Marty enters kitchen. Brother, Dave, and sister are eating breakfast. Brother giving sister grief about messages from her different boyfriends.
What the hell is going on here?
Sleep in your clothes again, Marty?
Yeah… what are you wearing Dave?
Marty—I always I wear a suit to the office.
(Pulls on lapels)
Though, why I still live with my parents is anyone’s guess—not even my fancy suit and $30,000 a year can figure that one out.
My therapist says it’s a self-sabotaging coping skill, because I grew up with an incessant fear that my mother wanted to sleep with my brother, and my father—even while being aware of her desire—still favored my brother… Well, you, Marty. It’s like he even looks up to you.
(Takes dishes to sink)
So, while one part of me was driven to succeed—with the drive of my mother and the intellect of my father—another part of me has never let me fully grow up. It’s as if a traumatized inner-child is clutching me, dragging me back to the nest in an effort to keep the family together… while protecting my parents from their own character defects.
(Bites into a donut)
Marty looks at Linda, who is oblivious to anything Dave is saying.
(Dave leans into Marty)
I will tell you, as you probably overheard, that our sister is much safer living here. She has so much going for her… and inside her as well. She is so talented, so bright… so insatiable.
Yeah—I’ll keep that in mind…
Alright, well gotta get to work—I’m team leader on a new product called a “fax machine.”
(Stops and turns)
Ya know, you really should sleep in something more comfortable. Bedtime is important.
It’s called self-care.