Five Plays. Samuel D. Hunter

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      EDDIE: Saint Paul. He’s a real estate agent.

      MAX: Dick. So is that why you—?

       (Max points to the “Familigia Week” sign.)

      EDDIE: I—guess. I just thought it would be nice for them. And all of you guys. (Pause) I don’t know.

      MAX: You’re a good guy, Eddie.

      TROY: All right, gimme that.

       (Troy takes the pipe and takes a hit.)

      MAX: Having a brother sucks. Two guys forced to live with one another just because they share some bullshit genetic material.

      EDDIE: Yeah.

       (Silence. Eddie continues to count cash.)

      MAX: Does he give you a hard time for being— . . .?

       (Max makes a vague gesture. Troy and Isabelle freeze. Eddie looks at him.)

      EDDIE: What?

      MAX: You know. (Pause) Shit. I’m sorry.

      EDDIE: What?

      MAX: I’m really bad at this. Please don’t be offended, I just assumed you were—. Are you?

       (Pause.)

      EDDIE: Well I don’t exactly . . . I don’t go around announcing it or whatever.

      MAX (To Troy): But I mean you knew, right?

      TROY: C’mon, we’ve known each other for twenty years. None of my business anyway.

      ISABELLE: Well I think it’s awesome.

      EDDIE: Thank—you. But we don’t—. We don’t need to keep talking about it.

       (Uncomfortable pause.)

      MAX: You know I’m bi.

      TROY: Oh, Jesus.

      EDDIE: You are?

      ISABELLE: Bullshit.

      MAX: No, really. I don’t fall in love with a gender. I fall in love with a person. I’m attracted to people.

       (Pause.)

      EDDIE (To Max): Have you ever— . . .?

      MAX: Oh, no. I mean not that I wouldn’t. I just—. It hasn’t come up. (Pause) Is your family okay with it?

      EDDIE: Oh, we don’t—. I mean we’re not really a family that—talks? I mean my brother’s fine, he doesn’t care, but my mom—. I told her years ago, and she—. I don’t think it sits very well with her.

      ISABELLE: Are you seeing anyone?

      EDDIE: No, I—. Not really. I was seeing this one guy in Boise a few years ago, but with the distance, it—. And there’s just not much of an opportunity around here, I guess.

      ISABELLE: I’m gonna work on that.

      EDDIE: Please don’t?

      MAX: You ever thought about moving away?

      EDDIE: Maybe, I don’t know. I guess that’d be easier, but—. I just sort of feel connected to this town. It’s weird, I feel like moving away would be like abandoning it or something, like I’d be—. (Pause) Never mind, I’m babbling.

      MAX: No, what?

       (Pause.)

      EDDIE: It’s like— . . . (Pause) My family has been here forever, my great-grandpa’s homestead is still standing outside of town. My dad used to take me and my brother out there, and he’d tell us how Great-Grandpa moved up here from Utah, built the house by himself, and it was like— . . . I used to know exactly who I was here, I recognized everything here. But lately, it— . . .

       (Pause.)

       I drive around Pocatello now, and I—. I get lost. So easily. Like I’ve never even been here before. (Pause) Okay now I really am babbling.

      TROY: Eddie, I think that is the most I’ve heard you say, ever.

       (Eddie chuckles a bit.)

      EDDIE: I’m being stupid.

      TROY: No, you’re not. You’re right, this town is shit nowadays. If we were smarter we’d all get the hell out of here.

       (Troy downs his glass of wine.)

       All right, am I done?

       (Eddie hands Troy a small stack of bills. He glances through it.)

       Ouch.

      EDDIE: Yeah, bad day.

      TROY: Fucking Famiglia Week. They were spending my money anyway.

       (Eddie hands identical stacks of bills to Max and Isabelle. Isabelle quickly finishes her wine and gets up, Troy stands up as well.)

      ISABELLE: I can’t come in tomorrow until four thirty. I’m taking Penelope to the vet.

      EDDIE: Okay.

      TROY: G’night.

      ISABELLE: Bye.

      EDDIE: Bye.

       (Troy begins to leave, Isabelle follows.)

      TROY (To Isabelle): You coming home with me tonight?

      ISABELLE: You’re disgusting.

       (Troy and Isabelle exit.)

      MAX: You okay?

      EDDIE: Yeah. (Pause) Thanks, Max.

       (Pause.)

      MAX: Are you sure you don’t want a hit? It’s a really mellow strain, it’s called Alaskan Thunderfuck but it’s not / like—

      EDDIE: No, I—. I’m fine.

       (Max puts the pipe away, gathers his things, and stands up.)

      MAX: I’ll see you tomorrow?

      EDDIE: Yeah.

       (Max exits. Eddie watches him leave.)

       Scene Three

       The following day, around eleven A.M. The lights are off.

       The lights snap on and Eddie enters, keys in hand. He crosses the stage, heading toward the back.

       After a moment, Troy enters from another part of the restaurant, obviously having just woken up. He looks to where Eddie exited, then slowly starts to creep toward the exit. Eddie reenters, startled when he sees Troy.

      EDDIE: OH—

      TROY: I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

      EDDIE: What are you / doing?

      TROY: I’m sorry, okay, you got me. I—planned on waking up a few hours ago—

      EDDIE: You slept here?

      TROY: Look, I—Tammy and I got into it last night, and I left, and I—didn’t feel like shelling out for a hotel. I was gonna leave before you got here, take a shower after Tammy went off to work, and—anyway, just. Sorry. (Pause) Look, I don’t need to shower, let me just change and I’ll—

      EDDIE: No, you—go home, take a shower, I’ll open, it’s okay. (Pause) Listen, if this happens again, don’t sleep here, just—. You know where I live.

      TROY: C’mon.

      EDDIE: Seriously. (Pause) Are you guys— . . . You doing okay?

      TROY: It’s fine, it’s—whatever. Don’t get married. (Pause) Yesterday at lunch Tammy decided to have her first drink in four months, and I told her that if she started