Brooklyn Boy Read online

  MANNY: I don’t know. Last night, maybe? This morning? Who can keep track?

  ERIC: I thought if he was around . . . I thought maybe I could talk to him.

  (Manny shrugs dismissively. Pause.)

  MANNY: What’s it doing out there? Still raining?

  ERIC: Stopped.

  MANNY: Boy. It was really coming down before.

  ERIC (Nods, then): I brought you the papers. You want to look at the papers?

  MANNY (Over “. . . at the papers?”): Nah.

  ERIC: You sure?

  MANNY: Words are too much. Can’t concentrate.

  ERIC: I’ll leave them right here. How’s that? In case you change your mind.

  (Manny shrugs. Silence. Eric looks over the food tray.)

  You didn’t eat much lunch.

  (Manny makes a disgusted sound.)

  You didn’t want your chocolate pudding?

  MANNY: Tastes like chalk.

  ERIC: It looks fine.

  MANNY: Then you eat it.

  ERIC (He does, makes a face): Uch.

  MANNY (Amused): See? You didn’t believe me.

  ERIC: Want an orange? Not too much they can do to an orange.

  (Manny shakes his head.)

  You want some?

  MANNY: Can’t. I got these sores. (In his mouth)

  ERIC (Hands him a section): Come on, you’ve got to eat something. It’s vitamin C. It’s good for canker sores. Here.

  MANNY (Takes it): I don’t like the stringy part.

  ERIC: I’ll peel off the stringy part.

  (He does. Pause.)

  Has Aunt Rose been to see you?

  MANNY (Shrugs; his eyes on the TV): She comes.

  ERIC: And?

  MANNY: And nothing. She sits, she cries, she goes.

  ERIC: So. Dad. This book tour.

  MANNY: Miami you said?

  ERIC: Miami, Sunrise, Boca Raton . . .

  MANNY: What for?

  ERIC: Book signings.

  MANNY: All those places book signings?

  ERIC: Uh-huh.

  MANNY: What happens?

  ERIC: I read an excerpt, a selection, and then I sign books.

  MANNY: That’s what you do? You sit there and sign books?

  ERIC: Basically.

  MANNY: And people buy them from you?

  ERIC: From the bookstore, yeah; I don’t actually collect the money.

  MANNY: And people really come to these things?

  ERIC: Yeah.

  MANNY: Like how many?

  ERIC: Depends. This Jewish center outside of Cleveland last week? Maybe twenty . . .

  MANNY: That’s not very much.

  ERIC: Yeah, but the other day at a bookstore in Miami, over two hundred showed up.

  MANNY: Two hundred people bought your book?!

  ERIC: No, that’s how many came to hear me read. Maybe forty bought the book. Forty or fifty.

  MANNY: Yeah? And that’s good?

  ERIC: For a serious novel? It’s not bad.

  MANNY: What do you mean by serious?

  ERIC: Not schlock. A literary novel. A book that aspires to be literature.

  MANNY: Oh, well, hoity-toity.

  ERIC (A beat): Did you, uh, happen to catch the Today show the other day?

  MANNY: No, I missed it. I know you told me . . .

  ERIC (Over “I know . . .”): That’s okay.

  MANNY: Your aunt saw it, though.

  ERIC: Oh, yeah? What’d she say?

  MANNY: She said why didn’t you wear a tie.

  ERIC: That’s all she said?

  MANNY: She said you looked tired. And you should’ve worn a tie.

  ERIC: I was supposed to look like a serious writer.

  MANNY: What, serious writers don’t wear ties? I didn’t know that. You see the president running around without a tie?

  ERIC: The president isn’t a serious writer.

  (Eric feeds him the orange.)

  MANNY: Mmm.

  ERIC: Good?

  (Manny nods.)

  More?

  (Manny nods. Eric feeds him.)

  MANNY: So don’t you gotta get up early for that?

  ERIC: For what?

  MANNY: The Today show thing.

  ERIC: Four-thirty.

  MANNY: Four-thirty in the morning?!

  ERIC: Uh-huh. They sent a car.

  MANNY: What kind of car?

  ERIC: A Town Car.

  MANNY: A Town Car? Really? Just for you?

  ERIC: Just for me.

  MANNY: Wow. A Lincoln all to yourself? They could’ve paid your cab fare, it would’ve been cheaper. They feed you breakfast?

  ERIC: Oh yeah. In the greenroom. Backstage. You know.

  MANNY: Like what?

  ERIC: Coffee and bagels. Doughnuts.

  MANNY: Danish?

  ERIC: Uh-huh.

  MANNY: Buffet-style? All you can eat?

  ERIC: Yeah.

  MANNY: You go back for seconds?

  ERIC: No.

  MANNY: Why not? All that free food?! What are they gonna do with it?

  ERIC: I was a little nervous; I wasn’t very hungry.

  MANNY: So what do you do there all that time?

  ERIC: They brief you, they put on makeup . . .

  MANNY: You put on makeup?

  ERIC: Yeah.

  MANNY: You did? Couldn’t you refuse?

  ERIC: They do it so you don’t look pale on camera.

  MANNY: Your aunt said you looked pale anyway. They couldn’t lend you a tie while they were at?

  ERIC: I didn’t want to wear a tie. I wore a nice pullover; I thought I looked good. I could get you a tape if you’d like.

  MANNY: How’m I supposed to watch it?

  ERIC: Don’t they have VCRs here?

  MANNY: Here? It’s a hospital, not a hotel.

  ERIC: I’ll bet they do. They must. If you want me to look into it, I will.

  (Manny shrugs.)

  Okay? I’ll ask on my way out.

  (Manny gestures disinterestedly.)

  I thought you might get a kick out of seeing your son talking to Katie Couric on national television. That’s all.

  MANNY: Is that who you talked to? Katie Couric?

  ERIC: Uh-huh.

  MANNY: The little one? Perky-like?

  ERIC: Yeah.

  MANNY: Jane Pauley I liked. When she left, it all went downhill from there.

  (Eric gives him the book.)

  What’s this?

  ERIC: It’s for you.

  MANNY: My glasses . . .

  (Eric finds the glasses and hands them to him. Manny reads the cover:)

  Brooklyn Boy. Well! How do you like that! By Eric Weiss. So this is it.

  ERIC: This is it.

  MANNY: Look how fat it is! Wow. (Hefts it) It’s so heavy! How many pages?

  ERIC: Not that many; 384.

  MANNY: 384! That’s a lot!

  ERIC: Not really.

  MANNY: 384? What do you have to say that would take 384 pages?

  ERIC: You’d be surprised, it just . . .

  MANNY (Looks at author’s photo): Who’s this? That supposed to be you? Gee, it’s such a good-looking picture I almost didn’t recognize you.

  ERIC: Thanks.

  MANNY: Who took the picture?

  ERIC: Nina.

  MANNY: Very nice. Put this over there will you please?

  ERIC: Wait, I want to show you something.

  (Eric turns to the dedication page and shows it to him. Manny reads it:)

  MANNY: “For my mother and my father.” (Pause) That mean me and your mother?

  ERIC: Yeah.

  MANNY (Nods, then): Where’s our names?

  ERIC: What do you mean?

  MANNY: Don’t we get our names? Couldn’t you say: “For Phyllis and Manny Weiss”? Then there wouldn’t be any confusion.

  ERIC: What confusion? There is no confusion.

  MANNY: This could be anybody’s mother and father.


  ERIC: It says “my mother and my father.” It’s my book.

  MANNY: You couldn’t’ve put in a little plug for me and your mother?

  ERIC: A little plug?

  MANNY: It would’ve given your mother may she rest in peace such nakhess to see her name in print. When do people like us ever get to do that? Huh? When we die; that’s about it. (Holds out the book) Stick it over there.

  ERIC (Incredulous): Dad, I dedicated my book to you. This is my book.

  MANNY: I know it’s your book.

  ERIC: I worked on this book for years; you know I did.

  MANNY: So?

  ERIC: So?! This is what I’ve been doing. It’s been six years between books. And here it is. Finally. Dad: it’s a best-seller. First time in my life. This Sunday: Brooklyn Boy is number eleven.

  MANNY: How do you know?

  ERIC: I know; my publisher told me.

  MANNY: How does he know? Sunday paper’s not out yet.

  ERIC: The trade finds out in advance.

  MANNY: Eleven?

  ERIC: Yes.

  MANNY: You mean there is an eleven? I thought it only went to ten.

  ERIC: No, it goes to fifteen.

  MANNY: Since when?

  ERIC: Since, I don’t know, since several years ago.

  MANNY: Huh. I thought it only went to ten.

  ERIC: No.

  MANNY: Wow, good thing they made the list longer. Lucky for you, huh?

  ERIC (Disappointed): Yeah. (A beat) Do you have any idea what this means?

  MANNY: What.

  ERIC: This is potentially life-changing. Do you realize that? After all these years? I’ve broken through, Dad. And I’d really appreciate it if you looked at it for more than two seconds.

  MANNY: I did look at it; I looked at it.

  ERIC (Over “. . . at it.”): Never mind.

  MANNY: What do you want from me?

  ERIC: I want you to read it.

  MANNY: Now?

  ERIC: Of course not now.

  MANNY (Continuous): I’d hate to do that to you; I’m a very slow reader.

  ERIC: I want you to pretend that it means something to you. That’s all. Just pretend.

  MANNY (Over “Just pretend.”): Means something to me?

  ERIC: Yes.

  MANNY: What do you mean, means something?

  ERIC: Means something! Has significance to you!

  MANNY (Overlapping): Shhhh. You gonna yell at me now?

  ERIC (More controlled): This isn’t just an ordinary book somebody brought you. Do you understand that?

  MANNY: No, I’m very stupid.

  ERIC: It’s your son’s book. Something your son made.

  MANNY: You didn’t “make” it. You made the binding?

  (Eric, disgusted, puts the book on the table. Pause. Manny extends his hand.)

  Hey. (Pause) Hey. Give me the book. Give it to me!

  (Eric hands the book back to him. Pause.)

  You know reading’s not my thing.

  ERIC: I do know that.

  MANNY: 380-odd pages, that’s a hell of a lot to ask from somebody like me.

  ERIC: I know.

  MANNY: I can’t make any promises.

  ERIC: I understand.

  MANNY: If I have the time . . .

  ERIC: What do you mean if you have the time, you’ve got a pressing engagement I don’t know about?

  MANNY: Ha ha. (A beat) I tried reading those other books of yours, you know Those first two.

  ERIC: I know.

  MANNY: The Something Something and that other one. The . . .?

  ERIC: The Gentleman Farmer and The Aerie.

  MANNY: The what?

  ERIC: The Aerie.

  MANNY: The Aerie. Right. The Aerie. I still have no idea what the hell an “aerie” is . . .

  ERIC: Yes you do. I’ve told you many times: an aerie is a bird’s nest.

  MANNY: Then why couldn’t you call it The Bird’s Nest? I don’t understand that! Something people could pronounce. No wonder nobody bought it; they didn’t know how to ask for it.

  ERIC: People bought it, just not in very high numbers.

  MANNY: And what do you know from “gentlemen farmers”?

  ERIC: It’s a metaphoric title.

  MANNY: A what?

  ERIC: Nothing.

  MANNY: So it’s about Brooklyn this one?

  ERIC: It’s set here, yeah.

  MANNY: See? That’s why it’s popular. Didn’t I tell you to write something popular?

  ERIC: You did?

  MANNY: Yes I did. You don’t remember but I certainly did. You should do very well with this one. A lot of people come from Brooklyn. They can relate. Birds’ nests, farmers: Who gives a shit?

  ERIC: It takes place in the sixties and seventies. When I was growing up. You’ll recognize a lot of it.

  MANNY: Oh, yeah? Like Ebbets Field, Sheepshead Bay?

  ERIC: Sort of. I mean you’ll recognize the people.

  MANNY: Oh, you mean like famous Brooklynites?

  ERIC: No.

  MANNY: Barbra Streisand? She’s from Brooklyn, you know.

  ERIC: I know. No, not Barbra Streisand.

  MANNY: Did I ever tell you Neil Sedaka’s parents had a hot dog stand in Brighton?

  ERIC: Yeah, you did.

  MANNY: Just as you got on the boardwalk. Right on the ramp . . .

  ERIC: Uh-huh.

  MANNY: . . . There was Sedaka’s. I remember him as a kid. Did you know I knew him as a kid?

  ERIC: Yes; I did.

  MANNY: Did you know Lauren Bacall is Jewish?

  ERIC: Uh-huh.

  MANNY: Isn’t that unbelievable?

  ERIC: Not really. Dad, what I meant was you’ll recognize the characters. (A beat) It’s about a family.

  MANNY: Who.

  ERIC: People like us.

  MANNY: Like “us” us?

  ERIC: Uh-huh.

  MANNY: Uh-oh. Am I in it?

  ERIC: Uh-huh. Kinda.

  MANNY: Yeah? Is your mother?

  ERIC: Oh, yeah.

  MANNY: By name?

  ERIC: No. When I say you’re in it, I mean there are things about the father that are a lot like you. But it’s not you.

  MANNY: What’s his name?

  ERIC: Arnie Fleischman.

  MANNY: Arnie Fleischman instead of Manny Weiss?

  ERIC: Uh-huh.

  MANNY: Fleischman was your mother’s maiden name, you know.

  ERIC: I know.

  MANNY: And what does Arnie Fleischman do for a living? Sell shoes like me?

  ERIC: No; he’s a barber.

  MANNY (Disapproving): He doesn’t work in a beauty parlor . . .

  ERIC: No; he works in a barber shop. He cuts men’s hair.

  MANNY: Good; ’cause “beauty parlor,” automatically you think . . . (A beat) What’s your name in it?

  ERIC: The son’s name is Kenny.

  MANNY: Kenny Fleischman? Kenny Fleischman instead of Ricky Weiss?

  ERIC: Uh-huh.

  MANNY (Flips through pages): Are there any pictures?

  ERIC: No, Dad, it’s not an autobiography, it’s a novel.

  MANNY: What does that mean? I don’t understand the difference.

  ERIC (Over “. . . the difference.”): It means it’s a story. It’s made up.

  MANNY: I thought you said it was us.

  ERIC: They’re like us. They’re inspired by us.

  MANNY: Now you lost me.

  ERIC: They’re people like us . . .

  MANNY: But not us.

  ERIC: Right.

  MANNY: In other words, it’s not the Weiss family of Ocean Avenue.

  ERIC: Right. The Fleischmans live on Nostrand.

  MANNY: So that’s what you did? You called us the Fleischmans and moved us to Nostrand Avenue?

  ERIC: Yeah . . .

  MANNY: And that makes it a novel?

  ERIC: Well, not just that.

  MANNY: Gee, I should write a novel.

 
ERIC: Go right ahead.

  MANNY: Watch out, I might make it to number one.

  ERIC: Great; I hope you do. So, remember, not everything in the book actually happened.

  MANNY: But some of it did?

  ERIC: Yeah.

  MANNY: So is there stuff in here I’m not gonna like?

  ERIC: I don’t know. I hope not.

  MANNY: ’Cause I don’t care what you say about me but your moth er. . . I don’t want you saying anything nasty about your mother.

  ERIC: What makes you think I’d be nasty?

  MANNY: It isn’t nice, when a person can’t defend herself. Is your wife in here, too, or her you let off easy.

  ERIC: No, a character based on Nina comes in later, toward the end. Look, you’re just gonna have to read it and see for yourself.

  MANNY: I will. I’ll give you a full report.

  ERIC: Good.

  MANNY: How’s that? I’ll give you a review.

  ERIC: Great. I’m anxious to hear what you think.

  MANNY (A warning): I can be a pretty tough critic, you know.

  ERIC: Believe me, I know.

  (Manny turns his attention to the TV. Eric watches him. Silence.)

  Dad, what are you thinking about these days?

  MANNY: What do you mean what am I thinking about?

  ERIC: You’ve been lying here with all this time to think. What’s been going through your mind?

  MANNY: How the hell do I know?

  ERIC: Any Big Thoughts?

  MANNY: Like what?

  ERIC: Oh, I don’t know, like God? The Meaning of Life? That sort of thing? (A beat) Have you been thinking a lot about Mom?

  MANNY: My eyes hurt. Do me a favor, turn down the light.

  (Eric turns off the overhead light.)

  ERIC: Dad, we have to talk about what happens when you leave the hospital.

  MANNY: I’m not leaving the hospital.

  ERIC: What do you mean?

  MANNY: I’m not leaving the hospital. This is it this time.

  ERIC: How do you know?

  MANNY: I know.

  (Pause.)

  (Off the TV) Oh, look! Look who that is! That’s whats her-name!

  ERIC: Shelley Winters.

  MANNY: Who?

  ERIC: Shelley Winters.

  MANNY: That’s right! Boy, look how young and thin she was! Look at her! She was beautiful! (A beat) I tell ya, Ricky, time is the worst damn thing in the world.

  (Eric looks at his father, then at the TV.)

  SCENE 2

  Cafeteria

  Later that afternoon. The commissary in the lobby of the hospital. Ambient sounds: pages for doctors, din, easy-listening Muzak. Eric, seated with a cup of coffee, punches in a number on his cell phone, waits, then leaves a message.