Making His Mark

Making His Mark
A Ten Minute Play

by
SAMANTHA JOHNSON

SETTING: A New York City apartment, simple décor with a desk, window, and filing cabinets
TIME: Present time

CHARACTERS

RODNEY: 27 years old, tends to be bitter and cynical.

SUZANNA: 31, Rodney’s older sister. Light hearted, loves her brother finds it hard to deal with his cynicism.

MR. HENRI DAVIS: 45, book editor. Always in a bit of an excited rush to get things done.

(A young man, RODNEY, sits in a chair at a desk in front of laptop computer and printer. There are two chairs are set to the left of the desk. There is a large picturesque window overlooking the city He looks pale, obviously ill, bundled in layers and there is a cap covering a bald head. Lights rise as Voice Over Begins.)

RODNEY
(Actor note: reactions to voice should be obvious.)
All I wanted my entire life was to make a mark on the world. However, seeing as how the doctors are saying that my time left in the world is indeterminate –as little as two months, as many as two years, I doubt that my little dream will come true.
I started out as a songwriter, and then that stupid play came out –RENT, and there was that song GLORY that pretty much put my entire life into a nice little two-minute number. Sans the idiot girlfriend who slices her wrists.
I listen to the song sometimes, and wonder if I’ll ever achieve “Glory”. But I’m not a songwriter anymore. I don’t have anything to write songs about. I’ve moved on to bigger things. Mostly fiction, although most of that is pretty fucking depressing. It’s hard to write something that people actually want to read when you’re a twenty-seven year old AIDS victim that only wants to live, although the world so obviously wants you to die.
I’m basically alone now, barely making rent on my $1000-dollar-a-month apartment, medical bills up to my ass. My sister comes to visit me once in awhile, but my attitude bothers her. Forgive me Sis, for being a cynical bastard. It’s not my fault that I did everything wrong that you could possible imagine. It was pretty inevitable that something would come back to haunt me. That something might as well kill me too.
Anyway, I’ve been working on something lately –my last painful dregs at my muse to try and achieve my hopeless dream. It’s shit. I know that it is. But apparently someone liked it. I made the mistake of showing the first couple of chapters to Sis when she showed up last week baring home-baked goodies she made with her kids that tasted liked dust in my mouth. She took them with her and showed them to some publishing friend of hers. I should be angry, but I’m not. Apparently, he liked them and is asking to see more of the story. I believe the phrase Sis used when she told me was, “totally fucking enthralled with it” to describe the way he felt. I guess he likes my use of contractions or some crap like that. What the fuck do I know?

(A loud knock announces the entrance of SUSANNA, STAGE RIGHT.)

SUSANNA
Oh my god, Rodney! What are you doing?!
(She begins to straighten the cluttered desk as if looking for something.)

Henri Davis will be here like ten minutes! You aren’t even dressed yet! I knew I shouldn’t have left it to you to get ready!

RODNEY
Excuse me, Sis, but I’m twenty-seven years old. I think I can dress myself. –If you’re looking for the chapters, they’re in the filing cabinet.

(RODNEY stands off to the side of the desk and begins to pull off the layers. He tosses them behind the desk as he goes. SUZANNA moves towards the filing cabinet and going through the drawers. By the time they have finished speaking, he has taken off clothes to reveal a pair of jeans and button-down shirt covering a white t-shirt. The cap stays on his head.)

SUZANNA
I thought you were excited about this, Rodney. You want to get this published, don’t you? Or are you giving up on it already? Don’t tell me that you’ve already given up! You aren’t dying yet, you know!

RODNEY
Christ, Sis. Would you shut up for a few minutes? Is this hat OK, or should I choose a different one?


SUZANNA
(Gives him a glance as she pulls out the folder presumably with his book chapters in it.)
It’s fine. –So, your book…have you been working on it?

RODNEY
Yeah, I guess.
(Doorbell rings.)
You want to get the door for me?
(Lights dim, HENRI appears from STAGE RIGHT. He sits in one of the chairs near the desk, SUZANNA sits in the other, and RODNEY sits behind the desk again. Lights rise.)

HENRI
(Slightly out of breath.)
Sorry, am I late? been waiting for this day for weeks –ever since Suzie showed me the manuscript –is there more? I feel like I’m starved for it or something. Feeling like that, you’d think I’d have the decency to be punctual, right? The story is amazing, Rodney, and I don’t say that to just anyone.

RODNEY (Looking disinterested, biting his nails.)
Well, it was really kind of a fluke –I don’t have that much background in British was or anything. My major in college was American History actually.

SUZANNA
Oh, don’t be so modest, Rodney. –He took all the history courses in high school and college. He’s always been very intelligent.

(RODNEY gives a snort, which goes ignored.)

But you like the story, right? You want to publish it? That’s why you wanted to come see us today, right?

HENRI
Of course –I wouldn’t dream of wasting your time if it wasn’t to tell you good news. Tell me, Rodney, have you published anything in the past?


SUZANNA
Oh, of course he has! He was extensively—

HENRI
(in a disapproving tone)
Suzie, I asked Rodney.
(Suzanna gives a careful laugh, and nods to Rodney.)
SUZANNA
Sorry –go ahead, Rodney.

RODNEY
(Heaving a sigh.)
I guess –I was in my college paper a few times, a couple of poetry collections. Sold a song or two to some record companies. Nothing huge though. Why do you ask?

HENRI
Just a question –to see how familiar you are with the process. Is the book finished, or is it still a work in progress?

RODNEY
I’m not sure if I’ll finish it.

HENRI
(Worried.)
What do you mean?

RODNEY
I mean, I don’t know if I’ll finish it. You know I’m dying right?

SUZANNA
Rodney! –I’m sorry Henri. He’s fine. He’s just melodramatic sometimes –a bit of a hypochondriac. Aren’t you Rodney?

RODNEY
AIDS isn’t hypochondria, Sis.
(SUZANNA sighs, shaking her head, covering her face with her hands.)
What, you look surprised, Mr. Davis. Didn’t my sister tell you?

HENRI
Ah, no…Suzi didn’t inform me of your…condition.

(Rodney barks an uncontrollable laugh, which turns into a heaving cough. SUZANNA gets up, disappears, and returns with a glass of water, which Rodney drinks.)
Did I say something amusing?

RODNEY
I love it when people call it a “condition”. It’s fuckin’ hilarious…
You know what, Mr. Davis. I like you. I’ll finish this piece of shit, just for you.
(He takes the folder that Suzanna previously pulled from the cabinet and tosses it into Henri’s lap.)
Is that enough for now?

HENRI
(Opens the folder, flipping through the pages.)
This is plenty to get started… I’ll contact you about the legal work sometime tomorrow.
You just get back to writing, okay?

RODNEY
Sounds like a deal.

(Lights dim again, HENRI and SUZNNA exit, STAGE RIGHT. RODNEY pulls a few layers back on as the lights rise, and he sits back down at his computer. SUZANNA enters again.)
I wish you would stop hovering in the doorway, Sis. If you’re going to come in, just come in already.

SUZANNA
(Entering.)
I’m sorry. I’m just nervous. You said you were almost done, and your deadline was last week. Henri is getting antsy.

RODNEY
Hey, it’s not like its my fault that I had to spend a week in the hospital, okay? You think I like being in that place? You think I like getting lectured about safe sex practices and past drug use? Well, I don’t.

SUZANNA
That was a little old lady, and she probably didn’t even know better.

RODNEY
It was still obnoxious.

(The two fall silent, and the clacking of keys grows louder and louder until it stops. RODNEY pushes back from his desk.)
Done. Are you happy now?
(The printer begins to hum, kicking out pages.)

SUZANNA
Quite.
(She picks up the pages as the printer stops humming, and she scans through them.)
So…are you ready for this to be over with?

RODNEY
Yes. To much stress –it makes me more susceptible to getting sick.

SUZANNA
I’m going to take these to Henri’s office –do you want to come with? Get out of the
house for a bit? Or are you going to play the hermit and stay here.

RODNEY
I’ll stay here. Tell Henri I said hi.
(He watches her leave STAGE RIGHT, before pulling his chair back to his computer.)
(Voice Over.)
Well, I finished it. The novel titled “In His King’s Army” is now probably on it’s
way to Henri’s office where he’ll send it to his editors, and then it will get sent back to me for a rewrite, and then it will go through the cycle again until it goes to the printers.
I should be happy that it’s finished, I know that. I should be happy that it’s being published, that it’s already being talked up in the publishing world, that even though it’s still four months until the release date, people are still calling to set up interviews with me. But, I’m not. I hate this story with a passion. I finished it for Henri because he genuinely liked it. I finished it for Suzanna and her kids. I didn’t do this for me.
So, with that in mind, does this count as making my mark? When I planned this, I never said that I had to enjoy what I put out there. But if I’m going to die with only one thing ever making it this big, shouldn’t I have some kind of attachment to it?
(RODNEY gets up from the desk, but the voice over continues as he exits to STAGE LEFT.)
I put a lot of time and effort into it, but that doesn’t seem to matter. I feel like I wasted my time on something I didn’t care about, rather then having spent my last few months doing something I could be proud of –to hell with whether or not people actually enjoyed it.
(The set is quiet for a few moments, and the image in the window shifts to a wintery scene over looking the city. SUZANNA and HENRI enter, STAGE RIGHT.)

SUZANNA
Well, I think that’s the last of it… just the desk and cabinets to pack up now.

HENRI
You think he left anything else that was publishable on the computer?
(He picks up the laptop, turning it over in his hands.)
I wish he could have known how starved for his literature he left the world. People are chomping at the bit for another book…it hurts to tell them that he’s dead.

SUZANNA
Well…that was Rodney. Abuse them for as long as possible, and then leave them wanting more.

HENRI
Yeah, he seemed to have that knack. I know he felt me feeling a little empty inside after I finished reading the book, knowing that there wouldn’t be any more of it… He left it so open ended. A lot screamed for a sequel. Some even suggested that you write, it Suzi.

SUZANNA
Ha! No way. I wouldn’t tarnish my brother’s work like that. I can’t write to save my life.

HENRI
Some people argue that as long as it’s done in the family, it’s not a real tarnishing.

SUZANNA
It’s not going to happen Henri, so just forget about it. Rodney was your one-hit-wonder. His book will live for generations, a modern classic. Leave it at that…please?

HENRI
You’re right of course, but it still makes me angry.
(He puts the laptop down again.)
He knew he was dying, Suzi. He hid the fact that he was so far gone –he could have at least warned us that this was really the end, that he wasn’t really being histrionic. He could have told us…

SUZANNA
Henri, he tried to tell me. I didn’t want to admit to myself that my baby brother was dying…but it’s OK. Hopefully he’s happy where ever he’s at.

HENRI
Did Rodney believe in a heaven and hell?

SUZANNA
(Giving a laugh.)
Ha! Hardly.
(There is a moment of silence.)
Pretend he did though…where do you think he ended up?

(HENRI and SUZANNA look at one another for a moment, before SUZANNA sighs, giving a shrug and resuming with the packing up of Rodney’s goods)
Well, wherever he is I hope he’s happy that he got his finally got his fame.

HENRI
(Shaking his head.)
I don’t think Rodney was after fame, Suzanna. He just wanted to make a difference in the world…even if that difference was as small as a couple hundred pages and a sixteen-dollar price tag.

SUZANNA
You’re right of course.
(She picks up the laptop, placing it on the top of her box.)
Well…that’s the last of it. You want to grab the printer?

HENRI
(Hefting up the printer.)
Not a problem…ah, you want to say goodbye?

Suzanna
(breezily.)
Don’t be stupid, Henri. It’s just an apartment. It’s not my brother.
(She pauses as HENRI exits, STAGE RIGHT. She turns back to the room, hiking the box up against her hip. She looks over her shoulder as if it make sure that Henri is really gone.)
…Rodney? This is silly, I know…like you’re actually still here or something, but…if you
are, I just want to let you know that everything is OK. And that I’m sorry, for not taking
you seriously sometimes. And that I’ll miss you.
(Lights out)



FINIS