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turning to page one
A room decorated like a birthday cake. Every booth is filled with divorced fathers and their young daughters. Margot sits across from Royal. Royal is dressed in his elevator-operator uniform. A waiter stands next to him.
ROYAL
I want to order some ice cream for my
daughter, please. What would you like,
Margot?
MARGOT
I told you. Nothing. I only have five
minutes.
Royal looks frustrated. Margot sighs.
MARGOT (CONT’D)
I’ll have a butterscotch sundae, I
guess.
The waiter nods and walks away. Silence.
ROYAL
Your brother’s all torn up inside.
MARGOT
(hesitates)
Well, so am I, but I’m not going to
discuss it with you.
Royal sighs. He leans across the table and says urgently:
ROYAL
Can’t someone be a shit their whole life
and want to repair the damage? I mean,
I think people want to hear that.
MARGOT
Do they?
Royal nods. Silence.
MARGOT (CONT’D)
You probably don’t even know my middle
name.
ROYAL
(pause)
It’s a trick question. You don’t have
one.
MARGOT
Helen.
ROYAL
(surprised)
That was my mother’s name.
MARGOT
(sadly)
I know it was.