LEO gets up, wanders into the darkness.
Leo?
Leo, come give your mother a hug.
LEO slowly moves towards her, stops short, stares at her.
Leo?
He bends forward and angrily blows out the candle.
* * *
Darkness.
In the darkness the noise and sparks of the Evans touch.
Lights illuminate the family in movements of connection; WINSTON kissing his wife, JEROME shoving THERESA, a ballet of points of connection, each one lit by the spark of the Evans touch. LEO stands in the middle of it all, untouched and unaffected. CONNIE walks slowly towards him, unseen. Before she reaches him, the family have formed a tableau, the same one that was the final pose for the photograph. A photographic flash and then LEO dark and silhouetted against the pale blue afterimage of his family.
The lights restore to normal. LEO stands by himself now in the Evans home. Blood on his face.
THERESA enters, looks at him. She has a cloth in her hand.
Theresa: How’s your eye?
LEO looks to her, startled, doesn’t say anything for a moment.
Leo: Still works.
Theresa: Gonna blacken up. Gonna make you look tough.
Guess you are though, aren’t you?
Silence.
That was a stupid thing to do. Stupid, so most wouldn’t call it brave. Or tough.
Leo: So I’m stupid.
Theresa: Take no fortune told to know you were gonna lose that one. He was twice the size of you.
Leo: I got my share in.
Theresa: A real mean streak too. Runs in his family, Mom says. Nothing a bit of anger or upset on your part could contend with.
Leo: Did you hear what he said about you? And Jerome.
Theresa: I heard fine.
Leo: I don’t care about my eye. As long as there’s a bruise on him somewhere.
Theresa: Why? He didn’t say anything about you.
Silence.
The man delivered the picture today.
Leo: What?
THERESA indicates where it hangs. LEO slowly walks upstage.
Chorus (Leonard): The final product, framed and placed on a wall in the living room.
LEO stands beneath it, looking up at it.
In it, Leo’s face, sullen, stoic.
Chorus (Connie): The camera itself about to steal his soul.
Theresa: Mom decided she liked the colours. Paid extra and didn’t mind doing it.
Chorus (Connie): Leo saw more than colour.
Chorus (Leonard): His family framed and contained.
Chorus (Connie): Himself both within it and without.
Theresa: Do you like it?
Chorus (Leonard): His family.
Chorus (Connie): The first time he’d really ever seen it. A distance. Beyond red hair and freckles. A simple truth.
Chorus (Leo): Confirmation.
Theresa: Here, let me.
She moves to him and begins to wipe the blood. He stands back, still looking at the photo.
Leo: It doesn’t make you mad? When they talk about you like that?
Theresa: Jerome was laughing five minutes later. And if you want to know, the only bad memory I have of the day was my brother getting tossed like a leaf in the wind.
LEO brushes away her assistance. Walks away.
You can’t change things, Leo.
Silence.
Leo?
Chorus (Connie): To hear her say that.
Theresa: What is it?
Chorus (Connie): The futility in any attempt to alter himself or the world.
Theresa: Leo?
He charges her.
Leo: I could pull the copper-coloured hair from your fucking head.
He turns and runs off, leaving THERESA speechless.
* * *
LISE and WINSTON’s bedroom. They enter mid-battle.
Winston: He kicked a boy in the face today.
Lise: He just gave himself a good smack on the eye.
Winston: He didn’t give himself anything.
Lise: If he’s going to be picking fights…
Winston: Hiding for most of the day. When he does come out, face bunched like a fist.
Lise: Talk to your son, not to me. I’ve tried, I’ve—
Winston: Not you, not me, us.
Lise: Why don’t we just call the cops. Lock him up.
Winston: This is not the boy we raised.
Lise: Don’t you think that you are blowing this just a little out of—
Winston: Our son kicked a boy in the face, Lise!
It took two kids to tear him off. Our son got pummelled by kids two years older—
Lise:
Leo?
Leo, come give your mother a hug.
LEO slowly moves towards her, stops short, stares at her.
Leo?
He bends forward and angrily blows out the candle.
* * *
Darkness.
In the darkness the noise and sparks of the Evans touch.
Lights illuminate the family in movements of connection; WINSTON kissing his wife, JEROME shoving THERESA, a ballet of points of connection, each one lit by the spark of the Evans touch. LEO stands in the middle of it all, untouched and unaffected. CONNIE walks slowly towards him, unseen. Before she reaches him, the family have formed a tableau, the same one that was the final pose for the photograph. A photographic flash and then LEO dark and silhouetted against the pale blue afterimage of his family.
The lights restore to normal. LEO stands by himself now in the Evans home. Blood on his face.
THERESA enters, looks at him. She has a cloth in her hand.
Theresa: How’s your eye?
LEO looks to her, startled, doesn’t say anything for a moment.
Leo: Still works.
Theresa: Gonna blacken up. Gonna make you look tough.
Guess you are though, aren’t you?
Silence.
That was a stupid thing to do. Stupid, so most wouldn’t call it brave. Or tough.
Leo: So I’m stupid.
Theresa: Take no fortune told to know you were gonna lose that one. He was twice the size of you.
Leo: I got my share in.
Theresa: A real mean streak too. Runs in his family, Mom says. Nothing a bit of anger or upset on your part could contend with.
Leo: Did you hear what he said about you? And Jerome.
Theresa: I heard fine.
Leo: I don’t care about my eye. As long as there’s a bruise on him somewhere.
Theresa: Why? He didn’t say anything about you.
Silence.
The man delivered the picture today.
Leo: What?
THERESA indicates where it hangs. LEO slowly walks upstage.
Chorus (Leonard): The final product, framed and placed on a wall in the living room.
LEO stands beneath it, looking up at it.
In it, Leo’s face, sullen, stoic.
Chorus (Connie): The camera itself about to steal his soul.
Theresa: Mom decided she liked the colours. Paid extra and didn’t mind doing it.
Chorus (Connie): Leo saw more than colour.
Chorus (Leonard): His family framed and contained.
Chorus (Connie): Himself both within it and without.
Theresa: Do you like it?
Chorus (Leonard): His family.
Chorus (Connie): The first time he’d really ever seen it. A distance. Beyond red hair and freckles. A simple truth.
Chorus (Leo): Confirmation.
Theresa: Here, let me.
She moves to him and begins to wipe the blood. He stands back, still looking at the photo.
Leo: It doesn’t make you mad? When they talk about you like that?
Theresa: Jerome was laughing five minutes later. And if you want to know, the only bad memory I have of the day was my brother getting tossed like a leaf in the wind.
LEO brushes away her assistance. Walks away.
You can’t change things, Leo.
Silence.
Leo?
Chorus (Connie): To hear her say that.
Theresa: What is it?
Chorus (Connie): The futility in any attempt to alter himself or the world.
Theresa: Leo?
He charges her.
Leo: I could pull the copper-coloured hair from your fucking head.
He turns and runs off, leaving THERESA speechless.
* * *
LISE and WINSTON’s bedroom. They enter mid-battle.
Winston: He kicked a boy in the face today.
Lise: He just gave himself a good smack on the eye.
Winston: He didn’t give himself anything.
Lise: If he’s going to be picking fights…
Winston: Hiding for most of the day. When he does come out, face bunched like a fist.
Lise: Talk to your son, not to me. I’ve tried, I’ve—
Winston: Not you, not me, us.
Lise: Why don’t we just call the cops. Lock him up.
Winston: This is not the boy we raised.
Lise: Don’t you think that you are blowing this just a little out of—
Winston: Our son kicked a boy in the face, Lise!
It took two kids to tear him off. Our son got pummelled by kids two years older—
Lise:
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