The Long Walk_Libretto_Jan 2017

THE LONG WALK an opera based on The Long Walk, a Story of War and the Life That Follows

by Brian Castner music by Jeremy Howard Beck libretto by Stephanie Fleischmann commissioned by American Lyric Theater premiere: Opera Saratoga, July 2015 for an orchestra of 17 libretto POST WORLD PREMIERE DRAFT January 2017 © 2017 Stephanie Fleischmann

************************************ Time: 2010

Stephanie Fleischmann is represented by Barbara Hogenson The Barbara Hogenson Agency 165 West End Avenue, Suite 19C NY, NY 10023 212-874-8084 Bhogenson@aol.com

Place: A ranch house on the outskirts of Buffalo New York. Overlaid by memories of Iraq. Other “home” locales: A running path along the Niagara river, a minivan in the garage, a funeral, a hockey rink, an airport.

CHARACTERS Brian : A returned Iraq veteran. An EOD [Explosive Ordnance Disposal] unit captain. He’s been home for almost 2 years now. Baritone.

Jessie: His wife. Mezzo soprano.

Boys: Virgil, 10, boy soprano.

Martin, 7, boy soprano.

Sam, 5, boy soprano.

Soldiers: Jeff. Bass Baritone.

Ricky. Tenor.

Castleman. Tenor.

Women: Iraqi Woman/ Perneatha (a soldier’s widow)/Yogini. Soprano.

Iraqi Woman/Aunt Sarah/Shrink. Soprano.

January 2017

PRODUCTION NOTE This world can either be evoked a number of ways: • Via the vivid and hypperreal—concrete details suggesting a middle-class middleAmerican home, in which everything seems as it should. And yet. A logical, rational existence that has the propensity to become something other. What is there may appear as slices, sections, cutouts. A visceral, very real world cut up, or with the potential to tilt askew.

The space, or darkness, around what is shown suggests worlds beyond what’s here.

• Or via an extremely pared-down, abstracted approach.

Either way, most of the opera unfolds in the domestic sphere of the ranch house kitchen/living room. Also implicated in this universe: a staircase going up from the living area. The children’s bedroom. Brian and Jessie’s bedroom. This domestic sphere is frequently invaded by the military, by Brian’s memories of Iraq. These function on multiple levels (please see below). In addition to the ranch house, a few other locales, ideally suggested via pools of light and only if absolutely necessary, (minimal) visual signifiers: Running along the Niagara River, the minivan in the garage, the shrink’s office, a chapel in which a funeral is taking place, an airport.

In general, blackouts should be avoided. The shifts between locations need to be fluid, i.e., cinematic, to support the fact that much of the opera unfolds from Brian’s point of view.

Brian’s reality is a shattered one. Almost every time he is besieged by a memory of Iraq it comes at him from a different angle, in a different form, whether the visceral reality of the countdown invading his family dinner table, or the more stylized, celebratory memory of EOD training, or the hallucinogenic, fragmentary escalation of scenes 1-7.1 through 1-7.3 (which traverses numerous realities), or the nightmarish, almost underwater feeling of the descent into the devastation of 2-1.2 “Foot in the Box.” Only two moments are complete, unobliterated flashbacks, in which we are there—the latter part of 1-7.3 “Screaming Iraqi Women” and 2-9 “Pigeon on the Humvee.” Every other moment in which “the Crazy” intervenes in civilian life should feel prismatic, each rendered with its own specific vocabulary and conventions.

Like these various layers of reality, the MEN are sometimes specific characters, sometimes more filtered versions of those characters, more presences than actual characters.

Brian’s “Crazy” lives in the orchestra. Although he is indeed besieged by “the Crazy,” he should not play “crazy.” He should struggle to hold on to whatever normalcy he can muster, resisting the orchestra rather than giving in to it.

The transitions unfold in a way that conveys the feeling that the world is shifting, pivoting, spinning, morphing around Brian. For this reason, space, too, is fluid, and may at times involves a suspension of the literal rules of physics. (When Brian shares a scene with the shrink, for example, he need not inhabit her actual space.)

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January 2017

Notes on Arabic pronunciation ∂ = voiced "th", as in "loathe" or "lithe" (not the unvoiced "th" as in "thick" or "thin") hh = an unvoiced air/breath sound, the length of one full syllable j's are hard, as in English (not as in French) r's are rolled/flipped, similar to Spanish r's ll in "Allah" is the length of one full syllable Legend . . . = silence / = overlap here (or roughly there) —(word in italics) = the words the character would say if not interrupted in mid-sentence.

World premiere production, Saratoga Opera, Saratoga Springs, NY, July 2015 conducted by Steven Osgood directed by David Schweizer sets by Mimi Lien costumes by Nancy Leary Brian Jessie Sarah/Screaming Iraqi Woman/Shrink Sreaming Iraqi Woman/Perneatha/Yogini Jeff Ricky Castleman Martin Sam Virgil

Danny Belcher Heather Johnson Caroline Worra Donita Volkwijn Justin Hopkins David Blalock Javi Abreu Erich Schuett Henry Wager Bobby Hill

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January 2017 PROLOGUE In the foreground, (downstage center) we see a man running alone alongside the Niagara River, on the outskirts of Buffalo, New York. (He is wearing civilian running clothes, sweats, T-shirt, etc.) This is BRIAN CASTNER. As he runs (and sings), we hear sonic shards of Iraq, all of which are in his mind (these correspond to what we will later here and are indicated by italicized text in brackets): blast scenes, sewage, bloody swamps of trash and motor oil, dust clouds blown off the desert, Humvee diesel drone, craters, rubble, mortar fire…. under- or overlaid by “the Crazy,” a persistent sense of anxiety.

BRIAN Mile five, Speed up, Just pound It out— Run straight through the Is, Pounding out the Was— Run straight through— (the is) [Wreckage Havoc Sewage] The lawns are green, The streets are wide.

Ranch houses gleam— [Swamps Of blood And trash And motor oil] I run through the Is— The road is long, The sidewalk slants, The Tarmac is cracked, Bungalow skies— [Craters, Rubble, Mortar fire—] I run through the Is. Pounding out — [Screaming women who won’t shut up.]

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January 2017 The trees loom tall.

The sprinklers are on.

My ragged breath— My helium chest— [Dust clouds, Blown off the desert—] Afternoon shivers In the asphalt heat No breeze Off the river today.

Lights fade up on a dreamlike image emerging in the background (at a distance from, but in relationship to Brian): An Explosive Ordnance Disposal [EOD] man (CASTLEMAN) suited up in an 80-pound Kevlar bomb suit, walking the Long Walk towards a bomb in slow motion, in counterpoint to Brian’s rhythmic and breathless herky-jerky running gradually becomes visible. (Very possibly the man in the bomb suit is positioned directly behind BRIAN, and possibly on a level elevated above him (this will become a bedroom later).

[Helm— Leggings— Collar—] Suburb is quiet.

[Overalls pulled up, Jacket tucked,] Niagara winds like a giant snake.

[Face shield down.]

Castleman creeps towards the bomb.

[Into the breach he goes alone.]

I run through the is.

I run through the is.

I run— I run through—

The image of CASTLEMAN disappears abruptly, before he reaches the bomb.

Brian keeps running….

SCENE: MY GRANDMOTHER SAID. The Castner family home.

JESSIE appears in a neutral space, SR or SL. JESSIE My grandfather died on the living-room floor, Ten years after he came back from the war.

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January 2017 World War Two killed him at home.

Heart attack.

Ten years.

Ten years After he came back.

When my husband deployed to Iraq, I went and asked. Grandma, I need to know: How do I live with my husband gone?

Just me and the boys.

How do I help him When he comes home?

“He won’t come home,” my grandmother said.

“The war will kill him either way.

He’s as good as dead.

I hope for your sake he dies over there.

Because if the war doesn’t kill him, It’ll take him here.

The war will kill him at home. With you.”

But Grandma, I said. I won’t live in dread.

He’s coming home. And when he does, Your story—it’s not coming true.

Not on my watch. Not to this family.

It can’t happen here. I’m going to keep us whole.

Beat. Lights up on the Castner family kitchen. Dinner time. JESSIE crosses from her neutral space into the scene and sits down at her place at the table, joining BRIAN (no longer in running togs) and the 3 BOYS. This transition functions sort of as a toggle switch: The fact that we see Jessie make the cross should give us an important clue as to the rules of the various levels of reality and how they morph in this piece: i.e., anything is possible.

SCENE: DINNER. The dinner table/kitchen.

SAM Carrots?!

JESSIE Carrots.

VIRGIL Pass the salt.

BRIAN Please.

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January 2017 VIRGIL Pass the salt, please.

JESSIE That’s better. Thank you, Virgil.

MARTIN Thank you!

VIRGIL Puh-lease!

JESSIE Boys. ...

(To BRIAN) Martin has hockey tomorrow at four.

You’ll need to sharpen his skates.

And Sam gets picked up at six.

BRIAN At six?

JESSIE They’ve got me working late. ER’s busy this time of year.

Virgil’s got soccer. I can get him after work.

BRIAN Okay.

JESSIE Okay.

BRIAN Okay.

JESSIE Sam. Your carrots. Eat your— SAM But I don’t like carrots.

MARTIN Mom, you shoulda seen me today, on the ice.

BRIAN Martin took a tumble…

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January 2017 MARTIN Slid straight across the rink!

JESSIE You never have stopped running and bumping and sliding into every chair leg, every corner.

(To BRIAN) Remember, when he was two— BRIAN (It’s happened before:) No. (beat) I don’t remember— JESSIE But that was the year you were here— BRIAN Sam, listen to your mother. Eat your carrots.

SAM But Mom— JESSIE Samuel Paul Castner, I’m gonna count to ten.

One… Two…

As she counts, the lights shift. The family kitchen is overtaken by a memory of Iraq [the countdown at the traffic circle]. 3 MEN enter via surprising, unlikely portals (a trap under the kitchen table?) RICKY and JEFF climb onto the table, which is now a Humvee. CASTLEMAN is down on the ground, cutting detonation cord and gathering.] BRIAN backs away, taking it all in. JESSIE and THE BOYS remain at the table.

JEFF Ninety seconds!

CASTLEMAN That’s all we got—

JESSIE Three…

Four….

RICKY Crowd closing / in—

JEFF/RICKY/CASTLEMAN (staggered) Eighty!

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January 2017 JESSIE Five…

JESSIE Nope...

A shift in light as BRIAN enters the Humvee scene, serving as security, covering for CASTLEMAN. BRIAN I got you covered!

(To himself.) I check my rifle.

JEFF Seventy!

JESSIE Playing with your food won’t do it.

RICKY (behind the wheel, on radio, seeing a potential threat above) Up there, on the roof, those boys—

JESSIE I’m gonna have to start all over again.

SAM But Mama—

JESSIE One….

JESSIE Two….

I know you can do it.

SAM But I hate— JESSIE Three….

JEFF Sixty!

BRIAN (looking up) They’re children.

JEFF Kid’s got a cell phone!

CASTLEMAN (referring to the kid on the roof) Could be a remote detonation device.

JEFF Fifty!

JEFF No way to jam it!

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January 2017 RICKY Look at him!

JESSIE Four…

JESSIE You know the drill.

JESSIE Finish your carrots And you’re golden.

RICKY Waving it!

RICKY Pointing at— BRIAN Me— JEFF Forty!

BRIAN (To JEFF and CASTLEMAN) How’s it coming down there?

JEFF (Reporting on Castleman’s progress) Six EFPs and / counting

JESSIE Dessert is yours for the taking.

JESSIE That’s more like it.

JESSIE Five

JESSIE Good boy.

SAM No more, please!

JEFF Thirty!

BRIAN I raise my rifle.

BRIAN I flip off the safety.

RICKY Twenty!

RICKY/JEFF Twenty!

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January 2017 BRIAN Finger on the trigger.

Ten seconds.

JESSIE Six.

JESSIE Come on, now.

JESSIE Seven.

JESSIE That’s it.

JESSIE Every JESSIE last…

JESSIE one.

BRIAN (Pointing his rifle at the boy up on the roof.)

Ten seconds before I shoot this boy.

MEN One. MEN Two. MEN Three.

MEN Four.

MEN Five.

MEN Six. MEN Seven.

JESSIE Eight.

& MEN Eight.

JESSIE Nine.

& MEN Nine.

JESSIE Ten.

& MEN Ten. CASTLEMAN Clear!

The bomb is defused.

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January 2017 BRIAN (to himself) Eleven.

JESSIE That’s my boy….

BRIAN (measured, to himself) I check my rifle.

I check my rifle.

I check my rifle.

Exhale. The tension falls away as the lights shift and the men recede. BRIAN is back at the dinner table, holding an imaginary gun on his children.

JESSIE Brian.

MARTIN Daddy. (MARTIN holds out a book.) Read us a story— BRIAN, shaken, lowers his gun.

JESSIE Brian?

BRIAN What? [Beat] Sorry.

JESSIE Boys. Time for bed.

Transitional light and music suggesting that a few minutes have passed, or are passing, as the scene shifts to the children’s bedroom, upstairs. The calm of daily rituals of domesticity with an underbelly of roiling.

A sense of the everyday—tinged with the feeling that we are on the precipice of some kind of shift or change (a bomb poised to go off, its complicated improvised mechanism jury-rigged to detonate if the wrong move is made). A sense of time elapsing—we will start the next scene in the middle of the story.

JESSIE continue clearing as the scene unfolds.

SCENE: BEDTIME. The children’s bedroom upstairs.

Lights up on BRIAN, reading to his BOYS, who are in or on the bed, all piled on top of him.

BRIAN “Can you haul me over the hill?” the very long freight train asked every engine in the yard.

And one by one, every engine refused. All except— BOYS Except for the littlest—

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January 2017 BRIAN Who replied: MARTIN “I think I can.”

BOYS “I think I can.”

BRIAN And so the littlest engine moved to the front of the train.

VIRGIL “I think I can—” BRIAN He puffed.

SAM “I think I can—” BRIAN He pulled. “I think I—” (pause) SAM (Beat) Daddy?

BRIAN (Beat) What? Sorry.

MARTIN “I think I can,” BRIAN He kept on, as— Higher and higher he climbed, Up the steep— the slope.

BOYS “I think I can— I— think— I can—” BRIAN “I think I—” (Wiping away a tear and trying again, BRIAN is overcome. The BOYS wait for a beat.)

SAM Papa. Go on.

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January 2017 VIRGIL Please?

BRIAN (He puts the book down and looks away.) You didn’t see this.

VIRGIL What?

BRIAN Smart boy.

SAM We never do.

VIRGIL We pretend we don’t— MARTIN I did.

BRIAN You didn’t. You didn’t see— MARTIN Daddy crying.

SAM Again.

MARTIN And again.

BRIAN I’ve got dishes to wash—

JESSIE Now, where were we?

BRIAN exits the boys room and heads downstairs, towards the kitchen. JESSIE, passing him on her way up, gives him a glare before entering the children’s space.

In the kitchen, BRIAN opens a beer, and drinks.

SAM (He points to the page) “I thought I could…”

JESSIE “I thought I could, I thought I could, I—”

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January 2017 MARTIN I’ve got a story.

JESSIE You do?

MARTIN A bedtime story.

JESSIE Let’s hear it.

MARTIN It goes like this: There once was a— JESSIE Go on.

MARTIN There once was a soldier.

JESSIE A soldier—?

MARTIN Who came home from the war, BOYS There once was a soldier Who came home from the war.

MARTIN But the war followed him home, It walked in the door.

As the lights fade, MARTIN and VIRGIL exit, and JESSIE kisses SAM goodnight. Downstairs, for a few beats, BRIAN drinks—and drinks—as the lights fade completely, and the music moves us towards the middle of the night.

SCENE: MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. BRIAN & JESSIE’S bedroom.

Several hours later. Total darkness. Lights bump up on BRIAN, who wakes on the floor to the Crazy, besieged by its symptoms. JESSIE, is asleep in their bed.

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January 2017 BRIAN The ceiling Pushes Down— The walls Are closing in— The room, it’s— What’s with my eye?

My arm— The room is spinning.

My back— My jaw— Can’t feel my—

JESSIE wakes.

JESSIE sits up in bed and watches.

JESSIE (to herself, quietly) I see him but I don’t.

I see him but I won’t Let him— See me Seeing him Like this— I won’t.

Just a bad dream, he’ll be fine.

BRIAN My back is screaming— My teeth— My chest’s ballooning— JESSIE Night after night There’s nothing I can do— BRIAN She sees me / but she won’t— JESSIE He needs me but I / can’t— BRIAN Can’t let her see me / so I won’t— JESSIE I’m a nurse, not a / doctor BRIAN Doctor— I need a doctor—

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January 2017

JESSIE Countless trips to the ER— BRIAN My chest— JESSIE Every one…

BRIAN Blows up JESSIE …a false alarm.

BRIAN My heart— JESSIE Just— BRIAN Is missing— JESSIE (to him) Breathe— BRIAN (giving in) Jessie!

JESSIE (to him) / Your heart has never been stronger.

BRIAN (under JESSIE) / It’s missing a beat.

JESSIE What you need / is— (BRIAN interrupts her. What she intended to say: “a psychiatrist)) BRIAN I’ve been to the VA. JESSIE You need help, Brian,

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January 2017 BRIAN Again and again.

There’s nothing they can— JESSIE /There’s nothing I… BRIAN Ceiling…

JESSIE …can / do— BRIAN …pushing down— JESSIE I see him…

BRIAN Chest blowing up— JESSIE …but I won’t— Let him see me— Seeing him Like this BRIAN Head cracking open— JESSIE Just a bad dream, he’ll be fine— SAM Mama!

From elsewhere, a child cries out.

JESSIE Coming, baby… (JESSIE exits.)

BRIAN (alone, under his breath) What the fuck is happening to me?

Lights down on BRIAN in the bedroom. Stillness. The house at night. Shifting to total darkness. During which we hear music that inhabits the middle of the night zone, gradually down from the apex of intensity at which we

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January 2017 end the scene, and allowing for BRIAN and JESSIE to make costume changes and get set for the next scene, which is triggered by an alarm clock ringing—the toggle for an abrupt transition into the morning crazies.

SCENE: MORNING CRAZIES. The next morning, the kitchen.

Lights up on the kitchen. A pot of coffee, BRIAN is preparing breakfast. The boys are offstage. JESSIE enters, dressed in nursing togs.

JESSIE Make sure Virgil eats his cereal.

And Sam wears his jacket.

Martin will forget his homework if you don’t— BRIAN I know.

JESSIE I know you know.

I love you.

I’m late!

BRIAN You’re late!

JESSIE Goodbye! [tiny beat]

JESSIE exits.

SAM (entering) Papa, tie my shoe lace!

BRIAN (To SAM) Eat your cereal.

VIRGIL Martin, give me back my astronaut pen!

VIRGIL & MARTIN enter.

MARTIN It’s mine!

BRIAN Drink your juice.

It’s eggs for you.

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January 2017 SAM Sunnyside!

BRIAN Sunnyside. Sunny.

It’s sunny outside.

VIRGIL Dad? BRIAN Shit!

MARTIN Daddy!

BRIAN I burned the toast.

If I crack the eggs like so— SAM You broke the yolk!

BRIAN Let’s try that again! (he cracks an egg) Flawless! [beat] Coffee! That’s what’s missing here!

Coffee! Two sugars! [beat] BRIAN If I butter the toast— VIRGIL But you burned it!

BRIAN Like so— MARTIN Daddy, we’re late!

BRIAN I won’t feel my—

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January 2017 MARTIN Come on!

MARTIN grabs his lunch box and exits.

BRIAN (to himself) Head cracking open— SAM We’re gonna be late for school…

BRIAN My teeth, my eye— SAM …again!

VIRGIL Dad, hurry up, we gotta go!

VIRGIL grabs his backpack and exits.

BRIAN (to himself) I’ve gotta get out of here.

SCENE: BROTHERHOOD OF THE CRAB. Brian’s memory.

We hear a bomb exploding. The men appear. A flashback collage. EOD training pre-deployment. Exuberance.

Camaraderie. Stylized. Different in lighting/movement from all that’s come before.

JEFF:

Detonation:

MEN/BRIAN: A supersonic chemical chain reaction In which a small speck of sensitive compound Erupts in a burst of heat and light.

JEFF: The speed of the wave: MEN/BRIAN: Surging through a block of plastic explosive Correlates with the velocity of the frag thrown by the blast: Chunks of steel, ball bearings, nuts, bolts, pieces of dead dog, body parts, nails…

JEFF: This is how we harness that explosive power: MEN/BRIAN: This is how we shear a firing pin before it strikes: JEFF: Unscrew fuzes on bomblet dispensers— MEN/BRIAN: Propel wedges, slugs, forks, buckshot, water— JEFF: BRIAN:

This is how we shoot jets of water— Into the delicate mechanisms that make ordnance work.

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January 2017 MEN/BRIAN: This is how we tear improvised devices apart BRIAN: To prevent them from converting potential into chaos.

JEFF : MEN: MEN:

This is how we conduct Explosive Ordnance Disposal.

This is how we earn our badge: The brotherhood of the crab!

The lights shift. The MEN are partying now.

JEFF: MEN: JEFF: CASTLE: JEFF: MEN: JEFF: MEN: JEFF: MEN: JEFF: ALL: JEFF: JEFF: JEFF:

First, we collect the evidence— We collect the evidence— So we can trace the intel link, Unearth the terrorists!

Then we clear the scene of IEDs— Improvised Explosive Devices— We clear the scene.

We destroy the hazards.

We destroy the hazards.

We count the bodies.

We count the bodies.

Murphy’s law: Anything that can go wrong will.

Every mission your lucky streak stretches thinner.

CASTL: Got on my lucky boxers, ratty with holes.

Murphy grows stronger.

RICKY: Got my lucky pencil, number two.

Get to one hundred and you’re pushing your luck.

BRIAN: Gonna have me some lucky sex.

CASTL: I’m gonna pass my tests Gonna graduate EOD school with flying colors No turning back.

This is where I’m supposed to be— Right here, with my brothers: BRIAN: Fuck, yeah, Castleman!

RICKY: Amen brother!

The lights shift. The men are running now, up the hill of woe.

JEFF:

Say your prayers!

Kiss your fuckin’ rosary!

It’s the hill of woe!

CASTLE.:

This is how Navy Petty Officer Chaney whips our asses into shape!

JEFF Every mission

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January 2017 MEN (a running chant) Every mission JEFF Your luck stretches thinner, MEN Your luck stretches thinner, JEFF Murphy grows stronger.

MEN Murphy grows stronger.

JEFF Stronger stronger stronger JEFF & MEN Get to a hundred, You’re pushing your luck

The lights shift.

RICKY Hey Sir, wanna race?

BRIAN Ricky, are you out of your mind?

(Brian falters on the soft sand.

Under his breath:) Shit!

JEFF Watcha doin there, Castner?

BRIAN Shit! Nothing!

JEFF Come on now, don’t be scared of the soft sand!

CASTLEMAN/RICKY Don’t be scared / of the soft sand.

BRIAN Don’t be scared of the soft sand.

JEFF (running) Nope. No time for that— (imitating the old cigar-smoking chief:)

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January 2017 Not if you’re gonna get everybody’s ass home in one motherfuckin piece.

BRIAN In one motherfuckin— SCENE: BIRTHDAY PARTY the Castner family home The flashback bubble bursts. The MEN disappear. We shift back to the house. MARTIN’S 7th birthday party. Balloons. A slightly chaotic celebration. BRIAN lands in his chair. JESSIE is at the door.

AUNT SARAH, entering, present in hand.

Sorry I’m late! Where’s my birthday boy?

MARTIN Aunt Sarah!

JESSIE Martin, kiss your Auntie Sarah hello!

He does.

AUNT SARAH It’s only been a couple of weeks but I swear you’ve grown!

(As BRIAN gets up from his chair to greet SARAH.) How’s my brother, Brian?

JESSIE He’s fine.

BRIAN (Kissing SARAH hello) He’s fine.

JESSIE Who’d like some cake?

SAM I would!

MARTIN/VIRGIL Me! Me! JESSIE Sarah?

SARAH Not for me, thanks.

SARAH How’s civilian life on the road?

The boys run off with their cake.

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January 2017 BRIAN Endless airports, Continental breakfasts, Faceless towns.

JESSIE He’s home this week, thank goodness.

BRIAN Somebody’s gotta get the next crop of EOD guys ready to roll— JESSIE Somebody?

BRIAN Somebody’s got to teach them how to go over there and— SARAH (almost joking) Not explode?

JESSIE Even if it means weeks away from home?

After eight years in the military, deployments coming at us one after another, lasting as long as a year?

SARAH Right. Well. I’m gonna see what those boys are up to.

JESSIE I’m sorry. ...

Brian.

Don’t you want some cake? ...

Brian?

She leaves them alone.

BRIAN No. JESSIE (Quietly:) What are you thinking?

The BOYS race through with SARAH. MARTIN Last one outside’s a rotten egg!

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January 2017

BRIAN Do you really want to know?

JESSIE Of course I do.

The BOYS and SARAH charge outside, whooping.

Lights fade up on JEFF, in a separate space.

BRIAN I was thinking about Jeff.

JESSIE On your son’s birthday?

BRIAN Navy Petty Officer First Class Jeffrey L. Chaney.

JESSIE Jeff.

BRIAN I think about him every day.

JESSIE He was your hero, your everything, I know.

But he didn’t die on your watch.

BRIAN He died— JESSIE Over a year ago.

On an empty highway Outside Tikrit.

The summer after you got back.

He tempted fate with “just one more tour.”

You didn’t.

You got all your men home.

BRIAN Right. In one mutherfuckin’ piece.

SARAH Don’t mind me. Hide and go seek.

Lights down on JEFF. We hear the hullaballoo of boys playing like banshees outside as SARAH and VIRGIL and SAM enter, looking for places to hide.

During the following we hear MARTIN counting to 10. He passes through the space at about 3.

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January 2017 JESSIE And now you’re here.

Home. With us.

It’s been almost two years.

Martin only turns seven once.

Please. Try to be present.

For your children.

MARTIN Ten! Ready or not! Here I come!

MARTIN runs off.

BRIAN What do you mean, I— JESSIE Try to hold on to what’s happening here So that you will have it to remember— SAM Mama, can I please have some more cake?

JESSIE Sam wants more cake.

BRIAN Sam wants more cake.

SAM comes out of hiding.

JESSIE turns away to help their child. BRIAN tries to hold on to what’s happening as it happens.

Lights focus in on BRIAN as we hear the following coming from outside: MARTIN (spoken) Come out, come out, wherever you are!

BRIAN (cont.)

There are boys outside, running wild, Building forts and hunting phantom soldiers, Playing Pin the Donkey and Capture the Flag—

VIRGIL I’m invisible!

JESSIE What do you say we open a few presents!

MARTIN Yes!

BRIAN (cont.)

As Jessie holds court, And Martin opens presents With a smile as wide as this house,

VIRGIL comes out of hiding.

SARAH (emerging from hiding) I guess I can come out now.

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January 2017 BRIAN And his brothers dive-bomb his brand-new prizes. MARTIN is opening presents.

And I sit here, Trying to fix every detail Like I’m a dark-room— Only nothing sticks:

SARAH Open mine!

SARAH, grabbing a camera.

Say cheese!

BOYS & JESSIE Cheese!

Martin’s second birthday: I remember— (He struggles to remember) It was a day like this— No. It was stormy— No— And Sam’s— Was I even home?

The summer Jessie and I— The night I proposed—

BRIAN (cont.)

And so I sit here, Unable to hold onto The Is as it unfolds.

As life goes on without me Like it did when I was gone.

BRIAN (cont.)

Jessie, strong as an army, Steady as the days.

She didn’t need me then— Doesn’t need me now.

It’s like I’m not really here.

I don’t belong.

SARAH Got it!

SARAH (to JESSIE) If you need time alone I can watch the boys, I can— JESSIE We’re fine, really.

SAM Mama!?

JESSIE Sammie! (JESSIE gives SAM a kiss.)

27

January 2017

Lights fade on JESSIE, SARAH and the boys. They exit, clearing the table, leaving behind one unwrapped cardboard box, which will remain on the table through Act 1 and into Act 2.

SCENE: MINIVAN/HAWIJA. Moments later, in the garage.

BRIAN is sitting at the wheel of the family minivan in the garage, alone, with gun in hand.

BRIAN I’m gonna make this minivan safe.

Gonna strap this pistol to the console, like so.

Modified 9 millimeter holster Bolted next to the cup-holder, the radio.

Grip angled up and ready.

Gonna practice reloading with one hand, Releasing spent mags like so.

So I can drive as I shoot.

So I can decide who to kill On the way to school.

So I can keep my boys safe.

Lights shift.

If the attack comes, it will be quick.

The crowd, like a school of fish, will turn and swarm away.

The sea will part, attacker, rush in, grenade in hand.

The road to school— Is fraught with danger.

Suicide lawn-mowers.

Crossing-guard spooks.

I check my rifle, Reload my pistol.

Who will I shoot to fend off the crowd?

To protect my children?

Red shirt?

Teenager?

The mailman on his rounds?

MARTIN Papa, what are you doing?

BRIAN What am I—? [doing]

Lights return to their previous state.

MARTIN enters to find HIS FATHER in the minivan, loading the very real pistol.

As soon as BRIAN realizes the BOY has entered, he lowers his gun.

28

January 2017 MARTIN What are you doing in the minivan with that gun?

Beat. The music shifts abruptly. BRIAN moves to his running spot. MARTIN exits (or does he watch his father enter the next scene for a few beats before exiting?). Lights out on the minivan.

REFRAIN: RUNNING 2/PARABLE OF THE MARBLES/DAY OF 6 VBIEDS And BRIAN is off and running along the Niagara river. Through shards of memories of Iraq. Away from the Crazy, trying to drown it out via the sheer pain of running himself into oblivion. The MEN appear as spectral presences (voices in BRIAN’s head), their separate layer of reality articulated via light.

MEN Wreckage.

Havoc.

Sewage.

BRIAN Along the / Niagara River, Past ranch houses— Manicured lawns—

For sonic reasons, the women remain offstage until otherwise indicated after DUST CLOU

MEN Swamps Of blood And trash And motor oil— BRIAN My ragged breath— My helium chest— MEN Dust clouds, Blown off the desert— BRIAN I run in the Is, MEN Craters, Rubble, Mortar fire—

DISTANT IRAQI WOMEN (keening)

Salát el féjir [dawn prayer time] Salát el ∂ohúr [noon prayer time] Salát el ásir [afternoon prayer time] Salát el mághreb [evening prayer] Salát el aísheh [night-time prayer]

29

January 2017 BRIAN Burn the Crazy away— MEN Screaming women who won’t shut up, BRIAN I run in the Is— MEN Humvee diesel engine drone— BRIAN Pounding it out MEN Ten seconds not to shoot the boy— BRIAN Pounding out the Was. MEN Dried brown blood on chalk-white skin.

BRIAN Pounding it out of my head.

MEN Concrete rain— / Molten steel— No skin left— BRIAN I check my rifle.

I check my rifle.

The foot is in the box RICKY Don’t be scared of the soft sand, Captain.

Féjir ∂ohúr Ásir Mághreb Aísheh Féjir ∂ohúr Ásir Mághreb Aísheh Féjir ∂ohúr Ásir Mághreb Aísheh Féjir ∂ohúr Ásir Lights shift as he falters in his running and RICKY joins him. The MEN recede.

BRIAN Hey, Ricky!

RICKY Wanna race?

30

January 2017 BRIAN Not today.

RICKY Sir, have you heard the parable of the marbles?

BRIAN I’m not really a parable kind of / guy RICKY About the guy who figured out how much time he had left, And filled a jar with marbles—one for every day?

Every day he took one out.

Every day the jar grew emptier.

Reminding him that life is precious.

So much to do, to / savor— BRIAN That’s horseshit.

(They come to a stop.)

The day we got off the plane in Iraq Each of us poured our jar of marbles out onto the floor.

It’s all borrowed time from here on in.

Today could be my last.

The war can still kill me.

Just like it killed— (Beat.)

RICKY It’s getting late, sir.

(They return to running.

The MEN reappear.)

MEN Dust clouds Blown off the desert; BRIAN Craters, Rubble, Mortar / fire— RICKY Time to turn back now.

BRIAN Screaming women who won’t shut up.

Ten seconds not to shoot the / boy—

IRAQI WOMEN Salát el féjir Salát el ∂ohúr Salát el ásir Salát el mághreb Salát el aísheh Salát el féjir

31

January 2017 RICKY If we’re gonna get home before dark—

BRIAN Concrete rain.

Molten steel.

No skin left.

No skin left.

I run in the Is— I run in the Is— I run in the Is—

JEFF Day and night The calls come in.

(The phone rings.)

RICKY turns back, but BRIAN keeps on running, straight into the Iraq in his mind. As he runs, the lights shift to delineate multiple realties/worlds: BRIAN in Buffalo; JEFF’s poetic reportage; CASTLEMAN’s surreal time lapse of calls; and the SCREAMING IRAQI WOMEN [initially offstage, and then remaining in the distance/on the periphery until the next page.]

Morning rockets— Day and night, The calls come in.

Suicide car-bomb afternoons.

(The phone rings.)

/My ragged breath— My helium chest— I run in the Is— Can’t burn— Can’t burn— The Crazy away—

Can’t pound— Can’t pound— Can’t pound— Can’t pound— The Was— The Was— The was The was Out of my—[head].

Between calls to prayer, Minarets tracing sun and moon.

Calls after dinner, Darkness setting in, (The phone rings.)

Calls after curfew, Round midnight, Calls before dawn.

Truck bombs, Suspicious-looking bags of trash, Morning rockets, (The phone rings.)

Suicide car-bomb afternoons.

(The phone rings and rings.)

CASTLEMAN Call number one: Local Patriotic Union of Kurdistan.

Count the bodies, Collect the evidence,

Call number two: Kurdish Daycare for Crippled Children.

Clear the scene, Destroy the hazards—

Call number three: Kurdish SWAT Team commander’s residence.

Count Collect Clear Destroy— Call number 4— Call number 5— Count the bodies.

Count the bodies.

Count the bodies

IRAQI WOMEN

/Féjir ∂ohúr Ásir [The women enter in the distance/on periphery] Mághreb Aísheh Féjir ∂ohúr Ásir Mághreb Aísheh

Féjir ∂ohúr Ásir Mághreb Aísheh Féjir ∂ohúr Ásir Mághreb Aísheh—

I check my rifle.

I check my rifle.

The foot is in the—

32

January 2017 IRAQI WOMEN Át'faal'na maátow. [Means: “Our children are dead”] Át'faal'na maátow. Át'faal'na — Át'faal'na— Át'faal'na— Állah yehhfa∂ át'faal'na. [Means: “God protect our children.”]

(Repeat.)

Lights shift to indicate a new layer of reality. We are in Iraq.

BRIAN is reliving a memory. He stops running. The roped-off site of an explosion. Where children have died. A crowd of keening Iraqi women (children clinging to their skirts), envelops BRIAN, who struggles to complete his investigation.

BRIAN What are these woman doing here?

Move! Get out of my way!

For Christ’s sake! Somebody!

Get them out of my here!

Jesus! Isn’t anybody gonna shut them up? A woman grabs something.

Waitaminute, you can’t haul that away!

That was evidence!

We’re here to help— Do you think I like?— (killing your kids) Shut up!

JEFF, a voice in BRIAN’s head Shut the fuck up!

IEDs are dope. Nuthin but fuckin dope.

You think you’re saving the day clearing out that IED? IRAQI WOMEN You’re just snatchin the user. Át'faal'na maátau.

You think you’re getting ahead taking down the weapons caches? Át'faal'na maátau.

Those are just the sellers. Állah yehhfa∂ át'faal'na.

We could wax guys for smokin and sellin dope (repeats) for the next thirty years. And there will always be more dope.

More IEDs. BRIAN to the women We could catch em bringing em across the border, We’re here to help!

And there will always be more dope.

We’re here to— There is so much dope all over this country we’ll never find it all.

And even if we do, if they still want it, they’ll grow it themselves.

That’s the thing about dope.

Shut up!

Shut the fuck up!

I can’t think— I can’t— I can stop your screaming.

I can shut you up— I raise my rifle.

I flip off the safety.

I put my finger on the trigger— Finger on the trigger—(repeats) The trigger— (repeats)

[An actual rifle materializes onstage.]

33

January 2017 The women fall silent. Beat. RICKY, in soldier’s garb, shows up in the nick of time.

RICKY Come on, Captain, let’s go.

There ain’t shit to find here.

RICKY exits. BRIAN lowers his rifle. In an instant, Iraq falls away. Lights shift us back to the house. BRIAN is alone, at home, gun in hand, confronting himself in the mirror.

Night.

BRIAN There are two of me now.

There are two: The Crazy.

The Crazy.

The Crazy.

The Crazy.

And then there is the Other.

There are two of me now.

There are two.

The Crazy— And and and— The Other— Who watches The Crazy watching the Other Watching the Crazy Pack lunches, Check homework, Run like hell— Wondering: Will I be crazy today?

The answer is yes— Every day.

So the Other Watches and waits.

He watches and knows.

This is no life.

Crazy won’t always be here.

Crazy will go.

But when?

BRIAN mounts the stairs.

BRIAN sits at the top of the stairs, gun in hand.

This is no life.

Crazy filling my chest.

Churning my stomach.

34

January 2017 As I watch at the top of the stairs.

As I check my rifle.

As I guard my children— As I keep my sleeping boys safe From the gutting, The twisting, The tearing, The blasting— Defending, Protecting My sweet boys— Whoever tries to mount these narrow stairs Will die.

Whoever tries to pass this choke point Will perish.

Nobody wrings out my boys like they’re rags.

No one can tear them To pieces.

No one will pull them limb from limb.

Not while I guard my sleeping children— While I keep them safe At the top of the stairs.

From the crushing, The grinding, The shaking, The pounding, The cracking, The slashing, The cutting, The burning, The gutting— Defending, Defending— Protecting, Protecting My sweet boys— JESSIE enters. Everything stops. Lights fade. ~ End Act 1 ~

35

January 2017 ACT 2 SCENE: AT THE TOP OF THE STAIRS. Continuous. The Castner family home.

We pick up where we left off: BRIAN sits at the top of the stairs, holding a rifle, guarding his sleeping children. JESSIE is where we last saw her. The cardboard box from the birthday party remains on the kitchen table.

JESSIE I used to think we’d travel to the ends of the earth, You and me— Las Vegas, The Aegean Sea, Rangoon— I used to think we’d fly to the moon together.

But I can’t follow you there, where you’re going.

I can’t follow you down into the darkness.

She takes the gun from him.

This isn’t going to keep us safe.

On the days you’re away at work We open the windows.

Like banshees, we play, Me and the boys, We holler, we whoop, We make noise, We eat cake.

We get happy For happiness’s sake.

“If you came back, My grandmother said, You wouldn’t come home, And you didn’t.

The man I knew As good as dead, she said.

War takes your happy For happiness’s sake, Makes your house a catacomb.

I can’t follow you there— I won’t.

Can’t follow you down Into the blacker than blue.

Can’t you see? I’m trying to prove her story wrong.

36

January 2017 But you and me, Our boys, Marooned.

That gun, this ache— I used to believe we’d fly to the moon together, That we’d get through this unscathed, But I can’t follow you down into this darkness.

JESSIE exits.

SCENE: FOOT IN THE BOX. BRIAN’s memory.

Lights shift. An altered reality. BRIAN slowly descends the stairs, picking up the rifle wherever it was left by JESSIE. The MEN appear, one by one.

BRIAN I go down— Tunnel through The maze of the market.

Mission number ninety-three.

Chai shop— Big as a closet.

The chai shop where Kurdish elders— Every morning— Drink tea.

Close quarters Magnifies the wave of the blast.

Vaporized limbs, No bodies to count.

One table standing. (He approaches the table.)

On the table, a cardboard box.

In it, a sandal.

With a— It is— A foot.

It was once A foot.

(He laughs.) Holy fuck.

Why the hell not?

The foot is in the box.

(He looks down at his foot.)

I’ve got a foot

RICKY Every mission, your lucky streak stretches thinner.

JEFF Murphy grows stronger.

CASTLEMAN Get to a hundred, You’re pushing your luck.

No amount of offerings to Murphy are gonna save you— MEN Thirty-seven missions…

One month later it’s fifty-three…

Sixty-eight…

Eighty-seven…

Eighty-nine…

Ninety-one.

37

January 2017 Encased In my blood-stained boot, Dogtag knotted up in the laces Castner, Brian Patrick Social security number 543-91-/ 6329 Dogtag knotted up / in the laces

Ninety-three.

Ninety-five.

Ninety-eight.

One hundred two.

Because my foot is the part of me Most likely to remain.

MEN In the end Murphy always wins.

Lucky streak always snaps.

BRIAN My foot slips Inside the box. (laughs) I’m not scared of the soft sand. (beat) Fuck this place.

I’m going home.

Beat. The MEN disappear/exit. The box is removed—now or in the transition leading into the Funeral, one scene later. BRIAN remains wherever he has landed. Lights come up on the SHRINK. Two isolated pools of light—the ranch house seems to disappear.

SCENE: BLAST-INDUCED TBI. The SHRINK’s office.

SHRINK The blast wave flies Through the brain.

The brain is dense The speed of the wave Is directly related To the density of the brain.

The blast wave races Through the denser places Of the skull, Slowing down at thresholds and spaces, Tearing tiny nerve endings, Shearing synapses, Ripping pathways like paper, Shredding neurons, Severing connections, Rendering memories moot.

And that’s if you’re lucky:

38

January 2017

BRIAN Memories?

SHRINK Gone.

BRIAN My son’s first steps, The night I proposed to my wife— SHRINK Disappeared.

But not the dexterity needed To tie fishing flies.

BRIAN No. SHRINK Or the ability to decide what meat to buy.

To speak, to walk, to sleep.

BRIAN But what about the summer Jessie and I— I can’t— I need to remember.

SHRINK You’re one of the lucky ones, Mr. Castner.

BRIAN One of the lucky—?

SHRINK Exposed as you’ve been to so many hundreds of blasts Up close.

The VA has been collecting and studying the data.

You have Blast-induced Traumatic Brain Injury— BRIAN It has a name?

SHRINK It has a name.

BRIAN Blast-induced Traumatic Brain Injury.

39

January 2017

SHRINK For you it’s more exhausting Simply to get out of bed— BRIAN Let alone think— SHRINK Than most.

But the fact is, your brain function overall, Your short-term memory, Your ability to reason, Are impressively intact.

BRIAN But I’m Crazy. (We hear the Screaming Iraqi Women in the orchestra.)

SHRINK We don’t use that word here.

BRIAN But I wanted to kill them.

SHRINK Who? BRIAN The screaming women.

The day the calls just kept coming and coming And coming and / coming— SHRINK / Yes. But you didn’t.

Music. We transition to a chapel.

SCENE: KERMIT’S FUNERAL. Some weeks later.

Three MEN (supers) appear in formal dress blues. They unfold a flag and place it on the kitchen table, which now serves as a coffin. PERNEATHA (the fallen soldier’s widow) enters. The men salute her. A gospel song. PERNEATHA mourns privately.

PERNEATHA The night is dark,

40

January 2017 The road is long, The way is empty.

Fill me up, Lord, Fill me up with your light.

Lord, fill me up.

BRIAN takes his place at the lectern.

BRIAN (speech-like) Captain Kermit O Evans was greatly loved by all who knew him. Kermit and I were brothers. Bound not just by the brotherhood that connects all EOD men, but a shared trajectory of leadership and geography. Kermit took over my unit on Cannon Air Force Base. I could’ve been in his downed helicopter. In his place.

PERNEATHA (sung) The night is dark, The road is long, The way is empty.

Fill me up, Lord, Fill me up with your light.

Lord, fill me up.

Take my husband / home.

PERNEATHA The day is gray, Morning’s cruel, The way is empty.

Fill me up, Lord.

Fill me up with your love.

Lord, fill me up Take my husband home To where he belong.

Give him sweet honeycomb, Sky full of song.

Fill him up with your grace— With your glory.

With your glory.

Lights up on JESSIE, wearing black.

JESSIE (sung) / “Your husband’s As good as dead,” My grandmother said.

JESSIE “The war will kill him either way.

I hope for your sake he dies.”

Over there.”

Take him home. (she shifts back to Brian:) But he’s dying.

He’s dying here, At home.

On my watch.

I’m trying, but I can’t— I don’t know what to—

PERNEATHA & JESSIE Take my husband home To where he belong.

Give him sweet honeycomb, Sky full of song.

Fill him up with your grace— With your glory.

With your glory.

41

January 2017 Inside the church, the EOD MEN attending the funeral partake in the final roll-call—a tradition designed to honor their fallen brother.

BRIAN (like speech) The time has come to honor our fallen brother with the final roll call.

(The following is spoken.)

BRIAN Senior Airman Kory!

MAN 1 Here, sir!

BRIAN Staff Sergeant Leaverton!

MAN 2 Here, sir!

BRIAN Master Sergeant Vannes!

MAN 3 Here, sir!

BRIAN Captain Evans! ...

Captain Kermit O Evans!

[Silence] . . .

Fire in the hole!

An explosive salute is fired outside the church—the explosion loud, shattering. None of the brothers moves a muscle. A beat of silence (the echo of the report resonating into nothingness. Lights shift as the SOLDIERS fold the flag and give it to PERNEATHA with a slow salute. Lights up on the BOYS, at home, a couple of beats before the ranch house is visible.

BRIAN and JESSIE, in their dress clothes and coats, return home from the funeral. The boys give their parents a wide berth….

SCENE: THE WAR IN OUR HOUSE. Immediately after the funeral. Home. …as BRIAN sits down in his chair and drinks, and JESSIE putters, clearly alienated from BRIAN (who removes his jacket, tie and shirt—he has on an undershirt underneath—and takes off his shoes). The BOYS watch/witness from their safe distance.

42

January 2017

BOYS There once was a soldier Who came home from the war, But the war followed him home— It walked in the door.

Strode all through the house, Upstairs and down, Sat down at our table, Sprawled out on the couch.

And our long-lost soldier, Who’d returned in one piece, Felt himself crumble— Turns out he’d been fleeced.

BRIAN changes into his yoga clothes.

Our soldier looked whole: Ten fingers, ten toes, Same eyes, same nose As the day he left home.

But he felt like a stranger, Not like a dad.

Like his skin didn’t fit, And he seemed kind of sad.

SHRINK Why is the war still in your house?

BOYS Wouldn’t play with his kids Who felt kind of sore And tried to recall Their Daddy before.

Lights up on the SHRINK in the same spot where we initially saw her.

Lights down on the SHRINK.

BRIAN/JESSIE Why is the war still in our house?

BOYS They tried to recall— But all they could picture Was him and the war That followed him home— And walked in the door.

43

January 2017 The lights stay fixed on BRIAN as they go out on the home and come up on the Shrink in her spot.

SCENE: YOU DON’T SUFFER FROM NIGHTMARES. The SHRINK’s office.

SHRINK You don’t suffer from nightmares.

BRIAN I wake up in the middle of the night— I have bad dreams all day long.

SHRINK You don’t fixate on one single trauma.

BRIAN I obsess over hundreds every day.

SHRINK You haven’t blocked out a painful memory.

BRIAN I remember every moment of Iraq in Technicolor.

It’s everything else I can’t— SHRINK You got out of bed this morning.

BRIAN I get out of bed every day.

SHRINK You spoke at the funeral.

BRIAN I did what I had to do.

SHRINK You did. You do.

BRIAN I do.

SHRINK You do what you have to do.

Lights down on the shrink.

44

January 2017

SCENE: A YOGA CLASS FOR VETERANS. Some days later.

Lights up on a yoga class for veterans, already in progress [possibly on the landing at the top of the stairs.]

BRIAN enters at the back of the platform and slips into place.

YOGINI: BRIAN: YOGINI: BRIAN: YOGINI: BRIAN: YOGINI: BRIAN: YOGINI: BRIAN YOGINI BRIAN: YOGINI: BRIAN: YOGINI: BRIAN: YOGINI: BRIAN:

And we begin again.

Mountain?

Good. Stand fully erect.

Mountain— Shoulders back.

That’s it. Hands at your side.

Yoga for veterans?

Open your heart.

Like this is gonna work.

Feel your feet reaching into the ground.

Breathe.

The Mountain Tadasana.

Now: Standing Forward Bend Uttanasana.

Plank and Lower.

Chaturanga Dandasana.

Upward Dog. Urdhava Mukha Svanasana.

Downward Dog. Adho Mukha Svanasana.

Warrior.

Warrior.

Gunshots. Shift in music/light. The YOGINI remains, steadfast in her spot, and in her music, as RICKY, JEFF & CASTLEMAN appear in a separate space, on a mission. A tug of war for BRIAN’s attention. He struggles to remain present (in the yoga studio) as the shootout unfolds. The MEN return fire.

RICKY They’re taking potshots at us, Sir. BRIAN Warrior.

YOGINI Virabhadrasana.

CASTLEMAN Security’s stuck on the far side of the bridge.

45

January 2017 JEFF Can’t stop now.

Jammer’s on. Weapons, locked and loaded.

BRIAN trying to hold on to his pose Warrior.

CASTLEMAN Robot’s not gonna make it, Sir.

BRIAN Warrior—

Lights shift to delineate the shootout as foreground, the class as background.

JEFF Gotta get up close to detonate the car.

CASTLEMAN I’m going down.

RICKY The fuck you are.

YOGINI/Brian Virabhadrasana.

CASTLEMAN We’re out of options.

Gotta take the Long Walk.

Get the bomb suit. Put it on me.

CASTLEMAN grabs some suiting up gear.

BRIAN (strong) Virabhadrasana.

JEFF You sure, Castleman?

RICKY/JEFF/CASTLEMAN 80 pounds of Kevlar: Breastplate— Helm— Leggings— Collar— Overalls pulled up, Jacket tucked, Face shield down.

YOGINI And we begin again—

RICKY helps CASTLEMAN suit up. As the skirmish escalates, BRIAN maintains WARRIOR pose.

BRIAN Hold on— You can— Hold— On— Hold on— More shots.

46

January 2017

BRIAN And we begin again— CASTLEMAN sets off on the Long Walk.

RICKY & JEFF And into the breach he goes Alone.

BRIAN And we begin—

YOGINI Breathe.

Tadasana BRIAN Mountain.

Iraq falls away before CASTLEMAN reaches the bomb. BRIAN holds his imaginary rifle at rest.

YOGINI Let your rifle go.

BRIAN breathes a deep breath and remains in place for a beat before the lights shift to the ranch house, windows thrown wide open.

SCENE: HAPPY FOR HAPPINESS’S SAKE —> PICKING OUT PEOPLE TO KILL—> MEMORY B[L]ANKS. Some months later. The Castner family home.

JESSIE and the BOYS run, tearing through the house, screaming with laughter, culminating in a tickle war (approx. 10–15 seconds), the BOYS are piled up on JESSIE. BOYS Ya ya ya!

JESSIE Truce! Truce!

Laughing too hard!

Please! Stop!

Can’t breathe!

BOYS Truce.

JESSIE (breathing heavily, with laughter) Thank goodness!

What next?

SAM Mama?

47

January 2017

JESSIE Sammy?

SAM When’s Daddy coming home?

JESSIE What did we say?

BOYS He’ll be here tonight.

JESSIE After you’re asleep. Better get your ya yas out now— MARTIN & SAM Ya ya ya ya— (Jumping up and down.)

JESSIE Open the windows!

Get happy— Get happy— MARTIN SAM & VIRGIL Ya ya ya ya ya!

MARTIN (getting too carried away…)

Get happy!

VIRGIL Cut it out!

JESSIE He was just playing.

VIRGIL I wish Daddy wasn’t coming home.

JESSIE You don’t mean that.

VIRGIL Catch me if you can!

JESSIE takes off, followed by the boys, the sound of play gradually fading out as BRIAN’s airport litany slowly fades up.

48

January 2017 BRIAN Shiny airport, Cardboard bookstores, Newsstands, Fast-food joints, And throngs And throngs Of businessmen…

Chinese tourists…

BRIAN has appeared in a separate space—the airport. Starting soft, growing louder.

AIRPORT ANNOUNCEMENT spoken Flight 398 to Buffalo will be ready to board in just a moment.

BRIAN Every airport is alike Until it’s not—

Brian feels the crazy—a trigger in the music and lights.

A sudden stare, The man in khaki, A couple in the lounge— I check my rifle.

Emergency exit Two gates down.

Egress.

I need to egress.

I’ve got to get out.

(Catching himself.) I thought I was past this— JESSIE Hello? . . .

Brian?

BRIAN pulls out his phone and dials. The phone rings, interrupting the hullaballoo. JESSIE picks up.

BRIAN Jessie— It’s happening again— JESSIE What?!

BRIAN I’m doing it again.

JESSIE What are you doing?

49

January 2017

BRIAN Picking people out to kill.

JESSIE Brian— BRIAN People waiting at the gate.

JESSIE Brian— BRIAN I don’t know what to— JESSIE steady and clear, but attempting to be heard Brian— Brian— It’s your anniversary.

BRIAN What?

BRIAN’s racing mind The foot is in the box, Sitting on the counter over there.

JESSIE Two years ago today.

You came home.

BRIAN But normal people don’t do this.

I can’t keep on like this— JESSIE Two years ago today.

Since then, birthdays, our wedding anniversary, any anniversary at all— You wind up— You get worse.

And the boys— BRIAN The boys?

JESSIE I’m worried— BRIAN (beat) Tell me.

50

January 2017 JESSIE Tell you?

BRIAN What I’ve forgotten. Fill in the blanks.

JESSIE I don’t know, I— BRIAN Please, just try.

JESSIE The day Martin turned two, He toppled down the stairs.

Crashed straight into you, Didn’t shed a tear.

You picked him up, Kissed him on the ear, Called him Boo Boo, Tossed him in the air— He laughed out loud.

You said the sound of his laugh Was like rain in the desert.

BRIAN Like rain— What else? Tell me more.

JESSIE Sam loves the state fair, BRIAN Sam loves the state fair.

JESSIE Virgil hates haircuts.

BRIAN Virgil hates haircuts.

JESSIE I was wearing a red dress The night you proposed.

BRIAN The night I—

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January 2017

JESSIE I’ll never forget the look on your face— So full of hesitation and fear / and— BRIAN And certainty / and JESSIE I remember it all.

Every hardscrabble moment.

With you here, and with you gone.

All the goings on, BRIAN Tell me— JESSIE Every squeal of joy, Every chestnut, Every spoiled apple— BRIAN Tell me— JESSIE Every time one of our boys Asked: When’s Daddy coming home?

I’ll be your dark room / / I’ve got memory banks enough for two.

BRIAN/JESSIE Sam loves the state fair, Virgil hates haircuts.

You’ll never forget my face / I’ll never forget your face The night I proposed— So full of hesitation, and fear—

BRIAN / My dark room? / My light.

BRIAN And certainty and— JESSIE You’ll be okay.

Just get on the plane.

Please. I’m waiting here for you.

Come home.

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January 2017 Lights out on Jessie. Lights shift to…

SCENE: THE LONG WALK. A hockey rink in Buffalo/Iraq. Some days later.

The locker room of the mite hockey championship. BRIAN is helping MARTIN suit up. (MARTIN enters already wearing skates and some of his gear.)

MARTIN as he puts them on Cotton socks.

BRIAN Nervous?

MARTIN Unh unh. Undershirt.

BRIAN You’re a better man than me.

Remember, just because it’s the championship— MARTIN I know.

BRIAN It doesn’t matter if you win or lose— MARTIN I know. (putting on hockey gear.)

Padded shorts.

Suspenders.

Thighplates.

BRIAN Breastplate— MARTIN Knee guards.

Shin guards.

Hockey socks.

MEN Helm.

The MEN appear. Not exactly in the locker room….

CASTLEMAN is in bomb suit, hemet in hand. JEFF leads a checklist.

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January 2017 Leggings. [ADD BRIAN] Collar.

MARTIN Skates.

Goalie pads and braces— MEN (without Brian) Overalls pulled up— Jacket tucked.

BRIAN I’m suiting up my boy.

MARTIN Chest and arm protector.

BRIAN I’m sending him out— JEFF & RICKY (CASTLEMAN puts on his helmet.)

Face shield down.

MARTIN Jersey.

Helmet.

BRIAN I’m sending— MARTIN Gloves.

BRIAN puts the helmet on MARTIN.

RICKY/JEFF Eighty pounds of Kevlar.

BRIAN I’m sending my child Out into the breach, On the loneliest, longest walk On the planet.

Lights shift as MARTIN takes the Long Walk out onto the ice. He walks to the threshold of the dressing room, turns and faces BRIAN, who breaks down, weeping. CASTLEMAN reprises his Long Walk ands MARTIN stands in counterpoint to him.

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January 2017 JEFF You take the Long Walk for your brother.

You take the Long Walk for your brother’s wife.

RICKY/BRIAN For your brother.

For your brother’s wife.

PERNEATHA, SARAH and JESSIE appear.

JEFF You take the Long Walk for your brother’s children.

RICKY/BRIAN For your brother’s children.

SAM and VIRGIL appear.

JEFF/RICKY/BRIAN Your brother’s children’s children.

Your brother’s children’s children.

And straight on down the line.

BRIAN: Castleman went so I didn’t have to.

CAST/JEFF/RICKY: For your brother.

RICKY: So I didn’t have to.

JESSIE/PERN: BRIAN: KIDS:

For your brother’s wife.

So I didn’t have to.

For your brother’s children.

CASTLEMAN has reached the bomb. He kneels down and begins disarming it.

MEN, add CASTLE: You take the Long Walk for your brother.

WOMEN: You take the Long Walk for his wife.

CHILDREN: You take the Long Walk for his children.

MEN (w/o CASTLEMAN There is no greater— Between brothers— Love— There is no greater love.

CASTLEMAN spoken Clear.

This time, CASTLEMAN successfully dismantles the bomb.

All breathe out. Relief.

SCENE: THE PIGEON ON THE HUMVEE. BRIAN’s memory.

Iraq. Pre-dawn. BRIAN and the MEN are in Humvee, relaxing on their return after a mission.

MEN Outside the Humvee, Darkness and dust.

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January 2017 Inside the Humvee, Darkness and grey.

And the world falls away.

Cushioned, wrapped, In the Brotherhood of the Crab, Cocooned.

Outside, a sandstorm.

Inside, the thrum Of the engine, rocking, Metal, clanking, Tail-end-of-a-mission, Hours before dawn.

CASTLEMAN Holy shit! A pigeon! Look at that!

A pigeon lands on the hood of the Humvee. A private moment between CASTLEMAN and BRIAN:

BRIAN Ssssshhhh! Don’t move.

CASTLEMAN What do we do?

BRIAN He’s not hurting anyone. Just let him be. (a couple of beats) Hey, Castleman, what’re you gonna do when you get home?

CASTLEMAN Shit, dunno. Haven’t thought about it.

BRIAN You haven’t?

CASTLEMAN This is where I’m supposed to be.

Right here. With my brothers.

Don’t do so good back there.

I’m gonna keep coming here Long as I can.

MEN Outside the Humvee, Darkness and dust.

Inside the Humvee, Darkness and grey.

And the pigeon stays.

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January 2017

MEN And the world falls away.

Transition. A falling away of the Humvee, lights fade to dark. The MEN exit. Darkness. (Brian changes into his running clothes.)

EPILOGUE, PART 1: RUNNING WITH RICKY Lights up on BRIAN running along the Niagara River. Ricky joins him. They run for a while before racing, then stop to catch their breath.

BRIAN Ricky, do you ever feel like the man in the moon?

RICKY What do you mean, Sir? BRIAN No EOD guys in Buffalo…

It’s hard not having the unit, the guys around.

RICKY You’ve always got me, Sir. BRIAN We both know that’s not exactly—(true) RICKY (playful) It’s true, I ran out of marbles.

BRIAN Before your time.

Only months after you got back.

RICKY But it was a beautiful few months.

With my wife. My daughter.

BRIAN I miss you, bro.

RICKY I know.

They run on, RICKY fades into the background, so that BRIAN is now running alone.

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January 2017 EPILOGUE, PART 2: RUNNING ALONE In the foreground, BRIAN runs alone. Lights up on JEFF, in the background.

BRIAN Jeff perished on a highway outside Tikrit.

Lights down on JEFF, up on PERNEATHA. Kermit’s chopper crashed into a lake. Anbar Province.

Lights down on PERNEATHA, and up on RICKY. Ricky’s brain blew up months after he got back.

Aneurysm, they said.

Brain blast a time bomb.

“The war killed him at home.”

Lights down on RICKY. The sand is soft.

The mountain is at my feet.

The women scream.

And the children— The Crazy comes and the Crazy goes.

But the mountain is as real As this empty street, as the Niagara River.

The mountain Stands peaceful, Outside of me, Beyond my racing brain.

I run through the Is. I run through the Was.

Lights up on JESSIE at home.

I run past my brothers’ love— Past the Hill of Woe— JESSIE My grandfather died on the living-room floor, Ten years after he came back from the war.

When my husband came home from Iraq, My grandma was right; he didn’t come back.

Not the man I knew.

BRIAN I run past Jessie’s anger and / light—

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January 2017 JESSIE How do I live with my husband at home When the man I married is gone?

I live with this man.

We start over.

We begin again.

Lights up on the BOYS.

BOYS There once was a soldier— Who came home from the war.

BRIAN I run towards my boys.

JESSIE How do we keep us— BOYS Ten fingers— BRIAN How do we— BOYS Ten toes—

JESSIE Keep us—

JESSIE/BRIAN How do we keep us whole?

BOYS He came home different…

BRIAN/JESSIE We start over.

BOYS But he isn’t a stranger— JESSIE/BRIAN We begin / again.

BOYS / Not any more.

JESSIE/BRIAN We begin again.

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January 2017 JESSIE We begin / again.

BRIAN / We begin again.

BRIAN runs on. He runs and runs as the music and lights fade imperceptibly to nothing.

~ the end ~

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