The Substance of Fire and Other Plays by Jon Robin Baitz

Author:Jon Robin Baitz [Baitz, Jon Robin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781559368193
Publisher: Theatre Communications Group

ACT TWO

Three and a half years later. An old apartment in Gramercy Park. Isaac is sitting in a chair, staring out the window. A fierce winter snowstorm swirls around and down over the park. The radio plays, and the radiator hisses steam, gurgles, protests, coughs. The apartment is not so much a home as it is an archive. Floor to ceiling—the room is dominated by books. Though there are also gaping holes, gaps on the shelves where volumes are missing. There are also framed letters—all of which are embellished with drawings. Isaac has a frayed, fogged-in air about him. The door buzzer rings. Isaac sighs, turns off the radio. He puts on his tie and shoes, and is getting on his jacket as Martin enters—layered in snow, parka, scarf, gloves and boots. He stands for a moment, catching his breath.

MARTIN (Putting his coat, etc., on a hook in the hall): Didn’t you hear the buzzer?

ISAAC (Eager): You want tea? Is it cold? It looks a little cold outside?

MARTIN: I had to stand there, struggling with these keys in the ice and the . . . (Pause. He sighs) How are you?

ISAAC (Shrugs): Who the hell knows, you know? I didn’t think you’d get in. I hear on WNYC the trains are backed up to Lake Placid.

MARTIN: No, I came in last night, I—

ISAAC: I see. I see. I see. Last night. You . . .?

MARTIN: Stayed at a friend’s.

(Isaac nods, not thrilled.)

You ate?

ISAAC (Not interested): Maybe with the snow, the girl won’t come.

MARTIN: The cleaning girl?

ISAAC: This place is—who can live this way? (Yells suddenly) Goddamn it! Who? The kitchen is—have you ever tried to steam a squash? It’s a room full of yellow pulp.

MARTIN (Smiles): Please.

ISAAC (Resigned): Martin, I’m telling you, you can’t run a place this big with only a woman who comes in once a week from Belize. The dust, it’s like a nuclear winter in this place. (Runs out of steam) You have to take three showers a day.

MARTIN: Dad. The social worker. That’s today. You remember?

ISAAC: No, no, no. What do you think, I’m an idiot? Today is the maid and the Sotheby lady.

MARTIN (Quiet): It’s the psychiatric social worker. You agreed. I came into town because you asked me—

ISAAC (Yelling): Do I look to you like a man who hasn’t got a calendar? Thursday is the social. Today is Tuesday, the cleaning. Please!

MARTIN: Today, actually, Isaac, is, in point of fact, Thursday.

(There is silence.)

ISAAC: Without Miss Barzakian how’m I supposed to know my appointments? Idiotic. To have even consented to this.

MARTIN: It would help if you could remember the days of the week.

ISAAC: What for? Just a slab of days, this. Tell me something, Martin, what do you do? You go back to Aaron? With reports?

MARTIN: Yes. He asks.

ISAAC: He asks? And you tell him, “He’s doddering, he’s slobbering, he’s mortifying, the kitchen is a horror? He can’t tie his shoes.” That sort of thing? Because frankly, if that’s the case, I’m better off—

MARTIN

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