Attitude

 

Int. Day - Living Room

The NYC apartment isn't large. The walls cluttered with pictures of friends, relatives, and pets. The furniture seems like it's been passed down for at least two generations. Home & Garden, Ebony, and Hispanic Network magazines litter the coffee table along with a pair of scissors. Seated on opposite couches are two women of color in their 50s. Jemma on the left is dressed in a colorful and comfortable mumu; Deborah on the right is dressed in business casual as if she popped over immediately after work.

DEBORAH

So what are you saying you "caught" him dead.

JEMMA

Yeah. Bastard was too much of a coward to cut out on me, so he offed himself.

DEBORAH

There's so much to unpack here. Okay, you don't seem that shaken up about it.

JEMMA

Why should I be? This was a long time coming. Listen, it's no secret Eugenio and me had our issues. Shit, half the building could vouch for how often we argued. Half the block even. [laughs] There's was this one time I threw a phonebook out the window at him. Honestly I can't remember if I was upset with him that day or if I just wanted that relic out the house. He's was always hoarding shit. All these magazines are his but now I can't bring myself to throw em out. Think I might make a collage or something for the funeral. What do you think?

DEBORAH

I mean, if that's how you wanna commemorate him, go for it. Never knew he was a Home & Garden man.

JEMMA

You know I liked them a lil fruity. Sorry, effeminate. I always forget you have HR training. 

DEBORAH

Speaking of, you said he was cheating on you?

JEMMA

Nah, he didn't have the cohones. But if you dig a lil deeper under the magazines... [she begins to part them like the Red Sea]

DEBORAH

Attitude?

JEMMA

It's for the queer community. Mostly gay men.

DEBORAH

And he just left them over the house?

JEMMA

Nah, he had em stashed like porn in different crevices of the apartment. Didn't find these until I was looking for his suit this morning. I arranged them like this to be dramatic. It's strange. You think in this city of all of em, he woulda have at least explored a lil bit, but he was always a homebody. Bastard never wanted to go out dancing.

DEBORAH

Yeah, any time we went out, you'd spend half the night complaining about him and the other half spending time getting a guy to buy you drinks.

JEMMA

They were good times! Harmless flirting. And I would come home those nights and find him snoring. And snoring. And as the years went on the snoring got worse. And as the snoring got worse, he got more forgetful, lethargic. I'd give him an errand to run and I'd catch him napping on the couch ten minutes later. "Aye, I just need to rest my eyes first." It's like he relished in sleeping to get away from me.

Well, come to find out the fucker had undiagnosed sleep apnea. I'm a heavy sleeper, so it never woke me up, but apparently he'd stop breathing in the middle of the night. Well, I went out with Yolanda two nights ago to see the new Marvel - you know me, any reason to get outta the house. I come back to find out he snored his last snore. No oxygen and his brain just cut out. Didn't even look like he ruffled the sheets. Fucker just submitted. Like he did it on purpose. 

DEBORAH

Don't be foolish. Who would do that?

JEMMA

[tearing up] A lazy mothafucker, that's who! Fucking pacifist. He always took the road of least resistance. What's easier than dying in your sleep? I knew he was unhappy with me, but I thought we had a suitable arrangement. I swear he loved my nightly recaps. But he rarely talked to me. And then I'd nag him and then we'd fight. Part of me is glad I don't have to take care of him anymore, but I miss him. Is this my fault?

DEBORAH

No. No, it is not. It sounds like he was depressed and didn't reach out for help. It's sad but it's nobody's fault.

JEMMA

You're right; it is his fault.

DEBORAH

That's not what I--

JEMMA

Ugh, why'd he have to be another man of color to die in his 50s. I'm sick of all these [she leans out the window] white people moving into my gotdamn neighborhood!

DEBORAH

[dragging her friend back inside] That's not helping.

JEMMA

Sure felt good to me. Eugenio would have laughed at that. 

Deborah looks around the living room until she finds what she's looking for. Picking up a phone book, she hands it to Jemma who's eyes light up with glee. Rolling back her shoulders, she winds up and hurls the phone book out the window at a young white man jogging. The women hide behind the sides of the window and fall over laughing once a scream confirms the target has been hit.

Word
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