. I turned and I saw him. I wanted him to catch me and I ran and I fell. And that's all I can remember. Rebecca has her own stuff. I know that. From her you know her own past. And I don't want to stir that up. I mean she had a kid before we were married. Before we met and I bet this you know. Reminds her of that a lot. Or maybe it doesn't. Maybe she doesn't think about it at all. I don't know. I tried to talk to her about it once but I could tell she wasn't ready so I backed off. That's a course that he used to like standing on the bookshelf looking down at our dining room table with one plastic cook still frozen in a prance. And that weird mismatched doll family is never going to move out of that doll house. I saved so many stuffed animals and little shirts. The onesies already had boxes and boxes in it in case we had another. But now some days I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to remember it at all. And I don't care. I don't care. I don't care. Because when I think about it it is way way too big for me. I know that. But if we don't do it then why? What's the point you know? Help tonight. Sure. I mean I can't help myself. Maybe you want me to for a while so you can help. Would you? Okay. I can try. Sure. Of course. Hi mom. How are you? I'm good. Jennifer and I were thinking about coming over this weekend if you and dad were going to be around. Wait who's Jennifer? Who is she? Wasn't she from the last time? You said maybe his wife? Oh sorry. No I want to talk to him younger. Oh. Yeah if you don't. Okay. No sure. Sorry. No I didn't say. I know. It's not your fault. No problem. Whatever. Whatever you want. Okay. Okay. School today. It was fine. It was boring. It was great. And we learned about frogs today and that frogs have wet skin and it keeps them safe in the cold and frogs start out as tadpoles which are baby fish frogs that don't have any legs but then frogs make little bitty legs that grow into great big legs. And Aiden Murphy said that you can eat frog legs but I told Aiden that he was stupid and that I would never eat a frog or any other animal because I was a virgin. Vegan. Yeah. Yeah. I was a vegan. I said that. Good for you. Mommy. Yes honey. I still eat my carrots. I know you do and I am very, very proud of you. They make my eyesight better and better and better. That's right they do. Mommy. Yes. I love you mommy. I love you too. What else did you learn in school today? Darling. I'm sorry. I don't know who I am. Where did he go? I'm sorry. You interrupted my conversation. No I didn't mean to. Why did you do that? I can't remember him without you. Tell me about your day. Tell me what happened. Nothing happened. Oh the contract ended. Listen I don't want to hear. Then where? Where? I don't know. Why can't we discuss this? Because we don't talk at home. We never talk at home. We sit on opposite ends of the couch and we feel guilty or angry or disappointed. Depressed. And the dishes pile up until one of us is sick of yelling about it anymore. Out here to talk to you about anything. That was work. How is the weather? Are we going to be able to pay the mortgage next month? I have to wait until Tuesdays, Thursdays or Sundays to find out. I don't care but maybe, hey maybe they can help us. Maybe we'll help them. Just pretend we're on the couch then. If you want. This is our couch. I'm kidding. I'm waiting. I said what I know how to say. I'm being honest. I know you are. I want to remember the truth and that's hard. Remember him. We know what the problem is. I'm looking for another job. You won't say it but I can tell you 15 ways this would have never happened. What are you talking about? This whole situation. The real blame is on the school district. They knew the risk and they didn't do anything about it. Brian. I sit in my kid there thinking, praying he would be safe. And we all believed it even though we knew what was really going on. Why were there no steel locks, no armed resource officers, not enough cameras? What did we expect to go to a shopping mall? There's tighter security than that at an elementary school. What sense is that? We have to focus on things we can't control. If I were there, I really think this. I would have killed that man with my bare hands. That day I remember his velcro shoes. Did you hear me? His nose had been runny and I wiped it with a Kleenex and I threw it on the floor of the car. I would have murdered him. Did I pick it up? Where is it still there? The problem is you and I don't remember the same thing. You should move on. You're not in charge here. No one is in charge. I think it's best if we stay with what we feel, you know what we know. Look, we're all responsible to what we think is right, but all I can see is where things went wrong. It is hard. It's hard to think about it, to think about him. Not hard like I'm going to cry even, but hard like hard plastic or something like this blind spot over my mind and I can't see anymore. And it will come a day when I can't remember his face. And it will come a day when I can't remember his smell. And the only reminder I will have will be her and some photos. And if I'm being completely honest, I don't know how I will feel to be around her then. Even her. I mean, the thing that I fear the most is that his death will be the death of us, you know? Because when he was born, I was born too. I've had a few days recently when I didn't think about it at all, all day long. And I feel, you know, you go to the end of the day and you say, I am a horrible person. And it's even like this, being here now is a luxury because we have the other two. Same. But I don't have time to remember. I wish I could stop sometimes and make a little memorial with my hands. You know what I'm saying? Like that became all I had to do for the day. Can't go to the cemetery all the time. Visiting hours. It's like he lives here now and I have to come here to visit him. And I know really he lives everywhere, but this time is really, really important to me. And Brian and I can't, you know, we don't both come here together, of course, because of the kids. So it's like I remember one thing and I don't know what he remembers. I remember that last summer before and we agreed, you know, no more. No more camping as a family because camping as a family was this, you know, this strange, horrifying form of punishment. I mean, hiking with toddlers means hiking with toddlers. They become smelly, unhappy luggage. We had a pretty good campsite that last evening by the river and the sun is going down. The fire worked right for once. Dinner worked right. It was, you know, and it just all sort of fit. And we did the skipping stones thing and the catching fireflies, bug spray, sleeping bags, s'mores. And we saw a deer once, you know, and we saw some fish, of course, we didn't catch any. But that's fine. And when they finally, when they all finally, finally went to bed because, you know, the sun stays up till 9.37 or whatever, thank you very much. I had been carrying this flask of whiskey with me the whole trip and we had always been too exhausted to even think about it. But here we were. And the kids were in the tent and the fire was almost done and the moon and the stars were like spotlights. And Rebecca and I split that whole thing, passing it between us. And it was all, you know, we knew. Right. We knew it was the end that summer. And we had, we had tried, you know, to have some moment, I guess, for the kids to remember. God, so much work. I would have rather been watching TV. But it was a great moment. I think that things happen for a reason. I think we may not see the whole plan, but there is a plan. Even if it's not God or the universe or whatever, a thing has to have a plan that's already mapped out, start to finish. I have seen my own life, time and again, when things went wrong or I thought they went wrong, there was always something else going on, you know, something larger than my own small view and things changed. I can't say they always worked out, you know, things do not always work out the way we want them or even the way they should, but something happens. Something changes. Life, energy, love keeps pushing through. And the sun comes up, you know, and it's a new day. Before I came here, before I met Brian, some of you may know, I had a son, my first son, Darren, who was diagnosed, you know, before he was born. They said the test indicated and then by the time he was really diagnosed, you know, we already knew, of course, it is still a bit of a disappointment. Don't get me wrong, I felt relieved that it was something, that it wasn't ice, it wasn't my fault or whatever, of course. I mean, you know it isn't, but you can't help calculating if maybe that extra drink, that extra cigarette once, or something larger, something karmic deal, how I was in high school. Those moments I spent in doubt, those negative emotions, I drown myself in negative emotions. I can't even begin to imagine how that all has affected me, you know, chemicals, stress, hormones, lack of sleep, don't drink enough water, exercise, flushing, all of it. We die from our own making. I have done so many things that have changed me, that probably set me up for something like Darren, even this now. My marriage couldn't take it. I took Darren, of course, because I'm his mother, and we moved. We moved away. I did. I left my family back east, and I couldn't stand to see Brent's family. And the friends who tried to keep in touch, you know, after a while, they don't try anymore. I was ashamed of failing. I was ashamed of Darren, that he was me. Things got bad, couldn't go to school anymore, and I remember he was never violent. He was angry, a lot, frustrated in this world. And who wouldn't be if he were him? Wait, things must have looked and sounded all too much, too close under your skin. I can't even imagine it. He lashed out because he had no other way, you know, no other tools. And I was used to it. You learn a lot of defensive techniques raising a boy like that. At the same time, he broke a neighbor kid's jaw. He was big for his age, but that kid was an idiot. And his parents were idiots. And I told them flat to their idiot faces that their son was lying and that my son did not do it because he was at home with me. And they believed me, so that never went on his record. And when he hit his resource teachers, they expected it. That was their job for God's sake, and they knew how to handle it. But they took him to, they took him on a field trip, to a mall, stimulation. And in the food court, I guess there were some older kids, they were music or whatever. And they were pointing and laughing and Darren saw that old man sitting there. And he must have wanted to feel powerful over one thing ever in his life. So he chose him to feel powerful on. It took three teachers plus a security guard to pull him off. And I saw the footage. They played it over and over again during the hearing. I can see what Darren was doing. He wasn't hitting exactly. He was spazzing, you know, flailing his arms and legs out. And I guess it looks a lot like hitting to the untrained eye. But I have seen hitting and spazzing that was not hitting. His mouth was open the whole time. See, when he gets really angry, he sort of clenches his teeth and breathes real hard. That's when he's angry. That video, he wasn't angry. He was frightened. He was happy. He has questions like, has he ever hit? Of course you say no. And then your face betrays you. A little voice in your head goes, no. And they're still standing there waiting, reading your eyes. And you can't look anywhere. You would never be the one to say something that would send your own son, your own child, to a place like that ever, ever. But your face shows it. And your mouth is moving like a river and you're crying. And the nice lady cop is holding your shoulders and Darren is playing in the corner. He had this flat washing machine puppy. And I told that lady cop, you should let him keep it. And he said they would. And they were nice to him. He was happy. They treated him better than I could. When do you give up being a mother? You never give up being a mother. I never gave up being a mother. I gave up my whole life. I broke out of that crystal, so I moved again here. And I met Brian, who is my rock. When I told him what happened and that I had a son who lived in an institution in Arizona, he said that wouldn't be a problem. He had a sister who I lead. Is it once or twice a year when I can? And Brian and I made three wonderful children. And my life, you know, I never, ever could have asked for more. I say that there is a plan for your life, for my life. There has to be a plan. We are not moving around this earth like dust bowls. I have not lost two children for nothing. We are not blown at the wind until we are one day blown away. Or if we are, then we leave the in-prints. Maybe you can read something in the tracks if you see it from real high. I've been thinking a lot about if he had had kids, you know? If he would have had kids, my grandkids. And this is weird. If they would have had kids that would have had kids who would have had kids, all that. Yeah, that's weird. Does anyone else ever think about that? He would have had kids. Yeah? I hope he did. You know, does, would. My child's children. He has two, I think. Two. Yeah. I got some photos somewhere. That's right. This one, he's got that grin on his face. Adorable. Kids are brute. Throw him on the sofa and I mean throw him. Loves it, laughs and laughs, comes crawling back. I can imagine. Lift him up in the air. Kid kills me and the girl. Oh, gonna break hearts like you wouldn't believe. And stubborn? Oh, stubborn. Couldn't have raised her any different. I mean, she can get her way. She can do it from the minute she was born. His sister and his brother still imagine. He's there with him sometimes. When they're playing at the little white table, they save a special seat. I remember one thing, a child, before you really know what you're asking for. I remember he was made in love. He was made in a hurry. You know that fragile window after the kids were embedded before we fell asleep standing up. Mommy? Daddy? We're wrestling, honey. Go back to your room. The way you picked him up in here made you, that was the best feeling in the world. It made me want you. It made me want to have you more. The way your body changed with him was awesome. I never changed back. I swear. The way you could have him in one arm and finish getting dressed all while talking on the phone, now that is sexy. Not showered, my hair was a mess. He lived in the crook of my arm. The only way he'd fall asleep was to hold him like this. And I was the only one he wanted, not even mommy could do. I know. There were times I couldn't even go to the bathroom by myself. And he would cry and cry and cry like the whole world was broken. I could see you again like that. A kid is too young for things like cancer. I remember that morning being so angry. I couldn't see straight angry. I know. It had been a rough night with all of them, this incredibly suffocating exhaustion. He asked for his mother all the time. 1 a.m., 3 a.m., 4 p.m., 4 p.m., 4 p.m. They have things they need to do. All of a sudden, these appointments, they are these inconsiderate monsters with little responsibilities. Skulled. Wouldn't listen. 11.40, 1 a.m., 2.30, 3.30, 5. Nobody wants that diagnosis. A gorilla doesn't listen to a baby gorilla crying. A male gorilla hears that noise, sets him off. I said be still. A male gorilla would throw his head against a rock. They get that mad. And sometimes you had to let them know. Use a light hand to smack him. I would flick his ear with my finger. I never called him a name to his face. He always knew that I was joking. One night I shook him hard. I don't want to remember what went wrong. Who did what when, why, dig it all up again? Who cares, you know? My own hands. Mommy gorillas are different because of hormones. Just be quiet, honey. Mommy gorillas don't ever get mad even if the baby is chewing off her skin. Get your ass down. They just don't let it get that bad. Don't eat that. Don't put that down. No, no, please don't bite. Just please stop crying. Please stop crying. You have to take your medicine. Kenan, Patrick White, you get in that car right now. Cover your mouth when you cough. Don't touch your sister. Don't hit your sister. Stay in your seat. Don't throw it out out the window. Don't you roll your eyes at me. Don't you pull his tail. It's a face. No, you can't have a pony. Tinkle, tee-tee, wee-wee, pee-pee, potty. Not there. Not there. Put on a sweater. A sweater is something that you wear when your mother is cold. You know, it doesn't happen easily, exactly, but over time, you realize. I want what is best for you. The day you wake up to face the fact that you may be a shit parent. That you may not have any idea what the hell you've done. The day that you see you're not, that they're not gonna have it any better. Because I said so. We all do it. Ask your father. What did mom say? I still had my chardonnay and I wanted to finish it. I want to be a better parent than my parents. It's just that I worry so much when you're out late and I don't know where you are. You have to be more careful. Did you do your homework? The trash. What are you going, are you going to school anyway? I say that I've lost a child, but it's not like I misplaced him, like I dropped him somewhere and forgot where I put him. Are you listening to me? Where did he go? Where did he go? That's enough. No texting at the table. Keep your eyes on the road. It's a simple question. Where is your report card? I am going to count to three. You know better than that. I'm going to count to five. If you're going to be late, call me. We agree to keep the gorilla parts in check, you know, to have a civil society. 1 a.m., 230. And we hold each other responsible. Then things got bad. Do you need more money? If I help you out, what's going to happen next time? Not again. What if there is no next time? With kids, your priorities will change. They are the mirror opposite of all our personal neuroses. It's important to remember what's important. Please, please not again. My only consolation is that they won't have to know what we know. I will always love you. But, we are all gorillas. Before, he had been up, crying. Crying. And you tagged me out so I could get some sleep. And I heard you through the door. Little boy, your eyes are heavy, fighting sleep hard as you can. Put your head on my shoulder. Don't you worry, little man. Little boy, go to sleep now. Little boy, got no monthly mortgage payment. Got no worries at all. Ain't no tax man finger waving. Ain't no problem. Ain't no problem. Ain't no problem. Ain't no problem. Heavies evisions of choking, drowning, a disease, being kidnapped, being murdered, mutilation, dismemberment, bleeding to death, anaphylactic shot from a bee sting of peanut butter, impaling his eye on a pumpkin stem, falling out of his crib, falling from the window, falling up his bike, falling like an apple out of that tree, falling wrong on the basketball court, a blood clot, an infected splinter, cancer, leukemia, lymphoma, things I can't pronounce, things I don't know exist, things nobody knows, like magic. Someone doing the right thing, but with fatal consequences. Someone doing something bad, but it's completely out of control. Someone doing something bad on purpose. I can see all of these things happening. I can see them like they are really like they matter, and I can feel my hands lifting up to catch them, to hit the man who grabbed him, grabbing that man's neck, to give him my blood and my bones to the doctors. He will use it to save him, to save him, but I cannot save him. Together we are making a fighting pointer. Remember what really happened that day? I was there. We had all been feeling it for weeks, you know? Like the forces of evil had been swelling underground, and every now and then you could see something bubble through, vague, not formed yet, but potent, growing in potential. Even that week there had been a lot of stuff that usually didn't happen in the good times. Our neighbor's cat went missing and was found in a box a few days later, and somebody on Pershing Street got their car broken into. A bird flew, bam, into our dining room window while I was eating breakfast, because I liked toaster waffles at the time, and I was waiting for the butter to melt into each little waffle hole, and it was cold that day, so the butter was hard, not melty, and I was playing with my action figures when I heard this boom, like a kick drum, and I turned, and there was a mark on the window, and there on the deck in the snow was this black brown bird with his head kind of tilted too far back, making this little circle snow angel. Even at that age, or you know, around that age, this thing called death knocks on your door, and you know who it is. You know not to answer. So all this evil had been bubbling under the surface, and I knew I was probably going to be called upon at some point pretty soon to do something about it. And sure enough, that day I was. I got to school a little late because my supercar was being upgraded some, and I usually hang out in the bathroom for a while anyway, so I was in the bathroom when I heard something strange, something that didn't make any sense. A boot, a left boot hit the tile floor in a way. It had a weight like those old fashioned, strong men with giant dumbbells. I could feel the tile floor bending underneath it, and my ears are pretty sensitive thanks to the radiation, which can be a real pain sometimes because I can always hear my stupid sister talking on the phone to her stupid friends, and they're always whatever. So I heard the floor buckle, and the tile started to snap and pop like ice, and I was waiting for the other boot to step, and sure enough it did. He was in the building. When you see evil in front of you, you know what to do. You just know it. I went through the walls with my molecular discharger belt. I passed through three classrooms full of kids, and one office with a teacher taking a nap. And I was in the main hallway, and I put my left hand on my nano-shield activator, and I put my right hand on my disrupter, not that I was hoping to have to use it, and I turned around, and he was shorter than I thought he would be. His hair was cut in a funny way, and he looked like he hadn't showered. He wore black boots and black pants and a black coat, and he had sunglasses on, even though we were inside. And I could see he was carrying a few guns, and also what I thought might have been a knife and a bag, and I could hear the sound that evil makes scraping a metal finger along your spine, coming out of him, because he was drowning in it. And I said, I said, don't do this, Michael! And he looked at me, and he opened up his mouth in a thousand poison darts, like little Mayflies came rushing towards me. He protected me, of course. And the poison darts, the poison dart flies fell to the floor. I stood up again, and he was staring at me. And I thought of the time that we used to play basketball together at the park last summer, even though he was one of the big kids he wanted to play with us. And I thought of the time that when he laughed all through the Christmas concert at church and how everybody was so mad at his mom, he looked down into his soul, and I used my quiet voice for mercy because I didn't want to destroy him, but he didn't answer. And there's that moment in battle when both sides commit to the consequences, and they start running at each other as fast and as hard as they can, and he started running at me, and I said, I'm sorry, Mike! And I fired my disrupter, and it was a good shot. The atomic bonds began to decay, and he started to dissolve the way they do and give back his molecules to the airs around him. And he gave up his carbons like beads on a string, and he gave up his oxygens until nothing was left but a pool of water on the tile floor. And that's when I saw the bag. He had set the nuclear device to go off in case of his own death, and I heard the wires whizzing with electric data, and I heard the sharp snap of the timer counting down to the final seconds. Three, two, one. And I jumped onto the bag at just the last second, and I touched my molecular discharger belt, and it sent me and the bag into the ether, and the device exploded. But it was so diffused that nobody felt it. Or all they felt in the classrooms was like a sigh. Like that feeling when you're fine, you aren't holding on to anything anymore, and you wake up, and it's like you've been dreaming the whole time. But now you're finally awake. I used to have photos of all the kids, but I can't seem to find them. That day. The photos, the years of photos. We need to talk about that day. You tried driving a minivan with three children covered in poison ivy. And even though you never know how your day is going to turn out, the thing is you expect it to turn out. Not just not turn out. No, he died that day. That's how he died. I figure if I can imagine the worst, then I can face it then, you know? Well, it can't get worse than that. I drove him to school even though he sort of had a fever. I keep remembering, you know, I should have kept him home. Rebecca and I had been fighting. Maybe he should have stayed home sick. She goes to Arizona once or twice a year, but it had been really tight. What if I had listened? How can you say what would have been? Future hypothetical, e-realist, the subjunctive mood. Graver makes me tense. What would have been if he hadn't died? I hate that question. No, no, but if he hadn't, if they had lived, if all of them, all their lives would have gone on, probably right for a long time, maybe most of them. Who knows? And I think if they had that life, that potential, then, you know, it can't be gone completely from the universe. Where did it go? You can't double think it. You have a feeling, you have an idea. That's what it is. What if we had done something then different? Nobody can answer that. Every morning, same routine. The mat they used for nap time spread the whole thing down to Lysol. I think maybe if Brian and I hadn't been fighting, or if I had kept him home, or if, I don't know, if my life, you know, might have been going in a different direction. No, no, don't do that. He told me he had a fever. You don't think about the bad things. They start to feel a little less bad, you know? I mean, that's what I think. What if it could have been me instead? We don't choose the moments. It comes like a shadow in a doorway. The mats. The Lysol. The bell rings. The bathroom floor. Wait. What? Gently? It felt like a tiny little bite. A mosquito bite. It felt like a tiny prick. Like getting your shots. It could have been a doctor maybe. The noise. Crack. Like a baseball bat. No, no, it's quiet. A pick, a ping. To me, it was deafening. A little thrum. A little. I don't know. Very quiet. Like when we put the dog down. Push. Piston. A slow-motion explosion. Tiny moments of combustion. Campfires you could smell a long way off. The dart flies in mid-space. Little feathers on the back of it get fly straight. And they sing a little bit as they slip, fall up in the sky. The dart meets a target. The target is soft. The target is the belly of a fruit. The dart pierces the side of the fruit. It pushes the curtain aside and bites itself in. Proton rubs proton. Crash. Metal slides down the barrel. Push. Move into the skin. Molecule between molecules. Brute force. Art powder. Metal twist. Slice through the wall. Shock waves throughout tissue. Brush the internal organs. Silence. The sound. Children. Screaming. Children. And we didn't keep them safe. I need to talk about the real problem. Bodies have curves. And they float until the thing that gets you out of bed in the morning is cut like a puppet string and you fall. I want to talk about guns. And all I keep thinking wasn't the cancer enough? I want to say what good are they really? Are they any good at all? I mean I could have dealt with that with one thing probably. Guns make borders. Guns push away. Guns punish. Guns are smile takers. Girls with bright lips don't need guns. Little boys with tiny teeth don't need guns. When you think you've got one thing covered something else. Something else. Guns are designed to cut short a human life into stories. I mean who says that my kid? I mean how much can you take? You can't kill two dozen people in 90 seconds from an angry look. The only good thing to come out of this whole situation is that we don't have those damn doctor bills for the chemotherapy anymore. I mean we still have the ones we're paying off but you know no more coming in. And I got to quit that stupid job. I was only staying for the health insurance. We can't do anything about the cancer but we can do something about guns. You can get better from cancer. You can't get better from death. I feel like I can't even talk to you when you're like this. What do you want me to say? If there were no guns would they have been killed? Would they? No. If there were someone there with a gun to protect them would they have been killed? No. These are the facts. Whose facts? We can't agree. We know what happens. No we don't. A hand, a door, a gun and 26 people are killed. Tell me it was different. That is so easy for you. I feel like I could have stopped it, that I could stop it. That would have broken his neck. No I mean this. The whole thing. Ever again. How? How do you stop it? Go get them. Go knock on every door of every single gun over. Go to every single family in this country and show them a picture. Show them what it means. Show them a child with their head torn to pieces by a gun. Then burn the muscles and bones for life. Gone. Gone. The eyes. The children. Your children. Show that picture to every mother in every home. Ask her in her eyes say this or that. Ask them for their guns and I guarantee you they will go and get them. And if they don't? Then take them back. Whatever it takes claw back each gun in each bullet. Everything. Every last one you say I want them back. I want them back. Give them to me. Go get them. Give them to me. Give them to me. The only. This is only going to be won by whoever yells the loudest. Then I will yell the loudest. Once upon a time the world made me happy. The smell of laundry. Grass stains. Miss Petched socks. What was wrong with that? Then all the color bled out. As if I'm living in chalk. And my arms don't work anymore and I can't sleep. I can't sleep. And I go into his room and I shake. I want to shake him awake. Get up. But my arms are broken. My tongue is heavy. My eyes only see the bullet holes in his forehead. Every picture. That's what he did. He stood face to face with children. With my child and he pulled the trigger again and again and again and again. And I don't care what mental illness or medical or social condition he was in. I don't care because that was not supposed to happen. It should not be imperative. And when things break we want to fix them. We need to fix them. And we try to figure out the sign. Blame or past law or yellow. There's still no color. And I still can't taste. How is yelling ever going to bring that back? That's day. That's day. I don't want to do this anymore. I don't want to put it all together. Why? What good could it possibly do? Then we would know. I already know. Do you think I don't know? If we work the steps, the steps will work for us. I am on the edge of a cliff. And I am being pulled over. I am being sucked onto the railroad track as if the train's passing by. I feel like he is with me all the time. Like he's going to be right there, right beside me, but I turn around. The question is what do you stand for, you know? The question is how far will you go? The question is what about the other kids? The question is what are you going to remember? I will remember the feelings I have in my mind. Like blankets on a cold night. Running home after school. My first dog. My first kiss. I'm only here to know what really happened. And no one has told me. No one will tell me. And I need to know. I need to see inside there. All I have is in my head. Is the photos online and the newspapers. And they won't let me. I can't see. I can't see it. And I know I don't deserve it, but I want to know. That day. No, please. That last day. I don't want to. I'm up half the night imagining drawing floor plans. Be practical. I'm paying for us tonight. I have to know. He's in a better place now. We don't know that. There was push. Sometimes I imagine his last words. There is a phrase on my lips and my tongue. His last words. He thought I will never meet my true love. I'm going to get his gun and shoot him up. What's going on Mrs. Hardigan? What's going on? Run. You're pushing me. I'm not. I'm just trying. If I can get this out of my head. I can get back to us. Us? What us? We don't talk. We don't touch. You don't have any idea who I am. Don't be like that. You don't care about us. I would so easily give us up if I could all of this. If I can have him back. We can't get that ever, ever, ever. And you. You want to throw away the one thing that you do have. What's that? What do I have? He was half of me. You still have half. They sat in the bathroom on the white cold square tile floor. I thought about sunset across the desert. Don't do this, Michael. I wanted him to get that first kiss so bad. I was sorry I had been mad that morning. It was a masterpiece. It was a plumb. Arguing about money. Standing on the porch, going to my hair. I knew how to push your buttons and sometimes I did. They said the way they were, the way they fell. He was behind her. She was in front. Didn't even know they had played together at recess. Nothing. But when the time came, you know what he did? He ran to her. Protect her. He ran to her for help. Grandparents had a life insurance policy. You know one of those TBI things? Not much, but it came through this week and it'll help. Bought a new couch. The brush handled turd. Down. Clockwise. And it was dark inside. So light like a splitting axe fell on his face. The chalk outline? No chalk outlines. It was a tile floor. Chalk won't stick to wet tile. They tried to use tape but there was too much blood. Pictures weren't released. He was about in the middle, the fourth room, somewhere before, somewhere after. I saw him waving in the window. You saw him standing in line. So much shouting. The teacher yelled at him for kicking out his legs and people walked past. He heard a scream from down the hallway. Quiet oak trees outside. Sunlight morning. A hand opened a door. Even when they heard the noise none of them left. None of them ran away because it was cold outside. And none of them had put on their coats. Not looking at the whole thing. You know you see only a fraction of the picture. I walked around all day with a hand and a fist. Frozen faces. Like windows on the train. Close. Eyes closed. He thought it was a game. Push. Push. Push. I think being in the middle, you know, was better for him anyway. Maybe he wasn't so scared. Some days I get so mad, you know, that he didn't get to live, you know. He shot a kid with cancer. That's funny to me. That day. I don't remember. The river and buckets of water. Books jumped like fish. I know what happened. I was there. The tiles slick like rocks in the hallway. A door. A door handled a man's hand. A hand on a door. He turned the handle down. We know. He turned it down. We know all this already. Cold air. I saw him standing in the window. You dropped him off at school waiting in line. Tell me another story. Just tell me something I don't know. I thought we were doing this together. I need to hear something else. I was at work. I was in a meeting. I was laughing. We were all laughing. And someone came in and said, the news is on. This week was hard. I had this thought. I keep thinking about how it must have been. How it felt to him. Our son? No, the man with his hand on the door. Why? I don't know. What do I need to do? That day, I got out of bed and didn't shower. So it wasn't different. And then downstairs breakfast, she wasn't there. What are you doing? Don't bring him in here. And upstairs and plugged in for a while. And then I went and I tried outside the smoke. But it couldn't light up. And then I... Stop, stop. She still wasn't up yet. And then why? Stop it! You can't be him. I have to know. I don't remember anymore. I can't have done. I know it's hard. You're not listening to me. I have to see it. It's not like I don't know what's happened. I know. I realize that... Can you imagine it? Why would I do that? This is how we keep him safe. I don't know. I don't know where the ideas come from. Yes, you are on your own. People tell me to do things all the time sometimes. I listen and sometimes... I remember. I don't think. I remember this. This idea came to me to my head that she... To do something she would hate more than anything. And I said, don't touch me. Don't touch my stuff. She touched my stuff and she hid it. And she took my key to my drawer with my stuff in it. The drawer where I keep my things that are mine. That I want. And that I need. So that's why I went into her room to get my key and open my drawer. And get my stuff. And then I went upstairs and I played Halo. Cars were gone. Had left already and had gone. And walking around the corner in the road, I passed them drive away. And I waved to one. One mother of an empty minivan. And she didn't see or didn't stop. Or didn't ask me how I was doing. Or didn't make me a chocolate sandwich, anything. And I walked there. And the air was cold and the sun. And I wasn't wearing any underwear and I hadn't taken a shower. So I wouldn't put on any underwear then. And the metal door handle was cold. My hand and my arm. Electric. My arm. I push open the door cold. And when the door inside sucked out. And from then on I was warm. And my shoe. My boot. My left boot. And then my right boot. Sweet. Nobody asked me. Nobody asked me how I was doing. Because I would have said a lot. I would have said. Said things in my head were bothering me. The day. And the cold. And the hole in the ground that spit out the poison. And the edges. Of the edges. Of things rub on me and pull my sweater. Edges of little birds with feathers. And everything, everything cut me. Everything in the whole world. I can't think of one good day. One whole good day from start to the very, very, very end. With no bad things. And no bad people. And no bad thoughts. No bad feelings. Wrap me up in a blanket, okay? When I'm cold. Come to a point where you know you don't need that other person anymore. The way that you don't need them like air. Like for the water for the fire in your body. Like the smell that you live for. You don't need them like that anymore. Because then you're your own person again. And you're not ruled by these feelings. You can see your own movies if you want. And you realize all the things that you know you aren't doing anymore that you would maybe like to do. But you're out of practice or you've been held back. And now you don't have half of your own mind. Your own heart living out there in the world unprotected. Able to do whatever it wants. You don't have that risk anymore. It comes, you know, when you look at it closely, I guess, and you have to finally ask, why are we together? There's not the same reason we had before. I mean, it's not the same now, isn't it? And I know that we can move on and have another try. But that's a desperate, laying attempt to fix something that can't be fixed. It's like buying a dog when you get lonely. You have to go live with a dog you bought. And you're just going to end up putting it down. And moments like this, this place. A few months, you know, tiny moments of clarity. You can see from here that maybe you don't need to. Maybe the dog will be fine somewhere else for his short life. Maybe Ken, you don't have a new start, a fresh, clean place where you won't have to think about everything you say might be interpreted. And every tiny little thing he does reminds you of what you don't have anymore. I'm holding you back. I don't need you. I don't need us to be happy. I don't need anything to make me happy. I don't even need to be happy. I just need to be for a while. Let's finish this when we get home. I'm not going home. When you said it, you always meant, please don't leave me. And you tell me now here? I have tried. No, like hell you've tried. I can't. I'm wide open here. I have tried. Tell me this months ago, don't drag me through this. I thought we were trying to get back to us. You're so hard when you're around. It's not my fault. We didn't have the money. In me. You wanted to go to Arizona and see Darren. How dare you bring him into this? Isn't that what this is? No! That day the front porch, standing in the cold, arguing. Never understand. It's always been about the times. I can't touch that part of you. I told you everything from the start. We can't afford it. I see him every year. Babe, look at the cutbacks of the doctor bills. I am not going to leave the phone out there this time of year. It's fine the rest of the time. I'm going to be late. Keeman says he has a fever. Then keep him home. I don't care. No, he's fine. I'll go. I'll take him. Fine. Do anything wrong. I'm not saying that you did. But you think I failed like it's my fault. Like you're waiting for me to fail again? Oh my God. Do you look at me when I'm talking to you? I've got to go to work. You didn't know him. You don't understand. Please. My whole life. You do this every time. If you fail, if I can't see him, I fail. We will talk about this tonight. You failed this time. There in radios, cackle as the fire engine outside roars to life for a call. And eventually pulls away. The noise is spayed. I'm going to catch you this time. Go to sleep tonight. We'll be talking in two phases. We'll talk amongst ourselves for a couple of minutes. Just to get your initial feelings about some of this. And we'll imagine that Dean is not here in the room. And then after we've had a chance to press ourselves a little bit, then we'll invite Dean to actually join us. And then you can ask some questions. I'll let him review this question at the top of talk facts. It always feels like it's with this particular play, I'm worried about sort of disturbing how you're feeling right the second. But I'm going to say it anyway, which is, why are you feeling right the second? What's popping for you? Is it either a comment or a question about an emotion that you're feeling or a moment in the play that's going to stick with you or something about character or the structure of the player? What's just on your heart and your brain right this second? And no analysis, Dean. Just what do you think about it? You need a break. You're having a great time without you. Yeah. His group has actually launched it. Yeah. Thanks for putting your kids up. Yeah. Well, it sort of feels like a roller coaster ride. Oh, yeah? There were highs and lows, and highs and lows, and I'm like, I'm sure we're going to get it. It really felt like you were on a journey. I think how many people can experience the same, what, you know, the same loss, that remember things differently and feel things so differently. I feel like deeply frustrating it is that you don't feel the same way. Especially if it's like your lover and your partner. I'd like to be, did you find, you know, how do you feel like to put those pieces together about what the sequence was for the couple? I mean, did you experience, did you find that you were working to put pieces together? Did you not have to work? I mean, there's no wrong answer. I'm really curious how it fell. At first, I was wondering if they were involved in the same event, but different couples talking in different combinations. And a while ago, I realized, I know this is one couple, maybe different nights. So this had that similar feeling. But at first couple of exchanges, I was like, what the hell is going on? I really couldn't get, you know, why they were in that particular jumble of words, that assault of words at the beginning was very frustrating to me. And I eventually got into it and figured out what was going on, but it was like, what's going on? Is that emotion a hassle? Is there any particular moment or thing or exchange that really anchored it for you, that when they said or did a particular something, now I've got my bearings, now I know where. You had a chance to catch your breath a little bit. I'm really curious about what are some highlights for you in terms of moments that you think are going to be sticking with you, that even now, kind of, you find yourself going back to and your brain is tickling a little. Or breaking in. That notion of like, you know, like that under the eyelids. So, when you're talking to friends, and it was all about, well, you know, to say that the story is to a situation which has a pretty hot button relative to social issues, I was wondering if anybody had any feeling about that. That played in your experience of the play. So the thing, would they have a big issue for you? It didn't matter. I'm just curious whether any of those sort of subsidiary kinds, when she started there I was just like, oh, please. My thought was, like, don't go there. Don't let this play in like, don't let that be the reason that this is played in written and done. And it wasn't. So I was really happy about that. When she did the rant, it was like, yeah, you sure would have done that. I mean, that's exactly what you would have done, but I didn't really want it to go there. So I was pleased about that. It was interesting that they both, they ended up on the opposite side of the argument, but in that period, they still understood that argument in two different ways. But also, on that same point, I think that that makes me think of two things. One, like the context of her argument in this story changes. You know, like, I think I hear the words differently. I think I hear, I think she's right, we have heard these arguments before. However, seeing this and knowing what we know, her words are framed a little differently, and I hear them a little differently. But on that same point, the one sort of, in terms of like social issue or whatnot, it's so cathartic to me when she says, I don't care what mental illness or what we're neglecting. When she's talking about that, right? Like those are unspoken things around perpetrators of violence. And again, with that context, it's just like believing from her. And there is that moment, you know, like I don't care if he had that. My kid's dead. And that's just like really... It was never violent. He was frustrated. Very frustrated. It quickly, it wasn't like a talking hat on the radio. It was all emotional as everything was being and that I'm going to go and I'm going to show this picture to these people and then they're going to give me these guns. It's not going to be a law. It's not going to be anything. They're going to do it. I'm going to scream at them until they do it. I don't understand what you're talking about. That's all this wonderful play. I don't understand it's about getting all the guns out of people's hands. The way that it depicted the format that the parents were going through, that to me was very real. That these people were just, you know, it was a real tourney. No big surprise. I think it would be that the play really hit. Especially the moment for me when she very justifiably and passionately is screaming to him. It's like you didn't keep them safe and he doesn't say anything. What were you seeing Mike have? What did you think Mike would come up with? Do you have something you hoped would happen or did you have sense of where it was going to go at all? It could have gone several different ways that I could vision. I don't know. Well actually I was hoping for them to find their way back together but I wasn't sure that that was in the hearts because of the extent of the it was interesting to find the way to get through all that to that point but make it easily. From the middle of the first act to the middle of the second act. The last page really was. The last page or two. Yeah. There's something in me that I was running all the way back because you were describing it as a roller coaster and I've been playing with that metaphor and I certainly think that's in the up, the down, the circles the craziness of a roller coaster. The thing about a roller coaster is that there are many things metaphorically about it. And the journey, you've done something together that might make you different at the same place. My question about the weird that accusation comes is that to me that is such a devastating moment that then to bring closure quasi closure I'm not sure quite how to read the end at this point. I don't know if it's almost like a giving in giving up and just trying to comfort one another in some way there at the end I'm not sure that they are reconciled in a bigger way and I'm not saying that they should be because actually one of the things I think I might have been afraid of coming back into the subject is it's all going to get crowded up in an unequal package and this is not an unequal package and everything about it it really is a therapy session and if you've ever done any of that you know that it's not an unequal package there are no ribbons and no bones it's a fascinating piece of theatrical work I'm just I'm not quite clear what really one thing I thought about is that that's another role-play kind of thing not reality at all I just know that's not the two of the two couples the two people in the show that's not them she's the child and that's not I didn't think they were back again but she like stuck it with a knife and then she like at the end of their story I felt like I wanted her to say that the whole time because if you want to blame something before your child I kept waiting for that moment to happen I was waiting for them to talk about that morning because and what I really liked about that scene right before the accusation was that they did finally talk about that morning but not the way I was expecting because I kept expecting them to think of remembering everything differently and telling what was happening and for them to actually just have that fight that they had right before and for them to have that moment I felt like they finally got what I was waiting for which was they finally talked about that morning which led to the accusation of you didn't keep it safe and so it was cathartic I have no idea if they're going to survive this couple but that's I felt like what I was waiting for would they finally be able to talk about this and all the time it was coming I felt they finally reached that moment and so for me that was the moment because I mean objectively right Kenan has he's late for work so she has to drive she made him down to school and she drove him to school so it's very interesting and complicated that she throws that tank in is that like about dad is that about masculinity is that about like a grand metaphysical you should have kept him safe that's where it gets discussions of this are seeing the fight out line obviously in my mind that is I mean in no way is this a comparison it's just that working out the law for the child is handled so differently in that play from this one and it's just fascinating to me to think about the choices the creative choices that a playwright makes I tell the story in a more traditional structured drama with the mother and the sister and all of those characters I think that's a great segue to bring Dean into the conversation the play came from would you do that? Hi there I'm Dean I'm a playwright thank you very much for going on this journey with us this play is a personal response to the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting in Newtown, Connecticut and as a new father I found myself affected by those events in public consciousness in a very personal and unexpected way and I definitely started out more of an intellectual level of what is the way that the society reacts to these events it's a public tragedy and yet I feel some connection to it what does that mean? and over the course of the life of the play it sort of focused really more on a sound designer could help explode all of those concepts in the same once I like the riddiness of it that there's school bells over different periods but then how many bells are there? there were 26 there were not there were 13 scenes I could read you could I'm curious if this may be more of a directing question or because of using a reading format I'm not quite sure that I can see this on the stage I don't know what to I don't know what to I mean you've described the firehouse and whatever I'm just not sure what the setting would really be like I'm not expressing this very well I guess what I'm after here is this seemed enormously affecting as a reading I think almost everybody here probably had more than one moment of tearing up and these extraordinary performers yeah I think they're ready I'll say briefly on that and staging is always very interesting and it helps us to interpret the life of the play in the story I had the opportunity to hear a reading of this a few weeks ago at another theater and we just happened to be in a rehearsal space and we just happened to have chairs and they just happened to be placed in a circle and the two actors who were reading it they sort of had a table in front of them but everybody else was participating lights on in a complete circle of chairs and people were talking afterwards oh that's how you stage it the audience is no larger than 20 people and we all come into a room and we are part of that experience and some people were reacting very strongly to oh my god that would be amazing and other people were saying like way too close that's the downtown version of the lights are on there's something special about being in the dark and not having to be in eye contact with the performers and all that stuff it's like Greek with the character in a special dramatic theatrical way so I'm really glad that the opportunity to experience it so closely staged in that sense right in this so lights up here so where do you think it will go well hopefully more than 20 at the time but we don't have like 20 good audiences that's great we know it's like white things and there's two people out of the room two chairs you only got two chairs you can do with two chairs you know I said firehouse is more important than you give it credit I had a different experience than you met for that I'm sorry you're not allowed to do that we're supposed to pre-op the set I know we should have always the troublemaker he's always such a troublemaker I know it's national I love that too what I was really after was that you know if they don't get up they're in a therapy situation I'm just trying to figure out do they move around in your mind are they moving around they're scripted my lines that were cut were them getting coffee and different things like that it was because I totally thought it was the right choice me saying he gets up to get coffee and joints it would almost interrupt this experience me just doing the bells and ringing I'm just thinking about the 90 minutes of conversation where they only move from chair to chair I don't know if it's a problem but obviously he gripped us and whatever but it was just hard to use a pregnancy and you move with only Martha and George going with each other and you say oh I don't think so I could move in the stands around were part of it it's almost like I actually like that I thought that's weird because you're not doing that really but that was pretty good the same effect but I didn't think that added to it myself it helps to move the characters in different directions the director did a great job they need to move chairs they can do that they're together then they separate and there are different ends and then they come back together physically that was a good choice even if they knew all the minds and didn't need statements they almost seemed to be the move but from one scene to the next that was how I took it I don't know if that's how it was intended I have a question I'm curious about your choice of the word man to describe the shooter because when we finally meet he seems like a boy the last scene I've been playing it the way that it is her attempt to hold on to something that they may have because a lot of times we can say words that are hurtful and push buttons and not mean it at all but we just need to have somebody else feel just slap it but I love you as they deal with how they are putting this back together she can be mean to the thing that she wanted to say but she still knows that he's hurting and just trying to find that how to weave that together so I thought that last thing how I was playing it was that it was really her attempt to come over and we can do it we can do it just really quickly there are four specific moments in the play giving our previous conversation about literal staging I think the theatrical magic in those role play moments I think that we will never forget the conception of or the convention of them being in this support group but with a simple dim light harsh spotlight or even a sort of sepia tone for a minute that role play does theatrically become real and then fade out to the real harsh light of no I want to meet him younger or the top of that too we can start and really believe he is the boy so I think that there are really cool possibilities for theatrical magic even though they're not handing each other drinks and doing physical action one of the great pleasures of this festival is seeing how much plays change over the course of the year and the last time I got to visit this play it was what 16 characters so I'm just really curious to know if you could just describe was it thriving, was it in the shower or was it feeding your kid when you had the eureka moment that you were going to distill it from about 16 characters down to one couple when this play started I was interested in the breadth of the tragedy and the way that our society could be shaped and how that could be portrayed on stage I felt like the fragmentation of the story-telling was always something that I wanted to bring to this story but it was eight actors who played 27 different characters in a similar sort of support group and I was fortunate enough to be able to hear drafts of that version with amazing actors and at some point I knew I think my impulse came from less is more in theater and this sort of dramatic cutting away to say I can do with just two what I could do with eight and that seems like I should probably do with two and the continuity and sort of like a creed meaning with these people then we spend more time with each of them so each of the rollercoaster dips and hills and valleys become much steeper and more acute I think following through with two people rather than many people I like the sense that we have a universality to it or maybe whose story someone mentioned maybe there are multiple characters but we sort of do come to focus on these two people yeah I have to say that there was a moment for this sort of being drawn in that I was one of the people in the therapy group talking to me like well your time and being there yeah so was it your idea that we might not know at the very beginning yeah I thought that was planned I didn't know for me it started out today Jennifer time thank you so much I think that your input of this has been very helpful and I hope to come back and what say we in the evening with rounds of applause