Sweat (TCG Edition)

Lynn Nottage

• Publisher: Theatre Communications Group
• Year: 2017
• Print ISBN: 9781559365321
• eBook ISBN: 9781559368544
• Topic: Literature
• Subtopic: American Drama
• Index: Literature

Winner of the 2017 Pulitzer Prize for Drama

Nominee for 3 Tony Awards including Best Play

“Lynn Nottage’s best work. She offers a powerful critique of the American attitude toward class, and how it affects the decisions we make. Sweat has fraternity at its heart, but also the violence, and the suspicion that can result from class aspirations.” –Hilton Als, New Yorker

Lynn Nottage has written one of her most exquisitely devastating tragedies to date. In one of the poorest cities in America, Reading, Pennsylvania, a group of down-and-out factory workers struggle to keep their present lives in balance, ignorant of the financial devastation looming in their near future. Based on Nottage’s extensive research and interviews with residents of Reading, Sweat is a topical reflection of the present and poignant outcome of America’s economic decline.

Lynn Nottage is the recipient of two Pulitzer Prize Awards for Drama for Sweat and Ruined. She is the first woman playwright to be honored twice. Her other plays include Intimate Apparel; By the Way, Meet Vera Stark; Fabulation, or the Re-Education of Undine; Crumbs from the Table of Joy; and Las Meninas.

ACT ONE

SCENE 1

September 29, 2008

Outside it’s 72°F.

In the news: The 63rd session of the United Nations General Assembly convenes. The Dow Jones Industrial Average falls 778.68 points, marking the largest single-day decline in stock market history. Reading residents sample fresh apple cider at the Annual Fall Festival on Old Dry Road Farm.

Music. Lights up.

Parole office. Spare. Institutional.

Jason (white American, twenty-nine), hair closely shorn. He has a black eye and white supremacist tattoos inked across his face. Evan (African-American, forties), comfortably puffy.

EVAN: So, you got a job?

JASON: Yeah.

EVAN: I’m not gonna run down everything. You know the drill.

JASON: Yeah.

EVAN: So, you’re making pretzels?

JASON: Yeah.

(A moment.)

EVAN: Soft?

JASON: Yeah.

EVAN: Living at the same address?

JASON: Yeah.

EVAN: The mission?

JASON: Yeah, finally got a bed downstairs.

EVAN: That’s real good. I hear that shelter’s pretty clean.

JASON: Yeah, but fucking guys steal. Can’t have nice stuff. But, um, Father Hunt lets me keep my turtles.

(Jason fidgets. Evan assesses.)

EVAN: So. You gonna tell me what happened?

JASON: What?

EVAN: I know you don’t wanna be here. I don’t wanna be here either.

JASON: Yeah, whatever.

EVAN: Don’t whatever me. I’m not one of your stupid friends, let’s be clear about that.

JASON: Whatever.

EVAN: Try me! I’m not playing fucking games. I’ll knock you clear into tomorrow, understood? But, fortunately for you, I don’t have to, you know why? Because I got this pen, and you know what this pen does?

JASON: Yeah—

EVAN: It writes. And, you know what it’s gonna write if you don’t give me more than one- or two-syllable answers? It’s gonna write that you’re belligerent, defiant, reluctant to observe protocol. You understand those words, Jason?

JASON: Yeah.

EVAN (Voice slowly crescendos): It’s gonna write that you have issues with authority that may prove too challenging. This pen could make things very difficult for you, young man. And you know what happens to young men that don’t cooperate? . . . Huh? . . . Huh?

JASON: You asking me?

EVAN: Whatcha think I’m asking—myself? Of course I’m asking you, moron! You want me to ask again?

JASON: No. I don’t need you to ask again.

EVAN: Very good. A sentence. We’re making some progress here. So, what happened?

JASON: I mean . . . I didn’t do shit.

EVAN: So you didn’t do shit, but someone did . . . do shit.

JASON: Uh—

EVAN: And, you gave yourself a black eye and busted lip?

(A moment.)

What happened?

JASON: I got sucker-punched.

EVAN: Cuz—?

JASON: I dunno.

EVAN: Some guy just comes up and hits ya. And you, you didn’t do nothing?

JASON: Nah. Not really. I was in the bathroom at Loco’s.

EVAN: Loco’s?

JASON: Yeah, Loco’s.

EVAN: I’m sorry? Loco’s?

JASON: I can’t go to Loco’s?

EVAN: We’ve talked about Loco’s. Go on.

JASON: This big fucking biker dude, I don’t know ’em, like steps up behind me. He’s like you were looking at my girl. I am so, like, dude, I don’t even know who the fuck your girl is. And he’s wearing these huge rings, both fucking hands, like medieval biker knight.

EVAN: Hmm.

JASON: And . . . then he hits me hard, so hard that I swear to God I see stars. Like Bam! My whole face goes numb. Sparky had to pull ’em off of me.

EVAN: Just because you looked at his girl.

JASON: I didn’t look at his girl, that’s why it’s so fucked up.

EVAN: And if I ask you to piss in this cup, what’s it gonna tell me?

JASON: You don’t gotta believe me, but I’m telling ya the // truth.

EVAN: Okay. There’s the cup.

JASON: What?

EVAN: What do you mean, what?

JASON: C’mon.

EVAN: The cup, pick it up.

JASON: I just got a job. What do you want?

EVAN: I don’t want anything from you, but the state does and it’s my unfortunate job to ensure that you comply.

JASON: Are we gonna do this?

EVAN: Pick it up.

JASON: You are a fucking asshole. Fuck you, nigga!

(A moment. Evan, stone, stares long and hard at Jason.)

(Less committed) Fuck you!

EVAN: Pick it up!

JASON: I ...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Dedication
• Contents
• Special Thanks
• Production History
• Characters
• Setting
• Act One
• Act Two
• About the Author