Chapters (10)
(SALLY crosses calmly to her bed, stage left; lies down on it, hands behind her head, staring at ceiling. ROSCOE collapses, sitting down on his bed in the midst of the pile of items and open suitcase. He starts rocking back and forth, holding his head with both hands, like a madman about to erupt into a seizure. LUCY stands there, watching him sympathetically. MABLE just watches from her wheelchair and LIZ goes on calmly cleaning her shoes, spitting and licking rag.)
LUCY: (Sweetly—going to ROSCOE.) You’ve messed up, Roscoe. You have to realize that. You have to swallow it. Digest it. You’ve really fucked up.
ROSCOE: (Rocking violently on bed.) NO!! NO!!
LUCY: (Sitting down beside ROSCOE, patting his back as he rocks.) Yes. Running away is a cowardly act. There’s nothing else to be said about it.
ROSCOE: (Rocking.) I didn’t! It was over! That’s all it was. Over! Over, over, over, over! What’s the point—what’s the point in continuing?
SALLY: (Lying on her back on bed.) Well—you’ll be all right once you hit the road.
MABLE: That’s right. You’d be amazed how a Dairy Queen will change your entire attitude.
ROSCOE: NO! No, no, no, no, no!
| SALLY: The open road. | MABLE: (Singing.) | |
| ROSCOE: I don’t want to go! I don’t want to go! | See the USA in your Chevrolet The Rockies way out west |
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| SALLY: (Still lying down.) I thought you said— | Are calling you | |
| ROSCOE: (Rocking desperately.) There’s nothing out there! Miles and miles and miles—Nothing! Absolutely nothing! | Drive your Chevrolet Through the USA Where fields of golden wheat |
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| LUCY: But once you’ve got that big engine running— | pass in review |
ROSCOE: NOTHING! Empty—nothing moves. Broken towns. Tractors rusted out. Wichita—Topeka.
LUCY: I can drive for you if you want. You can sleep in the back. I love to drive.
ROSCOE: No! I can’t—I can’t—
SALLY: (Still on her back.) Well, you can’t stay here anymore.
(ROSCOE stands—SALLY’s line has brought him round suddenly.)
ROSCOE: (Standing.) No—of course. Of course not.
MABLE: You’ll have to find other digs, Roscoe.
ROSCOE: Yes. Of course I do—of course. I understand that.
(ROSCOE starts again, making feeble attempts to pack his suitcase. LUCY stands and watches him.)
LUCY: Why don’t you give me the keys and I’ll go warm that Chevy up for you.
ROSCOE: (Packing.) No—I—can do it. I mean—
SALLY: She’s a good driver, Roscoe.