Marietta

CHARACTERS:  Rudich and Sarah, unmarried, both in their early twenties.
SCENE: Back porch of a suburban house, late at night. 

 At rise, Rudich is sitting. He lights a cigarette with a lighter, fidgets with the lighter throughout. He's wrestling with something heavy on his mind; he and Sarah often take a moment to ponder what they want to say.

(Sarah enters.)

(A moment.)

SARAH:  You think insomnia's contagious? 

RUDICH:  Maybe. 

SARAH:  Are you coming to bed anytime soon?

(A moment.)

RUDICH:  I don't know. 

SARAH:  I keep catching myself, right before I fall asleep. I keep thinking I hear you coming into the
room… 

RUDICH:  I’m sorry. 

SARAH:  It’s not your fault. What are looking at? 

RUDICH:  Stars. 

SARAH:  Can you make out any constellations? 

RUDICH:  No. Can you? 

SARAH:  They all just look like dots to me. 

RUDICH:  Me too. They’re heavy tonight. Like their light is pushing as hard as it can... but it’s dark. It’s not
enough to light anything up. 

SARAH:  It’d help if the moon were out. 

RUDICH:  Probably. 

SARAH:  If it makes you feel any better, they all burned out thousands of years ago. 

(A moment.) 

RUDICH:  Where’d you hear that? 

SARAH:  I don’t remember. It’s true though. 

RUDICH:  Huh. 

(A moment.) 

SARAH:  I thought you threw his lighter away? 

RUDICH:  Can’t. It’s my only heirloom. 

SARAH:  How many cigarettes have you gone through tonight? 

RUDICH:  A couple. 

SARAH:  How many is a couple? 

RUDICH:  It’s my last pack. 

SARAH:  For good? 

RUDICH:  Yeah. 

SARAH:  OK. 

RUDICH:  Have faith. 

SARAH:  If you say so. 

(A moment.) 

RUDICH:  (To himself.) What are we doing?

SARAH:  Star gazing. 

RUDICH:  I’m not ready for this. 

SARAH:  For… ? 

RUDICH:  You know what. 

(He points to Sarah’s stomach.) 

SARAH:  Oh. 

RUDICH:  Twenty-four weeks, ya know? How the hell did we get to twenty-four weeks left, and we’re still
this unprepared? 

SARAH:  We’ll get there. 

(A moment.) 

RUDICH:  You don’t know that for sure. 

SARAH:  Yes, I do. 

RUDICH:  How? 

SARAH:  Because we will. We have to. 

RUDICH:  What if we don’t? 

SARAH:  Don’t say that. 

(A moment.) 

RUDICH:  What if we don’t, though? I think that’s a legitimate question. There is a strong possibility that by
the time our child is born, you and I will still be unsuitable parents. 

SARAH:  No one just starts off as the perfect parent, ya know? It’s something you develop over time. 

RUDICH:  We haven’t even started yet. 

SARAH:  That doesn’t mean anything. 

RUDICH:  We’re already behind. 

SARAH:  We’ll catch up. (A moment.) What? 

RUDICH:  Are you sure you want to do this? 

(A moment.) 

SARAH:  Yes…

RUDICH:  OK. 

SARAH:  I thought you… 

RUDICH:  I do. 

SARAH:  Are you sure? 

RUDICH:  Yeah… it’s just… I lay in bed at night, and as soon as my head hits the pillow, it starts filling up,
like a swimming pool, and it’s just full of all these questions, and I don’t have any of the answers to
them. And no matter what I do, I can’t seem to catch my breath… it’s like I’m slowly drowning. 

SARAH:  What kind of questions? 

RUDICH:  Like… what if… what happens if we’re terrible parents? What if our kid turns out to
be, like, the next Hitler or something? 

SARAH:  Our child is not going to be the next Hitler. 

RUDICH:  How can you be so sure? 

SARAH:  Because we’re good people. 

RUDICH:  We’re really shitty people. I can’t tell you the last time I recycled something. 

SARAH:  Yeah, but we’re not Hitler youth. 

RUDICH:  Look at when we were born. 

SARAH:  And? 

RUDICH:  The world was an entirely different place. Six years ago, people were having the same
conversation and saying that was insane, and now, students are Sieg-heiling in their senior
pictures. (The lighter-fidgeting has become intense.) Who’s to say that won’t be our little Marietta? 

SARAH:  Marietta? 

RUDICH:  Just a name. 

SARAH:  I hope she doesn’t become a Nazi. She will be a quarter Jewish. But then again, you never know
with capricious youth. 

RUDICH:  She’s also going to be a quarter deadbeat. 

(Sarah puts her hand out. “Give me that damn lighter.”) 

SARAH:  She never has to know about him. 

RUDICH:  It doesn’t matter; it’s in her make up. (A moment. He hands her the lighter.) I saw him. 

SARAH:  Where? 

RUDICH:  Bank. Last week. He was sitting next to the water cooler, by the loan office. 

SARAH:  What did he say? 

RUDICH:  He didn’t say anything… he just sat there staring at the ground like I didn’t exist. 

SARAH:  He knew you were there. 

RUDICH:  You know, it’s been fifteen years since I saw him, and he still scares the shit out of me. 

SARAH:  Rude… 

RUDICH:  I waited fifteen years to stand up for myself; the day comes… and I freeze. 

SARAH:  It’s probably for the better. You know, that stuff never turns out the way you want it to. 

RUDICH:  I had every word in the right order and now… ? I couldn’t tell you where I would even
begin. (To his father.) I never forgot that you left on a Thursday before I finished my math homework.
You’re the reason why I cry every time the Beach Boys come on the radio… or their songs play in a
movie. You’re the reason why I hate pumpkin pie. (A moment.) Just words… what’s he supposed to do
with those? (A moment. He caresses her stomach.) I’m so paranoid that she’s going to come, and I won’t be
able to pick my head up… that I’m just going to turn into a running list of things that she hates. 

SARAH:  You don’t have to. 

RUDICH:  Is it that simple? (A moment. He puts out his cigarette.) Last one. 

SARAH:  How do you feel? 

RUDICH:  OK. 

(Sarah shivers.) 

SARAH:  If you don’t want to quit… 

(Rudich offers her his shirt.)  

SARAH:  What? 

RUDICH:  Take it. 

SARAH:  Rude, I’m fine. There was a breeze. 

RUDICH:  Take it. 

SARAH:  You’re going to be cold then. 

RUDICH:  I won’t be. Please, take it.  

(She drapes it over her shoulders.) 

RUDICH:  My mom used to say that the true end of summer wasn’t when school started; it was when
that first cool breeze rolled in at night. The one that makes you pull the covers up when you’re asleep. 

SARAH:  We still have some warm days left. For now. 

(A moment.) 

RUDICH:  Do you work tomorrow? 

SARAH:  Tomorrow-tomorrow, or today-tomorrow? 

RUDICH:  Today-tomorrow. 

SARAH:  I start at four. 

RUDICH:  Maybe before that, we could pick up some baby books or something? Right? That’d be a good
idea… start preparing. 

SARAH:  That’d be a great idea. 

RUDICH:  OK. 

(A moment.) 

SARAH:  You’re going to be a good one. 

RUDICH:  You don’t know that. 

SARAH:  I do. I can tell. 

RUDICH:  How? 

SARAH:  It’s in your eyes. 

RUDICH:  Yeah? 

SARAH:  Yeah. (A moment.) Our little Marietta. 

RUDICH:  Do you think she’ll like me? 

SARAH:  She’ll love you. 

(Rudich—silent tears.) 

(She notices, takes his hand.) 

(He squeezes her hand, hard.) 

RUDICH:  I’m scared. 

(She lays her head on his shoulder.) 

SARAH:  Me too. 

(They look at the stars.) 

(Dawn approaches.)

CHASE YENSER

Chase Yenser is a graduate of Moravian College. His work has been featured at the Blank Theatre Company, Horizon Theatre, Allentown Public Theatre, Piney Fork Theatre Press, Casa De Beverly, and the Young Playwrights, Inc. He resides in the Leigh Valley with his wife and stands up against fascists.