(1783. A cold night in Philadelphia. JOHN CLAYPOOLE, a recently released prisoner of war, sits anxiously in BETSY's living room.)BETSY: Thanks for bringing his belongings by, it's nice to have the closure.
CLAYPOOLE: I imagine it must be.
BETSY: You really should consider staying: it's a nightmare out there.
CLAYPOOLE: I couldn't ma'am. I have some family that I need to see up the River.
BETSY: Of course you do. I'm sure your children and wife have been missing you these years. They deserve every minute with you that they can get.
CLAYPOOLE: Yes well, no. Just brothers. And some cousins are there for the season. A camp up the river. We built it.
BETSY: Oh, I'm sorry.
CLAYPOOLE: It's a decent camp for what it is.
BETSY: No, about your family. I just assumed.
CLAYPOOLE: Apologize not. I have a lot to be grateful for.
BETSY: That you do.
CLAYPOOLE: I'm alive aren't I? (Beat.) That was ill-timed.
BETSY: Joseph was my second, you know. My first was John.
CLAYPOOLE: I don't mean to bring this up. It must be late. I should be on my way.
BETSY: Widowed once, it's a tragedy. Widowed twice, it's a curse, right?
CLAYPOOLE: Yes. (Unsure what to say) God's work is something.
BETSY: Oh there I go again, running my mouth. It's not your fault, you couldn't have saved him. I know that. I didn't intend to make you feel uncomfortable about all this. I've had my grieving.
CLAYPOOLE: You don't run your mouth.
BETSY: Thanks, but what else can one say at this juncture?
CLAYPOOLE: He wanted me to meet you. Said we'd all make a night of it one night playing cards. We always talked about it. We'd come to Philadelphia, play a good card game, and drink some great whiskey.
BETSY: Quite the competitor. No match for me of course.
CLAYPOOLE: That's what he said.
BETSY: It's hard to wrap my mind around it.
CLAYPOOLE: I know the sentiment.
BETSY: To sail out one day and never come back like that.
CLAYPOOLE: You know what they say about war.
BETSY: John Claypoole.
CLAYPOOLE: Yes ma'am?
BETSY: Funny name.
CLAYPOOLE: It's the only one I have.
BETSY: It'd mean the world to me if you would come back next week and tell me stories about the final year in the life of my second husband.
CLAYPOOLE: Stories?
BETSY: Anything. What he talked about in there with you, the jokes he tried to pull. The fights. Nothing fancy. Anything will do. Just to fill in the blanks and put this away.
CLAYPOOLE: It would be my pleasure.
BETSY: I must warn you though. You'll be dead by May with my track record.
CLAYPOOLE: Good fortune always comes to those in need.
BETSY: I'm not a fairy tale. I'll be okay.
CLAYPOOLE: I don't mean to bring this up. It must be late. I should be on my way.
BETSY: Widowed once, it's a tragedy. Widowed twice, it's a curse, right?
CLAYPOOLE: Yes. (Unsure what to say) God's work is something.
BETSY: Oh there I go again, running my mouth. It's not your fault, you couldn't have saved him. I know that. I didn't intend to make you feel uncomfortable about all this. I've had my grieving.
CLAYPOOLE: You don't run your mouth.
BETSY: Thanks, but what else can one say at this juncture?
CLAYPOOLE: He wanted me to meet you. Said we'd all make a night of it one night playing cards. We always talked about it. We'd come to Philadelphia, play a good card game, and drink some great whiskey.
BETSY: Quite the competitor. No match for me of course.
CLAYPOOLE: That's what he said.
BETSY: It's hard to wrap my mind around it.
CLAYPOOLE: I know the sentiment.
BETSY: To sail out one day and never come back like that.
CLAYPOOLE: You know what they say about war.
BETSY: John Claypoole.
CLAYPOOLE: Yes ma'am?
BETSY: Funny name.
CLAYPOOLE: It's the only one I have.
BETSY: It'd mean the world to me if you would come back next week and tell me stories about the final year in the life of my second husband.
CLAYPOOLE: Stories?
BETSY: Anything. What he talked about in there with you, the jokes he tried to pull. The fights. Nothing fancy. Anything will do. Just to fill in the blanks and put this away.
CLAYPOOLE: It would be my pleasure.
BETSY: I must warn you though. You'll be dead by May with my track record.
CLAYPOOLE: Good fortune always comes to those in need.
BETSY: I'm not a fairy tale. I'll be okay.
CLAYPOOLE: I should really go. Will you sleep soon?
BETSY: I have some projects to keep me up. Then I'll sleep.
CLAYPOOLE: Thank you for your cake.
BETSY: It's fresh. Welcome back Mr. Claypoole. Enjoy your time up the river.
CLAYPOOLE: Just a few days really. Then I'll be back in the city.
BETSY: So Friday it is.
CLAYPOOLE: Yes. Friday works.
BETSY: Now leave my house before you die too.
CLAYPOOLE: Oh, I'm sorry -
BETSY: Just a game John. My apologies.
CLAYPOOLE: I'll think up those stories.
BETSY: I'd like that.
CLAYPOOLE: Could I grab another loaf of cake for Herbert?
BETSY: Brother?
CLAYPOOLE: Horse.
BETSY: Of course.
BETSY: There you are.
CLAYPOOLE: Goodnight.
BETSY: Until Friday.
(JOHN exits. BETSY returns to her projects.)
BLACKOUT
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