The Word: Turntable

The Word: Written exclusively for METRO

The Word author John Heimbuch.

Image credit: Courtesy John Heimbuch

Recommended by the Editor

The Word: Get in if You Want to Live

By: John Heimbuch |   October 2011   |  From the print edition

Editor's note: Each issue, METRO asks a talented writer to submit a piece for "The Word." The October submission comes from John Heimbuch, the co-artistic director of Walking Shadow Theatre Company. His plays have been staged in Minnesota, New York, Philadelphia, Cleveland, London and Alaska. He can be found online at johnheimbuch.com.

Late at night in a tiny bedroom. City light pours in through the open window. A stack of records on the floor. TONY listens to music with his headphones on while WIL lies in bed trying to sleep. A spare pillow and blanket are on the floor.

WIL: God, I don’t know how you sleep in here. It’s bright as day. Have you thought about getting some curtains? (pause) Tony? Anthony. Antonio.

TONY: What?

WIL: Curtains.

TONY: Go back to sleep, Wil.

WIL: How? There’s nothing to block the light.

TONY: Try closing your eyes, I hear that helps.

WIL: “City that never sleeps”. No frickin’ wonder. Why are you still up?

TONY: Making notes. These are good.

WIL: Of course they’re good. A hundred bucks and three hours in my mitts digging through the stacks. Frostbite on my fingertips. You’re lucky. Homeland Security almost made me check them. Thought I was a  terrorist. Those suckers are sharp when broken. Seriously, I don’t care about the hundred bucks, but I’m telling you - you owe me.

TONY: Okay. Thank you.

WIL: But, they’re good?

TONY: Liquid dynamite.

WIL: You can use ‘em?

TONY: Hell yeah, I can use ‘em. Give these Brooklyn boys a taste of the Lake.

WIL: (pause) Stupid jetlag.

TONY: It’s one hour.

WIL: You don’t think I could go sleep on the couch or something?

TONY: No, seriously, dude, things are really spotty with the roommates, and I don’t have the cash to make the deposit on another place.

WIL: It’s just the living room.

TONY: And I’d love to let you, because nothing means more to me than making sure you get a good night’s sleep, but last week things reached an all-time low. It happens again and they’ll throw my stuff outside on garbage   day. And since I don’t want these hot-ass licks to end up in a landfill buried under the New Jersey snow, if you’re gonna crash it’s gotta be in here. I gave you the bed.

WIL: Yeah, okay. (pause) You talk to Jen?

TONY: No.

WIL: You know she’s pregnant.

TONY: Yeah?

WIL: Total beachball.

TONY: Didn’t take her long, did it? Good thing I left. Apologies and all, but that girl is trouble. (pause) I’m not coming back.

WIL: Didn’t say you should.

TONY: At least not till I lay down an album.

WIL: Dude, I see your album in the store, I’d be all…

(WIL mimes shoplifting the disc.)

TONY: (laughing) You dick.

WIL: Serious. It would be an honor.

TONY: Dude, you wouldn’t believe this place. I was on the subway yesterday with a bag of sandwiches and it’s just packed, I mean PACKED with people. Tall, short, Asian, white, Hispanic, whatever -- but not just that, there are cowboys and old-school rockers, and businessmen, and punks and gays, and Brooklyn hipsters with ugly beards and women, like all these women; and everyone running toward something --

WIL: -- or from it --

TONY: -- and I’m thinking “yes,” man. This is vitality. This is life. The city is alive.

WIL: And it never, ever sleeps.

TONY: Don’t be an asshole.

TONY grabs his blanket and climbs on the bed, covering the window with it.

WIL: I’m the asshole? I tell you my sister’s pumped up like the Goodyear blimp, you say “oh, she’s trouble,” and I’m the asshole?

TONY: What do you want me to say? She treated me like crap for two years, and apparently cheated on me. So yeah, I’d say I’m in the clear to call her trouble. (Pointing to the makeshift curtain) Will that do?

WIL: What about you?

TONY: Gonna keep working. Making notes.

WIL: Thought you hated headphones.

TONY: Thus the roommate troubles.

WIL: You’re gonna be dead tomorrow.

TONY: Sandwich delivery ain’t exactly a science.

TONY goes back to the turntable, and puts on the headphones. WIL takes a deep breath. Pause.

WIL: You know she wasn’t cheating.

TONY: (taking off the headphones) What?

WIL: She’s kind of messed up sometimes, but she’s not the one who skipped town. I’m just saying. People are asking.

TONY: Asking what?

WIL: Just want to know you’re all right, I guess.

TONY: I’m all right. (pause) Why are you here?

WIL: You wanted some vinyl.

TONY: Yeah, but not all this baggage. Jesus, no wonder Homeland Security  stopped you. Taking all this junk on the plane. You have something to say, just say it.

WIL: (of the record) Hold on. You gotta hear this.

WIL goes to the turntable. He turns the volume up until it can be heard softly through the headphones.

TONY: Careful now.

WIL: Shh, it’s cool, just – listen.

TONY: What?

WIL: Just… (pause) Everyone knows it’s yours.

TONY: Okay. (beat) So what if it is?

WIL unplugs the headphones. The room fills with sound. TONY tries to stop it, but WIL pushes him back. They fight. When the song ends, all that can be heard is a loud pounding on the bedroom door.