My G.o.d--his back!

JONATHAN

My back's broken, Hank.

HANK

Listen, he's saying my name. We wuz pals, sure nuff.

JONATHAN

My back's broken, Hank.

[_The curtain has risen unnoticed._

_A faint light that grows steadily brighter as light does when one comes out of a swoon discloses Jonathan and Hank seated on a log at the left of the stage, where the bench had been. Jonathan seems much older, and he is crooked and dirty and unkempt, and Hank is somewhat brutalised, less negative._

JONATHAN

My back's broken, Hank.

[_Hank looks at him._

Tired?

HANK

Sure....

JONATHAN

I think Uncle Nathaniel would help me if he saw me.

HANK

He couldn't do nothin' for you. You can't straighten a crooked back....

JONATHAN

Hank, I'm tired of this and I'm going back.

HANK

Going back where?

JONATHAN

I'm going back home.

HANK

Your Uncle John won't let you in.

JONATHAN

Uncle Nathaniel will take me in.

HANK

He ain't there no more and besides he won't know you.

JONATHAN

Honest--don't you think he would?

HANK

Sure, he wouldn't.

JONATHAN

I wish I hadn't run away.

HANK

If you don't quit wishing I'll run away from you.

JONATHAN

You wouldn't leave me, would you, Hank?

HANK

Sure, I'd leave you.... What do you think I am--a wishing stone?... I want peace, I do.... An' your wishing's disturbing my peace.... Every day fer six years you squeal about what you done.... Your Uncle John swatted you and you burned your theatre things and jumped out o' the window and broke your back and I saved you....

JONATHAN

I can't do anything with a broken back!

HANK

What do you want to do anything for?

JONATHAN

Sometimes I'd like to write a little.

HANK