Free August: Osage County by Tracy Letts

baby.
     
    KAREN (In a super baby voice) : Hi, doodle!
     
    (Steve embraces her. They kiss. His hands wander, squeeze her ass. She giggles, then breaks it.)
     
     
     
    Come into the backyard, I want to show you our old fort. Man, the air in here just doesn’t move . . .
     
     
    (She goes ahead of him. He follows, but stops . . . )
     
    STEVE (Privately, to Jean) : Hook you up, later.
     
    ( . . . rubs his hand over the entirety of Jean’s face. He exits.
     
    Lights crossfade to the front porch as Charlie and Little Charles arrive.)
     
     
    LITTLE CHARLES: I’m sorry, Dad.
     
    CHARLIE: Stop apologizing to me. Hold on a second, comb your hair.
     
    (Charlie gives Little Charles a comb.)
     
     
    LITTLE CHARLES: I know Mom’s mad at me.
     
    CHARLIE: Don’t worry about her.
     
    LITTLE CHARLES: What did she say?
     
    CHARLIE: You know your mother, she says what she says.
     
    LITTLE CHARLES: I set the alarm. I did.
     
    CHARLIE: I know you did.
     
    LITTLE CHARLES: I wanted to be there.
     
    CHARLIE: You’re here now.
     
    LITTLE CHARLES: I loved Uncle Bev, you know that—
     
    CHARLIE: Stop apologizing.
     
    LITTLE CHARLES: The power must’ve gone out. I woke up and the clock was blinking noon. That means the power went out, right?
     
    CHARLIE: It’s okay.
     
    LITTLE CHARLES: I missed his funeral!
     
    CHARLIE: It’s a ceremony. It’s ceremonial. It doesn’t mean anything compared to what you have in your heart.
     
    LITTLE CHARLES: Uncle Bev must be disappointed in me.
     
    CHARLIE: Your Uncle Bev has got bigger and better things ahead of him. He doesn’t have time for spite. He wasn’t that kind of man anyway—
     
    (Little Charles weeps.)
     
     
     
    Hey. Little Charles. Hey. It’s okay. It’s okay, now . . .
     
    LITTLE CHARLES: Just . . . it’s just . . . you know, I know how things are. I know how they feel about me, and when, something like this . . . you want to be there for people, and—
     
    CHARLIE:—shhhh—
     
    LITTLE CHARLES:—I missed Uncle Bev’s funeral, and I know how they feel about me—
     
    CHARLIE: Who, how who feels about you? Feels what about you?
     
    LITTLE CHARLES: All of them. I know what they say.
     
    CHARLIE: They don’t say things about you—
     
    LITTLE CHARLES: I see how they are. I don’t blame them. I’m sorry I let you down, Dad.
     
    CHARLIE: You haven’t let me down. You never let me down.
     
    Now listen here . . . you’re wrong about these people, they love you. Some of them haven’t gotten a chance to see what I see: a fine man, very loving, with a lot to offer. Now take this . . . (Gives Little Charles a handkerchief) Give me my comb. Stand up straight. Look folks in the eye. And stop being so hard on yourself.
     
    LITTLE CHARLES: I love you, Dad.
     
    CHARLIE: Love you too, son.
     
    (Charlie claps Little Charles on the back as they enter the living room.
     
    Lights crossfade to the dining room as Barbara and Bill enter from the kitchen. Johnna occasionally interrupts as she moves between the kitchen and the dining room, setting the table with food.)
     
     
    BILL: Jean doesn’t understand all this. You think she has any concept—?
     
    BARBARA: Phantom of the Opera —
     
    BILL: Do you remember what it was like to be fourteen?
     
    BARBARA: She’s old enough to exhibit a little character. But then I guess that’s something you normally learn from your parents.
     
    BILL: That’s a shot across my bow, right? I missed something.
     
    BARBARA: Really? Instilling character: our burden, as parents.
     
    BILL: I got that part.
     
    BARBARA: And you really haven’t been much of a parent lately, so it’s tough to expect—
     
    BILL: Just because you and I are struggling with this Gordian knot doesn’t make me any less of a—
     
    BARBARA: Nice, “Gordian knot,” but her little fourteen-year-old self might view it differently, might consider it “abandonment”—
     
    BILL: Oh, come on—
     
    BARBARA: Maybe she views her father as