Welcome to the featured writer of April 2023! This month we're pleased to announce Steve Duprey and his play "The Things We'll Say" as the first Featured Writer since our temporary hiatus.
WOMEN OF A CERTAIN AGE, has been produced (in a workshop production) for the Geneva
Theatre Guild with Steve at the directing helm and was enthusiastically received and garnered
several TANYS (Theatre Association of New York State) awards including an Excellence in
Playwriting award. He currently has four more full length plays ready to go; FORGIVE ME,
REDEEM ME, MEN OF A CERTAIN AGE, CUT ONE LEG and SELF-REPORTING, along
with several short plays and one-acts. He holds a Master of Fine Arts degree in Directing from
Syracuse University and currently teaches theatre and communications at the college level.
The Things We’ll Say
A one-act play by Steve Duprey
© 2023 by Steve Duprey
Characters:
APRIL…Thirty-four-year-old wife and mother with terminal lung cancer. She’s angry and tired
of the fight that she has been fighting for the last eight months.
PAUL…Her husband, thirty-eight years old. He’s exhausted but still in the fight. Worried about
their seven-year-old daughter.
MELANIE…Seven years old and trying to make sense of what’s happening to her family. She
was adopted as a baby.
Time: The present and in the space of one night.
Place: The bedrooms of Paul and April and their daughter’s bedroom.
Synopsis: In the face of the mothers imminent death, a small family deals with the eternal and
nagging question; Why do we pray?
Scene One
(A bedroom scene. APRIL sits up in bed with a portable TV tray across her lap. There’s an
untouched sandwich and chips on a plate along with several pill bottles. Clearly, she’s not
hungry or she’s lost her appetite. She is pale and gaunt. The illness has been with her for
months. PAUL sits in a chair next to the bed. He’s concerned but also very tired. He’s been the
caregiver for all of those months.)
PAUL
So that’s it? You’re not going to eat anymore?
APRIL
Yes. That’s it. I’m not going to eat anymore. Why should I?
PAUL
To keep up your strength.
APRIL
Why?
PAUL
So you can beat this. I thought we agreed that we were going to beat this.
APRIL
We? What the hell does that mean, Paul? “We” is a false construct. There is no “we” when it
comes to this.
PAUL
(Incredibly hurt by this but he’s been on the receiving end of this kind of talk before.) April, you
don’t mean that. You’ve said it a thousand times but I know you don’t mean it. “We” is not a
false construct. It’s…well hell, I don’t know how to describe it but I know that it’s real. And it’s
been real for 13 years. It was real when we walked down the aisle together. It was real when
your brother almost died in that accident and we took care of him for two and half years. And it
was real when the doctor said that we couldn’t conceive our own children and we adopted
Melanie. “We” managed those things together. “We” had each other’s backs and did what we
had to do to deal with the problem. Why is this so different? Why do we have to change
strategies now?
APRIL
Strategies!?! You call this a strategy? How, Paul? I lie in this stinking bed day after day. You
bring me food to force down to “keep up my strength.” For what? We know how this ends, don’t
we?
PAUL
(Resigned.) Yes, we know how this ends.
APRIL
So, what the hell are we doing?
PAUL
(Exploding.) We’re doing what we can. That’s what we’re doing!
(There is a long silence here as APRIL reaches for her oxygen mask and puts it over her face.
They sense each other’s frustration. This is not the first time they have had this argument. But
APRIL has never indicated that she would stop eating. It’s a new twist and it has PAUL worried.
Eventually, APRIL removes the oxygen mask and reaches out to take PAUL’s hand.)
APRIL
I want off the meds.
PAUL
What? (He’s visibly shaken now.) What do you mean, off the…
APRIL
I don’t want to take them anymore. They just make me feel shitty. If I’m going to die (This
punctures PAUL’s heart.) I want to be myself when I do it and those pills, the injections, the
treatments…they make me feel like somebody else. And you know what the doctor said.
PAUL
Yes, I know what the doctor said. And I thought we agreed not to use the “D” word.
APRIL
That deal is off. What do think I do when you’re not here? Hell, even when you are here. I think
about the “D” word and I wonder what it’s going to be like. Paul, we’ve been through this with
other people. We know what to expect. Why do we have to be so childish about it?
PAUL
(Much weaker than she is at this point.) If I say it, I give it power over me.
APRIL
Or you take its power away. Depends on which Zen philosopher you subscribe to.
(They share a look. PAUL smiles and then laughs. APRIL does too. It’s actually half way
between laughter and tears. They really are in love. He climbs up onto the bed next to her. They
hold each other for a few moments, his head nestled on her chest.)
PAUL
I’m not ready for this yet.
APRIL
I’m not sure I am either. But it’s coming. We can’t ignore that anymore.
PAUL
I know. But not yet. Please. Not yet.
(Lights fade as they hold each other.)
Scene Two
(Lights come up on the bed. APRIL and PAUL are still nestled together. It is night time and blue
light streaks in from the window. PAUL carefully extricates himself from APRIL’s arms and gets
out of bed. He walks to the window and is bathed in blue light. He sinks to his knees and begins
to pray.)
PAUL
Dear God…Hell, I don’t even know how to start this. Okay, here we go. As you know, I’m
agnostic when it comes to you and the whole “Heaven and Hell and life after death” thing. I’d
much rather have my life here, where I know what I’m getting into. But I gotta ask you one little
question; Why her? There are so many people in this world—I’m not kidding, I can give you a
list—so many people who are mean and unkind to everyone. Who cheat and swindle and swear
and curse and fuck people behind their backs…or right to their face.
But not my April. She’s kind and loving and generous. She’ll give you the shirt off her back and
the food off her table. She’s done it before. Remember, last Thanksgiving? (A little chuckle.) Of
course, You remember last Thanksgiving. I didn’t know those people and neither did she, but
they were in need and she did what you told her to do. (Getting angry.) She fed the hungry. She
clothed the naked. She took care of—what did you call them? “The least of her brothers.” Does
she not get any credit for that?
She prays! I don’t get it…but she does. It’s a regular thing for her. I have no idea if you listen, or
if you are even there, but that doesn’t matter to her. Don’t you reward that kind of thing? She has
faith. I have none. And by the way, she’s never smoked a day in her life! How the hell is that a
thing? You’ve got chain smokers running around this planet with no ill effects whatsoever and
my wife ends up with lung cancer. She’s so much better than me and yet I’m fine, the chain
smokers are fine, and she’ll be dead (Still a hard word for him) in a week.
(Standing up. Confronting God.) So, here’s the deal. You wanna bargain…let’s bargain. What do
you want? Do you want me? I have no idea why you might want me, but if that’s what you
want…take me. Put the lesions on (Beating his chest.) my lungs. I’m older…I’m meaner…and
I’m worse -- much, much worse. I deserve to die a hundred times before she dies once. So, if you
are really there, let’s make the trade. Strike me down right now and let her live to take care of
our little girl. She’ll do a much better job than I ever could. It’s all for the best. (Dissolving into
tears.) Take me. Please. Take me.
APRIL
(Waking up to hear the last few words but still pretty groggy.) Paul? Paul? Who are you talking
to?
PAUL
(Recovering and wiping away the tears.) No one, Hon. Just restless, that’s all.
APRIL
Well, come back to bed…I miss your warm body.
(PAUL returns to the bed and snuggles in to her chest again. The lights fade.)
Scene Three
(The lights come up again, this time on APRIL sitting DSC in a chair. PAUL is sleeping in the
bed behind her. She’s praying in her own way. Rosary entwined around her fingers. She’d be on
her knees if she could.)
APRIL
…blessed art thou amongst women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary,
Mother of God, pray for us, sinners, now and at the hour of our death (A little recognition of that
word.) Amen. (We can feel her getting frustrated with the rote nature of this prayer as she
continues.) Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou… (Her frustration
finally gets the best of her and the words are angry now…not a prayer at all, but a venting of
sorts.) blessed art thou…blessed art thou. Why? Why do you get to be blessed? What about me?
I’ve been good. Better than good…I’ve been the model of “good”. I could teach a seminar on
how to be “good.” And I have seen other people jump off the “good” wagon over and over again
in my life. But they’re still going strong!
My mother! My mother may as well have been a saint! Saint Marie! She was the ultimate in
good. Hers would be a master class on the art of being good. And yet, there she goes…only
58…not a healthy day in her life after her fifteenth birthday. But she never complained…never
got angry…never turned to those things that take away the pain and the hurt and the anguish. She
suffered in silence and you couldn’t hear her! (A pause. Then quieter.) But you knew. You knew
everything and yet you let her suffer and die at such a young age. And now you’re doing the
same thing to me.
Is it because you’re not there at all? God, I hate to think that. I’ve spent my life praying to you.
Believing in you. Fooling myself into thinking that you were listening! But with no evidence. No
facts. Only faith. And this (Indicating her chest.) is what it’s gotten me. Stuck in a bed waiting to
die. A husband who doesn’t believe in you and yet is desperate enough to turn to you. He doesn’t
deserve this. (Quietly.) Take me soon…if you have anything to do with it. Take me soon so that
he can start again. Take me soon so Melanie can get on with her life instead of having to take
care of her dying mother at seven years old. Let’s just get this thing over with… (Eyes to
Heaven.) and maybe I’ll see you…if you exist.
(The lights fade.)
Scene Four
(Lights up on MELANIE’s room. At seven years old, she’s still figuring out what’s happening to
her family. She sits up in her bed and begins to pray.)
MELANIE
I hear them talking. They’re not very good at whispering or even keeping secrets. I know what’s
happening. I’m seven but I’m not stupid. And I know mom is scared. And I know I’m going to
miss her. And I know that dad is angry. But God, why do You let people die? I mean, it just
doesn’t make any sense to me. If you made us all, like mom said, then why would you make us
like (Searching for the right metaphor.) milk or eggs…with an expiration date? If you really
made us all, then why wouldn’t you want us to last forever? (After a little bit of thinking.) You
have to admit, that’s a pretty good question. And mom says you know everything…that you’re
(She has trouble with this word) om-ni-scient. But I think I may have you stumped with this one.
(Realizing.) And if I can stump you…if I can stump God…well then, he’s not much of a God, is
he? Are you?
(MELANIE gets out of bed and walks downstage looking up at where she imagines God to be. At
the same time, APRIL gets out of her bed and opens the door to MELANIE’s room to check on
her.)
I think I want a different God. One that isn’t so mean… and weak. One that doesn’t kill
people…nice people like my mom. I want a different God who takes care of everyone He makes
and doesn’t let lesions get into people’s lungs. I want a different God. (Breaking down.) I want a
different God.
(APRIL rushes to MELANIE as best as she can and kneels down next to her. When the first knee
hits the ground, she realizes that this was not the best idea. She cannot hold herself up and falls
to the floor. MELANIE tries to help her up but can’t.)
APRIL
Get your father.
(MELANIE runs through the open door to PAUL, who is still asleep.)
MELANIE
Dad…dad…get up. Mom fell down and I can’t get her back up.
(PAUL stumbles out of bed and follows MELANIE into her bedroom. He kneels down next to
APRIL and tries to lift her up. She protests.)
APRIL
No…let me lay here for a minute. (MELANIE kneels down upstage of her mother and holds her
hand.) Mel, you can’t think like that. I heard what you were saying…what you were praying
about. You can’t think that. You just can’t. God isn’t someone you get to threaten or yell at.
MELANIE
Why not? If he’s as strong as you say, then He can take it. Can’t He?
APRIL
Of course, He can take it. That’s not the point.
MELANIE
Then what is the point, mom? I mean, I hear you praying all the time and nothing ever seems to
change. I want a little sister and that doesn’t happen. I want to spend more time with dad and that
never happens. I want you to get better… and that doesn’t happen. I don’t know why I would
keep doing something if it doesn’t change anything. It’s not fair. God doesn’t play by the rules.
APRIL
No honey, it’s not fair.
MELANIE
Then why do you do it? Why do you pray?
APRIL
Because… (She tries to get the rest out but has a coughing fit instead. PAUL rushes to her side
and lifts her up. She struggles to say the rest.) Because… (She collapses in PAUL’S arms…limp
and lifeless. PAUL buries his head next to hers and holds her tight.)
MELANIE
Daddy? Why do we pray?
PAUL
(He pulls himself together and addresses his confused and earnest child.) Because sometimes
sweetie…it’s all we have. (The lights fade slowly.)
END OF PLAY
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