50WAYS

SCENE FOUR

The scene is as before, same kitchen. Again it is morning, no lights are on in the kitchen.
MOTHER enters from the next room, she switches on the lights. She is dressed in a nice
house coat, moderately priced and in very good taste. She wears comfortable slippers that are
also moderately priced and in very good taste. Her hair is sufficiently combed to greet an
unexpected morning guest, she has the mail in her hand. MOTHER crosses to the coffee pot
and makes coffee. While it brews she turns on a small clock radio on the counter, which plays
light country music, then sits at the table. She looks at all three letters, sets one aside with a
smile and proceeds with the other two. She carelessly opens a letter, it is a bill, looking at it
she groans. She sets it aside and tear opens another. It is a short note from a friend, and she
chuckles to herself as she reads it, she sets it aside. She gets up and pours herself a cup of
coffee. She moves to the refrigerator and pours a good amount of skim milk into her cup,
about half of the cup should be milk. Getting a spoon she stirs the coffee as she sits back down
at the table. She picks up the last letter. Again she smiles. It is clear this is a meaningful
letter from someone that is very important to her. She fans herself with the letter as she takes
a careful sip of coffee to check the temperature. It is cool enough, and she drinks. She gets up
and crosses into the other room. After a moment she returns with a picture of JIMMER in a
silver frame. She sits at the table and sets the picture up so that it faces her while she reads
the letter. She takes another sip of coffee as she looks at the picture. Once more she smiles as
she looks at the letter, she has teased herself long enough, setting down her cup, she opens the
letter very carefully, no jagged edges are allowed on this one. As she opens it JIMMER enters
from the next room. He is dressed very well in a new dark blue pin striped suit, subtle shirt,
power tie, and expensive shoes. The young executive look suits him ideally. His hair is
expertly combed, not a hair out of place. He moves to STAGE RIGHT of the table and stands
in front of the counter for all of the following. He does not see his MOTHER and she does
not see him. As she begins to read, to herself, JIMMER speaks. He has the very last remains
of a country accent that he has worked very hard to be rid of. Only from time to time does the
old style slip in.

JIMMER: August 24th, 1992. Dear Mother. Well, life here in New York isn't as bad as everyone
there at home says it is. I know you don't agree, but if a year's worth of letters hasn't changed your
mind, I don't think this one will either. I have made many friends here, many of whom I've told you
about and many more besides, and well, I guess New York is home to me now.

MOTHER: (looking up from the letter, JIMMER stops speaking and stands with no
animation of any kind as he will at any time MOTHER stops looking at the letter) Oh My
God. (her accent is as strong as ever. She shakes her head at the very thought of her son in
New York.)

JIMMER: Now don't let that upset you. I know Tyler is where I was born and raised and will
always be home for you and Dad, but I have changed some, and well, I guess it's still home, deep in
my heart somewhere, but New York is going to be my home now. I bet for a very long time. I miss
you and all, but there isn't any place like this anywhere. I just know it. It is a real change from Tyler,
I know. But changes are what this letter is all about I guess. But I'll explain that as I go along. Yes,
I've been eating. But I have yet to find anyplace here that makes Dreamy Cloud Corn Bread or Pork
Stew or Black Betty. Besides I bet even if I do they won't make it anything like yours.

MOTHER: (Not looking away from her letter) You know you won't. Your Grammy taught me
how to make all that.

JIMMER: (this next sentence is spoken in time with MOTHERS last sentence) I know
Grammy taught you how to make all that and nobody can cook like Grammy can. Be sure to give
her my love and a big kiss. I guess, I miss her most of all. No, I haven't been mugged yet and please
stop asking me that in every letter.

MOTHER: It's gonna happen some day. Mark my words.

(spoken simultaneously)

JIMMER: I'll let you know when it does. So stop asking.

JIMMER: The weather here has been the same all summer. Hot and humid. It's a real fight to
decide if I'm gonna leave my windows open at night to get some cool air and risk getting robbed or
close them and suffocate. I don't want you to worry, so I won't tell you which I most often choose.
But the co-op manager says they're thinking about putting bars over all the windows, and since there
isn't anything to see out them I guess that'd be the best thing. But more on that later. Work is going
fine. IBM is a big company but the people are mostly nice. For the most part they have stopped
teasing me about my accent. But two or three of the gals in the billing area still call me cowboy. But
I think that's mostly cuz (he corrects himself, MOTHER squints at the scribbled word) because
... once when they were teasing me about my legs bein' bowed, I threatened to "ride'm 'til they was
broke" like we did the horses every spring. That shut all but one of them up right away. She just
smiled at me, real big. That was Theresa. We've become terrific friends. She's fixed me up with
several of her friends, and that has made meeting new people easier for me. But more on that later.
There's some fun folks here at work, that's for sure. And no I'm not dating any of them. So don't
ask me that in your next letter. I am seeing someone though. Someone very special. Someone I
expect to spend many years with, I hope. Someone I know you'd love bunches if you got the chance
to meet, which I hope someday you will. But more on that later, too.

MOTHER: (getting up for more coffee, she takes the letter with her but does not read) Tell me
later, tell me later. You better tell me soon or else you're gonna be out of paper and I'll be out of
patience. (crossing for more milk she takes a moment to call into the next room) Daddy, we
got a letter from Jimmer. Looks like he's got good news. (she crosses back to her coffee, to
herself) I'm just not sure what it is yet. (she picks up her cup and reads the last couple of
sentences as she walks back to the table and sits) "Someone I know you'd love bunches if you
got the chance to meet, which I hope someday you will. But more on that later too."

JIMMER: (beginning immediately) I just hope you're as happy about this love as I am. Oh,
before I forget to tell you, I'm moving. I'll be living in what is called the upper east side. It's a terrific
place. Big high ceilings, all wood floors, and a huge bay window that looks out on something other
than a parking lot. I'll have a roommate there. His name is Robert. Robert Tillington. We met a few
months ago through my friend Theresa at work. Robert's from Cincinnati and has been here for
almost 5 years now. He loves it here, too. See, I told you, I'm not the only one. He works for a big
multi-national accounting firm and makes lots of money. You'd like him. He is genuinely handsome.
Black hair, blue/green eyes, perfect smile and a hot (again he changes his mind and ponders over
what word to use while MOTHER tries to read his scribbled out word. The following is to
himself, not on the paper, JIMMER smiles brightly while reciting.) humpy, slick, fresh, be-u-te-
ful, mouth watering, drop dead... ( coming to his senses and resuming the letter) umm.
sensationally athletic body. Sally would love him. By the way how is sis? I guess I miss her most of
all. Has she popped that baby yet? Or is she still holding on? Tell her to hurry up I want to be an
uncle again. Three times isn't enough. I know she's swearing that she won't have any more after this
until I make her an aunt. But like I've told her, she better not wait for me. More on that later.
(MOTHER is tired of this delaying tactic and shows it.) I guess that's not fair is it? But I really
will get to it, I promise. Oh, Oh. I didn't tell you, I don't think. At last month's production
conference they had a talent contest. You know, just a silly thing for people to show off in. Well,
your own little show off entered and won! I was so scared. I did that routine I used to do every
Christmas where I acted out my own version of the twelve days of Christmas as one of Santa's elves
drunk on punch. I was a big hit. The grand prize is a trip to Paris for ten days and nights. Everything
is paid for. Hotel, plane fare, meals, everything. I'm so excited. Robert and I are going right after
Thanksgiving.

MOTHER: (surprised) Robert?

JIMMER: We are staying for a week longer than the prize pays for. But I'm sure that it will be
worth it. Paris in December. Paris at Christmas! It's going to be very romantic! We'll be leaving
two days after we get home from Thanksgiving in Cincinnati.

MOTHER: ( not looking up from the letter, very surprised and disappointed) What?

JIMMER: Robert's parents have asked us up for the holiday. We'll be going there for about a
week. His parents are very anxious to meet me and made us promise either Thanksgiving or
Christmas. And since we are going to be in Paris at Christmas it had to be Thanksgiving. He tells me
they have a beautiful home that sits in a sort of man-made glade with lots of trees and a small lake
right out back of the house. Robert says that he's going to teach me how to ice skate.

MOTHER: ( she sets the letter down, very disappointed) Oh, no Jimmer. Not Thanksgiving and
Christmas. Honey you hardly know those people. I mean who is this Robert boy anyhow? (she leafs
through the remaining pages) What about your dad and I? What about this "someone special"
you mentioned. I'm sure she'd love Paris... (suddenly she hears what she has just said. She
looks back in the letter looking for mention of that "someone special".

JIMMER: (As she reads ) I am seeing someone though. Someone very special. Someone I
expect to spend many years with, I hope. ... That was Theresa. We've become terrific friends.
She's fixed me up with several of her friends and that has made meeting new people easier for me....
We met a few months ago through my friend Theresa at work. (she leafs franticly through the
remaining pages. As she does that we hear bits and pieces from JIMMER)

JIMMER: I guess you know by now I won't be home for Thanksgiving or... really sorry... truly
am... miss you all alot I'm sure... on that later... Have you seen Kevin Staler... How's Dad's back?
...and I have been all my life. That's what I've been trying to say this whole letter...

MOTHER: Jimmer, Jimmer. (she is at the top of a page. She looks back at the bottom of the
previous page.)

JIMMER: I guess I should stop saying that. I guess I should get to "later" now and stop stalling. I
don't mean to stall, but I just wanted you to know how happy I am before I got into it. It's very
important to me that you know that I am happy. And I want you to know that I am perfectly healthy,
too. Not a thing in the world wrong with me. Not a thing. I don't want that to be an issue in what
I'm about to tell you.

MOTHER: (She can no longer take it, she is too afraid. She slams the pages face down on
the table and gets up quickly. Walking around her chair she picks up her coffee cup and
crosses to the pot. She fills her cup and drinks it black. She stands with her arms crossed.
She feels angry, afraid, sad, confused, and a hundred other conflicting emotions all at once.
Looking at the picture on the table, for a moment her anger melts) Jimmer, baby. (Then just
as quickly the anger returns. She crosses to the table and bangs the picture face down. She
stares at the pages on the table. Slowly she reaches for them. Picking them up, she doesn't
read, she merely holds them. She crosses back to retrieve her coffee and sits back at the table.
She begins to read.)

JIMMER: I have thought for a long time about how to word what I have to say next. But I can't
seem to come up with any other way than to just say it. So, I guess I will. Mom, I'm gay. Please
don't get angry and please finish this letter. I have wanted to tell you for so many years now. I'm gay
and I have been all my life. That's what I've been trying to say this whole letter. Telling you is the
purpose of this letter. And the someone special that I have in my life is my friend Robert. We met
through my friend Theresa at work and have been seeing each other ever since. Please don't blame
Robert, Mom. I have had these feelings as far back as I can remember. Back to when I didn't even
know what sex, gay or straight, was. And please don't blame yourself. I couldn't stand for you to
suffer that way, for nothing. I know that I was born this way. Just as you were born to love Dad. I
was born to love Robert, I love him so much, Momma. When I used to see you looking at Dad at
night as he read the paper and you would just look at him from your chair. I could see in your eyes a
feeling that I have always wanted to feel when I looked at someone. Looking at Robert fills my eyes
with that feeling. And when he looks at me I see that same look. I know that it sounds corny but
Robert has your eyes Mom. We talk to each other about everything and...

(Suddenly MOTHER explodes. Screaming she rises to her feet so quickly that the chair she
has been sitting in falls over backward.)

MOTHER: NO! NO! NO, son-of-a-bitch. (She begins to cry, through her tears her
frustration rages, she throws the letter on the table and begins to wander through the kitchen
aimlessly as she cries.) Jimmer! No, no, no. (She looks up to heaven, screaming still.) Why did
you do this to me? Why did you do this to my baby? I hate you, I hate you. Damn you! You killed
my baby! (She crosses back to the table and tears the pages of the letter in half and throws
them around the room. She sinks to her knees, crying, directly DOWN STAGE of JIMMER.)

JIMMER: (as she weeps at his feet, after a moment JIMMER quietly begins to say) I love
you Mom. I love you Mom. I still love you. I love you Mom. ( he repeats this slowly throughout
the following until MOTHER begins to read again. Slowly MOTHER begins to hear him.
Her head rises and she looks at the array of torn pages that surround her. She suddenly knows
that she hasn't lost her son. She scrambles around on the floor until she finds the bottom half
of the last page of the letter. She begin to read.)

JIMMER: ( his voice returning to it's normal "letter" level) I love you Mom. I still love you.
You must know that. Nothing has changed. Nothing at all except that now you know a part of me
that is the place where I express my love fully. The part of me I have always hidden from you. A
part of me that until now has always been in pain because it was hidden from you and Dad. Please
understand that no matter who ever else I have ever said this about, I miss you most of all. I miss you
most of all. I love you and miss you most of all. Love, Jimmer.

MOTHER continues to cry, holding the torn page to her heart. But now it is a different kind
of crying. After a moment, she begins to gather the pages together again. She lays them on
the table, sets her chair upright and crosses to a drawer and gets a roll of tape. Moving back
to the table she sits, she has now stopped crying. She begins to sort the pages and tape them
back together. She takes a sip of her coffee and repulsed that it is black she sets it aside then
begins in ernest to repair the damaged letter.