Decisions

Decisions

An infantry soldier returning from Iraq, he struggles with what he saw there, and how he perceives “normal” life back in the States. His name is Andy.

[This can all be done at one location, I think.]

[A party in the backyard. The banner says “WELCOME HOME”. People mingle, drinking beer or water or soda; eating little snacks and some cake.]

[Andy has a small group of people standing near him, chatting about stuff, but trying to hint at the war.]

Bob (to Andy): Feel good to be home?

Andy (smiling, but not wanting to open up too much): Yeah.

[People are uncomfortable because they are all eager to ask about what it was like.]

Bob (fishing for a segue): So, uh, are you adjusting well?

Andy (shrugs shoulders): Kind of.

Maria: Quiet now, isn't it? Nobody yelling at you, much?

Andy: Ha, yeah.

Joe (never Mr. Smooth): I heard it was really hot there; how hot was it?

Andy (forcing himself to be light-hearted): Do you mean temperature-wise, or situation-wise, 'cause it was a lot of both!

[Now the questions. Andy takes them in a barely noticeable edginess hidden mostly by a gallant effort.]

Joe: Really tense, huh?

Andy: Y'know, funny thing. War is months of drop-dead boredom, and then an hour of major tense action.  And then more boredom for a while.

Bob: So that's all there is to it.

Andy (with a hard look in his eyes): No.  No, it was days and days of tons of tension, and then it was about two or three days time off where we just knew it wasn't enough time to get your head on straight before we were out there again. There was no time to be bored – just scared, and tired.

[Andy's friends shuffle their feet, don't look each other, and Andy, in the eyes.]

Maria (trying to make light of the moment): Uh...weren't there any good times? What about entertainment?

Andy (bitter): Oh, sure. We'd get some new movies, or some music, or Internet services, but everything was censored, so we never got really cool stuff. They didn't want to offend the host country, who don't want us there anyway, 'cause if they did, maybe we'd be treated with more respect, and maybe they'd give us tips on who were the bad guys and where we could find them, instead of just trying to take our money and equipment and medicine and lives....[trails off. People are staring, looking uncomfortable.]

[Andy, realizing he's said too much, excuses himself and wanders into the house. He goes into the bathroom to splash some water on his face. He rubs his wet face and his eyes, and then stares at his reflection for a while. His look hardens.]

Andy (to his reflection): What are you gonna do?

Andy (replying): You got me, dude.

[Andy stares for another moment. There is a knock on the door.]

[Andy pauses, still looking at the image in the mirror, then turns, and opens the door. Cathy, an older woman, possibly his mother, looks at him with concern.]

Cathy: You okay? Some folks said you ranted there for a while?

Andy (weary): Yeah. I'm just...not doing too good. I don't know.

Cathy: What's the matter?

Andy: I don't know.

Cathy: Don't know what?

Andy: I don't know.

Cathy (pushing) : Don't know what? Talk to me.

[Andy stares at nothing for a moment, then looks at Cathy.]

Andy (sighing): I just don't know what I'm gonna do.

Cathy: About what?

Andy: Everything.

Cathy (soothing): Well, come on...you been home for a couple days. You can't expect to know exactly what you're gonna do as soon as you sleep in your own bed, or eat a decent meal, or hang out with your friends again. It takes a while to settle back in.

Andy: Ever since I got my papers, I been thinking: “What am I gonna do?” and I can't think of anything that sounds good.

Cathy: What have you been thinking about?

Andy: I was thinking of re-enlisting [Cathy gives him a shocked look], and then I was thinking of going to college, and then I was thinking of taking a long road trip, and then I was thinking of getting married, and then I was thinking “What's the point of all this?” Why should I do anything? Who cares?

Cathy: Listen. Don't think about anything for a while -

Andy: I wish I could!

Cathy: No, listen – just relax, get drunk, have a good time. Tomorrow you can sort everything out, or just leave it for a while, okay?

Andy (musing): Tomorrow...hmm.

Cathy (smiling): Yeah...Tomorrow is another day. Go have fun today.

Andy: Okay. Do you mind if I straighten myself out in the bathroom?

Cathy: Of course not. Take your time, and then come on out.

[Cathy walks away. Andy goes back into the bathroom.]

Andy (to reflection): Tomorrow, yeah, right. There is no tomorrow. Just today. What are we gonna do?

Andy (replying): We got options. Plenty of options. What do you wanna do?

Andy (with nervous resolve): Let's do it.

[Andy walks upstairs; goes to his room. He reaches under the bed and pulls out a locked box. He goes to a drawer and takes out a key, with which he unlocks the box. In the box is a revolver and some ammunition. Andy takes out the gun and one cartridge. He loads the round into the cylinder, then turns the cylinder until the bullet is one click away from the barrel. Andy cocks the hammer, then rests the barrel alongside his forehead – it's not pointing at his temple, it's just pointed upwards with the muzzle toward the ceiling. Andy pauses.]

[A tear falls from his eye.]

END.