Two Weeks Notice 2.2

Act I, Scene 1; Act I, Scene 2; Act I, Scene 3

Act II, Scene 1

SCENE 2

Same apartment, two days before the suicide. DAVID is dressed in a suit, trying and failing to tie a necktie. There is a knock at the door.

DAVID

Come in!

WAYNE enters the apartment, and looks quizzically at DAVID.

WAYNE

What are you doing?

DAVID

What do you mean?

WAYNE

I mean, what's with the suit?

DAVID

I thought I'd dress up a little bit. I'm trying to decide on what to wear.

WAYNE

What to wear? For what?

DAVID

For my suicide.

WAYNE

You're going to wear a suit when you kill yourself?

DAVID

Yeah, I thought it would save the people at the funeral home some time if they just picked me up off the street and throw me in the casket.

WAYNE

You've obviously never killed yourself before, have you?

DAVID

No shit.

WAYNE

(Beat, thinking of something to say)

Listen, David, there's been something I've wanted to tell you for a while, but I never knew how to say it.

DAVID

Just say it, man. Don't worry about it.

WAYNE

(Sighs)

Okay. Sit down.

(They both sit.)

Like I said, I'm not exactly sure how to put this, but, you know, you're going to be dead in two days, so if I don't say this now, I'll never get a chance to say it. Remember when we were kids, and we started our own secret club?

DAVID

"The Two Man He-Man Club"? Of course.

WAYNE

Yeah. Best club ever, right? Remember the pact that we made? "Best friends forever, until our dying day. We've sworn on a sacred oath that if one of us dies before the other the person who lives must throw a party, and everyone will dance and have fun and talk about how cool the dead one is."

DAVID

Where are you going with this?

WAYNE

Just listen. I was reminded of that pact when I was looking through some of our old photos and official documents.

DAVID

(Laughs)

You still kept those?

WAYNE

Of course. Sure, they're a little stupid, but they're still funny, and they remind me of more carefree days. The point is, David, I'm not ready to throw that party yet. I'm not ready to invite a bunch of people over and talk about how cool you were. I can't do it. I don't think I could ever do it. Even though our club dissolved because of time, I still hold on tightly to that pact.

DAVID

Then don't throw the party. That pact was made when we were young and stupid.

WAYNE

We're best friends forever, David. We swore on a sacred oath. God, every time you do something stupid or reckless, or something terrible happens to you, I worry.

DAVID

What do you mean?

WAYNE

Like when you got into that roll-over accident a few years back, after Elizabeth divorced you and took away your life. I wasn't sure if you were going to make it. No one was sure. The doctors said that you looked totally fucked up, and I couldn't make myself come visit you. I felt awful, but I couldn't see you like that. Instead, I sat in my house, dead tired but unable to sleep, waiting for that phone call to tell me you were gone. That's when I found the old box with our stuff in it. The letters, the plaques, the documents, everything. I reread our sacred oath, and even then, I wasn't ready to throw that party.

DAVID

Jesus, you're really stuck on this oath, aren't you?

WAYNE

What else am I going to be stuck on, David? We're cranky old men, way past our prime. No twenty-something hoochie at the bar is going to go out back with us and blow us unless they think we have a million dollars in the bank. We virtually have no control over our lives anymore, and this oath that you think is completely worthless, is the last little bit of myself that I can control.

(Pause.)

David, you may think that this is the right thing for you to do, the last little bit of yourself that you can control. And if you're still dead set on suicide after all of this, more power to you. But please, think about the people you're affecting here. I value our friendship more than anything else in the world. I would quit everything right now and travel the world with you, reliving our more carefree days, if it would help you change your mind about this decision.

(WAYNE crosses to the door, while DAVID sits on the couch, reflecting. WAYNE stops, unable to face DAVID.)

You mean a lot to me, David. If I couldn't call you my best friend forever, I'd be a totally different person than the one I am today. I love you, David. Don't make me throw this party.

WAYNE leaves. DAVID is left to process. There is a knock on the door. Before DAVID can reply, MOM and DAD enter. MOM looks like she's been crying.

MOM

Oh good, you're here.

DAVID

What do you want?

MOM

Your father and I have been talking, and we want to help you out of this funk that you're going through.

DAVID

Good luck. Wayne was just over here.

MOM

(Not listening)

We want you to know that even though you're going through a rough patch right now, you're still our son, and though we may not have much in the way of funds, we have an abundance of love for you, and want to help you out however we can.

DAVID

Thanks, Mom. Really. But--

MOM

What do you want from us? What do you need from us?

DAVID

I don't need anything--

MOM

If you need a job, your father and I can help you look for something in the papers. Help you get a bit of an income, you know?

DAVID

(Getting angry)

Mom, I don't need--

MOM

If you need a place to stay for a while until you get back on your feet, we still have your bedroom made up for you. Maybe it'll be nice for you to enjoy some home-cooked meals for a while.

DAVID

Mom! Shut up!

MOM

(Taken aback)

David! Don't talk--

DAVID

Shut up! Just shut up and listen! My whole life I've been subservient to you, listening to everything you've said and taking it as Gospel truth. Even when I grew older and wanted to tell you that what you were saying was complete bullshit, I still followed what you said, like a pig to slaughter, because I thought, deep down, you knew something about life that I didn't. But it's not going to be that way anymore. I have something to say, and if I don't say it now, I never will.

MOM

(Nervously)

What is it, David?

DAVID

(Pointed)

I hate you.

MOM

(Shocked)

What?

DAVID

You're too much of a control freak, and I hate you. You've controlled my life for far too long, and I'm done with it. Everything I've done has come from you, and you've stopped me from living. When I was little, I wanted to be a fireman, or a scientist, something that interested me and that I thought would be dynamic and exciting. But you said I was going to be an entrepreneur, just like Dad. And I did. And I've been loathing that decision ever since.

MOM

David, calm down. Surely you don't mean--

DAVID

Did you know I've never really decided anything on my own? Every decision I've made, even when I never called to ask for help, your voice has decided. You're a parasite in my brain, stopping me from making the decisions I wanted to make. I have to please Mom, I would say to myself. And I'm sorry I did.

MOM

(Tearing up)

David... you're being irrational...

DAVID

Don't try to tell me I'm being irrational! What's irrational is that you haven't cut the cord after 50 years of raising me! Well, here's that day. I'm cutting the cord myself.

MOM

David...

DAVID

I hate you, Lori Cavanaugh. Let me grow up, for once. Let me be a grown up for once in my sad and meaningless existence. I'm a God damn adult.

MOM

Honey, I know...

DAVID

I hate you, Lori. Get out of my apartment, and get out of my fucking life.

MOM

Honey, you don't mean that...

DAVID

I do. Get out.

MOM starts crying, and rushes out of the apartment. DAD remains, standing by the doorway. DAVID sighs and puts his head in his hands.

DAD

David...

DAVID

(Still angry)

What?

DAD

Those were some harsh words.

DAVID

I'm sorry. Things have just been... really tense lately.

DAD

(Pause)

Listen, David. I know when you and your sister were younger, I didn't heap a lot of praise on you, but I thought you should know that your mother and I are very proud of what you've accomplished in your life. It may not have been what you wanted, but you did a damn fine job anyway.

DAVID

Thanks, Dad. That means a lot.

DAD

You're welcome. I love you, David.

DAD leaves. DAVID is left to process. He crosses to the liquor cabinet, pulls out a full bottle of liquor, and sits down on the couch, taking a pull straight from the bottle.

DAVID

Jesus Christ, what have I done? The only people in my life that have always loved me came to save me, and they left me feeling worse than ever.

(He takes a large pull from the bottle.)

Fuck. I've spent these past two weeks focusing so much on myself, trying to decide how and where to kill myself, and I've completely ignored everyone else.

(He takes another long pull from the bottle.)

I'm such a worthless piece of shit. They tried to show me something worth living for, but ended up showing me that there's nothing left. (Sighs) God damn it.

(He sees a notepad on the coffee table.)

There's nothing left to do. Two days until my demise, and I'm more depressed and worthless than I was two weeks ago. I've made it this far, might as well go all the way.

(He grabs the notepad. He writes something, then scratches it out. He writes something else, curses, and scratches it out. He gets increasingly frustrated each time he scratches out what he has written.)

Damn. Dammit. God damn. Shit. God damn shit. Fuck. I can't fucking-- God dammit.

(He throws the notepad across the room.)

Fuck this. I'm going to the bar.

DAVID takes one last long pull from the bottle, grabs his coat, and leaves.