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anything but tell me I was stupid. Except when he was nice to me. I used to wonder if he was
    going to include me in his big plans but I was too scared to ask. I figured when the time came, he’d take me with him. And he did. (Beat.) But a hundred miles down the road, he decided he didn’t like me anymore. He said I would be the death of him. I don’t wanna be that to anybody. So, when we stopped at a gas station – I got out of the car. And I ran.
    RICARDO. I’m tired of cleaning this place up.
    JUDY. You go on then. Get down to the bus station. I’m sure that boy is waiting for you. You need to tell him about his sister. And Rosie.
    RICARDO. What difference does it make, Judy?
    JUDY. It makes a difference. I know it does.
    RICARDO. People die here all the time. Drunken fights. Jealous lovers. Revenge. (Beat.) Car accidents. 
    JUDY. What happened to Rosie and Britney was no accident, Ricardo.
    RICARDO. Wasn’t it?
    JUDY. Has anyone found Lucille yet? Does she know about Rosie? Someone should tell her.
    RICARDO. It’s late. It won’t be news until tomorrow morning. Right now, it’s too unreal to even comprehend. Maybe that’s my problem. I don’t understand anything. (He exits to the kitchen.)
    JUDY. Don’t you mind him, Linda.
    LINDA. I’m sure he’s upset his friend got killed. I’d be sad, too.
    JUDY. People handle death in different ways. Ricardo’s got a lot on his mind. He’s a very nice man and he’s been very good to me.
    LINDA. Is that why you’re being so nice to me? Because people have been nice to you?
    JUDY. If only that were half true. If it were, I wouldn’t be here.
    LINDA. Where would you be?
    JUDY. I’d be on the outskirts of Tulsa by now.
    LINDA. You want to move to Tulsa?
    JUDY. No. Grand Island has always been my home. But once in a while I get a desire to go someplace new.
    LINDA. So do I. Albert said I had gypsy blood in me. I get restless.
    JUDY. I know what you mean. It’s not that Grand Island is a bad place to be –
    LINDA. It seems like a nice enough place.
    JUDY. Oh, it is. But – well, I met a man a week ago.
    LINDA. A man from Tulsa?
    JUDY. No, but he was heading in that direction. He was passing through.
    LINDA. Why didn’t you go with him?
    JUDY. He asked me to. I should’ve said yes. I don’t want my decision to become a regret. But I think it already has.
    LINDA. Maybe he’ll come back.
    JUDY. Maybe...I guess I’ve grown so accustomed to taking care of my father. He needs me. That’s why I decided to stay behind.
    LINDA. Is he crippled?
    JUDY. No. But he can’t get by on his own.
    LINDA. I used to think the same thing about myself. But I’d rather be caught in a storm than to live underneath my father’s thumb. I don’t care what I have to do, I’m not going back there. I won’t raise my baby in that house, that town.
    JUDY. Hell’s backyard is no place for a baby.
    LINDA. And maybe Grand Island isn’t the right place for you.
    JUDY. I lay awake at night thinking about him. I know that sounds crazy, but I can’t get that man off my mind. I hear his voice while I’m folding the laundry or while I’m making dinner. I stand at the sink, washing dishes and all I can think about is the touch of his hand on the back of my neck. (Amused:) I’ve cracked three glasses and chipped two plates in only seven days. I’m so turned around, I can barely remember my own name. I keep my eyes on the road, waiting for him to appear. Waiting for him to come back for me and take me away from all of this. I sit in that house, day after day and night after night and I am surrounded by memories of my mother. She was a wild woman. She ran off and ended up in the trunk of a car, covered in gasoline and her mouth stuffed with dirty rags, choking the life out of her. She was never a good mother. I don’t think she really liked us much. I think we were always in her way. Like we were a burden. People have never paid me much attention before. They see right through me. But he