Another tidbit from the playwriting phase I went through a couple of years ago. I had totally forgotten this existed until yesterday. After I read it over, I suddenly remembered plotting the whole thing out while I mowed the lawn. Two summers ago.

There’s a French pun near the very end. I can hardly believe that I invented a French pun, and in fact when I read it again after so long, I didn’t quite get it at first. I had to think about it. Strange, how the mind works.

The play is called–or rather would be called, if I ever finished it–Custody.

CHARACTERS

BILLY, forty. Professional, well-dressed, rather fastidious, never flamboyant.
LEE, late twenties. He starts out as something of a slacker and becomes increasingly slovenly as the play goes on.
CHASITY, mid-thirties. Earthy, something of a tomboy.

SETTING

Minneapolis. Summer. Present day.

ONE

(A sidewalk cafe. BILLY and LEE sit at a little table littered with plates, coffee cups, napkins. Lee has been crying.)

LEE: What’s her name?

BILLY: Lee … Lee … Why torture yourself?

LEE: I want to know.

BILLY: You’ll make judgments.

LEE: In all likelihood.
(He blows his nose on a napkin.)
What’s her name, Billy?

BILLY (Beat. He shrugs, looks away, mumbles): Chasity.

LEE: Chastity? You’re not serious.

BILLY: Not Chastity, like Chastity Bono … Chasity. One T. Chas-i-ty.

LEE: Where did you meet her? Defensive driving school?

BILLY: What the hell does that mean?

LEE: Fuck me if I know what I’m saying. I’m a little upset … understandably.

BILLY: I told you from the start this was an experiment.

LEE: Just what every little boy dreams of growing up to be–an experiment.

BILLY: Not you, you dick. Us. I told you, from the beginning, I wasn’t sure if this was what I wanted long-term. I told you I might want to have kids–.

LEE: That’s what every allegedly bisexual guy says. I figured you were just … self-deluded. It’s so common, it’s a cliche.

BILLY: Just what every little boy dreams of growing up to be.

LEE: Listen, at the time, I was perfectly happy about being with a cliche. I thought I was the luckiest man on earth, right up until–
(He looks at his watch.)
–thirty-five minutes ago.
(Beat.)
And you know what? We’ve been together for three years. Isn’t that long-term?

BILLY: I’m forty. Time’s a-wastin’. I want to start a family.

LEE: I thought we were a family.
(Long pause. Billy is at a loss for words.)
Doesn’t the missing T drive you out of your mind?

BILLY: The missing … what?

LEE: Her name is spelled wrong. You’re a compulsive proofreader. You can’t even finish a book with a typo in it. You’re the only person I know who uses complete sentences and precise punctuation in text messages. I’ve seen you throw tantrums–. Hell, I’ve seen you throw … things at the television because “Isiah Thomas” flashed across the screen.

BILLY: Well … I … never threw anything heavy.
(Beat.)
And this is different. Chasity’s name isn’t pronounced as if there’s an invisible T in it.
(Beat.)
I knew you were going to make judgments.

LEE: I never disagreed.
(Beat.)
How did you meet her?

BILLY: Defensive driving school.

LEE: Don’t be an ass. It’s bad enough you made me pay for my own fucking scone.

BILLY: In retrospect, I could have planned this better … A trip to the ATM …

LEE (Weary and pained; he has a headache): How … did … you … meet … her?

BILLY (Overlapping at “meet”): She was the woman who rear-ended me in February.

LEE: She was … What now?

BILLY: Remember, in February, I had an accident. A woman slid on the ice, and–.

LEE: I remember the accident. I’m wondering how that turned into this.

BILLY: Oh. Well. It was all very friendly at the scene. I figured she just couldn’t help it, you know? I was certainly sliding all over the place that day as well. And it seemed like there was maybe a … glimmer. You know …

LEE (sadly): A glimmer. I know.

BILLY: Naturally, we exchanged information. And a couple of days later I called her at work–

LEE: Your work or her work?

BILLY: I’m sorry, what?

LEE: You called her while she was at work, or while you were at work?

BILLY: Both, I guess.

LEE: Mm.

BILLY: What? … “Mm,” what?

LEE: Nothing. Proceed.

BILLY: I just wanted to make sure she’d submitted her accident report. I felt bad, because she’d said–. At the scene, she’d said–.

LEE: Jesus fuck! Stop saying that–”at the scene,” “at the scene,”–like you’re a cop or something. Christ!

BILLY (Long pause, hard look, deep breath): This is crazy. Why am I talking to you right now?
(Beat.)
Look. This is completely the wrong time to try to have a rational conversation. I know this is a shock. Naturally, it would be a shock.

LEE: Naturally.

BILLY: We have a lot of things to settle and discuss–

LEE: Such as?

BILLY: –But now is not the time.
(Beat.)
Sorry?

LEE: Things to settle and discuss? Such as?

BILLY: Oh … who gets what … how do we divide the CDs and the kitchen stuff … that kind of thing …

LEE (softly, overlapping at “that”): I don’t want anything.

BILLY: The bank accounts are separate, so that’s not an issue…
(Beat.)
What? Say again?

LEE: I don’t want anything … except the dog. I want Millie. You can have everything else … except Millie.

BILLY (incredulous): You can’t have the dog, Lee.

LEE: It’s non-negotiable. I’m the injured party. I want the dog.

BILLY: You cannot have the fucking dog. She was mine before we got together. She’s my dog.

LEE: I want Millie. I want the dog. That’s all I want. You can get a new dog. Besides, I’m sure you’re itching to have children with Chasity.
(Beat.)
Good thing about the missing T, come to think of it. A pregnant woman named Chastity would just seem silly.

BILLY: You cannot have the fucking dog.
(Pause.)
That’s final.
(Pause. Softening:)
You’re upset … naturally. We can discuss all this later, when things have settled down a bit … I …
(He stands.)
I guess I’ll talk to you later. I’ll … I’ll call you.

LEE: I’m taking the dog. All I want is the dog.

BILLY: God! You’re impossible! Fuck!

(Billy sweeps the cups and plates from the table and stalks off. Lee leaps to his feet. He brushes shards of crockery from his clothing, cutting his finger. He begins to cry. Billy is long gone, but Lee yells after him.)

LEE: I’m taking the fucking dog, Billy! You heartless … fucking … fuck!
(Abruptly, he realizes that passersby may be watching. More quietly:)
I’m taking the dog.

(He exits. Blackout.)

TWO

(The porch and front yard of a house. A mound of smashed wicker furniture on the lawn. Boxes everywhere. Most are sealed haphazardly with packing tape, but in the middle of everything, one box stands open with clothing and bedding heaped around it.

LEE emerges from the house, carrying an armload of beer bottles, some empty, some full, one open. He’s a little drunk.
He approaches the open box. He drops the bottles–all but the open one–into the box; they shatter. Swigging from the remaining bottle, he stuffs clothes into the box. Among the clothing he finds a suit–a rather good one, by the look of it. He holds the jacket over the box and douses it with beer.
Billy enters.)

LEE: Ah. Excellent. You got my text.

BILLY: It would have killed you to use a vowel, I suppose.

LEE: Send me the markup. I’ll make revisions.

BILLY: What quote-unquote stuff do you have? I thought I took everything.
(Recognizes the suit.)
Is that my–?

LEE: Best suit? The very one.

BILLY: Where did you–? Didn’t I–?

LEE: I’m afraid I misplaced it temporarily, when I was helping you pack. Lucky I ran across it.

BILLY: You’re a rotten drunk, Lee.

LEE: Fair enough.
(He drops the suit coat into the box, takes a gulp of the beer, and begins dousing the trousers.)
You’re a rotten boyfriend.

BILLY (Overcome with melancholy. He sits on the steps.):
Why do we do this?

LEE: You’ve missed a few meetings. I’ll bring you up to speed. I’m pissed.
(He tosses the trousers and the empty bottle into the box.)
I feel the need to break things.

BILLY: Not just you. Us … Not just us … Anybody. People who break up. Why is it always like this?

LEE: What other way would it be?

BILLY: Never mind. Your message said there was stuff. What other stuff do you have?

(Lee shakes the box, jangling the broken glass inside.)

LEE: Where’s Millie, by the way? I asked you to bring her.

BILLY: You don’t even like Millie. You don’t want her. You can’t want her. Not really.
(Lee answers with a belch. Billy leaps to his feet.)
You know … I wasn’t going to say this … I was planning to take the high road on this … but … Fuck. You’re such a fucking mess, Lee. You’re a swirling vortex of drama and chaos. There’s a better-than-fifty-fifty chance you’re a drunk. And I can sure as hell say when you drink you’re impossible to be around. If you want to know the truth, when I met Chasity I was just looking for an excuse to get out.

LEE: What do you mean, I don’t even like Millie? I love that dog. She’s my precious. My baby. My thoroughly modern Millie. You’re going to have a dozen babies, right? Fruit of your loins. Fruit de pére.
(Laughs.)
God, that’s funny. Get it?

BILLY: Yeah, you’re a real wit. Did you actually hear anything I said?

(Lee kicks the box toward Billy.)

LEE: There’s your stuff. I’ll come over later and get Millie.