The Move

Two brothers have a conversation as they prepare their father's belongings before he collects them and moves away.

  THE MOVE

 

A garage. Boxes, either sealed, open, empty or full of miscellaneous items are scattered around the hard floor along with pieces of incomplete furniture sets. A large trash bin stands upstage. The audience looks into the “garage entrance” to see the mess and the action.

Gabe and Angel enter quickly. Angel, the younger brother, is carrying an open box and Gabe, the slightly older brother, carries a sealed one.    

 

GABE. What time did Dad say he’s coming?

ANGEL. 4.

GABE. (Checking phone.) Well, it’s almost 4.

ANGEL. That it is.

              GABE. We won’t be able to have these boxes ready when he comes. There’s no way.

         ANGEL. Well, if you’d helped earlier, we would be almost done by now.

         GABE. What are you talking about? I helped.

         ANGEL. (Setting box down.) Oh, yeah. You lying on the couch and smelling your belly-button lint for like 3 hours is “helping.”

         GABE. That’s disgusting and not even true! I’ve been doing way more work on this than you have.

         ANGEL. Tell me one thing you’ve done today. (Angel watches as Gabe clearly fumbles for an answer.)

         GABE. I moved a lot of those boxes from Dad’s room in here.

         ANGEL. I don’t think so.

         GABE. Well I did.

         ANGEL. Those were already here…

         GABE. Right, because I put them here.

         ANGEL. Not even!

         GABE. All right, stop. We’re just wasting time, we gotta get done.

         (Angel makes a face behind Gabe that says, “Are you for real?” and walks away in exasperation. He grabs a box that is taped halfway and drags it to the center floor. Gabe sets his down near the other sealed boxes and aimlessly looks around at the other boxes before choosing one and reopening it.)

         ANGEL. These boxes aren’t even taped all the way. We’re gonna have to go back and tape most of these again.

         GABE. Believe it or not, I already double-taped ‘em. We don’t have enough tape to go over them again. They’ll be fine.

         ANGEL. Gabe. Dad’s driving. They’re gonna fly around the freakin’ U-Haul.

         GABE. Just fold the flaps in.

         ANGEL. It’s not gonna be enough…

         GABE. They’ll be fine. (Beat. Angel and Gabe stare at the boxes.)

         ANGEL. Oh, Lord.

         GABE. What?

         ANGEL. (Lifts object from box.) Fanny pack. This is a fanny pack and it’s in his “keep” box.

         GABE. He’s a packrat. I’m pretty sure I just saw macaroni art I did for St. Patrick’s Day when I was in 4^th grade.

         ANGEL. Yeah. That’s too much. (Angel studies the fanny pack.) I should trash it. I’d really be doing everyone a favor.

         GABE. Ahh… don’t. (Gabe closes up the box he had been looking through and moves onto another, pushing the newly sealed one to towards the “garage entrance.”)

         ANGEL. Why not?

         GABE. I don’t know. I mean he has it in the “keep.” He wants it.

         ANGEL. Yeah because, like you said, he’s a packrat. He probably wouldn’t think too much of it. He’ll maybe, maybe, try and look for it and then he’ll convince himself he lost it somewhere and then forget about it.

         GABE. Then you don’t know him.

         ANGEL. It’s a fanny pack. (Walks to trash bin.) I’m just throwing it awa-

         GABE. AHHH! (Gabe stomps around frantically, kicking the box he was at away with his feet.)

         ANGEL. What are you doing?

         GABE. (Points around at the ground in front of him.) There’s a freaking huge cockroach! The thing had wings!

         ANGEL. Did you kill it?

         GABE. NO! I don’t’ know where it is!

         ANGEL. Well, stop stomping! If it’s carrying eggs, you risk spreading them and then they’ll eventually hatch and then grow and then some idiot like you is gonna come around and repeat the whole process. Calm down.

         GABE. (Defensively.) I am calm! I just don’t know where it went!

         ANGEL. It probably went to hide in another dark space or something.

         GABE. Yeah and it better not be in these boxes.

         ANGEL. What does it matter? This isn’t our stuff to deal with after today. It’s Dad’s. And the cockroaches have been here all along. We just shook ‘em out. So just let it go.

         GABE. All right then, you move those boxes to the side. (Gabe backs away from boxes as if to make way for a new challenger for the cockroaches.)

         ANGEL. They’re ready to go?

         GABE. Yes. Again, just be careful when you lift those up because some of the supporting flaps are weak.

         ANGEL. (Picking up box.) Flap is a weird word. I don’t like it. (Angel carefully sets the box down on top of the same box Gabe has set. He inspects the boxes then looks around the garage till he sees an area on the far side of the garage that almost looks untouched.) And all the boxes on that side are Mom’s. Right?

         GABE. Yes. She has a few things she left in here that she still hasn’t gone through. But those will definitely not be going on the truck. (Gabe zones out. Angel waits for him to continue, completely used to this occurrence.) If Dad asks about them, tell him they’re for our rooms or something. Mom didn’t want him going through her stuff. That goes for our stuff too. He may try to look into things and want to keep them.

         ANGEL. Because we know how sentimental he can get. (Angel references the fanny pack in the trash bin and laughs. Gabe doesn’t.) What do we do if he starts going through it anyway?

         GABE. Well, that’s why we’re gonna try and see that he doesn’t okay? (Beat. Both Angel and Gabe stare into the boxes in front of them. Gabe snaps out of his own thought and continues shuffling through the items.)

         ANGEL. Do you ever feel weird? Like we’re hiding things from Dad?

         GABE. Stop.

         ANGEL. What?

         GABE. I said stop.

         ANGEL. I just asked a question. We can’t talk about it?

         GABE. They’ve talked about it. They’ve tried to fix things. They’ve split. It’s done. Now, It’s none of our business. C’mon, let’s finish these boxes. (Gabe quickly moves to other boxes, avoiding Angel’s confrontation.)

         ANGEL. Well, it kind of is our business. (Angel takes a step in front of Gabe’s line of sight.) You shouldn’t be so closed off.

         GABE. I told you to stop, what part of stop do you not understand?

         ANGEL. Why are you telling me to stop?? (Angel begins to mutter under his breath,) You’re not my-

         GABE. (Turning harshly to Angel.) I’m what?

         ANGEL. I didn’t call you anything. (He moves to lift a new box and begins toward the center.)

         GABE. You called me something, tell me what you said!

         ANGEL. Oh my god, calm down! I didn’t call you a- (The box opens from underneath and all of the contents crash to the ground in front of a stunned Angel.)

         GABE. (Broken.) Angel! Are you serious?!? (Gabe sprints to the clutter on the ground as Angel moves out of the way, clutching the empty box.)

         ANGEL. I was holding it from the bottom! (Gabe is searching through the contents and pulls out mail, a wooden valet tray, and photo books, checking each one intimately as if searching for cracks on newly bought eggs.) We’ll just refold the box. It’s not a big deal.

         GABE. Don’t just stand there, help!

         ANGEL. Wow, okay, I-

         GABE. (Horrified.) Angel.

         ANGEL. What? (Gabe pulls a large framed picture from under some photo albums. The frame is destroyed.)

         GABE. You broke the picture!!!

         ANGEL. No, I didn’t brea-

         GABE. You’re the one who was carrying the box! This is Mom’s favorite picture of us! We’re dead!

         ANGEL. I know, but I’m not the o-

         GABE. (Incisively.) You piece of s**t!

         ANGEL. (Retaliating.) Don’t call me that!

         GABE. You shouldn’t have even moved the box in the first place, it was already finished!

         ANGEL. I was trying to make space for the other boxes!!

         GABE. There was already space, think, d****t!

         ANGEL. (Emotional.) Why the hell are you attacking me??!

         GABE. Are you gonna cry?!

         ANGEL. (Ferociously.) Shutup!

         GABE. Stop yelling at me!!! (Gabe shoves Angel to the ground.)

         ANGEL. (Explodes.) THE PICTURE WAS ALREADY BROKEN!

         (Beat.) I promise. It was already broken. Mom knows, Dad does too. (Long beat.)

         GABE. I’m sorry. (Gabe looks at Angel. Angel returns the look, composes himself and stands to dust himself off. The sound of a truck reversing is heard and the two look at each other until the sound stops. A door is slammed.)

         ANGEL. Okay. We’ll just put the rest together. Fix things up as best as we can and see what happens. Yeah?

         GABE. Yeah.

         ANGEL. All right then.

         (Both push a pile of boxes forward towards the “garage entrance.” Gabe places the broken picture back in the box and picks up the box, then carries it off, followed by Angel. The lights fade to black.)

 

END OF PLAY