4ACT I, SCENE 3
(We find ourselves inside of the FOWLER'S house. It looks very much like a hunting lodge, a gathering room for males. Pictures of MARK and VICTOR in their young days are on the mantle of the fireplace and along the walls. The picture of Mr. And Mrs. Fowler hangs over the fireplace. The glass of the picture has been shattered. On one of the walls hangs MARK'S diploma. It looks as if it's been used as a dart board, thousands of little pin pricked holes dot it. A fire roars in the fireplace as the pelting sound of rain thrashes against the window. The occasional burst of thunder and brilliance of lightening is seen and heard throughout the scene. There is little furniture in the room, a chair, which VICTOR is currently dozing in, and a couch, which holds the broken and beaten body of MARK. A radio is on a small stand next to the couch lightly playing some orchestra theme. Next to the chair is a telephone on a nightstand. Boxes are about the place bursting with newspapers and clippings MARK has saved over the years. As this all becomes established the orchestral theme gives way to a newscast reporter.)
NEWSCASTER : This is an urgent bulletin for the Colmesneil area. The early thunderstorms that were predicted at heavy to very heavy rains have been upgraded. Meteorologists say that this front of storms shall continue to strength and grow in intensity until daybreak. Those that have not already sandbagged there property are being asked to do so at an alarming rate. The rainfall since nine p.m. is at 10 inches, with another eight to be dropped in the next two hours. A flash flood warning is in effect until daybreak. Please remain in your homes. We now return you to KHGB - Classics 101.3. Stay tuned to this station for all the latest on the storm.
(The radio returns to a classic theme. This plays softly for a moment then a brilliant flash streaks across the window and the sound of thunder resumes deathly close. As a kid you might have been taught to count one, one thousand, two one thousand, etc. to gauge the distance of the storm. The thunder should come on about three one thousand. The sound jars MARK awake who falls to the floor. He looks around at where he is at to get his bearings. He slowly stands up but his body can't take it at the time. He collapses to the floor. He softly begins to cry. There's another bolt and the sound booms again. This bolt jars awake VICTOR. He sits up in his chair and stretches. His eyes fall upon MARK. He stiffens. They are silent for several minutes. Finally, VICTOR breaks the silence.)
VICTOR: Why?
MARK: Why what?
VICTOR: Why now, after all this time?
MARK: I don't….
VICTOR: Why did you wait till now to come forward with the truth? Why didn't you tell us that night?
MARK: I wasn't sure it happened that night. I was pissed, upset, and scared. I never wanted to tell you. I just couldn't live with the guilt anymore.
VICTOR: And so you got rip roaring drunk and let me in on one of the biggest scandals in this town's history. Jesus, Mark! You're timing is impeccable.
MARK: I didn't meant to tell you. It slipped out. You kept going on and on about this and that. Blah, blah, blah, simple things. Blah, blah, blah, air conditioning. You were suffocating. You barged in here like a jackhammer. Telling me this, telling me that, but never once really looking into me. You've never seen me for me.
VICTOR: I've never seen you for you? Who was by your side for all of your "adventures?" Me. I was the one that took the fall for everything that you did.
MARK (Quietly): No.
VICTOR: Excuse me?
MARK: No. Not everything. (Silence.) Why?
VICTOR: Why what?
MARK: Why didn't you leave me out there to die?
VICTOR (Genuinely confused.): I don't… I don't know.
MARK: I deserved it. (Silence.) You're silence proves it. (MARK forces himself back up and on to the couch. The silence grows. The rain pours harder outside.) Hard rain tonight. Mama use to say that the rain was the tears of the angels. They were crying for each of the souls upon this earth that were lost or had turned there back upon God. She always did believe that the Lord would watch over her and us boys. That lady was a pillar of strength. She never once lost her footing. On a night like this, when I was younger, she sat right down by that window and watched the rain fall. Hours upon hours of rain falling. She looked at Pa and said, "Hard rain, something's not right." Pa just brushed it off and went back into reading his paper. She just looked right back out the window and said, "Go on and cry angels, yours are the only tears that can clean us all." She believed that to. She believed that the rain could wash you of your sins; could open your eyes back up to see God's glory. (VICTOR rises and crosses to the window to look out.) You see it too, don't you? (Silence.) You and Mama always got along. Always such good friends. You know, you were more of a son to her at times then I was. It's true. She'd often remark about how great you were, how you were going places in life, she was always so proud of you. Why, one time…
VICTOR (Without turning.): Your mother was a very strong woman. News reports said the place should be sandbagged. Suppose to rain pretty hard tonight.
MARK: Hasn't flooded here in years, we should be okay.
VICTOR (Turns to him): Are we?
MARK: Are we what?
VICTOR: Are we okay? (Silence. VICTOR turns back and looks out at the rain.) It glistens you know? Thousands of tiny little fragments of light bouncing from raindrop to raindrop. The lightening dancing in and out of the shards of soft wet glass. Mother once said that thunder was God's laughter. I would lie awake at night wondering what he was laughing at. Now I know. Now I understand.
MARK: And what was God laughing at?
VICTOR: Us. (Crosses to the mantle and looks at the pictures on it.) How foolish we are. How quick we believe what is not real. How easily we are deceived, for years at a time. (Silence. Thunder and lightening. Think two one thousand.) Center of the storm is close.
MARK: You hate me. (Silence.) I don't blame you. About that night….
VICTOR: I don't want to talk about it. Let's talk about simple things. You're so fond of that.
MARK (Rises and crosses to a box and removes one of the newspapers.): I collected every bit of information I could about that night, about that case. I didn't understand it. I didn't understand a single thing of what went on. I didn't know anything. I was drunk. It wasn't me that acted that night, I know that much.
VICTOR: No, it was one of your fireworks, as you put it.
MARK: It was more then that. There was something inside me.
VICTOR: Oh, now we're going to get into a psychological discussion about who you are and who you aren't. You're a murder Mark. You killed an innocent girl because she wouldn't sleep with you! You couldn't handle losing could you? Could you?!
MARK: It wasn't about that!
VICTOR: Then what was it about? What could drive you to take an innocent life?
MARK: You're suppose to be my friend, Victor, not my persecutor. You don't think I've persecuted myself enough over the years? Wake up every morning and stare into the same hollow eyes knowing what I've done, or what I didn't do.
VICTOR: Didn't do?
MARK: It wasn't me that night, I know that much. I don't recall it. I just know that she was with me last.
VICTOR: But you confessed to me to being her murder.
MARK: I don't know, okay! I don't know! That whole night is just a blur. I have snatches of memories, pieces that I don't understand. I remember her storming off, and then I remember waking up by the lake and her body floating in it. The rest is just a jumble of memories. (MARK crosses to the chair and sits. Reading) "On May 28th, the body of Heather Minisky was found floating in Lake Travis. Police investigators are working on the case trying to discover why the body was found in the lake. Mr. And Mrs. Minisky said their daughter had left the following night with several local teenagers to attend a Senior bash out at the lake house. They didn't think anything of it. 'We just thought it was a typical night out on the town for these kids,' Mr. Minisky said. 'We didn't know we'd wake up the next morning and our beloved daughter would be found dead.'" The story goes on to talk about how promiscuous Heather was, and how the police are almost positive it was a suicide. (MARK tosses the paper on the fire.) It wasn't a suicide though.
VICTOR: No, it was a murder.
MARK: I didn't kill her!
VICTOR: Okay, you didn't kill her then. You just helped her drown. What difference does it make Mark? You took her life.
MARK: I didn't take her life!
VICTOR (Grabs MARK and forcibly lifts him from the chair.) You listen to me and you listen good, do you understand? I don't give a damn if you did or didn't kill her. I don't care that you feel guilty every damn day of your miserable existence for a night you don't remember. I don't even care that you still believe I am your friend. What I care about is that you, Mark Fowler, the perfect god in this pathetic town, struck down someone in a cold manner. You are the lowest person I ever had the unlikely benefit of knowing. It's taking everything within me not to throw you out in that rain and leave you to die. So I suggest you not ever bring up the subject of Heather Minisky again. Understand? (VICTOR throws MARK back down in the chair. There is a bit of silence.) When the storm ends I'm leaving. You're secret is safe with me. (VICTOR exits off into the kitchen area. MARK sits in the chair stunned.)
MARK: Mama? Mama what do I do? You always tried to teach me what was right, how to go about things. What do I do now, Mama? I know, I know, I should of never told him, but I couldn't live with it Mama. I couldn't live with the guilt. It was killing me. Waking up every morning and looking into my eyes. It hurt. It was like living another life, being someone else. I didn't want to be someone else, Mama. What? No, Mama, I'm not a bad boy. No, Mama, I'm not. DON'T COMPARE ME TO HIM! You always do that, Mama. I can't ever just talk to you. Not without you bringing HIM up. Oh, he's so great, he's so much better then your own son. I DON'T CARE! You didn't want to know me, Mama. You were the one that filled my head with this nonsense, this, this bullshit about rain and fireworks and life. You told me that emotions were fireworks, that we couldn't control them. The military told me I had to learn to control them. The sergeants laughed at me, they laughed at me Mama when I told them that you said they were fireworks and couldn't be controlled. Stand up straight son, that's what they said. They yelled and screamed and hollered. They forced me to do things. Every time my emotions got out of line they kicked me right back in line. Until that day the sergeant went off about you, Mama. That's right, he did. I was a good son though, I stood up for you. I told that sergeant what I thought of him and his mama, and his daddy, and his entire family. My head reeled for weeks after it though. It was so painful. What? I don't believe you, Mama. I don't believe a word you're saying. I AM NOT CRAZY MAMA! I was in the military, I was. Private Mark Fowler. I AM NOT CRAZY. I got the scar on my finger to prove my service. And what about the uniform in my closet? Or the papers? (The radio, which has been playing continuously through out the scene squawks to life as the NEWSCASTER delivers another update.)
NEWSCASTER: Citizens of the Colmesneil area are advised to be on the lookout for a recent escapee from the Colmesneil Asylum. The individual escaped from the Asylum early yesterday morning. This individual is extremely dangerous and citizens are advised not to try to apprehend the suspect on there own. If you should see the suspect immediately call 911. The suspect is a white male, about 5'9 to 6', brown hair, brown eyes. He speaks with a slight country accent. He was last seen in the vicinity of the farm land off of interstate 45. Remember the suspect is extremely dangerous, if you should spot him please call 911 immediately. We now return you to KGHB - Classics 101.3.
(The radio resumes playing classical music. MARK crosses to the radio and unplugs it.)
MARK: He can't know. He must never know.
(VICTOR returns, MARK suddenly becomes jovial, resuming the banter we witnessed earlier.)
VICTOR: What did the newscaster just say?
MARK: It was nothing. Just more information about the rain.
VICTOR: How much longer?
MARK: Oh, several hours. You might as well get comfortable. Enough rain for you?
VICTOR: Enough to flood the world.
MARK: I already told you, it hasn't flooded here in years. We'll be fine. Can I get you a drink? Something to eat maybe?
VICTOR: No. Thank you.
MARK: Suit yourself. If you'll excuse me, I need to get something to eat.
VICTOR: It's your house, go right ahead. Just don't think I'm going to let my eyes off you for long.
MARK: Like you ever did to begin with.
VICTOR: I did. Longer then I should of it seems.
MARK: Now, are you really going to hold me winning the contest against me?
VICTOR: Winning the contest? What contest?
MARK: I bedded the most girls in high school. That contest.
VICTOR: No, you didn't. I beat you out by one. You killed the one girl that would of tied us.
MARK (Becoming suddenly vicious.): I did not kill her! (Gains composure.) Excuse me. (MARK exits. VICTOR crosses to the piles of papers and begins to dig through them. MARK enters with a plate of food.) What are you doing?
VICTOR: Just looking. I wanted to remind you of what you did.
MARK: I didn't do anything. You told me not to bring it up again, and I won't. Something to eat?
VICTOR: No. Thank you. Again.
MARK: Sorry, I forgot I asked.
VICTOR: You seem to forget a lot of things. (VICTOR crosses to the radio.) Why's the radio off?
MARK: Couldn't take much more of the music. It was depressing me.
VICTOR: I thought you liked the old things, the simple things?
MARK: I do. Just not when it's raining. Depresses me too much. Could you fix me something to drink?
VICTOR: Get it yourself.
MARK (They stare a moment.): Fine. (Exits to kitchen and comes back with a bottle of scotch and a glass. He sits on the couch and pours himself a drink. He begins to eat and drink. There should be a bit of curiosity to his eating, like this is the first time he's had real food.)
VICTOR (Without looking at MARK. He tries to turn the radio on, it doesn't work. He flips the switch a few times.) I know the power isn't out. What happened to this? (He searches around the radio and discovers that it was unplugged.) Did you unplug this?
MARK: Yeah.
VICTOR: Why? (Plugs radio back in.)
MARK: I was sick of listening to it. It was depressing me.
(VICTOR turns the radio on and it sparks to life. The NEWSCASTER is on the air.)
NEWSCASTER: -from the Colmesneil Asylum. The individual escaped from the Asylum early yesterday morning. This individual is extremely dangerous and citizens are advised not to try to apprehend the suspect on there own. If you should see the suspect immediately call 911. The suspect is a white male, about 5'9 to 6', brown hair, brown eyes. He speaks with a slight country accent. He was last seen in the vicinity of the farm land off of interstate 45. Remember the suspect is extremely dangerous, if you should spot him please call 911 immediately. We now return you to KGHB - Classics 101.3.
(The radio station resumes some of the classic songs it was playing through out the evening. VICTOR turns to look at MARK. MARK has set the plate down and is holding the knife in his hand. There is a glint of fire in MARK'S eyes. VICTOR slowly backs away. MARK rises and begins to pursue him.)
VICTOR: Now, Mark, let's not do anything rash.
MARK: What do you know about rash, Victor? What do you know about anything?
VICTOR: Just take it easy, Mark.
MARK: You weren't suppose to know. You were never suppose to find out. I didn't want to go there, they forced me. They made me go. Locked me away in a cold, dark, dank cell. Maybe it wasn't a cell though, maybe it was just a little padded room. Four white walls to stare at. Which do you think it was, Victor?
VICTOR: Mark, I'm sorry that -
MARK: WHICH DO YOU THINK IT WAS?
VICTOR: The cell.
MARK: He he he, it wasn't. It was at first, but I went mad in the cell. The water dripping. Drip… drip… drip… Sounded like drops of blood running off the fingers of a freshly slain corpse. They taught us about those things in the military. I went deeper into my… emotions. So they moved me to that little padded room. No noise, low watt lighting, four white walls to stare at endlessly. It was a psychotic pleasure. I would spend hours in there just thinking about what I would do when I was free. Then the words came through - Institutionalized for life. Now, I couldn't have that Victor. No, no I had to be free. I had to come back out here, couldn't break with tradition you know. Had to see you again. My one solid link to the past. Had to see what you've been doing while I was rotting in a cell. I broke free. It was easy. Now, now you know too much. It was suppose to be just a simple, quiet get together. Not anymore. Not anymore. (MARK leaps at VICTOR. VICTOR dodges and moves towards the fire, grabbing the fire iron on the way.) Going to defend yourself? I don't want to kill you, Victor, I just want you to feel what I must be feeling. I want you to feel the red hot fire of hatred and rage coursing through your veins like a million pinheads on fire. Surging forward and onward, dashing against the skin like the waves against the rocks. A volcanic explosion of hate and contempt. You always had it better then me. You were Mama's boy. Yes, yes you were. She loved you more then me, did you know that? (VICTOR shakes his head no.) DON'T LIE TO ME! She did! She wanted you for a son. So soft.. So sensitive. (MARK lunges at VICTOR again. VICTOR swings the iron and manages to nick MARK on the arm.) Uh oh Victor, you've done it now. (MARK grabs VICTOR and shoves him up against the wall.) Yes, sir. You've done it now. (MARK takes the knife and raises it towards VICTOR'S throat.) I'm going to enjoy this. (MARK hurls his arm back as if to stab as a tremendous blast of thunder is heard. There's a spark as everything goes black. A scream. The curtain closes. End of Act One.)