"Ma, you gotta call him."
"I don't have to do nothin', Karen. Don't make this about what I gotta do. Let him call me. I'm his mother."
"Ma, it's been two years."
"Two years ain't nothin'."
"Two years is a long time, Ma, when it's your son."
"It ain't a long time when your son's a junkie."
"I don't like that word, Ma."
"What do you want to call him, Karen?"
"Ma--"
"What would you like me to call him?"
"He's clean now, Ma."
"Karen--"
"Clean for a year and a half."
"What does that mean, huh? You think your father never got clean."
"He never got clean for a year and a half."
"They all go back, Karen. They love the stuff and they go back to it. You can't stop 'em."
"Ma, he's doing real good, but he could use some support."
"So you support him. I supported him his whole life. His whole life I supported him. Because he was my son. But I won't support a junkie, Karen. Nobody can ask me to do that. Not even you."
"Ma, I'm asking you to call him."
"I don't need to call him. He knows where I am. Let him call me."
"It's his birthday, Ma."
"What's that mean? It's his birthday? That mean everything's forgiven? Everything's good now because it's his birthday?"
"Ma--"
"You don't have to tell me when his birthday is, Karen. I know when his birthday is. I had him, didn't I? Didn't I have him? Aren't I his mother?"
"Yeah, well, act like it."
"What?"
"Act like his mother. It's his birthday. Call your son."
"And when's he gonna call me, huh, Karen? When's he gonna call his mother and say 'I'm sorry, Ma, I screwed up.' When am I getting that call? You telling him to call me like you're telling me to call him? Or is it all on me because I'm the mother?"
"It's hard for him, Ma."
"There's hard and there's harder. He's got it hard, I got it harder, because I'm the one who had to watch him throw his life away."
"He's doing better."
"There is no 'better.' You think I haven't heard all that before? Your father used to give me all of that day after day after day. You think I wanna hear all that again?"
"You don't have to hear anything, Ma. I just want you to talk to him."
"And say what? Happy Birthday? I love you? I miss you? He knows all that. Why am I going to tell him things he already knows?"
"It doesn't sound like you miss him."
"I don't miss the drugs. That doesn't mean I don't miss my son. But my son is the drugs now, so what am I supposed to do?"
"He's working now, Ma. He's got a good job down in Fairway at the power plant."
"Ha. Okay, Karen."
"He's dating a nice girl--"
"OKAY, KAREN! I said 'Okay.' I hear you, all right? I'm not deaf. But all that's like--" (Snaps her fingers.) "--Like that! It could be gone. And then I'm still calling listening to him ask for money. Listening to him ask to come home. Listening to all his excuses."
"You got no heart, you know that?"
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. You're not deaf. You said it yourself."
"I got no heart?"
"No damn heart. That's right."
"Yeah, well you got nerve. That's what you got."
"Daddy screwed up and you never let him forget it so he kept--" (Slams hand on the kitchen table.) "--screwing--" (Slams hand again.) "--up. Just like that. Day after day. And day after day you nagged and got all high and mighty and when Chris screwed up you did the same thing. And the whole time you had your own drug working for you."
"Yeah, what drug was that?"
"Being mean. That was your drug. How damn mean you are. Feeds you like the drugs fed your husband and your son. All that superiority. And nobody had the guts to say it to you."
"You always seemed to have the guts to tell me what I was doing wrong."
"And now I'm telling you to call your son."
"You know, when I was growing up--"
"Oh Jesus."
"--our parents didn't call us. You think my father ever picked up the phone to call me? Not once. I called HIM on MY birthday so he could wish me a good one, that's how that worked."
"That's stupid."
"It's how things were."
"That doesn't make it smart."
"It was respect."
"There's nothing respectful about saying 'I gave birth to you and now I don't want to talk to you anymore.'"
"You could never understand."
"Hey, I got kids."
"Kids you spoil."
"At least my kids won't hate me one day."
"Let me tell you something, Karen. That's a bet with yourself you never wanna make."
"Call him."
"Karen--"
"Call him, Ma."
"He stole from me."
"I don't care."
"Why should you? He didn't steal from you."
"Yes, he did. Now call him."
"You never--"
"It was none of your business. And I still call him. He's my brother. He's family. You know, that thing God only gives you one of? That's what he is. And it's his birthday. And he's busted his ass the last year and a half to get his life together and now all he wants is to hear his mother say 'I still love you even though you screwed up.' You know, you weren't there when we had the intervention for him. You couldn't be bothered. You were too busy letting all your friends know how you had to be strong and put your son out on the streets even though it hurt you so deeply. What a martyr. Meanwhile, the rest of us were trying to save his life. And I had to sit there--me, I had to--and tell my brother that if he didn't get his act together, I was going to have to cut him out of my life. I could barely speak the words, I was crying so hard, but I did it--to save his life, I did it."
"And that's why I threw him--"
"And now I'm saying to you--if you don't get your shit together, and you don't call your son on his birthday and you don't give up this meanness that you've had for years just because life dealt you a bad father then I have nothing more to say to you."
"Karen--"
"I mean it, Ma. Give it up, or I'm done with you."
"It's about what he did."
"No, it's about how it's easier for you to hate someone than love them. Than to be disappointed by them or have them break your trust. That's what it's about."
(She hands her mother the phone.)
"Call your son."
(Her mother looks at the phone. A beat. She dials the number.)
"Hey Chris, it's Ma. Just wanted to say happy birthday."
"Tell him."
"And I love you. Hope I can see you soon. Okay, bye."
(She hangs up. A beat.)
"How was that, Ma?"
"That was hard, Karen. You know it's...I don't know. For some reason, it's hard."
"It's okay, Ma. It's okay that it's hard. It's doing it anyway that counts."
"Yeah."
"I love you, you know."
"You do, huh?"
"Yeah."
"I love you too."
"Was that hard?"
"Eh, maybe it'll get easier."
"Let's hope, Ma. Let's hope something does."
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