The Looking Room
#4 of Written Word
A play exploring different ability.
THE LOOKING ROOM
A Play
[Scene: It is winter. ADAM has just arrived from his office job via a cab, wearing a red overcoat, a matching hat, and a pair of lace-up snow boots among his office-wear. He is waiting for his PCA named William to return home. The front door to William's house is locked.]
ADAM: Thirty-fricking-degrees out... I hope Will is home. [Adam knocks on the front door three times.]
Will, open up, would'ja?! It's freezing out here!
[Silence.]
[Adam knocks again for five times.] Will, open the door, man; I'm freezing my tail off out here!
[Silence.]
Okay, Will, you got me; ha-ha. Now open the fucking door! [Adam frantically turns the doorknob but it's locked. He pounds on the front door with his fist.]
William! Open this door! William? William!
[A red Dodge pulls into the driveway. A coyote with light gray hair kills the car's engine and steps out. It is William.]
WILLIAM: What the hell--? Adam, what are ya doing? I told you I would be home late, didn't I? Did you get any of my texts I sent you?
[Adam turns around to face William who is wearing a flannel-lined brown jean jacket, a brown belt, blue jeans, and snow boots.]
ADAM: Will, you know I turn my phone off when I'm working so it doesn't interfere with my concentration. You've known that for a few months. As my PCA, you of all people should know how hyper-focused on the wrong thing I can get if I get off-track. And besides, you usually get home before I do. You said so yourself just the other day....
WILLIAM: I know, I know. But I had to work today.
ADAM: But it's a Tuesday. You usually work Mondays Wednesdays and Thursdays--
WILLIAM: Well they needed an extra pair of hands today, so I thought...
ADAM: But it's a Tuesday--
WILLIAM: Yes, Adam, I know it is, but as I said, the resource center needed another pair of hands today and I was available--
ADAM: But-but now our whole Tuesday routine is off!
WILLIAM: It's not that bad, Adam. Now come inside or you're gonna freeze even more.
[Adam stands still with his arms folded across his chest.]
WILLIAM: Adam? Didn't you hear me? Come inside where it's warm.
ADAM: No.
WILLIAM: No?
ADAM: No.
WILLIAM: Why not? You don't wanna be a popsicle, do you?
ADAM: Well, no....
WILLIAM: Then come inside and we can warm up with some hot cocoa.
ADAM: Mom always says cocoa is ideal during the evening when there is snow on the ground.
WILLIAM: Why not now?
ADAM: Because, William, because William, it isn't 'evening' yet.
WILLIAM: It's 3pm; what would you call 3pm if not 'evening', Adam?
ADAM: I would call it 'post meridian', literally 'after noon'. It is three hours after noon.
WILLIAM: (sighs) Okay, fine, it's three hours after noon. So why don't I just make us some hot cocoa and we can--?
ADAM: Because it's too early for hot cocoa.
WILLIAM: Ugh, fine, I'll just make us some coffee.
[Adam shakes his head.]
ADAM: No, mom says coffee is best enjoyed in the morning with breakfast.
WILLIAM: (unlocking and opening the front door) Adam--
ADAM: --William, I'm thirsty and cold and tired and--
WILLIAM: Well since you don't want coffee or cocoa--
ADAM: I never said I don't want coffee or cocoa. It's just that mom always says there's a time and place for everything.
WILLIAM: Well, she's right. So, what are the current time and place good for then?
ADAM: Tea.
WILLIAM: Tea? At three in the afternoon?
ADAM: Mom says that I should be drinking more tea anyway so I can be more relaxed and not be so impulsive or hyper, so yes, I'd like some tea.
WILLIAM: You'd like some tea...?
ADAM: (Sighs) Please.
WILLIAM: Okay, I'll get you some hot tea. Now will you please come inside?
ADAM: What about you?
WILLIAM: Me? I'm already inside. See me, standing here indoorswhere it's nice and warm?
ADAM: No, not that. I mean, what about your drink?
WILLIAM: Drink?
ADAM: Yes. If I am to have tea, what will you be drinking?
WILLIAM: Hot cocoa, of course.
ADAM: But-but--!
WILLIAM: Adam--
ADAM: What about a second choice?
WILLIAM: Adam, it's cold out, I'm hungry, there's snow slowly piling up on my entry rug....
ADAM: But Mom always says--
WILLIAM: Adam, come inside.
ADAM: Not until you pick a hot drink. Cocoa is for the evening--
WILLIAM:--Adam--
ADAM: --coffee is for the morning--
WILLIAM:--Adam--
ADAM:--and tea is best enjoyed--
WILLIAM: Okay, okay; I'll put the tea on for both of us. Now please, come inside.
[Adam smiles, shuffles inside and sits on a bench to the right side of the foyer and starts to meticulously untie his snow boots. The house is comfy: minimal yet clearly visible winter holiday decorations hang from the railing of the split landing leading up to an upper level; the spicy aromas of cinnamon and baked apples waft throughout the space, bringing with them an air of the upcoming holiday.]
ADAM: Are you making your famous baked apples? I love your baked apples! (inhales, sighing in pleasure.)
WILLIAM: The apples are in the oven. Now, how about I make our tea?
ADAM: But--but the baked apples--?
WILLIAM: --aren't ready yet.
[Adam frowns, pouting slightly.]
WILLIAM: Oh, it's not that bad, Adam. They'll be ready soon.
ADAM: When?
WILLIAM: Soon, Adam.
ADAM: How soon is soon, Will?
WILLIAM: S-O-O-N, Adam.
ADAM: I know how to spell, Will. What I need to know is how soon is soon?
WILLIAM: Does it matter?
ADAM: What?
WILLIAM: Does it really matter how long or short of time soon is?
ADAM: Yes.
WILLIAM: Why?
ADAM: Because.
WILLIAM: Because why?
ADAM: Because I just wanna know.
WILLIAM: As soon as you take off your coat and hat. Is that soon enough?
ADAM: But it's cold outside. And the front door is still open.
WILLIAM: What d'you--? Oh! Sorry about that. Here, lemme get--
ADAM: I wanna get it--
WILLIAM: No, no, I can get it.
ADAM: I can do it myself!
WILLIAM: No.
ADAM: Why not?
WILLIAM: Because.
ADAM: Because why?
WILLIAM: Because I said so, Adam. And I'm the adult.
ADAM: I'm an adult too. I'm 18.
WILLIAM: 18? That hardly makes you an adult, Adam.
ADAM: Well it does!
WILLIAM: Hardly. And besides, there's some subtleties you might not understand....
ADAM: It's a door, Will; what's there to know about shutting a door?
WILLIAM: Well there's the...um...I mean...you could...th-that's not important, Adam. What is important is that the door
(closes the door with a socked foot)
is closed.
ADAM: Why do you always do that? You treat me like I'm a--a--
WILLIAM: Adam, buddy, take a deep breath and collect your thoughts--
ADAM: Grrrr. You and my mom are always treating me like a cub despite my being the legal age of adulthood. Why? Why do you do it? Why do people--you, my mom, my social worker--hell, the United States government--do it, Will? I am not a cub, I'm just...I'm just wired differently than other furs are! You think just because I'm--
WILLIAM: A vulnerable--
ADAM: Don't use that word. Please? I-I don't like that word. It-it makes me feel...weird. Lemme try again. Do you honestly think that since I'm--I'm --ugh, I can't say it--
WILLIAM: Disabled?
ADAM: Yeah, that. You think I can't see what you're doing? What you and my mom and everyone else on my care team have been doing since we last went to see Doctor Stevenson? Since my diagnosis? The way you talk to me, the way you always do everything for me like I'm helpless? But here's what I really can't stand. The way you look at me. Like I'm unclean, like I'm somehow less than deserving of some small semblance of reciprocal decency, like I'm a disease. But you don't mean to do it; oh no, you don't mean to stare; you don't mean to talk down to me or talk about me like I'm not in the same room with you, but you do. You do, and you do it without even realizing it and-and-and you-you--get out.
WILLIAM: But Adam, this is my--
ADAM: Get out! Just-just--out, just get out of my sight. Just-just go and-and-and don't loo--DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!
[Adam runs up a small flight of carpet steps and stumbles, banging his right knee on the lip of the main floor. William moves to help him.]
ADAM: DON'T! Just please--please don't.
[William pulls away and starts toward the front door.]
ADAM: Wait! I-I mean--please wait? I'm sorry Will, I-I I-I-I'm sorry about what I said and-and did--
[William sits on the stairs next to Adam with a long sigh.]
WILLIAM: I'm sorry too, Adam. I know it must be hard ever since you lost your grandpa, and your...your diagnosis and everything....
ADAM: How would you know how I feel?
WILLIAM: Because, Adam; because I have a disability too.
ADAM: You do?
WILLIAM: Uh-huh. I have ADHD too. Ever since I was a kid, I would be all fidgety and-and ready to go go go and I'd get all wound up like a tight spring.... You could say I was like that pink Energizer bunny from the commercials....
ADAM: Heh, I like that pink bunny. But why didn't you say anything before? These last few weeks we went to see Doctor Stevenson...? Wh-why didn't you tell me or my mom or anybody?
WILLIAM: Because you're right, Adam. About everything. You're right about the stares and others' ways of talking down to you or like you're not in the same room as they are. And I really don't mean to, but it's hard, ya know? It's hard to ask someone outright if they can understand, really understand, when that person has a unique brain like yours or mine without sounding condescending, without hurting their feelings.
ADAM: But why do people--normal people--have to stare?
WILLIAM: I can't really answer that, but here's my guess; I think other people stare at people like us because they're maybe too proud of themselves or too scared to ask questions because they don't understand how we live, or don't know what it's like to be different from everyone else.
[William helps Adam up the stairs and pulls a bar chair out for him at a marble kitchen island.]
ADAM: Do you...do you ever...slip?
WILLIAM: Slip...? I'm not sure I understand.
ADAM: You know, slip? Go in reverse? Get fidgety and all that?
WILLIAM: Sometimes I do, but I take meds to help even me out. Why do you ask?
ADAM: (Blushing) Just-just wondering.
WILLIAM: You don't have to be embarrassed. I don't mind talking about my ADHD. It's okay to ask questions. That's how we learn. That's how we grow.
ADAM: (taking a long pause) Will?
WILLIAM: Hm?
ADAM: Are the baked apples done?