ACT ONE.

SCENE ONE.

BEFORE CURTAINS RISE: We hear various sounds evoking the ephemeral sensation of autumn in New York— the gentle whisper of falling leaves, the familiar warbling of songbirds.

AS CURTAINS RISE: Central Park, New York’s definitive urban oasis. We are in the Ramble, a section of the park dominated by autumn foliage and charming hideaways.

Sitting on a bench downstage is GREG KAHANE, early fifties. His whitening hair is slightly unkempt and he sports prominent stubble. There is a lingering exhaustion in his face. His eyes, in particular, seem drained. He wears a button-down shirt, light peacoat, slacks, and a loosened tie.

(As GREG sits, he holds a Ziploc bag full of sliced almonds that he sprinkles onto the ground.)

GREG

There you go. You guys are hungry today.

(He throws another sprinkle.)

Don’t worry. I brought extra. I’m not going anywhere.

(GREG reaches into his coat pocket, taking out his wallet. He pulls out an old Polaroid photo. He holds the photo as he looks out to the audience, speaking at once to both.)

GREG

You should see it, Vince. There’s a million little conversations happening up there, buddy. Can you hear them? They’re usually not this brave.

(He sprinkles more almonds. We hear happy chirping escalate.)

GREG

I remember it like it was a week ago. 

(Laughs.)

All you wanted to do was jump around in piles of leaves. Even when I got birds to eat out of my palm, I asked if you wanted to try, you just wanted to stay lost in your own little world. I’d always ask your mom: “What was wrong with this boy?”

(Chuckles.)

We’d just laugh. Our little explorer, we thought. Always on an adventure we never got to know about. We’d make it a game, me and your mom, always wondering what was next, wondering if…

(GREG stops. He looks directly at the Polaroid.)

GREG

I’m still wondering, buddy. Still asking why. Why couldn’t you—?

NEIL MORRISON, early twenties, curly brown hair, and a restlessness in his expression, enters. There is a softness about him that compliments his anxious demeanor. He wears a richly-colored wool flannel, black jeans, and Cole Haan sneakers. He carries a canvas tote bag. 

NEIL is completely engrossed in his cell phone, not even noticing GREG, who pockets the Polaroid. NEIL presses a button before bringing the phone to his ear. We hear ringing. With each passing ring, NEIL’s face grows more nervous.

DAVID (VOICEMAIL)

Hi. You’ve reached David Palmetto. I’m sorry I can’t come to the phone right now. But if you leave your name and number, I’ll be sure to get back to you. Thanks.

NEIL

(To himself.)

Shit.

(Beep)

Uh, Hey, D— David. Just wanted to let you know I’m here. I found our spot. Um… it’s close to four, so… 

(Tries to find the words.)

I’m really looking forward to meeting you. It’s definitely overdue at this point. OK. Um, see you soon, I hope. Bye.  

(NEIL hangs up. He checks his watch. He looks around, his gaze eventually landing on GREG, who is trying his hardest to pay no mind to NEIL.)

NEIL

Excuse me. I’m sorry to bother you. Would you mind if I sat with you, just while I waited for someone?

GREG

(Annoyed.)

Free country, isn’t it?

(Beat. NEIL looks blankly at GREG.)

NEIL

I’m sorry, is that a—

GREG

It’s a yes.

NEIL

Oh, great. Thank you.

(NEIL situates himself on the bench. He smiles at GREG, who barely reciprocates.)

NEIL

It’s always so beautiful here, especially in autumn. 

GREG

(Trying not to pay attention.)

Mmm hmm.

NEIL

I just love the colors of the trees here. There’s no other place in the park with this color. I think they’re elms, which would explain why they’re so vibrant.

GREG

(Passively) Huh. That’s interesting, kid.

(NEIL looks at GREG feeding his birds. A smile of intrigue appears on his face.)

NEIL

Hey, do you feed birds often or is this—?

GREG

(Cutting him off.)

Look, I’m sure you’re a nice kid. You look like a nice kid. And I don’t mean to sound like a dick, I’m really not, but can you just, like, leave me alone? Like, please? 

NEIL

Oh. Um…yeah, of course. I’m sorry.

GREG

It’s fine. Don’t apologize, just, you know…

NEIL 

No, I’m sorry. I should’ve figured you wanted privacy.

GREG

Look, I come here to have a little peace, feed my birds. I’m not much of a talker, I let you sit with me—

NEIL

You didn’t have to if you really didn’t want me—

GREG

(Getting angrier.)

No, I didn’t want you to. I really didn’t, but unlike you, who just feels they have the right to just intrude anywhere he likes, has no consideration for anybody’s feelings—

NEIL

Alright, alright. I got the point.

GREG

It’s not alright! It’s not alright. You can’t just bother people like that. You should show a little respect. 

(Groans as he puts his head in his hands.)

Now, leave or stay, I really couldn’t care less, but if you stay, can you please just… leave me alone?

( Beat. Awkward silence. NEIL looks like he’s about to cry.)

NEIL

No problem.

GREG

Thank you.

(Mutters to himself.)

I mean, Jesus.

(GREG returns to feeding the birds. NEIL grabs his bag. He turns to leave, fishing his phone out of his pocket as he walks away.)

GREG

(To himself.)

Goddamn it, Greg. You’re an asshole.

(Turns to NEIL.)

Um…look, kid. I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.

NEIL

(Back still turned.)

It’s fine. I get it. Like I said, I apologize.

GREG

No, you have nothing to apologize for. I was a real prick just then.

(Sighs, exasperated.)

I’m not normally like this, believe me.

NEIL

Oh?

GREG

Yeah, normally, I’m far more of an asshole.

(GREG and NEIL share a slight laugh.)

NEIL

(Walking back.)

I know what you mean. I’m usually much more of a pain in the ass myself.

GREG

Oh, I can imagine, kid.

NEIL

(Sits, extends his hand.)

I’m Neil. Care to…start over, maybe?

(GREG looks at the outstretched hand pensively.)

GREG

Yeah, sure. Name’s Greg.

(They shake.)

NEIL

Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Greg. Officially.

GREG

Likewise.

(Beat)

You were right about one thing, kid.

NEIL

What’s that?

GREG

There is no better time in the park than peak season. 

NEIL

I try to come as much as possible in the fall. My father used to bring me here all the time when I was younger. Said there was no better place in the city to see the leaves change.

GREG

No kidding. I used to bring my son here around this time.

(Beat, slightly intrigued.)

What does he do, your dad?

NEIL

Um, well…

(NEIL struggles to answer this question.)

NEIL

I’m not sure.

GREG

You’re not sure what your own dad does?

NEIL

(Trying to brush GREG off.)

It’s complicated. It’s a really long story. I’m sure you don’t wanna hear it.

GREG

Try me.

NEIL

You sure?

GREG

What can it hurt?

NEIL

(Beat, then...)

I actually haven’t seen my dad in fifteen years. 

GREG

Are you serious?

NEIL

(With a tinge of pain.)

Last I heard, he was working here in Manhattan. Right before my mom passed away, she actually told me where I could find him, my dad, and how to contact him.

(Beat)

We’ve been trying to set something up for what feels like forever. We just never found the right time. Well, more like he never had the time. But, the one thing I always seem to hear from him, whenever we try to plan something: “We’ll meet in Central Park. In the spot you loved as a kid. In the Ramble.”

(Laughs)

So, I’ve just been coming here, hoping for once he wasn’t just all talk.

(GREG’s eyes are wide. He takes this in.)

GREG

So, you haven’t actually gotten together yet?

NEIL

I’m still here. What does that tell you?

(Beat.)

Believe it or not, I don’t even remember that much about him. Maybe like two or three things. Anything else were things I was told by my mom. I remember her from when I was like four or five, right when I started living with her. Short, but feisty. Driven, and determined. Probably the most positive person I ever met, even if at times it seemed unrealistic. 

NEIL

I remember what she looked like, but I can’t remember what he looked like. I’ve seen photos of him online, on his workplace’s website, but whenever I think of him, it’s just blurs followed by blanks.

GREG

Do you remember anything about him?

NEIL

(Thinks for a moment.)

Sadness. That’s the only thing that’s constant. He always seemed to be sad. Unsatisfied, bitter. He never took it out on me, but he never hid it well either. 

(A beat, then happily.)

No, there is one thing I remember… he liked to play piano. Yeah, yeah, he had this pink upright piano in his apartment. I always remembered that it was pink. That always stayed with me. Such an unhappy man living with something so whimsical.

GREG

So, he was a musician?

NEIL

An amateur one. From what I’ve been told, that was the dream, but it never panned out. My mom said he tried to start his own company at one point. That failed miserably. He tried to start another one…also ended in misery. The website where I found his bio says he lives in Westchester now. Got remarried… has a…had another son. He sounds like he’s doing really good for himself…

(As NEIL trails off, GREG puts his arm on NEIL’s shoulder.)

GREG

I’m…I’m sorry, Neil.

NEIL

What are you sorry about? He’s doing great, I’m so happy for him. And we’re gonna meet each other. Today. He’s definitely coming this time. Just wait and see. He has to be on his way.

GREG

Right… I really hope he is, kid. I really do.

NEIL

I know he is. And when he comes…

(NEIL starts rifling through his bag again.)

NEIL

(Full of glee.)

I have this.

(NEIL holds up a pair of binoculars.)

GREG

(Incredulous.)

Binoculars?

NEIL

A lot of migratory birds would stop here. My dad would often bring me here after school. God, the amount of time we spent here, hours upon hours. We didn’t have a care in the world. Homework? No. Working? No. Trying to rack up as many bird species as we could in one day, that’s what counted.

GREG

(Trying to understand.)

Ah, so the plan is to meet him and… bird?

NEIL

My dad never played catch, never took me fishing. He took me birding, right here. I figured binoculars would be better than a mitt or a rod. I know: it must sound ridiculous. 

GREG

(Intrigued, but passive.)

Makes sense, I suppose. It’s your favorite memory, it’s not ridiculous.

NEIL

It was really the only time I ever remember seeing him happy. Not faking it, not trying for me. Just genuinely happy. Like he was at peace here or something.

GREG

Wow.

NEIL

I said it was complicated.

GREG

What? Oh, yeah, no, it definitely is. I meant the binoculars actually. Nikon, right? Very nice. I prefer Bushnell myself.

NEIL

You’re a birder too?

GREG

Pretty much my whole life. My son was too. I guess he picked up the bug from me.

(A beat.)

You know, you remind me a lot of my son, actually. Birding was his whole life for a while. 

NEIL

If you don’t mind me asking, what’s his favorite bird?

GREG

Raptors. He loved raptors. Owls in particular. He loved how graceful they were, how mysterious and yet “sublime,” as he put it. Can you imagine an eleven-year-old using a word like sublime? 

(Laughs)

I remember this one night in December, somehow the little devil convinced me to go looking for owls in the park at like 11 p.m. He didn’t care that I warned him Central Park was more dangerous at night, didn’t care that he had to get up for school in the morning. He wasn’t gonna rest till he found what he was looking for. He had me out there for two hours, at least, hooting and making owl sounds. I must’ve looked crazier than any junkie sleeping in the park. 

NEIL

Did he ever find one?

GREG

(Pained laughter)

Not nearly soon enough. After three hours or so, he finally claimed his prize. A large Great Horned Owl nesting in some dying tree near 79th Street. The look in Vince’s eyes. I’ve never seen so much wonder and awe in anyone before. 

(GREG stops and looks down. He looks at his phone.)

GREG

Alright, I gotta go. Good talking to you, kid.

NEIL

(Taken aback)

Oh. Ok. You sure?

GREG

(Dismissively)

Yeah.

NEIL

(beat.) 

Mind if I ask you something?

GREG

Ask away.

NEIL

Where is your son now?

GREG

Um…I’m not sure if that’s the kind of thing I’m comfortable sharing with someone who is basically a stranger, no offense. Have a good one.

(As GREG leaves, NEIL stands up and begins to follow.)

NEIL

Wait, strangers? I would hardly call us strangers, Greg.

 GREG

(Scoffs)

Don’t kid yourself, Neil. We’re just two strangers shooting the shit. Happens all the time in New York.

NEIL

I wouldn’t consider what we’re talking about “shooting the shit.”

GREG

Yeah, well, who was the one that wanted to get all personal and vulnerable?

NEIL

Who said it couldn’t hurt, even if it was complicated?

GREG

‘Kay, I’m sorry that your dad clearly doesn’t wanna see you, but there are people out there who are hurting much worse. Trust me.

NEIL

(A beat.)

I do trust you. Don’t you trust me?

GREG

No. What? I barely know you.

NEIL

 I know we just met, but I do. Call me stupid, call me crazy, whatever. But I trust you.

(Silence. GREG looks at NEIL. Then, without a word, GREG pulls out the Polaroid and hands it to NEIL.)

NEIL

Is this—?

GREG

(Walking back to the bench and sitting.)

Vincent. My son. He was twenty-six in that photo. That’s the last photo I have of him. He seemed so happy in that photo. I thought things were finally getting better. 

At this moment, VINCENT, or at least VINCENT’S SPIRIT, enters stage right. He takes a moment to look around at the autumnal park, the aforementioned spark of wonder in his eyes. He walks quizzically over to his father and NEIL, observing the two in conversation. 

GREG

My son was always adventurous, always up to try something new. So, when he got invited to a graduation party, there was no chance in hell he wasn’t gonna be there.

(GREG’s voice begins to get shaky. VINCENT puts his hand on his father’s shoulder before exiting.)

GREG

At this party, there was all kinds of shit. And…stupid, stupid boy…um, he got into pills. I still don’t know how. He never told us. It wasn’t until college that we found out. Dorm inspection. He got busted right away. It was a miracle he didn’t get expelled. He told us it was just once or twice, and it was over. I wanted to believe him. I still wanted to see him as my beautiful baby boy. He’s always had an addictive personality. I just thought it was like a thrill for life or something. So, I believed him, and he got through college. He coasted, you know? Just barely got by as his habit got worse. When he came home, there was never really a time he wasn’t high or out for days trying to get a score.

(Sniffles.)

I guess I thought we were closer than most fathers and sons. I used to brag to my friends that my son could always be open with me. He could come to me for anything, and I would never judge him. I was wrong. I was wrong on so many levels.  

I thought if we let him live at home again, he would get better. I thought if I gave him space, and stopped smothering him, he’d see the light. We just ended up arguing all the time. We couldn’t even be in the same room without it becoming a shouting match for a while.

(GREG takes the Polaroid back.)

NEIL

What happened, Greg?

GREG

It doesn’t matter.

NEIL

Yes, it does. Of course, it matters. 

GREG

(Holding back tears.)

He got better, for a short time. Did rehab up in Michigan, and when he came home, back to the city, he got a job, got a girlfriend. He was starting to live a normal life. A normal enough life anyway.  We got him an apartment and helped him pay rent.  I was so, so proud of him.  Then one morning, we got a call. His girlfriend found him unresponsive in his apartment. There was an empty bottle on the nightstand. The officer told us he was at the hospital…we rushed there…but when we…he…

(Beat. Silence. Then…)

At his funeral, the priest said that God needed another angel at his side. I…it was bullshit… total fucking bullshit…I love my son, but…God didn’t need him right then.

(GREG’s head collapses into his hand. His breath shudders. He walks away from the bench. After a while, NEIL puts his hand on GREG’s back and they stay like that for a moment.)

GREG

(Rises, takes a deep breath)

I think you’re the first person outside of my family I’ve told this story to. Not even my friends know, at least not all the details.

NEIL

How long ago?

GREG

Six months. But the days, they just blur together. 

NEIL

I shouldn’t have pried. I’m sorry.

GREG

Don’t apologize. It actually felt freeing, in the most morbid sense. I can’t even talk about Vincent with my wife. She’s basically already moved on. Guess it’s easier for her that way. So, thank you. For prying. 

NEIL

Um, you’re welcome?

GREG

Ha. Funny. You know what? I think I’m gonna take off. 

NEIL

Oh. Are you sure?

GREG

(Stands and begins to pack up.)

Yeah. I don’t wanna get in the way of you and your dad’s reunion.

NEIL

It’s no problem. You made it seem like this spot was really important to you. I don’t wanna take that away.

GREG

You could never take this spot away. Vincent will always be here. This was his favorite spot, too. We could think of no better place to spread his ashes when the time came.

NEIL

Oh?

(A beat.)

Oh!

GREG

Hey, watch it. He’s listening.

(GREG takes out his phone and begins to scroll.)

GREG

(IMPROV)

That fucking B train.

NEIL

What time is it?

GREG

Um…

(Checks his phone)

4:30.

NEIL

(Biting pain.)

Damn it. Again. 

(And…denial.)

Oh, well. Probably traffic. I know he’s on his way. I can feel it.

(GREG looks at NEIL, the waves of anticipation rolling off him. He sits back down.)

GREG

Neil, have you considered that maybe he’s not coming? That he’s just putting you off a little longer?

NEIL

(Looks at GREG.)

No, not at all. Why would you say that?

GREG

If my son wanted to meet up in Central Park, and we settled on a time, I’d be there five minutes early, not half an hour late.

NEIL

OK, well, that’s just you.

GREG

Is it? C’mon, really ask yourself, Neil. Indulge me, OK? Does he really want to meet you that badly?

NEIL

Of course, he does! I’m his son. His only—his first son. Who wouldn’t want to meet their first son?

GREG

I’m not saying he doesn’t ever want to meet you. But, Neil…

NEIL

No. You have no clue what you’re talking about.

GREG

I’m a father. I know exactly what I’m talking about.

(NEIL stays silent, looking out for his father.)

GREG

Why did he leave you with your mom?

NEIL

What?

GREG

Think about it, Neil. He’s in your life one moment, then he takes you to live with your mom and completely disappears. Why?

NEIL

I…I don’t know. 

GREG

I think you do. I just think you don’t want to tell yourself.

NEIL

Probably because he was busy.

GREG

Right. Busy playing around with his pink piano and failed companies?

NEIL

I was only a kid! How can you possibly expect me to know why?

GREG

I’m not saying you need to have the answer. I’m saying you need to accept the truth. That your dad was a shitty father.

NEIL

He was not a shitty father! He was the furthest thing from that. And I have accepted the truth! That’s why I’m making amends now.

GREG

Making amends?! Do you hear yourself? You did nothing wrong. He left you. He has to be the one making amends, not you.

NEIL

Good God, why do you care so much?

GREG

Because I don’t want to see you like me.

NEIL

That’s not even fair. You lost a son. At least my dad is still alive. 

GREG

(Ignoring the jab.)

Fine, whatever, but I’m getting sick of hurting. And I know you are too. Otherwise, you wouldn’t care so much.

NEIL

It doesn’t matter why I care.

GREG

Bullshit. This matters to you more than anything else in your life.

NEIL

(Letting it all out)

Because I’ll have no one else! OK? There. I have no siblings and my mom is dead. If I don’t have my father, if I don’t at least try, then I don’t know who the fuck I have left.

(GREG turns away, pensive. Then…)

GREG

Well, you would have me.

NEIL

(Beat. Taken aback.)

You?

GREG

Yeah. Me.

NEIL

I thought I was just some stranger on a park bench in New York to you?

GREG

Maybe we were supposed to meet. I’m still trying to figure out exactly what it is I believe in anymore. I still wanna have some hope that there are things like fate, or whatever it’s called.

(GREG pats NEIL on the shoulder and stands up.)

GREG

Look, I know I’m not your dad. But, if you ever wanna talk, when you’re ready, you know where to find me.

(GREG grabs his back and begins to walk off.)

NEIL

Greg!

(GREG stops.)

NEIL

If you ever wanna talk as well, you know where to find me.

(GREG and NEIL smile at each other as the stage goes dark).

 

SCENE TWO.

AT RISE: The park bench is empty, sitting alone. DAVID PALMETTO, early 50s, NEIL’s father, enters from stage left. He has slicked-back hair, carries a briefcase, and wears a pinstripe suit and tie.

(DAVID sits on the bench, checking his watch. He pulls out his phone. We hear the phone ringing.)

NEIL (VOICEMAIL)

Hi. You’ve reached Neil Morrison. Unfortunately, I can’t come to the phone…

DAVID

He took his mother’s name?

NEIL (VOICEMAIL)

…name and number, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks and have a great day.

(beep.)

DAVID

Hey, son, I mean, Neil. It’s dad… uh, I mean David. Look, I’m really sorry I was late. I was held up in this meeting. But, I’m here now if you wanna swing by. If not, I’m sure we’ll figure something out. Alright? Call me back.

(DAVID hangs up. From stage left, VINCENT enters. He walks over to the bench where David is sitting. He looks down at the almonds still on the ground.) 

VINCENT

(sighs)

Oh, dad. You and your almonds and sparrows. 

(Beat.)

Well, everyone needs a hobby.

(VINCENT sits down on the bench next to DAVID, who is scanning to try and see NEIL.)

VINCENT

I know you can’t hear me, chief, and I’m not an expert on these things. But I’m willing to bet your son’s gonna be OK.

VINCENT

(Beat.)

I know my dad will be.

(DAVID turns back, looking in VINCENT’s direction. VINCENT looks back. They can’t see each other and have no awareness of each other’s presence. But they both smile, content.)

END OF ACT.