The Porn Star's Daughter

She taught me how to put on make-up

That was about it

The running joke

Is always—

Oh, what did your Mama teach you?

And nowadays I just groan

But sometimes I answer the question honestly

Just to show ‘em I don’t care

‘She taught me how to put on make-up’

And then I just keep

Cleaning tables

My mother is in her fifties now

And I’ve asked her a couple of times

If she regrets it

Doing the movies

And she always says ‘No’

And why should she?

Honestly, she made a lot of money

Like, so much money

She still has some of it

She always tries to get me

To take some

But I don’t like feeling

Like I owe her anything

Not because she’d hold it over me

But because I don’t feel right

Taking money she earned

And, yeah, maybe the way she earned it

Weirds me out a little bit too

My mom comes to the restaurant sometimes

And she still turns heads

The guys turn their heads

Because she’s so gorgeous

And the women turn their heads

To see who the hell

Their guys

Are looking at

I just keep cleaning tables

One time Mama was visiting me

And this guy in Section 3

Grabbed my ass

I saw Mama go to stab him

With a fork

But I just shot her a look

And she put the fork down

And went back

To drinking her coffee

Guys like that

Aren’t worth

Getting in trouble for

I know that, but Mama never learned

She thought every guy was trouble

And she stabbed more than a few of them

Which is why I lived in eight different places

Before I turned fourteen

The day before I was supposed to start ninth grade

Mama and I moved into this big empty house

In the Valley

With deep, red carpets

Like the kind in Hitchcock movies

And windows with shutters and squares of glass

Oh, I just thought

We were the richest people on earth

That night, Mama went off to work

And she didn’t come home

For three days

The woman she hired to clean the house

Got me up for school

And made me breakfast

Waited for me until I got home

And said my Mama would probably be back soon

I didn’t believe her

But then on the third day
I came home

And Mama was in bed

Taking a nap

Like she’d just went out for a jog

I remember crawling into bed with her

And trying to shut my eyes tight enough

To block out the late afternoon California sun

Cutting through the shutters

And the squares of glass

Maybe Mama was worried

That I’d ask her

Not to go back to work

But I knew better than that

Sometimes if you want to live

In a big empty house

On the nice side of town

Where there are already books

In the bookshelves

And where nice women named Sheila

Make you breakfast in the morning

And wash your clothes

You gotta go to work

And sometimes work

Sticks around

A little longer

Than you’d like it to

The next day I went to school

And when the teacher asked me

What I wanted to be when I grew up

I said—‘A waitress’

She said, ‘Oh, is that what your mother does?’

And I said, ‘Yeah—

--Something like that’

A Blue That Looks Like Grey

He lives on the second floor

Of an old two-story building

On the west side

The windows are blacked out

And the apartment is made up

Of only three rooms

Bath, bed, and a living room

--No furniture anywhere

The living room is lit

By the glow

Of three over-sized

Computer monitors

And Christmas lights

Strung up and hung up

From ill-placed nails

In every wall

A mattress sits on a diagonal

On the floor of the bedroom

And despite how dreary

The whole set-up should be

It feels sort of…cool

Like something between

A bunker

And an underground club

So exclusive

Only two people get to see it

At a time

He only half-pays attention to you

As you sit on the floor

Wondering if you would still be here

If he was any other man

His hair falls in his face

And you’ve never seen him wearing

Anything

But sweat pants

And a white tank

That fits him better

Than any article of clothing

Has ever fit anyone

He’s barefoot

And biting his lower lip

As he looks at a design

On one of the giant monitors

That appears to be for…

Some kind of logo?

A project?
An advertising project?

You have no idea

But you don’t ask

You’re nervous

Something about him

Makes you nervous

Even though he’s always been friendly

And even though he’s the one

Who invited you over

Looking at him

You feel as though you’re witnessing

Something special

He doesn’t seem embarrassed

About his state of living

On the contrary

His lack of embarrassment

Makes you feel embarrassed

For wondering

Why he’s not embarrassed

You tuck your legs

Under your chin

Like a girl on a quad

Listening to some handsome senior

Play songs on an acoustic guitar

When really

There’s just silence
And the occasional clatter of keys

And the click of a mouse

He’s changing a section of the design

From grey to a blue that looks like grey

And then back to grey

He can’t decide

When he’s done doing

Whatever it is he’s doing

He’ll take you to the mattress

And you’ll have the best sex of your life

Partly because he’s so attractive

He only has to try half as hard

As a normal person

To get you turned on

And partly because he teaches yoga

Because—of course he does

And the whole time

The only thing

You keep wondering is—

Is this a joke?

Is this some sort of prank?

How is someone this stunning

Interested in me?

And then you realize—

Wait a minute

You’re the one with the good job

And the nice house

On the east side of town

With a new car

And furniture in every room

So why does being with him

Make you feel lucky?

Shouldn’t it be

The other way

Around?

But you don’t allow yourself

To think this

For very long

For fear that he’ll be able

To look into your eyes

And see

What you’re thinking

So instead, you bury your face

Into what you imagine is an unwashed pillow

On the mattress

And pretend to fall asleep

While he creeps back to the monitors

So he can continue choosing

Between grey

And a blue

That looks

Like grey

This Is How It Works

Did you do anything wrong?

No

No, you didn’t do anything wrong

But that’s not the point

That doesn’t matter

What matters is that there was, uh

Wrongdoing

Wrong was done

It doesn’t need to belong to anyone

It just sits out there

It sits there

And waits

For someone

To claim it

And that’s your job

Your job

Is to claim it

Because you’re the boss

You’re the big boss man
And that’s what the big boss man does

A mess

Sits

In the middle of the floor

And somebody looks around

And wonders

Who’s

Going to mop it up

But also--

And this is a separate thing

Some people

People like me

Look around

And think--

Who made this mess?

Now

I know you didn’t make it

I know that

But it doesn’t really matter

That’s the thing

It doesn’t really matter

Who made the mess

Because the mess

Is still sitting

On your floor

Do you get that?

Do you understand

What I’m saying?

There is a mess

On the floor

And the floor

Belongs to you

And so, by default

It’s your mess

And you have to pay for it

Now

The good news is

You don’t--necessarily--have to clean it up

You can leave it

You can leave it for the next guy

To take care of

In fact, that’s what you should do

Because even if you clean it up

You’re still on the way out

You’re still taking a hike

When all this is over

Because that’s how it works

And don’t get me wrong

It’s not fair

Nobody thinks it’s fair

But it’s what happens

When you teeter totter

At the top

Of the pyramid

Sometimes

Down below

Somebody

Some person

Someone you don’t even know about
Because you’re so high up

Somebody--makes a mess

And somehow

It crawls up

All the way up

To you

And you fall

That’s how it works

But hey

At least you got to see the top

Right?

That’s more than most people

Get to see

And that’s not that bad, right?

No, no, no

Not bad

At all

The Mothers

I read in People magazine

People?
It might have been something else

It might have been Glamour

Glamour?
Okay, not Glamour, but—

Was it—

Can I finish the story?
Sorry

It’s fine, I just—Cody, please put your sister down.  If she gets sick and throws up on you, we’re going to have to go home early.  Is that what you want?
Vincent is always picking up his little brother and throwing him into things.  I don’t know what to do.

Do you know the Patience exercise with him?
I do, but as soon as we’re done with it—

Same with Markie.  They know all the tricks.

Yup.

As soon as we learn a new trick, they learn how it works, and then they undermine it.

Exactly.

Cody, I don’t want you near that slide.  Peter got sick on that slide.  Do you want to get sick?
They washed it.

I know they washed it, but I didn’t wash it.

What?
I didn’t wash it so how do I know it’s been washed properly?  Do you think they used bleach?
I’m sure they used bleach.

But you don’t know.  That’s the whole point.  Nobody knows.

So you’re just never going to let him play on the—

Cody, play on the swings, okay?  Good boy.  And put your sister down.

What were you saying before?
God, who remembers?
About you reading—

Oh right, I was reading about this little boy who got vaccinated and then died.

Oh my god!

I know, isn’t it terrible?  There were pictures.

Of his body?
No!  Jesus.

Well, I didn’t—

Of him, you know, alive—and happy.  With his mother.

She must be devastated.

She was.  I mean, I don’t know her, but they interviewed one of her co-workers—

Just put me in the ground.  If anything ever happens to Markie—

Don’t even say it.

I know, but I’m saying—

Don’t even say it—

Just put me in the ground right along with him.

You know, the media doesn’t tell you everything about those vaccinations.  They just want us to shoot up our kids with whatever they tell us is safe.  They don’t actually investigate this stuff to—

I mean, they do investigate.

What?

They have statistics.

What statistics?
Statistics about them being—

I’m just saying—I’m not sticking every kind of needle in Cody’s arm and trusting that it’s all going to be fine.  That little boy was going to be a baseball player.  A professional baseball player.

How old was he?

Six.

So how do they know he was going to—

He loved baseball.  And now he’s dead.  All so he wouldn’t catch the mumps.  Like that’s the worst thing in the world.

I had the mumps.

So did I.  And I’m alive.  And I wasn’t vaccinated and I’m alive.  And that little boy was vaccinated and where is he now?  Dead.

Maybe something else happened.

Like what?
I don’t know, something?

What could have happened?
All kinds of things can happen.

Look, he got vaccinated and then he died.  It’s cause and effect.

He could have had an undiagnosed heart problem or something.

Are you a detective now?
No.

So why are you just making up—

I’m not making anything up.

She just believes whatever they tell her.

Who’s ‘they?’

The news or—whatever.

Who else am I supposed to listen to if not the news?
You have to think for yourself.

I do, but I read things and then I make up my own mind.  The same way you read that article and—

This article was very well-written.

That doesn’t make it true.

And the news being the news doesn’t make the news true.

Okay, fine, but—

You’re so defensive.

You brought the whole thing up.

I thought you’d want to know if something was out there that could potentially—

Vincent’s already had his shots.  He’s fine.

So he’s one of the lucky ones.  That’s all that means.

Look, nothing is a hundred percent.  Any one of our kids could eat a peanut tomorrow and die from a new developed allergy or something.

That’s why I don’t let Cody eat peanuts.

Markie either.  I won’t let him near them.

Or peanut butter.

Peanut butter?  Ha.  I’d rather let him near a live shark.

You can’t shelter them from everything.

So you’d rather play fast and loose with your child’s life?
I’d rather let him have a—

You would never forgive yourself if you were that lenient with him and then something happened.

But my point is—

You should protect them against whatever you can protect them from.

What about protecting them against illnesses that can actually kill them?

What are we talking about here?  Measles?  Chicken pox?
That stuff can be deadly.  It’s not—

But I know what that stuff is.  I don’t know what’s in those needles they stick into—

You don’t need to know what’s in it.

You would just let them put something in your and not even know what—

Do you know what’s in all the food your kid eats?
Of course I do.  He only eats organic.

Markie eats three things.  And he won’t sit at the table.  And he stabbed my husband with a fork last week.

Jesus.

Did you try Reflecting?
We did, but then he started waving a knife around so we locked him in his room for the rest of the night.

Well, that’s—You did what?

I guess I should just be happy with the fact that Vincent can’t catch anything from Cody or Markie.

Why would he catch anything from them?
Well, if they’re not vaccinated—

Markie’s vaccinated.

You vaccinated Markie?
My husband made me.  His father is a pediatrician and he says we have to get him all his shots.

Well his father probably knows what he’s—

So you turned over the well-being of a child to a stranger?
He’s not a stranger.  He’s his grandfather.

But he’s not his mother.

But he’s his grandfather.

But he’s not his mother.

Look, I don’t like it anymore than you do, but I got to choose his religion, so my husband gets to make the medical decisions.

I would have let him have religion.  Religion won’t kill you if you choose wrong.

We’re all going to die of something.

I choose not to believe that.  I choose to believe that I’m going to die one day and then they’ll discover the cure for death and my children will live on forever.

But realistically you know that’s—

Realistically?  Are you kidding?  We shelter a life inside ourselves for nine months and then push it out and watch it become a person.  It’s science fiction.  There’s nothing realistic about it.

It’s nature.  It’s how things work.

I think it’s weird that you’re fixated on your kid dying.

I’m not fixated on it.  It scares the hell out of me.  I don’t think about it.  You’re the ones who—

You have to think about it, and you have to not think about it.  That’s the trick.

Oh, that’s the trick, huh?
Yes—and it probably doesn’t work.

Nothing does.

Nothing.

Not a damn thing.

A Day Off

(A store.  MONICA is working behind the counter.  DEREK enters.)

DEREK:  Hey Monica?

MONICA:  Yes?

DEREK:  I got your time off slip--

MONICA:  Yeah, I know it’s silly to put it in so far in advance--

DEREK:  No, I appreciate that, really.

MONICA:  Just wanted to do it because otherwise it’s, like, the day of and I realize that I forgot and I’m all--Ahhh--you know?

DEREK:  Yeah, the thing is, I’m not sure I can give you the day off.

MONICA:  Oh.

DEREK:  Yeah, it’s--

MONICA:  What?

DEREK:  Huh?

MONICA:  What do you mean you can’t give it to me off?  Are we even going to be open?

DEREK:  We are, but we’re going to be really short-staffed.

MONICA:  Who else is working that day?

DEREK:  Well, there’s you and, uh--

MONICA:  Are you planning on coming in?

DEREK:  No, I will, uh, I will not be doing that.

MONICA:  Derek.

DEREK:  Yes, Monica?

MONICA:  It’s the Purge.

DEREK:  I’m aware of that.

MONICA:  I don’t think you--

DEREK:  I’m aware of that, Monica, but corporate wants us open that day.

MONICA:  Who’s going to be shopping at Banana Republic during the Purge?

DEREK:  People might need pants.

MONICA:  Pants for what?  Murdering and looting?

DEREK:  People sometimes tear their pants when they’re, you know, murdering and--whatever.

MONICA:  And looting.

DEREK:  Right, that.

MONICA:  So you want me to work here all by myself while people are out there just--just--

DEREK:  Monica, when I was a Sales Associate, I had to work the Purge.  It’s just part of the job.

MONICA:  How did you survive?

DEREK:  I played dead for most of the shift.  Although there are rules against doing that now.  The regional manager doesn’t think it’s professional.

MONICA:  I could die.

DEREK:  It’s not as if you can’t defend yourself.  And the store.  Don’t forget to defend the store.  If possible, defend the store first, and then yourself.  If possible.  Try to make that possible though.

MONICA:  Derek, how am I supposed to get here?  They don’t run the bus on Purge Day.

DEREK:  Monica, when you took this job, you said you reliable transportation.

MONICA:  Normally, I do but--

DEREK:  You’ll just have to get a ride from someone else.

MONICA:  No one is going to be crazy enough to go to the mall on Purge Day.  Nobody’s going to even want to go outside.  There’s no way we’re going to have any customers.

DEREK:  Probably not, but in the event that we do, we need to be prepared.  Now, there’s a baseball bat we can give you that we keep in the back for when we do the annual Banana Republic vs. Baby Gap softball game.

MONICA:  It’s plastic.

DEREK:  Of course it is.  We don’t want you hurting anyone.  The last thing we need is a lawsuit.

MONICA:  You can’t sue someone who hurts you during a Purge.  Usually you just murder them so they can’t come and find you during the next Purge.

DEREK:  Then I guess you’d better swing that plastic bat really hard, huh?

MONICA:  Can’t I just quit?

DEREK:  I don’t know.  Can you?

MONICA:  No, I really need this job.

DEREK:  Then it looks like you’re going to have to suit up and show up, Monica.  Just like the poster in the break room says.

MONICA:  FIne.

(A beat.)

Where are you going?

DEREK:  What?

MONICA:  During the Purge.  Are you going anywhere special?

DEREK:  Oh, uh, well--I won’t be far.  You know, in case you need me.

MONICA:  You’re going to go kill those guys at Baby Gap for beating us last year at the softball game, aren’t you?

DEREK:  Monica, don’t worry about the folks at Baby Gap, just worry about your performance here.  You’re up for a review in a month.  Provided you’re still alive then.

MONICA:  Just make sure you get the guy with the weird tooth who hit a homerun on me.

DEREK:  Monica!

(A beat.)

Clearly that’s the first person I’m going after.

MONICA:  Good call, boss.

DEREK:  Hey!  No boss here.  Just Derek, remember?  We’re buds, right?

MONICA:  Right.

DEREK:  Right!  Gosh Monica, I really hope you don’t die.  It’s so hard to find anybody you can count on these days.

(He exits.  MONICA sighs.  Lights.)

The Accident

(The police station.  Two people are sitting--JOE and ELISE.  JOE has a compress on his forehead, which is clearly bleeding.  ELISE is holding her arm.  They’re already mid-conversation when the lights come up on the scene.)

                ELISE

                                   You have no business flying a car.

                                                                                JOE

I’ve been flying cars since the first day they put them in the air.  Don’t make this about me not knowing how to fly a car.

                                ELISE

What else would it be about?

                                JOE

You were on me about running late going to your mother’s.  I was distracted.

                                ELISE

Exactly.  You were distracted and that’s why we hit the balloon.

                                JOE

The balloon wasn’t on the radar.

                                ELISE

The radar only shows you other cars, Joe.  It doesn’t show you balloons, or—or other stuff.  Just cars.  You have to look out for the other stuff.  Dammit, this hurts.

                                JOE

I thought they gave you something for it?

                                ELISE

They did, but it’s not strong enough.

                                JOE

You should have told them that.

                                ELISE

How was I supposed to know it wasn’t going to be enough?

                                JOE

I better not lose my license over this.

                                ELISE

Joe, those people could be dead.

                                JOE

What are you talking about dead?  They’re not dead.

                                ELISE

Then why have we been sitting in a police station for three hours?

                                JOE

If they were dead, somebody would have told us.

                                ELISE

Maybe not.

                                JOE

It was an accident.

                                ELISE

It doesn’t matter.  You weren’t paying attention.

                                JOE

You didn’t see it either!  It was cloudy!  Nobody could have seen it.  What were they doing taking a hot balloon up in that kind of weather?

                                ELISE

Who knows?

                                JOE

Jesus, Elise, you think they’re dead?

                                ELISE

I don’t know.  I just saw the balloon go down and—I don’t know.

                                JOE

What the hell are people still doing flying hot air balloons?  What is this—the 1950’s?

                                ELISE

It’s romantic.

                                JOE

It’s stupid.  We got cars flying around.  Next year they’re sending up buses.  Plus the planes they’re still running—

                                ELISE

Forget hot air balloons, why bother with planes?

                                JOE

Cheaper to fly on a plane than fly your car to Florida.  The gas—

                                ELISE

                (Grimaces.)

I wonder if they gave me placebos.

                                JOE
Why would they give you placebos?  This isn't a science experiment.

                                ELISE
It feels like nothing.  It feels like they didn't give me anything at all.

                                JOE

I need to take you home.  I’m going to tell them that.

                                ELISE
We can't go home until they tell us we can go home.

                                JOE
Then I'm going to tell them to tell us we can go home.

                (DETECTIVE GORSATZ enters.)

Uh, Detective, my wife is in a lot of pain.

                                GORSATZ

More pain than the four people you killed?

                (A moment.)

                                                                                ELISE

                                   Oh my God.

                                GORSATZ

By the way, you didn’t have anything drink before you took off this afternoon, did you?

                                ELISE

Of course he didn’t.  It was the middle of the day.

                                JOE

Elise…

                                ELISE
Joe, tell him you didn't have anything to drink.

                                JOE
I...I...

                                GORSATZ

Someone’s coming by to talk to the two of you.  You might want to contact your lawyer.  There’s an adroid lawyer here you can rent for a hundred bucks, but he’s been on the fritz lately, so I’d keep an eye on him.  Mrs. Becker, you can come with me.

                (GORSATZ exits.)

                                ELISE

Joe, you told me you weren’t drinking anymore.

                                JOE

It was just…I was distracted.

                                ELISE

Joe…

                                JOE
What difference does it make, right?  Once you're up in the air, the car practically drives itself.

                               ELISE
Joe, you--

                               JOE
It's auto-pilot.  Just like a plane.

                               ELISE
That's not--

                               JOE
It's just like a plane, but it's simple.  It's so simple.

                               ELISE

Joe... 

                                JOE

And you know when we go to your mother’s she makes me so nervous—

                                ELISE

Joe—

                                JOE

Oh God, Elise.  Oh my God.

                                ELISE

Joe.

                (Lights.)