PROOF

ACT TWO

Scene 1

ROBERT is alone on the porch. He sits quietly, enjoying a drink, the quiet, the September afternoon. A notebook nearby, unopened. He closes his eyes, apparently dozing. It is four years earlier than the events in Act One. CATHERINE enters quietly. She stands behind her father for a moment.

ROBERT: Hello.

CATHERINE: How did you know I was here?

ROBERT: I heard you.

CATHERINE: I thought you were asleep.

ROBERT: On an afternoon like this? No.

CATHERINE: Do you need anything?

ROBERT: No.

CATHERINE: I’m going to the store.

ROBERT: What’s for dinner?

CATHERINE: What do you want?

ROBERT: Not spaghetti.

CATHERINE: All right.

ROBERT: Disgusting stuff.

CATHERINE: That’s what I was going to make.

ROBERT: I had a feeling. Good thing I spoke up. You make it too much.

CATHERINE: What do you want?

ROBERT: What do you have a taste for?

CATHERINE: Nothing.

ROBERT: Nothing at all?

CATHERINE: I don’t care. I thought pasta would be easy.

ROBERT: Pasta, oh God, don’t even say the word “pasta.” It sounds so hopeless, like surrender:“Pasta would be easy.” Yes, yes, it would. Pasta. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a euphemism people invented when they got sick of eating spaghetti.

CATHERINE: Dad, what do you want to eat?

ROBERT: I don’t know.

CATHERINE: Well I don’t know what to get.

ROBERT: I’ll shop.

CATHERINE: No.

ROBERT: I’ll do it.

CATHERINE: No, Dad, rest.

ROBERT: I wanted to take a walk anyway.

CATHERINE： Are you sure?

ROBERT: Yes. What about a walk to the lake? You and me.

CATHERINE: All right.

ROBERT: I would love to go to the lake. Then on the way home we’ll stop at the store, see what jumps out at us.

CATHERINE: It’s warm. It would be nice, if you’re up for it.

ROBERT: You’re damn right I’m up for it. We’ll work up an appetite. Give me ten seconds, let me put this stuff away and we’re out the door.

CATHERINE: I’m going to school.

ROBERT: When?

CATHERINE: I’m gonna start at Northwestern at the end of the month.

ROBERT: Northwestern?

CATHERINE: They were great about my credits. They’re taking me in as a sophomore. I wasn’t sure when to talk to you about it.

ROBERT: Northwestern?

CATHERINE: Yes.

ROBERT: What’s wrong with Chicago?

CATHERINE: You still teach there. I’m sorry, it’s too weird, taking classes in your department.

ROBERT: It s a long drive.

CATHERINE: Not that long, half an hour.

ROBERT: Still, twice a day…

CATHERINE: Dad, I’d live there.

(Beat.)

ROBERT: You’d actually want to live in Evanston?

CATHERINE: Yes. I’ll still be close. I can come home whenever you want. You’ve been well—really well—for almost seven months. I don’t think you need me here every minute of the day.

(Beat.)

ROBERT: This is all a done deal? You’re in.

CATHERINE: Yes.

ROBERT: You’re sure.

CATHERINE: Yes.

ROBERT: Who pays for it?

CATHERINE: They’re giving me a free ride, Dad. They’ve been great.

ROBERT: On tuition, sure. What about food, books, clothes, gas, meals out—do you plan to have a social life?

CATHERINE: I don’t know.

ROBERT: You gotta pay your own way on dates, at least the early dates, say the first three, otherwise they expect something.

CATHERINE: The money will be fine. Claire’s gonna help out.

ROBERT: When did you talk to Claire?

CATHERINE: I don't know, a couple weeks ago.

ROBERT: You talk to her before you talk to me?

CATHERINE: There were a lot of details to work out. She was great, she offered to take care of all the expenses.

ROBERT: This is a big step. A different city—

CATHERINE: It’s not even a long-distance phone call.

ROBERT: It’s a huge place. They’re serious up there. I mean serious. Yeah the football’s a disaster but the math guys don’t kid around. You haven’t been in school. You sure you’re ready? You can get buried up there.

CATHERINE: I’ll be all right.

ROBERT: You’re way behind.

CATHERINE: I know.

ROBERT: A year, at least.

CATHERINE: Thank you, I know. Look, I don’t know if this is a good idea. I don’t know if I can handle the work. I don’t know if I can handle any of it.

ROBERT: For Chrissake, Catherine, you should have talked to me.

CATHERINE: Dad. Listen. If you ever…if for any reason it ever turned out that you needed me here full-time again—

ROBERT: I won’t. That’s not—

CATHERINE: I can always take a semester off, or—

ROBERT: No. Stop it. I just—the end of the month? Why didn’t you say something before?

CATHERINE: Dad, come on. It took a while to set this up, and until recently, until very recently, you weren’t—

ROBERT: You just said yourself I’ve been fine.

CATHERINE: Yes, but I didn’t know—I hoped, but I didn’t know, no one knew if this would last. I told myself to wait until I was sure about you. That you were feeling okay again. Consistently okay.

ROBERT: So I’m to take this conversation as a vote of confidence? I’m honored.

CATHERINE: Take it however you want. I believed you’d get better.

ROBERT: Well thank you very much.

CATHERINE: Don’t thank me. I had to. I was living with you.

ROBERT: All right, that’s enough, Catherine. Let’s stay on the subject.

CATHERINE: This is the subject! There were library books upstairs stacked up to the ceiling, do you remember that? You were trying to decode messages—

ROBERT: The fucking books are gone, I took them back myself. Why do you bring that garbage up?

(Knocking offstage. Beat. CATHERINE goes inside to answer the door. She returns with HAL. He carries a manila envelope. He is nervous.)

ROBERT: Mr. Dobbs.

HAL: Hi. I hope it’s not a bad time.

ROBERT: Yes it is, actually, you couldn’t have picked worse.

HAL: Oh, I uh—

ROBERT: You interrupted an argument.

HAL: I’m sorry. I can come back.

ROBERT: It’s all right. We needed a break.

HAL: Are you sure?

ROBERT: Yes. The argument was about dinner. We don’t know what to eat. What’s your suggestion?

(A beat while HAL is on the spot.)

HAL: Uh, there’s a great pasta place not too far from here.

ROBERT: No!

CATHERINE: (with ROBERT) That is a brilliant idea.

ROBERT: Oh dear Jesus God, no.

CATHERINE: (with ROBERT) What’s it called? Give me the address.

ROBERT: No! Sorry. Wrong answer, but thank you for trying.

(HAL stands there, looking at both of them.)

HAL: I can come back.

ROBERT: Stay. (To CATHERINE) Where are you going?

CATHERINE: INSIDE.

ROBERT: What about dinner?

CATHERINE: What about him?

ROBERT: What are you doing here, Dobbs?

HAL: My timing sucks. I am really sorry.

ROBERT: Don’t be silly.

HAL: I’ll come to your office.

ROBERT: Stop. Sit down. Glad you’re here. Don’t let the dinner thing throw you, you’ll bounce back. (To CATHERINE) This should be easier. Let’s back off the problem, let it breathe, come at it again when it’s not looking.

CATHERINE: Fine. (Exiting) Excuse me.

ROBERT: Sorry, I’m rude. Hal, this is my daughter Catherine. (To CATHERINE) Don’t go, have a drink with us. Catherine, Harold Dobbs.

CATHERINE: Hi.

HAL: Hi.

ROBERT: Hal is a grad student. He’s doing his Ph.D., very promising stuff. Unfortunately for him, his work coincided with my return to the department and he got stuck with me.

HAL: No, no, it’s been— I’ve been very lucky.

CATHERINE: How long have you been at U. of C.?

HAL: Well I’ve been working on my thesis for—

ROBERT: Hal’s in our “Infinite” program. As he approaches completion of his dissertation, time approaches infinity. Would you like a drink, Hal?

HAL: Yes I would. And uh, with all due respect . . .

(HAL hands ROBERT the envelope.)

ROBERT: Really? (He opens it and looks inside.) You must have had an interesting few months.

HAL: (Cheerfully) Worst summer of my life.

ROBERT: Congratulations.

HAL: It’s just a draft. Based on everything we talked about last spring. (ROBERT pours a drink. HAL babbles.) I wasn’t sure if I should wait till the quarter started, or if I should give it to you now, or hold off, do another draft, but I figured fuck it, I, I mean I just . . . let’s just get it over with, so I thought I’d just come over and see if you were home, and—

ROBERT: Drink this.

HAL: Thanks. (He drinks.) I decided, I don’t know, if it feels done, maybe it is.

ROBERT: Wrong. If it feels done, there are major errors.

HAL: Uh, I—

ROBERT: That’s okay, that’s good, we’ll find them and fix them. Don’t worry. You’re on your way to a solid career, you’ll be teaching younger, more irritating versions of yourself in no time.

HAL: Thank you.

ROBERT: Catherine’s in the math department at Northwestern, Hal.

(CATHERINE looks up, startled.)

HAL: Oh, who are you working with?

CATHERINE: I’m just starting this fall. Undergrad.

ROBERT: She’s starting in . . . three weeks?

CATHERINE: A little more.

(Beat.)

ROBERT: They have some good people at Northwestern. O’Donohue. Kaminsky.

CATHERINE: Yes.

ROBERT: They will work your ass off.

CATHERINE: I know.

ROBERT: You’ll have to run pretty hard to catch up.

CATHERINE: I think I can do it.

ROBERT: Of course you can. (Beat.)

HAL: You must be excited.

CATHERINE: I am.

HAL: First year of school can be great.

CATHERINE: YEAH?

HAL: Sure, all the new people, new places, getting out of the house.

CATHERINE: (Embarrassed) YES.

HAL: (Embarrassed) OR, NO, I—

ROBERT: Absolutely, getting the hell out of here, thank God, it’s about time. I’ll be glad to see the back of her.

CATHERINE: You will?

ROBERT: Of course. Maybe I want to have the place to myself for a while, did that ever occur to you? (To HAL) It’s awful the way children sentimentalize their parents. (To CATHERINE) We could use some quiet around here.

CATHERINE: Oh don’t worry, I’ll come back. I’ll be here every Sunday cooking up big vats of pasta to last you through the week.

ROBERT: And I’ll drive up, strut around Evanston, embarrass you in front of your classmates.

CATHERINE: Good. So we’ll be in touch.

ROBERT: Sure. And if you get stuck with a problem, give me a call.

CATHERINE: Okay. Same to you.

ROBERT: Fine. Make sure to get me your number. (To HAL) I’m actually looking forward to getting some work done.

HAL: Oh, what are you working on?

ROBERT: Nothing. (Beat.) Nothing at the moment. Which I m glad of, really . This is the time of year when you don t want to be tied down to anything. You want to be outside. I love Chicago in September. Perfect skies. Sailboats on the water. Cubs losing. Warm, the sun still hot…with the occasional blast of Arctic wind to keep you on your toes, remind you of winter. Students coming back, bookstores full, everybody busy.I was in a bookstore yesterday. Completely full, students buying books... browsing...Students do a hell of a lot of browsing, don’t they? Just browsing.  You see them shuffling around with their backpacks, goofing off, taking up space. You’d call it loitering except every once in a while they pick up a book and flip the pages: “browsing.” I admire it. It’s an honest way to kill an afternoon. In the back of a used bookstore, or going through a crate of somebody’s old record albums—not looking for anything, just looking, what the hell, touching the old book jackets, seeing what somebody threw out, seeing what they underlined...Maybe you find something great, like an old thriller with a painted cover from the forties, or a textbook one of your professors used when he was a student—his name is written in it very carefully... Yeah, I like it. I like watching the students. Wondering what they’re gonna buy, what they’re gonna read. What kind of ideas they’ll come up with when they settle down and get to work . . .I’m not doing much right now. It does get harder. It’s a stereotype that happens to be true, unfortunately for me— unfortunately for you, for all of us.

CATHERINE: Maybe you’ll get lucky.

ROBERT: Maybe I will. Maybe you’ll pick up where I left off.