Vanya/Vermont

(sample)

by Kathryn Blume

conceived and developed by Jason Jacobs

Act I

(The porch of the house at Weathertop.  Early summer.  MICHAEL wandering around.  JOHN sleeping in a porch swing.)

MARINA: (Entering)  Ice tea?

MICHAEL: No thanks.

MARINA:  Otter Creek?

MICHAEL: No, really. I’m fine.

MARINA: Vodka shot?

MICHAEL: Ooh.  Too early. 

MARINA: For you?

MICHAEL: Stop it.  I don’t feel like anything.  (Pause)  Marina?

MARINA:  Hmm?

MICHAEL: How long has it been?

MARINA: Since?

MICHAEL: We’ve known each other.

MARINA: Huh.  Well, let’s see.  When we met …Susan was still alive, but she was up here because she knew.  Nothing more to be done.  You were treating her even before Sonya and I came up to help.  She’s been gone ten years.  More.  My.  Almost eleven.  So…longer than that.

MICHAEL: Have I changed?

MARINA:  Truth?

MICHAEL:  Mmm.

MARINA: Yes.  Absolutely.  You were…young.  Idealistic.  And quite…something.  Now?  You drink.  No, let me clarify.  You always drank - some.  As a hobby.  I’d say, now, it’s turned into a profession.

MICHAEL:  Hm.  I work all the time.  Can’t sleep.  I lie there, thinking the phone’s about to ring.  So much need.  I haven’t had a real day off in…ever, I think.  I’d thought not being part of a formal practice – just occasional locum tenens and a few regulars, a few house calls – it’d be different.  There’d be time.  More time for…  But, no.  No.  I’m a mess.  And I hate it.  I don’t care anymore.  The people, the patients, they’re…people are stupid.  Boring.  No.  Stupid.  And it rubs off.   Just look at me.  I’ve been watching myself decay.  And I don’t feel anything.  For anyone.  Well...  No.  I love you.  You remind me of my grandmother. 

MARINA:  Have you eaten?

MICHAEL:  See?  No.  No, thanks.  You know, back in April, I got this call.  Tiny town,  middle of nowhere.  And even out there in East Jesus there’s a bunch of kids on heroin.  One family, the son had OD’d.  Barely hanging on.  By the time I get there, he’s about two breaths from dead.  Nothing I can do.  I tried.  Even past the point of reason.  And, it was like… (Pulls out his flask)  I feel like…

MARINA:  What?

MICHAEL:  Like I killed him.  My hands are shaking… I can’t see… I’ve been on autopilot for months, just doing, and suddenly I wake up on the floor of this trailer with a dead kid on my hands.  I fell apart.  Hit the bottom of the well, as my grandmother used to say…  I can’t stop thinking – I came here for this?  Traded urban drive-bys for junked up kids in the woods?  There’s just no…no difference.

MARINA:  Michael.  It’s the work.  It all counts.

MICHAEL:  Really?  Or none of it matters at all.  (Drinks)

JOHN: Mmph.

MICHAEL: Another county heard from.  Good nap?

JOHN:  Good nap.  Bad wakeup.  I don’t even remember falling asleep.  I could have died and I wouldn’t have known.  It’s Richard’s fault.  And his little wifelet.  Like entropy embodied.  Chaos billowing in their wake.  Total disruption of life as we know it.  Sleeping is off, eating is off, we get no work done – I get no work done.  Sonya somehow works, but…ugh.  Me a mess.  (Pause)  Where are they?

MARINA:  Sunny’s finally taking them on her grand tour of the farm.  (To MICHAEL)  She’s been trying to show him around ever since they got here.

MICHAEL:  That’s strange, ‘cause when she called this morning, she said he was in pretty rough shape.

JOHN:  Oh, you know Sonya.  She’s a whim-jumper.

MICHAEL:  A what?

JOHN:  You got a need – could be a tiny one, a whim, even?  She’ll jump out of a plane to meet it.

MARINA:  She’s just helpful.

JOHN:  Right.

MICHAEL:  So?

JOHN:  So, her father is one big fat endless gaping maw of need.  All need, all the time.  He probably sneezed once, declared he was dying, and she called in the troops.

MICHAEL: How long are they staying?

JOHN:  Forever.  They got the rent-control rug pulled out from under them.  He hasn’t published in years and none of the old stuff is selling.  They couldn’t afford to stay in the city.  So, suddenly, it’s welcome to Weathertop!  Lucky me.

RICHARD:  (Off)  …just tremendous.  Deeply moving.

JOHN: Great.  The Prodigal Fart approacheth.

            (Enter RICHARD, WAFFLES, SONYA, and ELLEN)          

RICHARD:  Like I always say, that view into the valley could have inspired the painters of the Hudson River School. 

WAFFLES: Yah?  That near here?

RICHARD:  Don’t I always say that Vanya?

JOHN:  Yes, massa.

SONYA:  Dad –

MICHAEL:  Hi, Richard.   How’s the ranch? 

RICHARD:  (To WAFFLES)  There’s a book of their work I can show you, I think it’s in the library –

MICHAEL:  You got them cattle rustlers under control yet?

RICHARD:  Thomas Cole’s granddaughter autographed it for me.  I’d just autographed Young Man and Plenty for her.  Bit of a mutual admiration society –

SONYA:  Dad –

MICHAEL: Richard –

RICHARD:  The paintings are stunning.  The light is almost primordial.

WAFFLES:  Okay.

SONYA:  Dad, tomorrow morning, we’ll go see the woods.  It’s amazing what’s come back since the ice storm. 

MARINA: Ice tea, anyone?

RICHARD:  Bring it in.  I want to find this book for Waffles.  (Chuckles)  Waffles.  What a nickname, eh Vanya? 

JOHN:  It’s a laugh riot.

SONYA:  Dad, there’s maples coming in through the dead pine.  We’ll be able to start another sugar bush in a few –

RICHARD:  (To MARINA) And no sugar – 

SONYA: It’s not sugar, Dad, it’s maple syrup.

RICHARD: - and plenty of ice.  (Exiting)  Ellie, I want to speak with you. 

MICHAEL:  Richard!  Before you go –

MARINA:  (Calling after Richard) There’s not much left, Richard.  I’ll make you fresh.  Ellen, you want some?

ELLEN:  Is there any Diet Coke left? 

MARINA:  You’re kidding.  (Exits)

MICHAEL:  Ellen –

RICHARD:  (Off)  Ellie!

ELLEN:  Coming!  (Exits)

MICHAEL:  Sonya, when you called –

SONYA:  John, did you invoice the co-op yet?

JOHN:  No.

SONYA:  But that’s got to get done today.

JOHN:  Well…

SONYA:  Oh, man! (Exits)

MICHAEL:  (Pause) Am I here?