‘Night, Mother (1983)

by Marsha Norman

Drama, One Act

89 pages

Beginning:

Mama: Jessie, it’s the last snowball, sugar. Put it on the list, O.K.? And we’re out of Hershey bars, and where’s that peanut brittle? I think maybe Dawson’s been in it again. I ought to put a big mirror on the refrigerator door. That’ll keep him out of my treats, won’t it? You hear me, honey? I hate it when the coconut falls off. Why does the coconut fall off?

Somewhere in the middle:

Mama: Jessie, how can I live here without you? I need you! You’re supposed to tell me to stand up straight and say how nice I look in my pink dress, and drink my milk. You’re supposed to go around and lock up so I know we’re safe for the night, and when I wake up, you’re supposed to be out there making the coffee and watching me get older every day, and you’re supposed to help me die when the time comes. I can’t do that by myself, Jessie. I’m not like you, Jessie. I hate the quiet and I don’t want to die and I don’t want you to go, Jessie. How can I—How can I get up every day knowing you had to kill yourself to make it stop hurting and I was here all the time and I never even saw it. And then you gave me this chance to make it better, convince you to stay alive, and I couldn’t do it. How can I live with myself after this, Jessie?

End:

Mama: Loretta, let me talk to Dawson, honey.