SHADOWBOXER CHARACTERS Grace- UFC Fighter, 24 Amber- Grace’s “roommate,” also about 24 Leslie- Grace’s sister, 17 Dad- 50-ish, overweight like a retired football player Mom- 50-ish, conservative Doctor Weber- Early sixties A Nurse An Octopus SCENE ONE [An outpatient examination room. Grace stands wide-stanced in the center of the room. A Nurse is on her way out.] NURSE Okay Grace, the doctor will be in in a second. [Grace paces, looks in the mirror above the sink, shadowboxes. ENTER Doctor Weber] DOCTOR WEBER Grace! How’s the nose healing up? GRACE Hey, no complaints, no complaints. DOCTOR WEBER Great! Say, hey, uh, I was kind of surprised to see you back in here so soon. GRACE Yeah. DOCTOR WEBER Next fight isn’t, what, for another three or four months probably. GRACE It’s actually not even scheduled yet. DOCTOR WEBER Hmm. Well, that sounds good, too. Nothing wrong with a little extra recoop time. It’s good for your noggin. So, to what do I owe the pleasure, then? GRACE Um. DOCTOR WEBER You’re not injecting again, are you? [Grace is silent] Grace. [Pause] Grace, this is serious business. That stuff wreaks havoc on your system. Hell, honey, your uterus could go septic. Right inside of you. We can’t have that? You want babies, don’t you? GRACE No roids. I promise. DOCTOR WEBER Hmm. Well, you look healthy. Have a seat. What’s on your mind, kiddo? GRACE [struggling to get the words out] I was hoping that you could get me a referral or a reference or something. [Doctor Weber gestures “keep going”] To a surgeon. DOCTOR WEBER Grace, the nose looks fine. GRACE What? Oh, no. DOCTOR WEBER No? [pause] Hey, you can’t expect to have three percent body fat and double Ds. And frankly I don’t think I can recommend those to someone in your profession, either. They’re liable to pop. GRACE Hey, it’s not plastic surgery. Least, not, uh, conventionally. [beat] I need somebody to take off my hands. DOCTOR WEBER Jesus. [Doctor Weber takes out his pen light and shines it in Graces eyes] Look straight. Erm, when did this feeling begin. Your compulsion to, um… Jesus, have your hands amputated. GRACE Night after the fight. DOCTOR WEBER After you saw me? GRACE Way after. I, uh, I woke up. And uh, shit, my nose was aching like crazy, so I got up to ice it some, maybe pop a couple Tylenol. Well, I’m walking through my apartment in the dark, alone, and that’s fine, and I get to the kitchen, and then my roommate’s tabby runs in front of me, so I bend to pick it up and I see [Grace stares down at her open palms], and I say, “Jesus, what are… whose are these?” You know? They’re all cracked and bloody and shit, from the tourney, and they got a greasy feeling, and they, they just don’t feel like mine. These can’t be my hands. Or, you know, I don’t want them anymore. [pause] But I think [Grace slaps herself in the face. Doctor Weber recoils] “Gracie, you cunt. You’re fucked up. You’re half asleep. Go back to bed. This’ll all get better.” Cept it hasn’t gotten better. Every day they just feel more and more like monsters growing out of my arms. Little octopuses, y’know? DOCTOR WEBER You were probably more concussed than you’d been acting, after the fight. That’ll happen. So much adrenaline, you know. Grace, it sounds like you’ve suffered some damage to your superior parietal lobule. That can, uh, that can disrupt the mental image you have of your body. That’ll account for the, uh, strangeness you’re describing. Though honestly I’m not an expert on this. It’s the same thing that causes phantom limb disorder. GRACE I don’t know. DOCTOR WEBER No, that’s probably what it is. You’re a fighter, you got pummeled, clocked in the head just the right way, and it messed up your circuitry. Oof. [pause] We should get you scheduled for a CAT scan right away.. GRACE No. DOCTOR WEBER Hey, Grace, who knows, this kind of thing happens, we don’t know how serious it is until we take a look inside. GRACE There’s nothing wrong with me except for these hands. So I want them off. DOCTOR WEBER Grace, listen, I can’t in good conscience… [Grace stands up] GRACE What? Why not? It’s my body, right? DOCTOR WEBER If it’s your body, why do you wanna lop a piece off? GRACE Fuck this. [Grace pushes past Doctor Weber to leave. After a moment, Doctor Weber follows] DOCTOR WEBER Grace! I have a code of ethics! Hey! Don’t you know? It’s “Do no harm! Do no harm!” SCENE TWO [A middle-class apartment. Leslie texts on the sofa in front of the television, which is tuned in to a vapid reality show. There’s a knock on the door. Without looking up from her phone, Leslie gets up and answers it. ENTER Grace.] LESLIE There she is. GRACE There I am. LESLIE What’s up, dyke? GRACE No complaints. What’s your deal. Hey, we gonna hug? LESLIE Since when do you hug? GRACE I don’t know. I’ve been feeling sentimental lately. LESLIE Gross. I mean, we’re family, but we’re not that kind of family, you know. [Leslie walks back to the couch without hugging Grace] GRACE You texting a new boy toy? LESLIE Ew. Boy toys are for middle aged soccer moms. GRACE Hmmm. [ENTER Dad from within the apartment. He is toting around a half finished model of a racecar.] DAD [mumbling to himself] … goddamn epoxy… [seeing Grace] Hey champ, I thought I heard your voice. LESLIE You were right. GRACE Hey Dad. DAD Hey, how’s the nose? GRACE You tell me. How’s it look? [Dad comes to Grace, touches her face, and put his arm around her fraternally.] DAD Oh, don’t worry, sport. You’re still a fox. [Leslie snorts.] GRACE Mom home? DAD She’s picking up the cake from the grocers. I was just working on the TR3A. [Dad holds up the racecar] Imagine driving one of these through the desert with Steve McQueen. GRACE Nice. DAD Yeah, that’d be real freedom. Steve McQueen, James Dean, and a couple of blonde bombshells. Your mother included, naturally. LESLIE James Dean was a queer, Dad. DAD What? LESLIE What would he do with a blonde bombshell? DAD You don’t know what you’re talking about. The man was a gearhead. LESLIE I read it in AP History. DAD That’s public schools for you. [ENTER Mom with a bag of groceries] MOM Hey everybody! Aw, I’ve got a full nest again. GRACE Happy birthday, Mom. MOM Aw, Gracie! Honey, how’s the nose? DAD Oh, it’s fine, fine. Healing up nice. MOM Good. You know I worry. [Mom sets her bags and keys on the kitchen counter.] Gives me half a heart attack every time you set foot in that octagon. It’s a bad shape. I’ve always felt that way. [to Dad] Oh honey, you stink like glue. DAD I do? [to Grace] Do I? GRACE I can’t smell anything. LESLIE Yeah, you do. It’s getting me stoned. DAD [gesturing with the racecar] I’ll put this away. [Dad walks deeper into the apartment. Mom takes a birthday cake out of the grocery bag.] MOM So Gracie, what else? GRACE Well, I, uh… LESLIE Piece of shit! [Leslie sets her phone down violently] She’s such a fucking bitch. MOM Leslie, language. LESLIE I’m sick of Laurie’s manipulative psycho crap! MOM Then stop texting her sweetie. LESLIE I wasn’t texting her. Do you know what she was saying about me? MOM No, I don’t. [Dad returns sans racecar.] DAD When’s the next fight, sport? GRACE It’s not scheduled. DAD No? Well, jeez, Dickie better get on that. You gotta stay regimented or you’ll get soft. MOM [to Leslie] Leslie, whatever problems you think you have now, they’re not gonna mean anything in eight months when you graduate. You’ll never have to see Laurie or Rachel or any of those other girls again. LESLIE Well, that’ll be comforting in eight months. MOM Just wait until you have adult problems. Just wait. [Leslie leaves the living room in a huff. Mom takes it in stride.] DAD What’s going on? GRACE Teenage drama. DAD Oof. Sorry I asked. I’m glad you were never like that. You were easy like a boy: give you a little money and push you out the door. GRACE I was always training. DAD Yeah, she’s got volleyball, but that’s not cutting it. A body needs to be active to stay out of trouble. [to Mom] Hey, that’s a good looking cake. You picked out a good one for yourself, darlin. MOM Oh, I thought it was sweet. [The phone rings. The lights fade. When they return, Mom and Grace have positioned themselves for a fight. Grace is on the defensive. Dad sits on the couch rubbing his head. Leslie watches from a corner of the room, sort of amused.] MOM What if it’s a tumor? What if it’s a tumor that makes you want this so bad? Do you want to listen to a tumor? Do you wanna let it win? Do you want it to eat you up slowly, destroy you, are you just gonna give in to it? And what about us? What’ll this do to us? Did you ever think about us before you decided you wanted to go and ruin your life? GRACE Mom, it’s not like that. MOM That’s not what Doctor Weber says! GRACE Well, don’t listen to Doctor Weber. Listen to me! MOM I don’t know, honey! I don’t know how to… It’s my birthday! Why’d you have to do this on my birthday! GRACE Mom… MOM I prepare everything, I get my own cake… I just wanted to have a nice day! GRACE Mom, it’s not like that. MOM Then what? Oh, what, go and tell me my business, tell me I can’t care about you… GRACE It isn’t… hey, shit, if you care about me then listen to what I’m telling you! I can’t have these things on me anymore! MOM Were you molested? GRACE Huh? MOM You can tell me, honey. It’s a traumatic sex thing or something. Stuff like this always is. I’ve read about it. GRACE Mom, I, who, I wasn’t molested. MOM Maybe you’re blocking it out. GRACE No. MOM [softly] Then why would you want such an unhappy life. [pause] We’ll get you help… GRACE I’m trying to get help... DAD [quietly] You won’t be able to fight no more. GRACE Maybe I don’t wanna fight anymore. DAD Not wanna… [Dad sits up violently and starts wrecking the apartment. Leslie screams. Grace has almost no reaction; she stands by diffidently] LESLIE Dad, stop it stop it stop it stop it stop it…. MOM Lloyd, you’re like a bull in a china shop! [In his temper tantrum, Dad knocks the cake off the counter] My cake! Lloyd, my birthday! SCENE THREE [Grace is in her bedroom. She shadowboxes before a large mirror until she is breathing heavily. She presses her palms against the mirror. When she pulls them away, she has left red handprints. ENTER Kendra. Kendra stays on the opposite side of the room.] AMBER Hey. GRACE Hey. AMBER Have you seen the cat? GRACE No. [pause] Can I get a hug. AMBER Why? GRACE I just think I need one. AMBER No. GRACE Hmm. [After a beat, Grace punches the mirror. It splinters.] AMBER [deadpan] Wow. GRACE Tell me about it. AMBER Hey. GRACE Hey. AMBER I love you. GRACE Yeah. [long pause] Do you remember what it was like when we first moved here? I was spending all my time at the gym and staying up all night and pacing around the house and you were doing whatever and we never saw each other except at meals, and then you weren’t eating and I didn’t see you at all, and we were alone in the apartment together, and the apartment made too much noise, and I couldn’t stop hearing my own heartbeat, blood slamming against my eardrums all the time, and then things got worse, and it got cold. What an awful winter. You know much of a zombie I felt like? Fucking numb and fucking sick at the same time. [pause] I guess I didn’t tell you. [pause] I don’t know what that has to do with anything. Sorry. AMBER It’s okay. [pause] You’re really not gonna fight any more? GRACE What’s the point. It’s just ugliness. AMBER Yeah. I get that. [pause] You wanna get Japanese food? GRACE Hibachi sounds good. SCENE FOUR [It is dark, except for a large octagon centerstage. Grace spars with a giant octopus, choreographed to a violin concerto. When it seems like she is losing, Grace flees the octagon and returns with a chainsaw. She saws off the octopus’s tentacles and falls to her knees. The tentacles grow back. A heart monitor drowns out the concerto.] SCENE FIVE [Mom and Dad’s apartment. Leslie is again on the couch, texting. She hears a knock at the door and gets up to answer it, her eyes never leaving her phone. Grace is at the door, now handless with bandages over her stubs. Leslie pockets her phone. The apartment has the atmosphere of a funeral. The entire family wears black, except for Grace, who is in all white.] LESLIE How did you knock? GRACE I still have elbows. [Leslie laughs and then catches herself.] LESLIE Mom’s scary quiet. You know what I mean? I think she’s cleaned everything in the house five times. GRACE Yeah. That’s how she handles stress. LESLIE How do you feel? Lose a lotta blood? GRACE I feel better. LESLIE [ambiguously, talking too much because she is nervous] Well, I guess I’m glad. I mean, it’s… you’re in charge of yourself, right? It’s your body. You’d turned yourself into a lesbian homunculus already. All that stuff you put inside you to beef you up. I don’t know why more people don’t mutilate themselves. I’ve done it some. My ears and my belly button. Tattoo when I’m eighteen. Braces. And makeup’s a sort of violence too, right? And I was a cutter, too, for like a week in freshmen year, same week I died my bangs purple. I can’t stop mutilating myself. So you… A carving knife, right? Electric carving knife. That’s almost quaint. GRACE How’s the drama at school? LESLIE Oh, it doesn’t matter. [ENTER Dad from deep within the apartment. He sees Graces and stops in his tracks.] DAD [gravely] I thought I heard your voice. GRACE You were right. DAD I see that. [pause] Leslie, can you give us a minute. [Reluctantly, Leslie EXITS] She wants to have you institutionalized. GRACE She can’t. It’s not up to her. DAD Well. [Dad shrugs.] So you did it. You went through with it. It’s kind of admirable, I guess. You’ve always taken life by the balls. You’ve always found out a way to get what you want. I guess you got what you want. GRACE I have. DAD It’s not easy for parents, you know. GRACE I know. DAD And what does that roommate think? Does she mind? GRACE She fine with it. It doesn’t change things. DAD [trying to find humor in it and failing] Gotta be a hassle though. [pause] I’m sorry. GRACE I don’t know what for. I’m happier now. I’m complete. This is what I wanted. DAD Can I show you the TR3A? It’s finished. Or almost I still have to paint it. [Grace nods. Dad hustles to get the model from the other room. When he returns, he holds it gingerly.] DAD I’m telling you a story, even though I’ve probably told it to you before. After World War Two, there were all of these jet fighters around, trained jet fighters, and, y’know, they were adrenaline junkies. They got that way from all that flying. The war turned them into addicts. So that’s how racing started. It’s big business now, but back then it was all about being an outlaw, going your own way, feeling the thrill. It was about adrenaline. These guys would do anything just to feel alive. That was what it was all about, even though people called them suicidal, it was really about feeling alive again. Even if it killed them. Do you get me? GRACE No. DAD Well, I tried. [Dad breaks his model.] GRACE I can’t break things anymore. That feels good. DAD Gracie, you couldn’t break things any more than you already have. [ENTER Mom from the stairway with another grocery bag. She sees Grace and stares.] GRACE More cake? [Mom walks past her in a huff deep into the apartment. Once offstage, she starts to sob.] Home sweet home. [Curtain.]