Rabbit Hole Read online

  BECCA

  “Worship me and I’ll treat you like shit.” No wonder you like him, he sounds just like Dad.

  NAT

  You don’t need to strike out at me, Becca. I know you’re still in a bad place, but I’m trying to help you.

  BECCA

  Right.

  NAT

  I wish someone had sat me down when Arthur died. I wish someone gave me a little advice.

  BECCA

  You know what I wish?! I wish you would stop comparing Danny to Arthur! Danny was a four-year-old boy who chased his dog into the street! Arthur was a thirty-year-old heroin addict who hung himself! Frankly I resent how you keep lumping them together.

  (Silence.)

  NAT

  He was still my son.

  BECCA

  And I don’t recall anyone giving you instructions on how best to grieve for him.

  (Beat.)

  I think it’s time for me to go to bed now.

  (Turns to her sister) Izzy, I hope you enjoy the bathroom set.

  IZZY

  I’m gonna.

  (Becca heads upstairs. Izzy loads the dishwasher. Nat is still shaken by Becca’s comment.)

  NAT

  I was never that mean to anyone. When Arthur died, I was just as upset as she was, but I never took it out on other people like that.

  IZZY

  What about Mrs. Bailey?

  NAT

  (Turns to her, annoyed) Nobody’s talking about Mrs. Bailey. Izzy, please.

  HOWIE

  You know what this was about?

  IZZY

  Yeah, her and her mouth.

  HOWIE

  I knew the party was a bad idea.

  IZZY

  (To Nat) Didn’t I tell you not to get into anything with her?

  HOWIE

  We got a letter today. From Jason Willette.

  (Beat.)

  NAT

  What, why? What’d he want?

  HOWIE

  She said it didn’t bother her but ...

  (Regarding the gathering) Sorry, Iz.

  IZZY

  No, hey, this was great, really. Let’s do it again next year.

  (Crossfade to:)

  SCENE FOUR

  Later that night. Lights up on Danny’s room. It looks essentially the same as it did when Danny was alive.

  The door opens and Becca enters. She doesn’t come in here often. She quietly closes the door behind her. She looks around a bit, then takes a seat on Danny’s bed. She takes a letter out of an envelope and rereads it.

  Lights up on Jason Willette, seventeen.

  JASON

  Dear Mr. and Mrs. Corbett,

  I wanted to send you my condolences on the death of your son, Danny. I know it’s been eight months since the accident, but I’m sure it’s probably still hard for you to be reminded of that day. I think about what happened a lot, as I’m sure you do, too. I’ve been having some troubles at home, and at school, and a couple people here thought it might be a good idea to write to you. I’m sorry if this letter upsets you. That’s obviously not my intention.

  Even though I never knew Danny, I did read that article in the town paper, and was happy to learn a little bit about him. He sounds like he was a great kid. I’m sure you miss him a lot, as you said in the article. I especially liked the part where Mr. Corbett talked about Danny’s robots, because when I was his age I was a big fan of robots, too. In fact I still am, in some ways—ha ha.

  I’ve enclosed a short story that’s going to be printed in my high school lit magazine. I don’t know if you like science fiction or not, but I’ve enclosed it anyway. I was hoping to dedicate the story to Danny’s memory. There aren’t any robots in this one, but I think it would be the kind of story he’d like if he were my age. Would it bother you if I dedicated the story? If so, please let me know. The printer deadline for the magazine is March 31st. If you tell me before then, I can have them take it off.

  (Becca flips through the story enclosed.)

  I know this probably doesn’t make things any better, but I wanted you to know how terrible I feel about Danny. I know that no matter how hard this has been on me, I can never understand the depth of your loss. My mom has only told me that about a hundred times—ha ha. I of course wanted to say how sorry I am that things happened the way they did, and that I wish I had driven down a different block that day. I’m sure you do, too.

  Anyway, that’s it for now. If you’d like to let me know about the dedication, you can email me at the address above. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll assume it’s okay.

  Sincerely, Jason Willette

  (Beat.)

  P.S. Would it be possible to meet you in person at some point?

  (The lights slowly fade on Jason.

  Becca puts the story and letter aside. She just sits on the bed, taking in the room.

  Meanwhile, the lights rise on Howie in the living room. It’s that same night. Nat and Izzy have gone home. Howie plunks into his chair and grabs a couple remotes. He clicks on the TV, then hits play on the VCR. We hear a documentary on tornadoes playing. Howie is confused. Something isn’t right.

  He gets out of the chair and ejects the tape. He examines the tape, panic starts to set in. He pops the tape back in and hits play again. More tornado documentary.)

  HOWIE

  What is this? Becca? ... Becca?!

  (He hits fast forward.)

  Becca?!

  BECCA

  (From upstairs) What?

  HOWIE

  What’d you do here?!

  (The lights fade on Danny’s bedroom.

  Howie keeps pressing fast forward, but it’s all tornadoes. He’s beside himself. Becca comes running downstairs.)

  BECCA

  What’s the matter?!

  HOWIE

  What is this?!

  BECCA

  What’s what?!

  HOWIE

  The television. What is this?

  BECCA

  (Looks to TV) It’s the Discovery Channel. The tornado program. You said you wanted to watch it. I recorded it for you. Why?

  HOWIE

  For chrissake!

  BECCA

  What’s the matter?

  HOWIE

  It’s Danny’s tape. You recorded over Danny’s tape.

  (Beat.)

  BECCA

  No, I didn’t. Pride and Prejudice was on that tape. We were watching it last night.

  HOWIE

  I switched them.

  BECCA

  What?!

  HOWIE

  I watched Danny’s tape later. After you went to bed.

  BECCA

  Why didn’t you take it out of the machine?!

  HOWIE

  Why didn’t you check to see what was in there?!

  BECCA

  I assumed it was the TV tape!

  HOWIE

  Jesus, Becca!

  BECCA

  It was one of the baby videos?

  HOWIE

  No, it was the most recent, the long one. The park was on it, and Mexico—

  BECCA

  How was I supposed to know you snuck down here?

  HOWIE

  —and Christmas.

  BECCA

  I thought it was the TV tape.

  HOWIE

  It wasn’t!

  BECCA

  I know, Howie.

  HOWIE

  So it’s gone. The whole thing.

  BECCA

  I’m sorry.

  HOWIE

  It’s the only copy, Becca!

  BECCA

  Well, I didn’t do it on purpose.

  HOWIE

  Are ya sure?

  (Beat.)

  BECCA

  What does that mean?

  (No response.)

  You think I recorded over Danny’s tape on purpose?

  HOWIE

  I don’t know.

  BECCA

  You don’t k
now?

  HOWIE

  I should’ve taken it out.

  BECCA

  Why would I deliberately record over it?

  HOWIE

  I don’t know.

  BECCA

  Why would I?!

  HOWIE

  I don’t know!

  (Silence.)

  You took the paintings off the fridge. Danny’s paintings.

  BECCA

  To save them. I put them in plastic.

  HOWIE

  And shoved them in a box.

  BECCA

  For safekeeping.

  HOWIE

  Okay.

  BECCA

  I didn’t throw the paintings out.

  HOWIE

  I know you didn’t.

  BECCA

  You think I didn’t want that tape?

  HOWIE

  I don’t—... Of course, you did. Obviously it wasn’t on purpose but—

  BECCA

  What?

  HOWIE

  Maybe subconsciously.

  BECCA

  Subconsciously. Is this what they’re telling you at group? How I’m doing things subconsciously?

  HOWIE

  You’re trying to get rid of him. I’m sorry, but that’s how it feels to me sometimes. Every day, it’s something else. It feels like you’re trying to get rid of any evidence he was ever here.

  (It’s as if she’s been slapped.)

  BECCA

  I didn’t know that tape was in there.

  HOWIE

  I’m not talking about the tape. Not just the tape.

  BECCA

  And the paintings are downstairs. In a box. You can look at them whenever you want.

  HOWIE

  The clothes. His shoes.

  BECCA

  We don’t need all that stuff. Why would we keep—?

  HOWIE

  Your wanting to sell the house!

  BECCA

  We already talked about—

  HOWIE

  Taz. Sending Taz to your mother’s!

  BECCA

  There was a lot going on, Howie. We couldn’t deal with the dog.

  HOWIE

  I was fine with the dog. I was the one walking him.

  BECCA

  Well he got underfoot.

  HOWIE

  And he was a reminder.

  BECCA

  Yes, he was a reminder. So what? I wanted one less reminder around here. That’s perfectly normal.

  HOWIE

  And since you never wanted the dog to begin with—

  BECCA

  Oh for godsakes—

  HOWIE

  Well if I hadn’t bought the dog—

  BECCA

  And if I hadn’t run inside to get the phone, or if I had latched the gate—

  HOWIE

  I left the gate unlatched!

  BECCA

  Well I didn’t check it!

  (Retreats a bit) I’m not playing this game again, Howie. It was no one’s fault.

  HOWIE

  Not even the dog’s.

  BECCA

  I know that.

  HOWIE

  Dogs chase squirrels. Boys chase dogs.

  BECCA

  Are you telling me or yourself?

  HOWIE

  He loved that dog!

  BECCA

  Of course he did.

  HOWIE

  And you got rid of him!

  BECCA

  Right, like I got rid of the tape. I get it.

  HOWIE

  (Losing it) It’s not just the tape! I’m not talking about the tape, Becca! It’s Taz, and the paintings, and the clothes, and it’s everything ! You have to stop erasing him! You have to stop it! You HAVE TO STOP!

  (Howie has been reduced to tears. He has to move away from Becca.

  She takes him in. She seems more confused than affronted.)

  BECCA

  Do you really not know me, Howie? Do you really not know how utterly impossible that would be? To erase him? No matter how many things I give to charity, or how many art projects I box up, do you really think I don’t see him every second of every day? And okay, I’m trying to make things a little easier on myself by hiding some of the photos, and giving away the clothes, but that does not mean I’m trying to erase him. That tape was an accident. And believe me, I will beat myself up about it forever, I’m sure. Like everything else that I could’ve prevented but didn’t.

  HOWIE

  That’s not what I want, Bec. It’s not what I’m talking about.

  BECCA

  No? Because it feels like it is. It feels like I don’t feel bad enough for you. I’m not mourning enough for your taste.

  HOWIE

  Come on, that’s not—

  BECCA

  Or mourning in the right way. But let me just say, Howie, that I am mourning as much as you are. And my grief is just as real and awful as yours.

  HOWIE

  I know that.

  BECCA

  You’re not in a better place than I am, you’re just in a different place. And that sucks that we can’t be there for each other right now, but that’s just the way it is.

  HOWIE

  His stuff is all we have left. That’s all I’m saying. And every bit of it you get rid of—

  BECCA

  I understand that. You don’t wanna let go of it. I understand, Howie.

  HOWIE

  Do you?

  (Beat.)

  Do you?

  (No response.)

  This isn’t ...—Something has to change here. Because I can’t do this ... like this. It’s too hard.

  (Beat.)

  It’s too hard.

  (Neither speaks for a while. Then Howie heads for the stairs. He stops, and turns back to her.)

  And I want that dog back. Your mother’s making him fat.

  (Beat.)

  I want the dog back.

  BECCA

  Why don’t we wait until—

  HOWIE

  I don’t want to. How much more do we have to lose?

  (Beat.)

  I miss the dog. I’m sorry, but I miss him. I want him back.

  (They regard each other silently. Howie heads upstairs, leaving Becca alone.

  The lights slowly fade.)

  Act Two

  SCENE ONE

  Living room. We hear a car pulling away as the lights rise on Howie, standing by the open front door, in a suit jacket, holding a clipboard for an open house.

  Two months have passed. It’s early May. Izzy comes from the kitchen with a piece of torte. Her pregnancy is starting to show a little. She’s four and a half months along.

  IZZY

  They were weird, huh? That last couple? The way they kept opening everything? Cabinets, closets ...

  HOWIE

  It’s an open house.

  IZZY

  Still, it was kinda nervy. I’d never do one of these things. Strangers strolling through, looking under my beds.

  HOWIE

  That’s what you gotta do to sell a house.

  IZZY

  Well lucky for me I’ll never own a house then.

  (Regarding torte) What is this, pie?

  HOWIE

  It’s a torte.

  IZZY

  Is it good?

  HOWIE

  Yeah, it’s good.

  (Izzy settles in with the torte.)

  IZZY

  We done?

  HOWIE

  Fifteen minutes. We’re supposed to go till four. (Looking over the sign-in sheet)

  IZZY

  How many’d ya get anyway?

  HOWIE

  Not many. No serious buyers. Maybe the German though. It’s hard to tell.

  IZZY

  Is that what he was, German? I couldn’t place the accent. I thought maybe Irish.

  HOWIE

  Irish?

  IZZY

  I couldn’t tell.

 
HOWIE

  We should probably get a broker. I think a lot of people are afraid of fisbos.