copyright © 2002 Brian E. Rochlin

Shaving

by Brian E. Rochlin

(When Carl is seated on stage, a bowl filled with water, a toiletries bag, and other accoutrements in front of him, lights up full)

NOTE: Some words are included to make the meaning clear. They are put in square brackets [ ] to indicate they are not spoken

CARL

(BEGINS SHAVING WITH AN ELECTRIC RAZOR)

My kid is the best. Smart little fuck. Get this. [when] He’s five...asks me what I do for a living. I tell him: Warehouse work. By the docks. Run one of the [fork] lifts. The little man looks at me...says, "That’s a blue collar job, isn’t it, daddy?" "Yup. Real work." Then he gets all puzzled and goes, "Then where’s your collar, daddy? You’re wearing a T-shirt." Can ya believe that shit? When he was five. Don’t know where he gets it from, cause neither me nor his mom ain’t no great shakes in the smarts department neither.

I done everything to give him a leg up: Health insurance, regular doctor visits, million dollar life insurance policy on me, dentist, college fund. It meant me and his mom lived kinda tight, which was all right, cause my boy deserves everything.

(HE SWITCHES TO SHAVING CREAM AND A SAFETY RAZOR.)

One time, he broke his arm. Tripped and fell. Didn’t have the insurance then, and I had to sell his mom’s car. [The] One I used to rush him to the hospital. When he comes back from the doc, he tells me he’s got a hairline fracture of the humerus, but that it’s not funny. Then he wraps his good arm strong around my neck and says, "Don’t be sad. I love you, Poppa." Buries his head in my chest. Little man’s gotta have veins the size of tube socks, his heart beats so big.

And he’s tough, too. Little league game last year...I call him to the stands. Fuck the coach. That pussy wimp never played a day in his life and he’s telling my kid what to do. I tell my boy it’s bases loaded, bottom of the 6th–and they only play six in little league–two outs. I tell him I’m gonna make him the goddamn hero of the game. All he has to do is lean into the pitch, catch it on his shoulder, and he’s won the game for his team. Only problem is, he did it wrong, caught it on the cheek. But the kids have no strength at that age, so it hurts, but nothing permanent or dangerous.

His mom called me up about that one, told me I was being a lousy father, what with the late support payments and putting him in hurt again like that...but I know what it feels like to win. I have felt that before. I have. (beat) And I gave him that.

I’m more careful now about what he wants. That’s why the insurance, million dollar insurance policy, and all that. So, cause he asked, I’m getting rid of this. (rubbing what remains of his beard) I saw him yesterday for the first time in three months. Three months. He says I’m too rough. Like it’s gonna scratch his hand [if] he goes to touch my face... [It]’s gonna send him to the medicine cabinet again for a Band-Aid and AB goo. Gonna need a couple a stitches [because] what I wear on my chin cuts so deep.

I liked the beard but it’s gone. Like I said, I’d do anything for my kid. Gonna make it real smooth.

He thinks I’m sad, now that his mom got me on the supervised visits. I want to hate her for that, but I can’t ever hate her...and she’s a good mom.

He thinks I’m sad, now that the docks shut down. He thinks I’m sad, because I can’t see him much any more...and I sit around the house growing a beard, watchin’ TV.

He thinks I’m sad...thinks I can’t get him nothing for Christmas. But I’m gonna get him plenty for Christmas.

My boy’s gonna be a millionaire.

(HE FINISHES SHAVING WITH A STRAIGHT RAZOR)

He thinks I’m sad, but I’m not, and I’m gonna show him that.

(TAKES THE RAZOR TO HIS NECK)

When he comes to the viewing, I’ll be wearing two smiles

(LIGHTS OUT QUICKLY AS HE STROKES ACROSS HIS NECK)

 

© 2002, Brian E. Rochlin

Draft November 15, 2002

 

"Shaving" IS COPYRIGHTED MATERIAL AND MAY NOT BE DOWNLOADED, TRANSMITTED, PRINTED OR PERFORMED WITHOUT THE EXPRESS PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR


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