Ripcord (TCG Edition). David Lindsay-Abaire

And Mr. Hantz said you used to be a teacher. Grade school, he said. I don’t know how he got it outta ya, you won’t tell me anything.

      ABBY

      (Looks to the windowsill) My plants are droopy.

      MARILYN

      But teacher makes sense. I can picture it. I bet you were very stern with the children.

       (Abby grabs the watering can and heads into the bathroom. We hear the water running.)

      I was an office manager. In my husband’s business. Did I mention he was a skydiving instructor?

      ABBY

      Several times.

      MARILYN

      We were based down at Alexandria Field. I could tell you some stories, boy. My children run the business now. They’re good kids. And they’d do anything for me.

       (Abby comes out of the bathroom with the watering can filled. She waters her plants over the following:)

      Did you hear that Mrs. Moore died? Poor thing. Went in her sleep. Such a nice woman.

      ABBY

      Such a nice room.

      MARILYN

      Room?

      ABBY

      It’s too bad she’s dead, but silver linings, right?

      MARILYN

      How do you mean?

      ABBY

      That room is prime real estate in this place. First floor—between the mailboxes and the dayroom. Less walking, more space.

      MARILYN

      Are you thinking of changing rooms?

      ABBY

      What? No, I’m not thinking of changing rooms.

      MARILYN

      Oh, you sound so enamored of it.

      ABBY

      I’m not. I only mentioned it because I thought you might want it.

      MARILYN

      Oh no, I’m perfectly happy where I am. There’s much more sunlight up here.

      ABBY

      No there isn’t.

      MARILYN

      (Moves to the windows) Sure there is, we don’t have that building blocking our view like they do downstairs. And I can see the park from up here. There’s your bench where you like to sit and read. It’s a lovely view.

      ABBY

      I guess I’ve never noticed.

      MARILYN

      Well that’s a waste, with you so close to the window. Maybe you’d like to swap beds?

      ABBY

      I would not.

      MARILYN

      No, I don’t blame you. It’s the nicest spot in the room.

       (Abby, annoyed, goes back to her iPad, reading. Marilyn smiles, then takes a child’s painting from her dresser.)

      Did I show you this? My grandson made it for me. Caleb. So sweet. Do you know what it is?

      ABBY

      A pap smear?

      MARILYN

      It’s a fire truck.

      ABBY

      I don’t see it.

      MARILYN

      He loves fire trucks. Ambulances too. Anything with a siren. He can hear one from blocks away. He gets this big grin, and flies to the window to see them pass by. They make him so happy.

      ABBY

      That’s creepy.

      MARILYN

      Creepy?

      ABBY

      Those sirens are blaring because people are dying.

      MARILYN

      (Chuckles) Now come / on.

      ABBY

      They are. Or their homes are going up in flames. Or there’s a car accident, or some old man has fallen down some stairs. That’s what those sirens mean. People in pain.

      MARILYN

      Caleb doesn’t know any of that. It’s just a fire truck to him.

      ABBY

      Well, when you’ve heard as many sirens as I have . . . They’re nothing to be happy about. Is he all right? In the head I mean, or is he a little . . .

      MARILYN

      What kind of question is that?

      ABBY

      Well if he’s chasing after fire trucks, you have to wonder. My son never did that. Normal boys don’t do that.

      MARILYN

      Of course they do. You’re just trying to get a rise out of me.

       (Pause.)

      So you have a son, huh? What’s his name?

      ABBY

      Barbara.

       (A moment, then Marilyn turns her attention to Abby’s tray of food.)

      MARILYN

      You should eat. There’s cobbler. It’s very good.

      ABBY

      You know I can’t taste / anything.

      MARILYN

      Oh is that still going on?

      ABBY

      You know it is. (Looks under the lid) And I love cobbler.

      MARILYN

      I know, I’m sorry.

      ABBY

      I don’t think you are. I think you’re gloating. I think you’re angry I made fun of your grandson’s painting. (Takes a bite of the cobbler)

      MARILYN

      Oh, I don’t get angry.

       (Beat.)

      ABBY

      You don’t get angry.

      MARILYN

      Not anymore, no. There’s really no point. It always leads to an ugly place. And I don’t care for ugly places.

       (Beat.)

      How’s the cobbler?

      ABBY

      Tastes like paste.

      MARILYN

      It’s peach. I remember you mentioning it was your mother’s specialty, so I put in a special request.

      ABBY

      (Shoves it aside) Well it’s much too late for peaches. It’s a summer fruit.

       (Marilyn takes out her sudoku puzzle book and sits on her bed.)

      MARILYN

      Have you tried these? Sudoku? I do them every day to keep my brain limber. Sudoku. They’re from Japan.

      ABBY

      Yes, I know.

      MARILYN

      Would you like to try one?

      ABBY