JACK
Mornin‟, Dad. Happy Father‟s Day.
(JACK crosses to a table and picks up a box of
cereal. During the next few lines, he prepares
breakfast.)
I gotta work today--hope you don‟t mind cold cereal for
breakfast.
(An awkward pause.)
Um--yeah. Sons love their fathers, right?
Dad, I‟m gonna be late . . .
(A long silence.)
Do I love you? Yeah . . . I take care of you, right?
I do. But, y‟know, it‟s Father‟s Day . . . I can‟t help
remembering.
The Accident . . . and, well, that was the last time you ever--
hit me. Right before the Accident.
(A pause. He sits.)
I was fourteen. I helped Sarah and Timmy get ready for church--
just like every Sunday after mom left. I tried to keep „em
quiet, „cause we were gonna surprise you with breakfast in bed.
For Father‟s Day. But then Timmy spilled the orange juice, so
Sarah yelled, and you woke up. Of course, it was all my fault,
„cause I was the oldest, and I was in charge, and I didn‟t make
„em shut up. So much for Father‟s Day.
Father’s Day 3
JACK (cont’d)
No--that‟s a lie! You always hit hard.
(He shows a small bald spot on the top of his
head.)
See that? You knocked me on the head with your shoe when I
wouldn‟t stop cryin‟. You used to whip me so bad with your belt
I would bleed.
(Two beats.)
I hadda go change into a turtleneck so the Sunday School teacher
wouldn‟t see what you did. On the way, I swore, like I swore
before, that as soon as Timmy and Sarah could take care of
themselves, I was leavin‟.
Anyway, you dropped us at the church. And after that . . . I
guess that‟s when you got in the accident.
The pastor took me to see you, and on the way, I remember
prayin‟--not out loud, of course--that you would die, so I could
have a new dad. We got to stay with Grandma and Grandpa while
you were in the hospital. Three or four days later, one of the
doctors told me you would live, but you wouldn‟t ever walk
again. I figured we‟d live with Grandma and Grandpa, but I
guess they didn‟t want us. So everything went back to normal.
Mostly.
(JACK‟s actions become increasingly menacing
during the next paragraph as he realizes his
power.)
The first couple times I walked into your room, I was afraid you
would beat me up. But then I realized--those legs that kicked
me when I laid on the ground crying? They were the ones
shrivelin‟ up in a wheelchair. Those arms that hit me? They
could barely hold a cup of coffee. That mouth--used to call me
goofball and cuss me out--it was beggin‟ for help.
It‟s been ten years, dad. I don‟t take care of Sarah and Timmy
anymore--but I take care of you. And I‟ve never heard you say
“thank you.” Today you ask me if I love you. And I don‟t know
what to say--I guess I‟m glad you never asked before.
(A long beat.)
And I won‟t do this anymore.
You see these arms you burned with your cigarettes? You‟ll
never do it again.
Father’s Day 4
JACK (cont’d)
(He violently overturns the wheelchair.)
These feet? The ones that ran away for fourteen years? Now
they bruise your ribs!
(He kicks the place where his father would be,
had he just fallen out of the wheelchair.)
The mouth that begged you to stop beating me? It spits on you.
(He spits.)
And this mind you held in fear? You wanna know if it loves you!
It hopes you suffer. For the rest of your life, then in hell!
(JACK starts to exit. He turns around and
pitches the bowl of cereal back at the
wheelchair.)
Hope you don‟t mind cold cereal.
(He has started to exit when a voice--gruff, but
broken and hollow--calls from offstage. The
voice says--)
VOICE (JACK‟S FATHER)
Jack? Jack, can you gimme a hand?
(JACK starts back across the stage, shoulders
slumped and subservient. The lighting changes to
a softer look.)
JACK
Mornin‟, Dad. Happy Father‟s Day.
(He picks up the wheelchair and begins to push it
offstage in the direction of the voice.)
I gotta work today--hope you don‟t mind cold cereal for