Cast of Characters- 

Norman- M (22) doesn’t seem to be able to not blend in, unassuming attire and short brown hair. never present, just there.

Mr. Harrington- M (61) dawns a suit with a brown coat, the sympathetic and hopeful type, regardless of his line of work

Cast Note- Norman was intended as caucasian while Mr. Harrington was intended to be of African American ethnicity, however both characters are open to any ethnic or racial representation.

(At rise) The sound of an elevator door closing 

can be heard, soon following the familiar

 chime of stereotypical jazz music. 

A formulaic beeping can be heard every 

few seconds over the music, this pattern of 

beeps symbolizing the elevator rising in floors.

 Finally, the last chime occurs, and the sound 

of an elevator door opening, then closing can be heard.

(Lights up) The interior of an office

with a large bookcase centered 

against the back wall can be seen. 

A bald man with glasses and  a 

white collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up , sits at

the far left end of the stage. His brown blazer

 draped over the back of his leather 

office chair. He sits in front of a

 large wooden work desk, piled high 

with miscellaneous papers

 and files. Beyond the desk sits two gray plastic 

chairs, waiting to be occupied by whoever his

  next appointment might be. The man 

at the desk can be seen taking a work call. 

Pressing the palm of his hand upon his forehead in frustration 

as he continues to speak. Another 

man enters from the far right side of the stage

MR. HARRINGTON:

Hello! Please Sit down, I’ll be with you in just a moment

The man  continues to 

speak inaudibly into the phone, 

The second man nods his head briskly as 

he slowly pulls back one of the 

chairs and sits down

MR. HARRINGTON:

 Yes sir, I’ll make sure they’re in the hands of the county clerk by the end of the week.(pause) Yes, I understand, Thank you. (Putting down the phone) So sorry about that, I’m Mr Harrington, if you couldn’t tell already (pointing to his name plate), how are you doing today, (checking at the papers on his desk) Mr. Walter I take it?

NORMAN:

Please, just call me Norman. Mr. Walter was my, uh, sorry my fathers name.

MR. HARRINGTON:

Yes of course, your father. I’m so sorry to hear about his passing. I never knew him myself but those I knew who did always spoke the world of him. Very respectable man.

NORMAN:

Yes, well, I’m glad to hear it I guess

An awkward silence plagues the room as both men look around, 

MR HARRINGTON staggers, attempting to find a good segway

 into diving into the business at hand

MR. HARRINGTON:

Ah yes,(finally figuring out something to say) do we have any other relatives joining us today?

NORMAN:

 (timidly) No,no, it’s just me.

MR. HARRINGTON:

Oh, sorry for asking, it’s just usually customary for the spouse to attend the reading of the will, that’s all.

NORMAN:

 Yes, of course. Sorry my mother, um, my mother has passed. 

MR. HARRINGTON:

I-I apologize, your  mother and your father at your age, I couldn’t imagine.

NORMAN:

It’s ok, really, at least I had the privilege of being a child when it happened. Found that grief doesn’t hit you the same when you're a kid.(NORMAN emits an awkward chuckle)  It’ll hit you, just not then. Not to mention how difficult it is to try to mourn over the sound of crying and screaming everyday.

MR. HARRINGTON:

 Come again?

NORMAN:

Childbirth, she died from childbirth, it’s been almost seventeen years since she’s been gone. 

MR. HARRINGTON:

I’m sorry to hear that Norman, I apologize again. I’ve been so swamped lately I haven’t had much of an opportunity to actually take a look at this file. If you’d like me to take a minute to I’d be more tha-

NORMAN:

(Interrupting abruptly) Don’t bother really, it’s fine.

MR. HARRINGTON:

Are you sure, really it would be no trou-

NORMAN:

Please, I wouldn’t want to waste your time anymore than I already have.

MR. HARRINGTON:

Oh no bother, give me just a minu-

NORMAN:

I’m going to be frank with you Mr Harrington, I don’t mean to be abrasive but if I’m being honest, this is about the most I’ve spoken about my father since his passing. I’ve been making an effort to avoid thinking about it.

MR. HARRINGTON:

I understand.

Shuffling through the documents that sat in 

the thick manilla envelope

 in front of him, he pulls out a thick stack of

 documents, and begins reading 

the front page in a cold and formulaic voice.

MR. HARRINGTON:

 In regards to Francis H. Walter the full estate is left to the name and estate of James B. Walter, as well as the sum of 3.2 million dollars, and- (pausing, flipping through the stack of papers) That’s odd. (checking the documents a second time) Excuse me Norman, is Mr. James making an appearance today, or do you have the information for me to set up his earnings accordingly? 

Norman’s glance that was once met on Mr Harrington had 

now creeped down to the floor, unable to raise it.

MR. HARRINGTON:

Norman?

He continues to stare down at the 

ground, unable to respond

MR. HARRINGTON:

Excuse me, Norman, hello?… Norman!

Mr Harrington’s final exclamation, 

seemed to cause

 Norman to break out 

of whatever trance he

 found himself stuck in.

NORMAN:

I’m so sorry, no uh. My brother has passed as well.

MR. HARRINGTON:

I’m sorry son, (looking back down into the files a third time) there must be some mistake then, his passing doesn’t seem to have been updated into the files. When did he pass, if you don’t mind me asking?

NORMAN:

 Of course, he uh. Back on the seventeenth, same as my father.

MR. HARRINGTON:

Good god. I don't- (pausing for just a moment) You know, I don’t do this much, but would you let me pour you a drink? It’s the least I can do.

NORMAN:

No, no, there’s no need for that.

MR. HARRINGTON:

I apologize Norman, but I must insist this one time. (Pulling out a large container of booze and two crystal glasses out of the bottom drawer of his desk)

Anyone who has had to experience this level of loss gets to drown out their sorrow in scotch at least once.

Norman slouches back into his seat defeatingly,

 knowing there’s nothing that he can do to change

 Mr. Harrington’s mind. Mr. Harrington hands

 him a glass of Scotch, sitting back down in his chair

MR. HARRINGTON:

Off records Norman, I’ll ask you this not as an attorney, but as a pair of open ears. And before I say this I’m hoping not to sound blunt but, what the hell happened.

NORMAN:

(Picking up the drink from the table) It’s not worth talking about Mr. Harrington, really. 

MR. HARRINGTON-

I understand, I apologize it was just I thought maybe- nevermind. 

Mr Harrington awkwardly 

shrugs as he begins to sip his drink

NORMAN-

You know what, sure, what the hell, why not.

NORMAN cupped his face into his hands, rubbing them 

down his face. Taking a deep breath HE sits up in his chair

NORMAN:

(Sipping his Scotch)

Not many people know the story, those who do think it’s my brother's fault. But anyone who was a part of it knew it was my fathers. What was wrong with my brother began the moment he was born, the moment the final breath left my mothers lips. Sometimes I feel like he was cursed from the start, not because he wasn’t loved, I just think he was just loved wrong. 

MR. HARRINGTON:

Wrong?

NORMAN:

My father didn’t just love my brother, he loved his wife. But when my brother was the only one who left that operating room that day my father had too much love left over. So he gave it all to him. But my father, the stern son of a bitch he was, never had it in him to admit it. 

MR. HARRINGTON:

Well I mean-

NORMAN:

It was fine at first, nothing big. James was never the type to be told no. He always got what he wanted, he was the baby of the family, at least that’s what my grandmother had told me. But by the time James had gotten to Junior high and it was just him, my father, and I, you started to be able to notice it. Noticing the absence of any family at my games, or the extent of things James started to get away with, how no matter what he did he seemed to be back in school the next week. At first it was tame, disrupting class, skipping a few periods. But by the time he was in highschool it all went to hell. 

MR. HARRINGTON:

(Pouring NORMAN and HIMSELF a second drink) Norman, I know I asked but you really don’t have to keep going-

NORMAN:

Skipping class turned to fights, fights with students turned into fights with teachers. He started getting home later and later from his ‘study groups’. Dad used to just say it was boys being boys, most respected his word till he had to start saying it to a judge. Learned that booze and James and his dumbass friends with rocks in their hands don’t mix very well.  

As HE said this HE grabbed the bottle

 of scotch and gestured over towards 

MR. HARRINGTON , motioning

 for permission to take a swig.

MR. HARRINGTON:

Go Ahead 

Taking the bottle NORMAN took

a long and drown out swig, after 

HE was finished HE

 swiftly set the bottle back upon the desk,

 the sound of glass banging 

against the desk 

echoed throughout the office

MR. HARRINGTON:

You know we get that more than you think down here. Parents who can’t look past whatever mask their kids put on themselves whenever they're around adults.

NORMAN:

That was what was so special about James, he didn’t need to. He didn’t need to put some mask on for our father, he came out of that operating room with one already strapped to his face in the shape of my mother, and my father’s head was screwed on too tight to ever notice.

MR. HARRINGTON:

As awful as that is, Norman  I still don’t understand how it ended with two people in the ground.

Letting out a sigh NORMAN set HIS 

drink down on the desk, 

and stood up from his chair, 

MR HARRINGTON attempts to interject

 but is left with the inability to speak.

 Pacing around the room, 

NORMAN finds himself

 entranced with the bookshelf. 

NORMAN:

What’s your favorite Novel Mr Harrington?

MR. HARRINGTON:

Alcohol really gets you comfortable Norman, anyone ever tell you that?

NORMAN:

Rather I'm comfortable than angry I’d assume.

MR. HARRINGTON:

I think I’d be angry if I was in your position.

NORMAN goes silent, now staring

 at the lower levels of the bookshelf,

 suddenly trying to ignore

 the conversation at hand.  

MR. HARRINGTON speaks up

MR. HARRINGTON:

The Goldfinch.

NORMAN:

What?

MR. HARRINGTONS:

My favorite novel, The Goldfinch, that’s my answer.

NORMAN:

Alright then, that’s a good choice. You know, I always liked that one, though I never thought I’d ever be able to relate to someone like Theodore Decker though.(now entering a tipsy rant) I don’t think anyone ever hopes to but, dead mom and neglective father, feels like Donna Tart was looking in on my life. If that’s the case it’s kinda messed up all she did was write a book about it. (now beginning to laugh)

MR. HARRINGTON:

Comfortable and funny I see.(his demeanor slowly becoming less solemn)

NORMAN:

I always liked East of Eden, Dad liked it because I told him it was a bible story. I guess in a way it was. 

MR. HARRINGTON:

Was your father the religious type?

NORMAN:

I guess you could say that. He wanted us to fear him the way he said a man should fear God, he wanted me to at least. (Making his way back to his seat) James never feared him though, especially not that night.

NORMAN exhales deeply as he collapses back into his 

seat, HE sits more casually than he did before

HARRINGTON:

What night?

NORMAN:

The night it happened,(taking a deep breath) The night dad finally found one of those cheap plastic baggies in James’s room.

HARRINGTON:

What was in it?

NORMAN:

Who knows, dad threw it out in a rage before I could ever figure it out. I remember finding a couple tablets of morphine in James’s bag a few months back(taking a heavy sigh) so god knows what he had moved on to by then. Nevertheless, when James came home that night he was furious, they yelled for almost an hour before I heard the front door slam. I remember pretending to be asleep, not because I was still afraid of my father, but because I was tired of being dragged into the middle of all of it

MR. HARRINGTON:

You don’t think you would have been able to de-escalate the situation?

NORMAN:

I don’t think there was a thing that I could’ve said that would’ve prevented James from getting in his friend's car that night. I don’t think there was a word that could leave my lips that would’ve kept the booze from flowing into his. Telling my dad not to go after him wouldn’t have done him or I any good, I knew he would do it anyway. 

MR HARRINGTON:

Norman-

NORMAN:

(the volume in his voice now beginning to raise) I knew that if I was to walk out and beg James not to leave, ask him not to smoke whatever cheap chemical garbage he had in his jacket pocket, or god forbid, ask him not to insist on driving his friend's car that night. I knew that not a single thing would've changed. 

Silence once more echoes around the room,

 both sit among themselves

MR. HARRINGTON:

And did he find James? Your dad I mean.

NORMAN:

(Defeatedly) Some time in the early morning he did, or I guess maybe James found him. Not really sure who found who, I guess it doesn’t really matter, by the time the sun came they were nothing more than a police report.

MR. HARRINGTON:

Jesus Norman I-

NORMAN:

 It was a head on collision, Mortician said that they both died on impact. I’m glad it didn’t last long, they said I should be at least. (After a long pause) At least my father’s death was painless. His life never was. 

Slouching back in his chair, NORMAN begins

 bouncing one of HIS legs,

 hoping to find something to distract himself from

 the conversation at hand

MR. HARRINGTON grabs the bottle of Scotch

 and places it back into HIS bottom desk drawer

MR. HARRINGTON:

Well Norman, let’s raise our glasses, if not to the memory of Mr. Walter or your late brother, than to the riches that you have received this beautiful day.(Clinking his glass against Norman’s, which sits motionless in his hand)

NORMAN:

Yea, riches.

NORMAN lowers his head 

and begins to stare at

 his shoes once more,

 the lights begin to fade

(Lights off)

Fin.