Sweat Page 6

JASON: They’re just tats. Get over it.

  TRACEY: Well, it looks stupid.

  (Tracey hands Jason five dollars.)

  JASON: This is all you got?

  TRACEY: You know what, leave it there. I don’t need this shit right now. You call me up outta the blue: “Ma, I need money!” I almost didn’t answer. What if I didn’t answer? Huh? What would you do then?

  (Jason examines the bill.)

  JASON: Seriously? Five dollars, what’s that, three cigarettes and a Slurpee? When I called you, you said you had money. I traveled all the way here for this? Fucking hell.

  TRACEY: Sorry to inconvenience you. I had the money, but—

  JASON: Shit. Really?

  (A moment. It becomes evident that Tracey is strung out.)

  How long has that been going on?

  TRACEY: How long what?

  JASON: Don’t fuck with me, you know exactly what I’m talkin’ about.

  TRACEY: That’s very rich coming from you. Gimme back my money, and get the fuck outta here.

  JASON: You look like shit.

  TRACEY: I look like shit? Have you looked in the mirror lately?

  JASON: Is this really all you got?

  TRACEY: Yeah. I’m not running a money farm.

  JASON: I didn’t believe Fat Henry when he said you were strung out.

  TRACEY: Fat Henry needs to mind his business. It’s for my back pain.

  JASON: Aspirin won’t do?

  TRACEY: Ha, ha. Very funny. You have no idea. You … Have … No … Idea!

  JASON: OKAY!

  TRACEY: We done?

  JASON: …

  TRACEY: When can I git it back?

  JASON: You want this five dollars back?

  TRACEY: Yeah. I want it back. Tomorrow?

  JASON: You know what, never mind. This is too much trouble.

  TRACEY: Fine. Give it here.

  (She grows antsy. She needs a fix. Jason extends the money, and she snatches it from him, desperate.)

  JASON: Jesus, look at you.

  TRACEY: What?!

  JASON: How the fuck did this happen?

  (Cynthia’s sparse apartment. Cynthia, nervous and excited, scrambles into the room. She wears a nursing-home maintenance uniform. She picks up a couple of take-out food containers littering the floor.)

  CHRIS: So. This is where you live?

  CYNTHIA: Yeah. It’s what I could manage for now. You hungry?

  CHRIS: Nah. Where should I put my stuff?

  CYNTHIA: Anywhere.

  (Chris looks around. He drops his backpack.)

  CHRIS: You didn’t mention you moved.

  CYNTHIA: No?

  CHRIS: What happened to the house?

  CYNTHIA: I got behind … You wanna drink or something?

  CHRIS: Nah.

  CYNTHIA: Why didn’t you let me know you got out? I had to hear it from the grapevine.

  CHRIS: I just needed some time. Still trying to get adjusted. Get my head back.

  CYNTHIA: How long have you been out?

  CHRIS: Six weeks?

  CYNTHIA: Why didn’t you call me? I woulda picked you up.

  CHRIS: I dunno, I didn’t wanna bother you.

  CYNTHIA: Don’t get it mixed up. You’re staying here.

  (Chris fidgets with the Bible in his hand.)

  What’s that?

  CHRIS: It’s my Bible.

  CYNTHIA: A Bible?

  CHRIS: Yeah, a Bible.

  CYNTHIA: I heard you got all churchy.

  CHRIS: I don’t know what you heard, but this book saved my life.

  CYNTHIA: Why don’t you sit down? You’re making me nervous just hovering there. Sit. Relax. You’re home.

  (Chris sits on the couch. Cynthia smiles, trying to break the ice.)

  You got sorta mannish, huh? Put on weight since my last visit. You look different.

  CHRIS: So do you. You okay?

  CYNTHIA: Yeah. Yeah.

  CHRIS: How are things?

  CYNTHIA: Good. Good.

  CHRIS: You, um, working?

  CYNTHIA: I got some hours over at the university, maintenance. Also working at the nursing home, on weekends. Piecing things together. You know me, I’m a worker. Get restless otherwise.

  CHRIS: Yeah. I walked around … Saw that Snookie’s place closed.

  CYNTHIA: Yeah.

  CHRIS: Ran into … um …

  CYNTHIA: Who?

  CHRIS: Folks.

  CYNTHIA: I’m sorry I couldn’t get out to see you the last couple months, it got too expensive.

  CHRIS: Um.

  CYNTHIA: Everybody’s been asking me about when you was getting out. But all those damn years you’d just become X’s marked off on the calendar and it made me crazy. God … You know after everything. I wanna say that …

  (Cynthia fights back emotions.)

  I’m sorry.

  CHRIS: For what?

  CYNTHIA: It’s just, I shoulda …

  (Chris places his arms around Cynthia.)

  CHRIS: C’mon. C’mon. I don’t want this to be a big deal. Tell me about what’s been going on. You hear from the old gang? Tracey?

  CYNTHIA: Fuck her. After what went down. We don’t really—

  CHRIS: You hear, Jason’s out.

  CYNTHIA: Yeah? When did that happen?

  CHRIS: Dunno. A couple months ago.

  CYNTHIA: That little bastard. What did he have to say? He got you into this shit. If it wasn’t for him … you’d … I coulda killed him.

  CHRIS: It’s done. I can’t stay in that place.

  CYNTHIA: Well, I’m still trying to understand what happened, Chris. What happened?

  SCENE 2

  July 17, 2000

  Eight years earlier.

  Outside it’s 82°F.

  In the news: Federal eligibility guidelines ease, allowing more families in Reading public schools to receive free and reduced school lunches. Several U.S. companies, including 3M, Johnson & Johnson, and General Electric, increase leadership development internally, expanding opportunities for minority employees.

  Bar. Loud arguing. Chris, Jason, Jessie, Tracey, Cynthia, Stan and Oscar in the bar.

  CYNTHIA: Stop yelling! Stop yelling! // Stop yelling!

  TRACEY: Tell us what’s going on? // Tell us the truth!

  (Chris, Jason and Jessie raise their voices in agreement. Chaos. They continue to berate Cynthia.)

  CYNTHIA: Stop shouting at me! Stop shouting. Listen. Listen. Listen! I’m tr … I’m trying.

  TRACEY: What the hell is going on?!

  CYNTHIA: I think what they did is bullshit. I promise you. I didn’t know. I found out the same time as you guys … look … I’m in there fighting for us.

  TRACEY: Us? You promised!!!

  CYNTHIA: … If I’d known they were gonna ship out half of the machines, I woulda told you. But I didn’t know until I got the call from Wilson.

  TRACEY: Then why have you been avoiding us?

  JASON: Yeah!

  CYNTHIA: I’m not avoiding you! I’m working. And for your information, I’m the only supervisor who’s even bothered to give you real face time.

  TRACEY: Good for you, but what are we gonna do?! Huh?

  CYNTHIA: I’m trying to get answers same as you. I just left the meeting …

  JESSIE: What meeting?

  CYNTHIA: I’m not even supposed to be talking to you guys.

  TRACEY: Did they send you here?

  CYNTHIA: Don’t be an idiot, I’m off the clock, I’d lose my job if they knew I was here talking about this.

  TRACEY: But I don’t understand what you’re telling us.

  CYNTHIA: Okay, you’re not going to like it, but they’re going to use this opportunity to renegotiate your contracts.

  TRACEY: What? Since when?

  JESSIE: I fucking knew it.

  CYNTHIA: And word is they’re gonna push for real concessions, and they’re prepared to fight.

  JASON: Fuck that.

  TRACEY: So are we. Yo
u tell

  CHRIS: Nah.

  ’em no, they can’t do that.

  TRACEY: We’re not afraid to strike.

  CHRIS: Hell no!

  JASON: Fuck yeah.

  TRACEY: What do they want? Wasn’t it enough that they shipped out the machines? And they better not ask us to work longer shifts.

  CHRIS: Fuck that shit. I can’t.

  TRACEY: We’re not mules.

  No!

  We can’t …

  JESSIE: No way.

  JASON: No fucking way.

  CYNTHIA: I’ve told ’em there’d be blowback. I’ve been up three nights thinking about this. About you guys. But, I’m gonna be straight with you. They’re eyeing jobs and some of you are making a lot of money.

  TRACEY: What are you

  CYNTHIA: You’ve been at

  making?

  Olstead’s a long time and

  they don’t want to carry

  the burden anymore.

  (Collective response.)

  JESSIE: Oh, now we’re the burden?

  JASON: We’re the fucking

  CHRIS: Woah! Woah!

  burden?

  CYNTHIA: With this NAFTA bullshit they can move the whole factory to Mexico tomorrow morning, and a woman like you will stand for sixteen hours and be happy making a fraction of what they’re paying you.

  TRACEY: Well, they can’t do it.

  JESSIE: Why now?

  JASON: The union won’t stand for it.

  CHRIS: Lester’s on it.

  (Collective response.)

  CYNTHIA: Guess what, the union don’t got a lot to say about it.

  JESSIE: What?

  CHRIS: How’s that possible?

  CYNTHIA: Those machines are gone. They’re not coming back.

  JESSIE: Where are they?

  CHRIS: That is fucked up.

  (Collective response.)

  CYNTHIA: But, if we do this right we can protect the rest of your jobs. That’s the point. None of us wanna go anywhere. But be real, you think you’re alone? Look at what went down at Clemmons. The union took a hard line, and look what happened to them. You wanna join those folks on unemployment, be my guest. But, listen—

  TRACEY: C’mon.

  JESSIE: I don’t understand why

  this is happening!

  CYNTHIA: I’m trying—

  JESSIE: We work hard, our

  JASON: If they got a problem,

  plant is making money.

  why won’t they be direct!

  CHRIS: Let her speak. Let her speak. Ma, are they trying to squeeze us out?

  CYNTHIA: You saw how easy it was for them to sneak in and break down those machines while all of us were at home sleeping.

  JESSIE: // Where are the machines?

  CYNTHIA: I guarantee you

  CHRIS: Come the fuck on, man.

  they’re in Mexico.

  CYNTHIA: Management is saying that it’s too expensive for them to operate here. I—

  JASON: Why don’t they take a pay cut if they wanna save their precious plant?

  CHRIS: Exactly!

  CYNTHIA: Because they won’t, and you know their solution, if you don’t meet them halfway, they’ll pick up and run. That way they won’t even have to see your bodies as they flee.

  JASON: That’s bullshit.

  CYNTHIA: I’m telling you what’s going on. Right now, I don’t want this fucking job, but if I walk away, then you got nobody. I may not have a lot of say, but I’m on your side.

  TRACEY: Then act like it. You’re making the same sorry excuses that they do. We’re friends!

  CYNTHIA: … I am doing everything I can, babe. And I don’t know what more you want me to do?

  TRACEY: Fight for us!

  JASON: Yeah!

  CYNTHIA: You think it’s that easy?

  TRACEY: All of us are on that line. Be straight!

  CYNTHIA: …

  CHRIS: Ma?!

  TRACEY: Cynthia!

  JESSIE: Just tell us the goddamn truth!

  CHRIS: Step off and listen.

  CYNTHIA: It ain’t gonna be easy. I can tell you how it’s gonna play out. They’re gonna ask for everyone to take a pay cut to save jobs. Sixty percent.

  TRACEY: What?

  CHRIS: Sixty fucking percent?

  JESSIE: Sixty?!

  JASON: What the hell?

  CYNTHIA: They’re gonna ask for concessions on your benefits package next. I’m being straight. No bullshit. They’re gonna ask you for more hours. They will give you a little bit of room for negotiation, and then they’ll wait until your breaking point, at which time you’ll be convinced that you’ve had a small victory.

  TRACEY: What are you talking about?

  CYNTHIA: Ask Lester, he’s the union rep. He’s been talking to them.

  (Tracey fights back tears. Jason comforts her.)

  JASON: They can’t do this!

  CHRIS: No!

  JASON: And if we say no?

  CHRIS: Yeah!

  CYNTHIA: You’re dealing with vipers. The game’s changed! They’ll lock you out. And once they get you out, they’re not gonna let you back in.

  TRACEY: Well, fuck you! Fuck them! I ain’t going down without a fight. You can tell those bastards I will burn this factory down before I let them take my life.

  JASON: Fuck yeah!

  CHRIS: Word.

  (A chorus of discontent.)

  CYNTHIA: Now you know. The vote’s coming! Decide!

  (Silence.)

  SCENE 3

  August 4, 2000

  Outside it’s 80°F. Partly cloudy and pleasant.

  In the news: Republican presidential candidate George W. Bush begins a post-convention train blitz across the Midwest.

  Bar. Cynthia sits alone at a table. Stan pours her a drink.

  CYNTHIA: On a cruise, Panama Canal. That’s where I’d like to be right now. Poolside, piña colada in my hand. High and happy.

  STAN: A nice breeze blowing off the water. Not a bad way to spend your birthday.

  You all right? Hot in here? You want me to crank the air?

  CYNTHIA: Nah, I’m okay.

  (Cynthia looks around.)

  I was kinda hoping they’d show up. It’s the one thing we always do together.

  STAN: Can you blame ’em?

  CYNTHIA: Like I had a choice.

  STAN: I’m just saying.

  CYNTHIA: C’mon, Don’t gimme that look.

  STAN: Well, it can’t be easy.

  CYNTHIA: It isn’t … You know what’s crazy, when I started at the plant it felt like I was invited into an exclusive club. Not many of us folks worked there. Not us. So, when I put on my jacket, I knew I’d accomplished something. I was set. And when I got my union card, you couldn’t tell me anything. Sometimes when I was shopping I would let it slip out of my wallet onto the counter just so folks could see it. I was that proud of it.

  STAN: I remember the feeling.

  (Cynthia smiles.)

  CYNTHIA: Right. No one in my family ever made it beyond the floor.

  STAN: // Yup …

  CYNTHIA: And, I wanted this job so bad. Ever since I stepped into the plant, and saw how the white hats left work in clothes as clean as when they walked in. They seemed untouchable.

  STAN: How are you holding up?

  CYNTHIA: Shit. I locked out my friends, Stan. I explained, I fought, I begged. But those cowards upstairs still had me tape a note to the door telling ’em they weren’t welcome. Ninety-five degrees. I’m standing in the door watching some irritable fat guy change the locks. Shut outta the plant. And you know what? I wonder if they gave me this job on purpose. Pin a target on me so they can stay in their air-conditioned offices. Do you know what it feels like, to say to the people you’ve worked with for years that they’re not welcome anymore? I haven’t slept in … in over a week.

  STAN: Well, you’re not alone.

  CYNTHIA: I’m scared, Stan. I got a mortgage to meet, car payments, and Brucie, you�
��ve seen what being outta work has done to him. I’m not going down that way, I’ve worked too hard. Am I wrong?

  STAN: Jesus.

  CYNTHIA: I know. I know. But what could I have done? You tell me! The plant offered them a deal. The union voted it down. Not me!

  STAN: What do you want me to say, sweetheart? Those are my friends.

  CYNTHIA: Our friends.

  STAN: Then imagine how they feel. Some folks wouldn’t even want me to pour you a drink.

  CYNTHIA: I’ve lived half my life on that floor. My son was practically born in that place. So don’t get sanctimonious with me.

  STAN: Okay, I’ll keep out of it, but you know people will say what they say.

  CYNTHIA: I thought they’d take the damn deal. You think I’m happy about this? I locked out my own son. My own son. I saw the hurt on his face. But you wanna know the truth, and this is the truth, maybe it’s for the best, right? It’ll finally get him out of this sinkhole.

  (Cynthia doesn’t finish her thought, but she’s thinking it’s all too hard. Stan senses this, and pours Cynthia another drink.)

  STAN: It ain’t your fault things shook out the way they did. I’ve spoken to a half dozen guys in your position. My cousin’s over at Clemmons, they laid off four hundred people. Just like that, one day life is good, the next you’re treading water. Clemmons! That’s not supposed to happen to folks like us, but I’m pouring a lotta drinks these days. Business is good. You ain’t the only one.

  CYNTHIA: What the hell is going on, Stan?

  STAN: Don’t know. Don’t get it. But, I watch these politicians talking bullshit and I get no sense that they even know what’s going on beyond the windshield of their cars as they speed past. But, I decided a month ago that I’m not voting, cuz no matter what lever I pull it will lead to disappointment.

  CYNTHIA (Emotionally): Amen. You remember about seven months ago? Remember when Freddy Brunner burned down his house?

  STAN: Of course.

  CYNTHIA: We thought he was crazy.

  STAN: Yeah.

  CYNTHIA: Was he?

  (Tracey and Jessie enter. They stop short upon seeing Cynthia. The tension is palpable.)

  TRACEY (Under her breath): Fucking traitor.

  CYNTHIA: What did you say?

  TRACEY: I said you fucking traitor.

  JESSIE: How does it feel to shit on your friends?

  (Cynthia stands up.)

  CYNTHIA (To Stan): I’m gonna go.

  TRACEY: That’s right. Walk away.

  CYNTHIA: I’m not walking away, I’m leaving. There’s a difference, don’t get it confused. You know, you coulda taken the deal.

  TRACEY: What deal?! I’d rather get locked out, and take handouts from the union than let go of everything I worked for. That’s the truth.