Purple Knuckles

ACT TWO, SCENE ONE

A month has passed since Sam heard the devastating news. Though he attempts to meet everyday with fiery enthusiasm, he often fails and sinks below the surface of crushed apathy. In an attempt to find peaceful companionship, Sam visits his mother in the hospital. An untouched glass of water is at her bedside table while she is under a pile of white pillows in bed. Meanwhile, Sam is sitting in a plain chair on the right side of the bed, by the wall, leaning forward and attempting to engage in conversation with her. A bouquet of fresh flowers sits next to Sam, the petals still a vivid pink and white. On the opposite side of his mother's bed is a plain bench waiting to host anybody else with tired legs.

MOTHER: Why are you here, boy? I saw you just last week. You don't need to come so often. You're a busy person, aren't you? Didn't get laid off your job or anything? But I always appreciate the company...it's true.

SAM: I missed you, that's all. It's nice talking to you.

MOTHER: You were always the one with the most heart in the family. A bleeding squirrel on the side of the road made you cry one morning on the way to grade school, I remember. You were bawling your eyes out...we had to change your outfit, I didn't want you arriving to school with a shirt that looked like you had already been through gym class.

SAM: I don't remember that day.

MOTHER: Of course you wouldn't. There were many similar instances. Empathy is something you take for granted.

SAM: Not entirely true. I'm feeling different, lately.

MOTHER: Now you listen to me, Sam -- maturity and all that is nice, but changing your essence is not. Empathy is central to who you are, so if you change that, then I would be disappointed. Our goal as people is to be unaffected by hardship, even after experiencing it. The easier alternative is to petrify our emotions so they don't work anymore...somehow, it makes it easier to strive forward...but we don't do that over here! No, son, we don't. We want those working...we want to be in touch with what we're trying to tell ourselves. So please don't change anything. There are plenty of other things to work on before that...not that I can think of any...but you know what I mean.

SAM: I do.

MOTHER: Is Kingston okay? I haven't seen him in a long time. I miss him. I wish he would come...at this point, a single visit would suffice. I haven't seen him in years you know, son. It takes a toll on a mother. I'd like to think any mother is injured in spirit by the detachment of a son!

Mother coughs and chokes on her bed, interrupting herself.

Not that I don't appreciate your company of course, Sam. Your presence is always welcome...and not because I get so few visitors. I am proud of who you are becoming, and you are always changing...and always in the right direction, too. It's nice to witness. Regression is easier than you think.

SAM: I understand that, which is why I try to move carefully. And yes, Kingston is doing alright. Nothing...exciting is happening at. Just...same old Kingston!

Sam swallows awkwardly.

MOTHER: Same old Kingston? No change? Oh...what have I done...

SAM (heart racing): N-no! Not like that, Mother. Again, he's just taking all the right steps, I believe.

MOTHER: Does Kingston still box?

SAM (chewing his lip): Yes, but...he's distancing himself away from it. He's hardly involved in it anymore.

MOTHER: Are those words empty of or filled with genuinity?

SAM: The latter...

MOTHER: Ah, that's great news to hear. It's good that you are the bridge between us two islands...I hope you understand me...