The President's Chair

Stage Right: Interior, apartment living room. A man sits slouched on a loveseat facing a TV screen. He is wearing a headset. The muffled sound of yelling tells us that his volume is louder than necessary. The coffee table is filled with books that vary in thickness. Along the back wall we see a light through a door frame with the sound of pots and pans rattling and a woman's voice humming.

A figure appears at the door to the right of the stage, carrying a package before placing it on the ground and pushing the doorbell. The figure leaves.

Susan: from the kitchen Honey, could you get that?

David: lifting the headphones off one ear Sorry, what?

Susan: The door.

David: What about it?

Susan: Someone is at the door.

David: Probably just the post office.

Susan: I know, can you get it?

David grunts and puts his controller down, the screen's flickering ceasing to indicate pausing. He pulls himself from his chair and trudges to the door, grumbling, before opening the door. There is no one save for the aforementioned package. David takes the package inside, straining due to its weight, setting it down on the coffee table. It is one foot in height, width, and depth.

David takes the video game controller and headset, placing the latter around his neck. He hesitates to begin playing before setting the controller down and walking to the kitchen door.

David: Hey.

Susan: Hey, almost done.

David: Can I help?

Susan: If you want to get bowls and silverware, that would be great.

David nods and disappears behind the wall to the kitchen. We hear the rattle of drawers and cabinets, then the distinct sound of plates and cutlery. Lights dim.

Stage left: Low lights rise on the other side of the wall.

Night, exterior. We see a man standing in a wooded glen, a tree stump before him with naturally twisted branches. There is a light snow and the man is bundled in an overcoat and scarf, visibly uncomfortable. A shovel lays next to him, as well as a gas canister. He pulls out a phone and shakes as he dials, the light illuminating his nervousness.

Stage Right: Lights rise. David returns to the living room and places bowls and cutlery on the books on the coffee table, before checking his watch and sitting back down in his chair, picking up the controller. His phone begins to ring but he does not notice.

Figure: Come on Davie.

David continues to play, mumbling to himself.

Susan: David?

David: frustrated Yeah sweetie?

Susan: Your phone.

David looks down at the coffee table and snatches his phone, pausing his game. He does not appear to recognize the number. The phone stops.

Figure: I’ll get back to that one. He begins dialing the phone again, but this time David’s phone does not ring. Hey Kate. The figure continues talking but we cannot make out his words. Lights dim on the left of the stage, leaving only the right half of the stage visible.

Susan exits the kitchen carrying a cooking pot with a ladle in it. She is covered in food stains from tonight's meal.

David: Hang on. He proceeds to remove the books and place them on the ground beside the table. Susan places the pot on the table and sits down in the chair next to David, a tired look on her face. David ladles out what appears to be chili into one of the bowls.

David: I love it when you make this.

Susan: And I love making it. Super easy, super healthy.

David: I just wish I liked beans…

Susan: When you cook, you can make it the way you like it. I wanted beans.

David: I can eat around them. Just a…

Susan: smiling A texture thing. I know, I know.

David smiles and takes her hand.

David: Thank you.

Susan: You're welcome. She ladles some chili for herself.

They both relax the bowls of food resting in their laps.

Both: So what was…

Light laughter and apologies from both.

Susan: Go ahead.

David: No, you go. I interrupted. He begins to rummage through his chili, picking out beans before taking a bite.

Susan: Fine. Who was that on the phone?

David: Swallows No Idea. They didn't leave a message.

Susan: Telemarketers.

David: Freaking telemarketers.

They sit and eat together for a moment.

Susan: What were you going to ask?

David: Oh, right. What did you order?

Susan: Sorry?

David: The box. You didn’t order anything?

Susan: Not recently. I mean, there’s something for my mom coming in, but I ordered it today so it shouldn't be in already.

David: puts his bowl down and gets up to take the box, setting it in front of him. Whatever it is is heavy as all get out.

Susan: So you didn't order anything either? Don't open it.

David: I’m just looking at the return address. He looks down and his eyes grow concerned. That…can’t be right.

Susan: What can't be right?

The phone rings. Both David and Susan jump. Lights rise on the figure in the woods, the ringing filling the space. David looks at the phone in his hand then back at the box. He answers.

David: Hello? Who am I speaking with?

The sound of the man in the woods’ breathing fills the stage. From this point on, his voice is heard through the filter of the phone, though we can see his actions. Susan cannot hear the figure's words.

Figure: breathing heavily. Hey Davie.

David: Pauses, his body growing stiff. Paul?

Paul: How’s it going, bud?

David: It's good man! Covers the phone and turns to Susan. Old friend from back home. Back to the phone. How's it going with you? Been a bit!

Paul: chuckling Yeah, it has. I’m…alive I guess. Can’t complain too much.

David: Well what can I do you for this fine evening?

Paul: I assume you got my package?

There is a pause where only the wind can be heard over the phone.

David: Uh, yeah, I guess I did. That was yours?

Paul: Technically it's yours.

David: Ha ha.

Paul does not laugh.

David: Okaaay. Did you find something I loaned you? Wait, it's my copy of "The Long Halloween" isn't it? No, the box is too heavy. Did I lend you a bowling ball that I don't remember owning?

Pause.

Paul: No, no bowling balls.

David: Well I have no idea. I can open it if you want to hear my reaction.

Paul: No, I don't need to hear it. I’ll know when you do.

Another moment of silence.

Susan: Everything ok? David gestures that it is.

Paul: I’m at the President’s Chair, Davie.

There is another pause.

David: What?

Paul: I'm at The President's Chair.

David: You can’t…you're not supposed to be there Paul. Mom and Dad sold the property a year ago. You can’t be there.

Paul: I know. I just needed to do this one thing.

David: So you went to The President’s Chair and what, dug it up? Why?

Paul: I didn't want it to keep going.

David: It isn't. It wont. Jesus man, we were kids!

Paul: I know.

David: We didn't know any better.

Paul: I know.

David: his voice is growing more and more intense Why would you go digging it all up? Why bring this to me now man? I grew up and moved on. Its not ours to deal with, ok? New owners, their problems.

Paul breaths.

Paul: I'm happy for you Davie. Good for you leaving it behind. But I can't.

Both breathing heavy.

David: I’m…I’m sorry Paul. Ok?

No response.

David: Paul?

Silence.

David: softly What's in the box, Paul?

Pause.

Paul: Nothing.

The call ends and lights fade on Paul. David pulls the phone away from his ear and begins trying to redial the previous number.

Susan: What is The President’s Chair?

David: Looking up Some dumb game we played as kids. Come on you piece of…

The phone rings twice before the sound of the computer kicks in.

Operator: We’re sorry, but the number you have dialed has been disconnected. David tries again

David: You don’t get to drop it off like this and just leave me with some cryptic message about being there…

Ringing.

Operator: We’re sorry, but the number you have dialed has been disconnected.

Susan: Sounds a bit intense. Were you…pretending to be presidents?

David slouches down, his eyes fixated on the package. He sighs and brings his hand to his head.

David: When we were kids…like five or four years old, my parents had a five acre property out in central Texas.

Susan: I noticed you started having an accent.

David nods sullenly.

David: In the back was a small forest. Cedar trees mainly. We built trails and explored all the time. It wasn't much but to our imaginations, it was perfect. Run out there with the dogs, or race each other on our bikes.

David pauses to look at his phone, hoping that it will work a third time. It does not and we are treated to the same sing-song voice of the automated message:

Operator: We’re sorry, but the number you have dialed ha…

David tosses the phone on the table before it can finish.

David: In the far left corner of the woods, we found a stump. Weird shape. Looked kinda like a throne of sorts. We decided to name it after the most important position we could think of. Problem was, we didn't know what rulers were called in other countries, so we used President as the moniker. No idea that Presidents don't sit on thrones or stumps. We also decided that it was the creepiest part of the forest and began actively avoiding it when we went exploring, especially at night.

Susan: Was it haunted? She waves her hands spookily.

David: In the same way a monster is under your bed. It was scary because we were kids and we said it was scary.

Susan: So why this face then? She gestures to David’s face.

David takes a deep breath.

David: When we were older, like maybe nine, one of our friends saw a movie where the main villain was something called “the nothing.”

Susan: Like in “The Never Ending Story”?

David: Maybe. I didn't see it. Mom was super conservative and said we couldn't watch it. Don't remember why, but she wouldn't let us watch a lot of classics.

Susan: Right. I remember that was the case with you and “The Goonies”.

David: Same basic idea. Either it was too scary or had too many curse words. I dunno. Whatever the reason, our friend was singing its praises and began describing this thing called “nothing.” But when she tried to explain it, she just kept using the word: nothing. Nothing is nothing. “What does it look like?” “It looks like nothing.” “But what form does it take?” “Nothing. It doesn't have a form.” Our minds just couldn't accept it. So she eventually told us it was a jar with the scariest things we could think of. Seemed to placate us.

Susan: I think it was a cloud or storm. In the movie that is.

David: Really? Never saw it. He picks up the phone again.

Susan: So what happened?

David shrugs.

David: One day, Paul told us he wasn't doing too great. He came by, all somber, and told us that he wanted to do something. Something involving The President's Chair. He said we should all meet there, the five of us: Toby, Katie, Paul, Myself, and my brother, Jack. We were to bring a jar from home and to whisper into the jar all the things that scared us the most. Put our “Nothings” in the jars and then bury them in the woods under that stupid stump.

David picks up the chili and takes another bite, this time not worried about the beans.

David: We did just that. All of us. And the next day, Paul was gone. Didn't see him for a bit. Didn't hear from him. Was just gone. David puts the chili down again, leaning back in his chair. Rumor was that he was in witness protection. Or that he had died. But…

He looks away, his face wracked with something he does not want to describe.

Susan: Dave…

David: I got pulled into the principal’s office that week by two agents from CPS. They asked if I had noticed anything weird. If I had heard anything strange going on. If I had heard about an incident with Paul and his…uncle I think.

Susan: Oh my god.

David: Yeah. I never found out exactly what they wanted to know or if Paul was ok. But you know how rumors go. Just a little spark and they spread like wildfire. What I do know is that Paul's uncle died in a car accident a week later. They had a private funeral, no guests other than immediate family. David gets up and turns off the TV manually, followed by the game system. There were no charges filed, no reports in the newspaper, nothing. Just us in elementary school, shooting rumors left and right, never to be sure which ones were true.

Susan: I mean…poor Paul.

David: Yeah. He pauses and looks down at the ground. The rumors started spreading about his friend group. Us. Me and my brother. Rumors that maybe we knew what happened and were hiding the truth. So, we did what any kid does when scared: we lied. Made up a story about how his uncle had been doing…stuff.

Susan: But wasn't he doing stuff?

David: We didn't know for sure, and even if we did, we really had no business telling that to others.

Susan: You were kids.

David puts his hands in his pocket.

David: I know that. Intellectually, I know that. But damage is damage. And once that fire starts, you can’t just put it out. When Paul did return to school, that's the rumor that was waiting for him. That's what his so-called friends had done. Didn't matter that there was no evidence or that he was the victim in all of it, the story was already in place: he was the kid who got molested by his uncle.

A very pregnant pause ensues.

Susan: David…

David: Definitely makes it feel more real saying all that. Wow, that feels wrong. Ok. So that was the first thing I knew. His uncle died shortly after the investigation. After we buried our jars.

Susan: Is there a second thing?

David: Yeah, the second thing was when we buried the “nothings,” I could have been mistaken, but it didn't look like Paul’s jar was empty. I don't know what it was, but it seemed to be full of something dark, something…I don't know. It just wasn't full of whispers like ours were. I asked him one day, after the rumors had been spread nice and thick, and I had worked up the courage to face him. I asked him what he put in that jar. And you know what he said?

Susan: Nothing?

David: Nothing. Like, he said the word: “nothing.” Then he turned and left. And that was the last I heard of him until tonight.

There is silence between the two, as Susan looks down at her bowl and pours it back into the pot.

Susan: So, do you want to open the box?

David: What? No. I mean…

He grows quiet.

Susan: It sounds like you are holding onto the guilt or shame for the mistakes of a nine year old. It caused damage but maybe whatever Paul sent you is supposed to make amends?

David: Amends?

Susan: I don’t know. Maybe?

David: I…no, just throw it away. I don't need whatever he dug up from the stump of a dead tree. I…just toss it.

David retreats to the kitchen, leaving Susan with the box. After a moment of hesitation, she picks up the box and gently pulls its lid open, one flap at a time. When the box is opened completely, her eyes grow wide and her breath catches. As she does this…

Stage left: the figure of Paul can be seen hunched over, as the stump catches fire, growing to engulf the woods around him.

David reenters the living room to see Susan staring into the box.

David: softly with a subtle hint of terror. Well... what is it?

Susan looks up at him slowly. Their eyes lock.

Susan: Nothing.

The fire spreads to cover the entire stage. Lights fade. Close curtains.