billie was already in the bathroom, we’d driven straight through, and i could hear the water running. he was in his bath. god, he loved the tub! since he was tiny, he loved it. so, i knew he was in there, the water filling up around him, and “lady day”—’s what he liked to call billie holiday, ’s her nickname, and he called her that—playing on his tape player. “stormy weather.” i, ahh, went into the room, the bathroom, and i could see him there, through a little opening in the liner he had pulled shut, eyes closed and the steam coming up. he didn’t really struggle, couldn’t actually, the shock of it, i suppose, when the recorder first hit the water…there was really only a quick kind ’a snapping sound, like the pop of a flashbulb or whatnot, and then the softer sound of him, billie, as he kicked a second or two in the water, i turned the taps off a little later… (BEAT) after, i just sat there, on the linoleum, and watched him, lying in that cloudy pool of bath water, his eyes open and so still, i thought i could almost see, i mean, if i squinted, i could almost make out…”adakia,” that’s the word. the word i was trying, you know, that’s it. “the world out of balance.” you can look it up if you wanna, but i’m sure that’s the one…i knew it’d come to me, if i waited long enough.

she lights another smoke.

i was picked up in vegas, at a restaurant, you’re aware of that, though, obviously…and brought back here. and that’s it. so, now you know. i mean, what you really wanted, anyway, right? now you know…yes, i planned it, yes. but…maybe longer than you thought, huh? lots longer…

she laughs to herself.

and i worry about what’s gonna happen, i mean, to me and all, i do—’s natural, though, right, to wonder about things—-but i’ll tell you. tell you what gets me through today, the next hour…it’s him. my teacher.

pause.

i can almost see ’em, you know, i can, down there in phoenix, probably wandering around on some playground at school, a saturday, and he’s just stumbling there by himself near the monkey bars. can’t be consoled, right, the truth all spilled out now like it is, and all these tears running down, yelling up at the sky, these torrents of tears and screaming, the top of his lungs, calling up into the universe, “why?! why?I!” over and over. (BEAT) but you know what? in my fantasy, there’s never an answer, uh-uh, there never is…

she sits and smokes now as the tape player continues to quietly hum on.

silence, darkness.

three extraordinary new plays by the
renowned writer-director of
in the company of men

bash
three plays
by neil labute