Page 4 - Ember

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5.
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He sits the album next to HER.

And that’s for your Mom, too, when she comes ... I want her
to see it ... I hope she’ll look ...

He can’t stop crying. He turns his
back to them.

Stop it, Frank, stop it, Frank, stop it, Frank! ... Look how
stupid I look, son. See me? Buckets of tears ... I’m gonna
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get icicles all over my face ...
He quickly bends over, and gathers up
the wrapping paper. Takes a long deep
breath. Turns to face THEM.

Merry Christmas ...
(to HER)
... Merry Christmas, babe ...
(to HIM)
... Merry Christmas, son ...
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He looks down at the wrapping paper in
his hands and realizes that - on
instinct - he’s rolled it up into a
long, thin tube. He crumples it into a
ball. Looks at HIM.

Frankie? ... I got one last present to give ya. Both of ya.
Uh ... I quit smokin’. I did, I really quit. Been a whole
year ... I don’t have ash trays in the house. No more ash
trays. Anywhere. No more couch in the living room ... so
... it won’t ever happen again ... I promise ... it won’t
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ever happen again ...
Lights slowly fade. End of play.

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