Mortals, A Play in One Act

DISCLAIMER: The author of this adaptation does not take any credit whatsoever for the dialogue in this piece. Most of the dialogue is from Tobias Wolff, an amazing writer. I read the short story, “Mortals,” out of Wolff’s collection, “The Night in Question,” and thought that it could be turned into an interesting one act play.

Mortals

Adapted by Alan F

From a story by Tobias Wolff

CHARACTERS

Trent Blair: Twenty-seven; tall, slender build; moderate; not outgoing, but not shy.

Ronald Givens: Sixty-five; stubby figure; outgoing; a proud man.

Dolly Givens: Sixties; tall and slender; unpleasant.

Editor: Forties; fits the newshound stereotype that’s hard at work.

Waitress: Twenties; attractive; friendly.

Scene 1

SETTING

The Metro newsroom in San Francisco. Papers, folders and books scattered on top of a desk at stage left. A chair that sits across from a desk at stage right.

AS THE CURTAIN RISES: Rise from black: the lights are bright; at stage left, TRENT BLAIR works at his desk. The rest of the stage is blacked out.

EDITOR: (Not seen. He yells with authority.) BLAIR! MY OFFICE. NOW!

(BLAIR looks up from his desk for a second and then proceeds to finish writing something down. He stands up and walks to stage right. At stage right, the EDITOR’S office lights up. The EDITOR sits at his desk, his hands folded behind his head while he rocks in his chair. RONALD GIVENS stands next to the EDITOR, nervous on his feet. His wife, DOLLY GIVENS, sits in the chair across from the desk. Enter BLAIR.)

GIVENS: (Looks at BLAIR nervously.) I didn’t want to make a scene. (He looks at his wife.) We just thought you should know.

EDITOR: You bet I should know. (He looks at BLAIR.) This is Mr. Givens. Mr. Ronald Givens. Name ring a bell?

BLAIR: Uh, vaguely.

EDITOR: I’ll give you a hint. (He yells.) HE’S NOT DEAD!

BLAIR: (Pause.) Okay. I’ve got it. I understand what you’re saying. . .

EDITOR: (Interrupts.) Another hint. (He clears his throat while he picks up the newspaper off his desk. He reads from the paper sarcastically.) “Ronald Givens, a loyal man who lived a life of courage and love, died Saturday. He was 65.
Givens served ten years in the Air Force and was a veteran. . .” (Stops reading.
Looks at BLAIR.) Need I read more?

BLAIR: No, I’ve got it.

GIVENS: (Laughs. He seems proud.) Well, it’s accurate. You did a good job writing it. I’ll give you that.

DOLLY: (Stares at BLAIR.) Accurate, except for one thing.

BLAIR: (Pause. Looks at Givens. Raises his hands.) What can I say? I suppose I owe you an apology. It looks like someone pulled the wool over my eyes.

GIVENS: (Quick with his response.) Apology accepted! (Rubs his hands together when he looks at DOLLY.) You have to see the humor, Dolly. What was it Mark Twain said? “The reports of my death—”

EDITOR: (Pause. Rocks in his chair. Looks at BLAIR.) So, what happened?

BLAIR: (Shrugs. Laughs nervously.) I wish I knew.

DOLLY: That’s not good enough, sonny.

GIVENS: Dolly’s pretty upset about the whole ordeal.

EDITOR: She has every right to be upset. (Looks back at BLAIR.) Who called in the notice?

BLAIR: To tell you the truth, I don’t remember. I suppose it was somebody from the funeral home.

EDITOR: You call them back?

BLAIR: I don’t believe I did, no.

EDITOR: Check with the family?

DOLLY: He most certainly did not!

BLAIR: No, no I didn’t.

EDITOR: What do we do before we run an obituary?

BLAIR: Check back with the funeral home and the family.

EDITOR: But you didn’t do that.

BLAIR: No sir. I guess I didn’t.

EDITOR: Why not?

BLAIR: (Pause. He shrugs.) I . . . I guess I just don’t like to follow those procedures.

EDITOR: You don’t follow the procedures?

BLAIR: It’s just . . . you know, hard to call a family and ask if they can confirm that the death of their father, mother, sister or brother is really true. I mean. . .

EDITOR: (Interrupts.) So, you don’t follow that procedure.

BLAIR: No, no I guess I don’t.

EDITOR: (Pause.) Let me get this straight. Just how long has this paper been running unconfirmed obituaries?

BLAIR: (Pause. Smiles nervously.) About three months.

EDITOR: (Pause. He leans forward in his desk.) Clean out your desk. I can’t have my paper run unconfirmed obituaries. You’re all done here.

GIVENS: Now hold on here. Let’s not blow this all out of proportion. This is a live-and-learn situation. This isn’t something a man should lose his job over.

DOLLY: He wouldn’t have if he’d done his job right.

BLAIR: (Pause. Shrugs.) Well, I guess I’ll go get my things around. (EDITOR’S office blacks out. BLAIR’S desk at stage left comes back into focus. BLAIR enters and begins to stuff everything that is on his desk into a cardboard box. Enter GIVENS.)

GIVENS: (Raises his hands.) What can I say? I’m at a loss for words.

BLAIR: Bah, don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal.

GIVENS: I sure as heck didn’t mean to get you fired.

BLAIR: (Still putting books, papers and folders in the box.) Forget it. It’s my own fault.

GIVENS: Look, how about I treat you to lunch. What do you say? It’s the least I can do.

BLAIR: (Looking around.) Where’s your wife?

GIVENS: Dolly’s gone on home. (Pause.) How about it?

BLAIR: (Pause. He seems busy getting his things in the box. Then he stops and looks at GIVENS.) Yeah, why not? I have nothing better to do.

GIVENS: Tad’s Steakhouse. I’ll meet you there in an hour.

Blackout

Scene 2

SETTING

Tad’s Steakhouse an hour and fifteen minutes later. A bar table at center stage with two tall chairs across from each other. A toothpick dispenser and salt and pepper shakers are on the table as well as BLAIR’S box with all of his office supplies.

AS THE CURTAIN RISES: Rise from black; the lighting is dim; BLAIR sits at the table sipping on a glass of beer. Enter GIVENS from stage left.

GIVENS: (While he walks to the table.) Hi there. Sorry I’m late. (Takes a seat. BLAIR stands up, puts the box on the floor.) Had to deal with Dolly. (Laughs.) She doesn’t approve of me buying you lunch. She’s still pretty upset.

BLAIR: (Sits down.) Oh no. No need to apologize. I should be the one apologizing.

GIVENS: (Raises his hands.) I feel terrible.

BLAIR: Oh, don’t worry about it. Really, it’s no big deal.

GIVENS: I didn’t think you’d get fired. It wasn’t even my idea to come in, if you want to know the truth.

BLAIR: I know. Dolly seemed pretty angry. (Pause. Sips his beer.) Forget it. It’s my own fault. I should have checked up on it. (WAITRESS enters from stage right.)

WAITRESS: (Looks at GIVENS.) Hi there. I’m glad this guy has a friend to join him. What can I get you to drink?

GIVENS: I’ll have a draft beer. (Looks at BLAIR.) Are you ready to order?

BLAIR: Steak sandwich and fries.

GIVENS: That sounds good. I’ll have the same.

WAITRESS: (Smiles while she jots the order down.) Okay. I’ll get that order in for you two. Just let me know if you need anything else, okay? (She busily walks off stage right.)

BLAIR: (Pause. Takes a drink of his beer.) So, who do you think called in your obit?

GIVENS: Boy, you’ve got me there. It’s a mystery.

BLAIR: Come on, you must have some idea.

GIVENS: Nope, not a one.

BLAIR: Think it could’ve been someone you worked with? If I remember right, you
worked for the IRS. Think it was someone from there?

GIVENS: Nah. . . (He shakes a toothpick out of the dispenser and twiddles with it with his fingers.)

BLAIR: Well it had to be someone who knows you. (Pause.) Maybe you had an argument, something like that. Somebody’s mad at you.

GIVENS: Hell, I don’t know. I figured it was just a joke.

BLAIR: (Laughing.) Well, it’s a pretty serious joke, calling in a death notice on someone. Pretty threatening. I’d sure feel threatened, if it was me.

GIVENS: (Pause. Inspects the toothpick, and then drops it on the table.) I hadn’t thought of it like that. Maybe you’re right.

BLAIR: (Pause. Takes a drink.) You don’t seem to care. The words of death have been pronounced on you. Doesn’t this bother you? I Mean, from now on, your life is going to be lived in relation to those words – the words of death, in failing opposition to them. I mean, the words will be gliding over your head until they
finally overpower you and become true. (Pause.) Doesn’t that bother you?

GIVENS: Damn. That’s deep. I didn’t think of it like that.

BLAIR: You’re sure it wasn’t one of your friends? If I remember right, one of your
hobbies is playing cards with your buddies. Maybe you landed some big ones one
night, then you folded early without giving someone a chance to recoup. Yeah, I
bet it was one of your friends.

GIVENS: Nope. None of my friends would do that.

BLAIR: Hmm. (Pause.) How about your wife, Dolly? Any problems in that
department?

GIVENS: Nope. Everything’s good with Dolly.

BLAIR: How come you call her Dolly, anyway? That wasn’t the name in the obit.

GIVENS: No reason. I’ve always called her that. Everyone does.

BLAIR: Hmm . . . I don’t feature her as a Dolly. (Pause.) You’re survived by a
daughter, right? What’s her name again?

GIVENS: Tina.

BLAIR: Ah, that’s it, Tina. How are things with Tina?

GIVENS: We’ve had our problems. But I can guarantee you, it wasn’t her.

BLAIR: You’re also survived by a son. His name’s Josh, right?

GIVENS: No, it’s John.

BLAIR: John, that’s right. Anything going on there?

GIVENS: (Offended.) No! You’re way off track, Mr. Blair.

BLAIR: Trent. Call me Trent please.

GIVENS: Trent, you’re way off. My own family wouldn’t call in my death. (WAITRESS enters.)

WAITRESS: (Places beer in front of GIVENS.) Here you go, sir. (Looks at both of them.) I have some bad news. The grill just died on us but the cooks are working on it. Its never done this before. It’s an old one. They’ll get your steak sandwiches ready as soon as possible. Sorry about that.

BLAIR: No big deal. (WAITRESS exits.)

BLAIR: (Pause. Takes a drink.) You know, Richard Brautigan used to eat at this very same table.

GIVENS: Sorry?

BLAIR: Richard Brautigan, the writer. (GIVENS starts fidgeting – he taps the table and looks around. BLAIR raises his voice.) Okay! You tell me. Who wants you dead?

GIVENS: (Laughs.) No one wants me dead!

BLAIR: Somebody’s imagining you dead. Thinking about it. The wish is father to the deed.

GIVENS: What? (Laughs.) Nobody wants me dead. I think you have a problem. You think everything has to mean something. (Pause. Asks moderately.) Just out of curiosity though, what did you think of it?

BLAIR: Think of what?

GIVENS: My obituary. (Pause. He starts to play with the salt and pepper shakers.) I mean, did you get any feeling for who I was? The kind of person I am?

BLAIR: (Shrugs, he shakes his head.) No, not really.

GIVENS: I see. (Aggravated.) Maybe you wouldn’t mind telling me, what exactly does it take for you to remember someone?

BLAIR: Hey, you write obituaries all day, they sort of blur into each other.

GIVENS: Yes, but you must remember some of them.

BLAIR: Some of them. Sure.

GIVENS: Which ones?

BLAIR: Hell, I don’t know. Writers, I like. Great baseball players. Movie stars I’ve been in love with. I guess I remember those.

GIVENS: Celebrities, in other words.

BLAIR: Some of them, yes. Not all though.

GIVENS: You can lead a good life without being a celebrity, you know. People with big names aren’t always big people.

BLAIR: That’s true. But it’s sort of a little person’s truth.

GIVENS: (Laughs.) Is that so? And what does that make you? (Pause. BLAIR shrugs, doesn’t answer.) If the only thing that impresses you is having a big name, then you must be a regular midget. At least that’s the way I see it.

BLAIR: That’s not the only thing that impresses me. You know, more than just names impress me.

GIVENS: Oh yeah? What else then?

BLAIR: (Pause.) Moral distinction.

GIVENS: (Slowly repeats the words.) Moral distinction. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I have a feeling that’s not your department, moral distinction. (Pause.) And you’re obviously not a celebrity.

BLAIR: Obviously.

GIVENS: So where does that leave you? Think you’d remember your own
obituary?

BLAIR: Probably not.

GIVENS: (Raises his voice.) No probably about it! You wouldn’t give it a second thought!

BLAIR: Okay. Definitely not. What’s your point?

GIVENS: Not a second thought. And you’d be wrong because you probably have other qualities that would stand out if you were looking closely. Good qualities. Everybody has something. What do you pride yourself on?

BLAIR: (With ambition.) Well, I’m a survivor! (Pause.) Well, I don’t know. I guess that wouldn’t fit well in an obituary.

GIVENS: (Pause. In his best voice, he addresses BLAIR like he’s giving an important speech.) With me, it’s loyalty. Loyalty is a very clear pattern in my life. You would’ve noticed that if you’d had your eyes open. When you read that a man has served his country in a time of war, stayed married to the same woman forty-two years, worked at the same job, by God, that should tell you something. That should give you a certain picture. (He nods at his words.) And it hasn't always been easy, I’ll tell you what.

BLAIR: (Pause. Smirks while he takes a drink.) I can’t believe it. You son of a bitch, it was you! You did it!

GIVENS: Did what?

BLAIR: Called in the obit!

GIVENS: (Laughs nervously.) Why would I do that?

BLAIR: I don’t know. You tell me.

GIVENS: (Stutters.) That . . . that would be saying I did it.

BLAIR: (Laughs.) You’re out of your ever-loving mind. (Takes a drink. Still
laughing.) You’re a caution, Mr. Givens. You’re a definite caution.

GIVENS: (Offended.) I didn’t come here to be insulted!

BLAIR: Relax, I’m not mad. Just admit that you did it.

GIVENS: Well, I’m sorry that you lost your job. But I’m telling you, I didn’t call in my own death!

BLAIR: Bullshit! (Pause.) Loyalty. That was in your lead. And you lived a life of courage and love. You’re courageous, I’ll give you that. But if you can’t admit you called in your own death. . .

GIVENS: (Interrupts.) Are you saying I’m not courageous? Now you listen here. I’ll tell you what courage is. I served my country in a time of war! And as you know, Trent, I wasn’t drafted. I volunteered! (He raises his voice.) I volunteered for my country! I fought for this very soil you live on and take for granted at a time when I was needed most – a time of war!

BLAIR: I respect that. Really. (Pause.) But this is good stuff – it’s biblical! It’s like you resurrected! I mean, you saw your own eulogy. (Pause. He laughs.) You got what you wanted. Now just admit that you did it.

GIVENS: (Stands up. He seems mad.) I don’t need this. Best of luck to you in finding a new job. (He heads toward the door at upstage center.)

BLAIR: (Stands up and runs after him. He stands in front of GIVENS and blocks the door.) Come on, prove to me you have courage. Just admit it. (Laughs.) I’m not letting you go until you do.

GIVENS: Excuse me, I’m trying to leave, son.

BLAIR: Admit it. (GIVENS tries to walk by, but BLAIR gently pushes him back. Then GIVENS pulls a quick maneuver and gets by. BLAIR grabs him by the arm before he gets out. He has a tight grip.) Just admit it, and I’ll let you go.

GIVENS: Fine. Yes, I did it! (He snags his arm away from BLAIR and walks out the door upstage center. BLAIR, smiling, leaves some cash on the tabel, grabs his box gets and exits stage left.)

Curtain

The End