The phone man said the best that we could get was a party line. No real privacy – ever. I was dumbfounded. “There’s no real privacy on them other lines neither,” said Mr. Sterling, the phone man. “You just think there is.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Arnold told me, right in the phone man’s presence. “We’ll get our phone through the Internet like all sane people. The land line is only for emergencies.”
Sometimes when the phone rang we weren’t supposed to answer it because it wasn’t our “ring”. Maybe Arnold can ignore a ringing phone: I can’t. Especially if it goes off in the middle of the night. No counting a “ring pattern” there – not with the echoes of sleep rattling through your head.
“Who could be calling at this hour?” I demanded of my husband. Rhetorically.
But he said, “Cows. Bears.” In his dream or on the phone?
As usual it was up to me to answer it. “Hello?” I quavered. A sharp intake of breath but no one spoke. I
had played this game before. Could we have brought our own ghosts with us?
‘That you, Gayle?” I boldly inquired. “Just checking up on us? We’re fine. The baby’s fine. Arnold says hi.”
155 – Awake Till the End – Stories by Alysse Aallyn
It was only afterwards that I wondered if the caller was my uncle’s “housekeeper”. The unpaid one he swore would be compensated in his will. Who else would be angry enough to hound us? And there was always the possibility that it was my uncle himself, wanting to complain about the way I’d spent his money. It would be just like the stupid dead to initiate calls they can’t complete.
FIVE – MEATSAFE
Our first visitors came when before we were ready (as visitors will). Before the cable was connected. Willette had streaked her hair with an unbecoming dissipated rock star red which, considering her coal black eyebrows and pointed chin made her resemble Sarah Bernhardt in her coffin. She had two legs, however. Willette had always been High Maintenance. Compared with her, Stan, a little plumper, somewhat balder now, seemed refreshingly cooperative and easily amused. In honor of our upstate move he wore a sweaters with a vaguely Chistmassy theme.
“Snowflakes! Moose!” he genially exclaimed. “What’s not to like?”
“You’re not missing anything in the city,” said Willette. “We’ve been burgled.”
take?” Stan. “Better glasses don’t help.”
“Omigod,” I sympathized, “What did they “A Cuisinart and my reading glasses,” said “Those instructions are rough,” I agreed.
“We told the cops to be on the lookout for a bandit with severe left eye astigmatism,” Stan joked.
“Not that they’ll look,” said Willette gloomily. “They never do.”
“Until the guy kills somebody,” agreed Arnold.
“They don’t even care about that now,” asserted Willette. “They bargain murders down to “accidents” just to skew their crime statistics. Fighting crime from a desk chair.”
“Nice work if you can get it,” echoed Arnold, a sociable host refilling wineglasses.
They had been stuck in traffic so we were dining at nine-thirty, a distinct hardship for anyone with my raging metabolism. I had eaten the cheese and crackers all by myself and was forced to smack together some distinctly unappetizing crudités. Zucchini slices with sour cream, anyone? Fortunately it didn’t matter. They wanted dinner and dinner itself hardly mattered because the dining room was so dark. Without windows, but six doors, there were constant and mysteriously unaccountable drafts; the candles slanting first one way and then the other. Over Martel and coffee conversation languished. No Martel for me. No wine. I was trying to be good. Trying to be good does not a dinner party make.
“I know,” I roused myself. “Let’s play
Icicle.”
“Icicle?” they all wanted to know. “How do you play that?”
“One person hides and everyone goes looking for him. When you find him you have to squeeze in as close as you can get. Last person left is the icicle.”
“That’s sardines!” scoffed Arnold. “I’ve played that.”
But Willette was intrigued. “Good game for this house,” she said. “We’ll find cubbyholes and corners even you haven’t seen.”
“I’m warning you, I’m the world-class champion sardines player,” said Stan. “I once won hanging for an hour in a garment bag.”
With a challenge like that, he had to go first.
“Basement off limits!” shouted Arnold. “It’s dangerous down there.” Was that an implied waiver of danger elsewhere? We listened to his footfalls clatter up the stairs and wander overhead.
“Sounds like there are three of him,” said Willette. Of course we weren’t bothering to count.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” I teased. “Real estate agent says this house is haunted.”
Willette seemed unintimidated. Stan I could have impressed.
“Our refrigerator tried to eat the delivery man,” said Arnold, getting into the spirit. “Both recovered and doing fine.”
“And there’s kind of a bad smell coming from Arnold’s study.” I suggested.
Arnold gave me A Look. Ooo, snap! Talk about burning with a cold fire! I pulled out the Big Guns. “Oswald Pewlett saw a fireball.”
“I feel a fireball coming on myself,” said Arnold, shaking the empty Martel bottle.
“Maybe it’s an animus.” said Willette. “You know, like a malignant spirit that attaches itself to unfinished business.”
I didn’t know. Upstairs a door slammed. Hard. We took that as a starter’s pistol. I let the others rush straight upstairs, elbowing each other like a middle- school recess, pretended at first to follow, then ducking behind a door.
World Champion Stan could not make it this easy for us, not even in an unfamiliar house. If it was me I would make a lot of noise going up the front stairs and then sneak quietly down the back. How he slammed that door I don’t know, but it doesn’t sound difficult with our drafts. If you balanced something on it and opened a window…
Outside had to be off-limits. I heard an unpleasant rustling in the rhododendrons. Think far enough outside the box, fall off the edge. I allowed myself to be seduced by the kitchen broom closet. It’s as narrow as an ironing board but runs the depth of the room, thus making an ideal crawlspace. And there was someone inthere. I could hear him breathing. “Is that you, Stan?”
The shadow rippled towards me. “I’ve missed you, Sharl.” That could have been my sigh, me just talking to myself. But then the voice spoke unmistakably and said the most surprising thing: “Time has no meaning.”
That’s not a message I would ever give myself, and it was my uncle’s voice, I swear it. I backed out in a panic, slammed the door so hard the doorknob fell off. The ghost was locked in, ha ha. Serves him right for refusing to play dead.
Willette and Arnold were upstairs together, looking equal parts smug and guilty. Like I couldn’t figure out what was going on. And they couldn’t say exactly where they’d searched. “Please yourselves,” I yawned. Maybe if I found Stan, he would show a sudden yen for pregnant women. Unlike everybody else.
“He’s not downstairs,” I declared, so it was time to inspect the attic. My flashlight revealed footprints in the dust along the steps. I pursued a faint tapping sound. In the dark, Stan had locked himself in the old meatsafe. Dumb place to hide! And he wasn’t happy about it. Like it was our fault. Willette, feeling a bit one down after the exposure of her skirmishes with Arnold, seized advantage like a wolverine protecting its mate.
“What if he had an asthma attack!”
Then you’d be a merry widow, I thought. But honest Stan said, “I don’t have asthma.”
“But an experience like that could give it to you,” said Willette. “Trauma triggers, they call it. “Traumatic inception”. Someone needs to take that door
off at the hinges.”
mandarin .”
“Don’t look at me,” said Arnold. “I’m a
The game was over. “Maybe in the morning,” I told Willette. “I’m gravid and I need my sleep.”
When Arnold finally came to bed – could Stan possibly have agreed to a threesome? I refused to let him in. “You’re the icicle,” I told him.
When I discovered one house on the list was haunted I gave the real estate agent no rest until he took me there. Honestly I had to do that man’s job for him. It was raining so heavily that morning that his car was like a bathysphere.
“I want to at least look at it. Cheer up; if there are leaks we’re sure to see them.”
“That’s it.” The agent still seemed very depressed as he reached for his golf umbrella. “It’s been empty fourteen years. No modernization whatever.”
Better and better. The bathrooms and kitchens I’d been seeing were like lip-sticked hogs in toe- shoes. There might even be original paneling. Peering out of the window I could see nothing through the darkening rain. “What’s it haunted by?”
I saw his wattles quiver in battle with his chin. Was I interfering with the real estate agent’s code?
“Various things.” Unadroitly he tried changing the subject and actually selling. “It has a view of the river. And it’s a real bargain.”
“Like what things?” Not reaching for my own umbrella or putting up my hood might tempt disclosure. I saw him wondering he could talk me out of going further.
(Sigh) “Oswald Pewlett saw a fireball.”
I was entranced! Had he searched his memory for the spectre least likely to queer a deal? “There
was a fire?”
He hastened to reassure. “A green fire.cold fire that doesn’t burn.”
A Delicious! I had to see it now! I pulled
galoshes over my ivory heels. “Let’s go!”
Perched above the road, the house was reached by a corkscrew of steps. The porch was an addition, so it was full of leaks, but the house was solid as a rock. Silent. High ceilinged. Original paneling. One bathroom for seven bedrooms, a marvelous thirties kitchen with no appliances, and a single light bulb in the exact center of every ceiling. This could be fun.
The real estate agent ensconced himself by the library window with its view of the river and refused to go upstairs. “I’ve seen it,” he said, pulling his fishing hat down over his ears as if assaulted by inner rain.
Upstairs there was no fireball, but the floors were littered with little glittery shards that turned out to be flies’ wings. No flies, mind you, only their wings. Thrifty spiders, I suppose who dine on all but isinglass. Is that how fairy legends started, I wondered. Fairy wings and flies’ wings – hard to tell the difference. I’m on the side of spiders. They can have all the flies they want.
And that’s how I bought The Old Chase Place.
THREE – DELIVER US
I should never have told Arnold the place was haunted, but I couldn’t resist bragging. “It has everything,” I sang.
“Air-conditioning too, so it seems,” he groused. He was always out to ruin my good time.
“That’s just the wind off the river. A natural chill factor. And real oak, too.”
“I’m not complaining.” He couldn’t help but warm to so much wood. In the city everything is “faux”. Alas the rooms were rather small, and in strange juxtaposition. Not a rich man’s house, you wouldn’t say, but perhaps the warren of a worrier.
“This will be my study,” said Arnold. He chose the one room in the house that still had a working fireplace – the others had been fitted with hideous stovepipes. But I didn’t argue, because at last he was smiling.
We were having a picnic lunch when the Sears truck drove up with the appliances. I didn’t see the accident because in my condition, meals are serious events. If I’m going to spend all morning nauseated then I’m going to spend all afternoon eating. (And all evening sleeping it off.) So when Arnold rose to show the hirelings what a forceful homeowner he could be, I pulled the fried chicken bucket closer.
When I heard a crunch and a hoarse cry I did run to the window. The ramp had fallen off the steps, tossing the refrigerator and pinning a delivery man. His mouth was open – I could see blood – and he was gasping for air. He reminded me of the fish my uncle caught on his
many unsporting ventures into the wild. He loved watching creatures die. He once presented me with a still- beating fish heart, saying, “It’s only the stupidest that go on living after they are really dead.” The fish, the headless running chickens — I guess the joke was on them, if they didn’t know they were dead. But the delivery man was not dead; we all affirmed the fact.
There was a flurry of activity while the driver jumped into the truck to call for help – we didn’t have a phone yet and cell phones don’t work out here. The fire and rescue truck arrived after about ten minutes to take over. Arnold had to help the second delivery man move in the appliance. “Get a camera,” he hissed.
He wanted me to take pictures of the ramp and the steps to show, although our porch was in sorry condition, it was the ramp anchoring that was at fault (them) and not the steps (us). That’s because it’s so important in life to figure out whose fault everything is.
“He’ll be all right,” I offered. “He had a lot of meat on him.”
“Jesus, Sharl,” said Arnold, “I heard his bones go crunch.” And that was the end of that picnic.
At least I had a brand new oven, refrigerator, dishwasher and washer/dryer. I went back to applying the coat of dark green paint to make the room picture-perfect. Hunter green for Hunter (boy or girl); a super-infant guaranteed to make all his mother’s dreams come true.
Andrew looked up from the Food section of the Sunday Times. “Did he jump out of his coffin and give everybody the finger?”
“No.” I sat down on a Brazilian leather cube impersonating a chair. “He left me a lot of money.”
That made Arnold sit up straight. Finally I had produced something worthy to compete with three- melon risotto. “How much?”
“A lot.” Two beats. “All of it.”
I hadn’t seen Arnold this excited in a long time. “This is the uncle we never once went to visit, even though he only lived in New Rochelle?”
“He’s the one.”
“And there are a lot of other relatives…” I saw the penny drop. “Is this the same guy who used to feel you up when you were little?”
“He’s the one.”
Arnold whistled. “Wow!” he said, “Break out the champagne! Let’s drink to old fashioned Calvinist guilt!”
But I couldn’t drink. “There’s an unpaid
housekeeper who says she’ll sue.” I tried dismissing that
ugly scene from my mind. But ugly scenes don’t go so easily.
“Screw her,” he laughed, “Doubtless the old man did. To the one who got away!” he snorkled. “With…” drum-roll on the glass coffee table… “all the money!”
“I could split it with her,” I said thoughtfully. “Except that I need it all.” And if I divorced Arnold, I’d have to split it with him.
His eyes narrowed over my unusual decisiveness. “Sounds like you’ve made a plan.”
“I have. I’m pregnant and I’m moving.”
He rose to pursue me to the kitchen. I was the pursued one now.
“Rich? Pregnant? Moving?” He banged his palm against his chest. “It’s a lot to handle for one afternoon. Where are you going, oh helpmeet?”
“Upstate. The country.” There was no champagne. Of course not. There had been nothing to celebrate for so, so long. I poured us each an apple juice. “You could come with.” Two beats. “But you’d have to give up your girlfriend.”
Surprise! I saw him try to toss it off and keep on dancing. “What’s that? Getting jealous are we? Symptomatic of your condition?”
“Gayle.” I leaned forward, giving back the name. “She sent me such a charming letter.” In which she stated her utter non-comprehension of why the moody bitch wouldn’t just step aside and let the poor, kind, considerate man go free. Ugh. Apple juice is disgustingly sweet. I’ve never understood how adults can covet the provinces of children. Poor little sugar addicts, they are ruined before they start. I tried adding powdered tea from a mix. Still bad. The no-liquor lifestyle is a tough sell.
He was sputtering like a damp firecracker. But it was not Arnold’s turn to speak.
“Screwing students is the beginning of the end for a teacher. You’re lucky she notified me and not the superintendent.”
Unfortunately I could always read Arnold’s mind. He really needs to get some more interesting thoughts. I saw him deciding he’d better stop aimless denial until confronted with the evidence against him.
“Why upstate?” he bartered, testing me. “Why not, say, Europe?”
“Because,” I answered, “I like to get something for my money.” That alone made me my uncle’s worthy heir. Glittering silver dollars lit the darkened rooms of memory. I persisted — for I’m nothing if not persistent — “Haven’t you heard of the curse of the lottery winner? They spend it all and then some. I want a property I can buy outright – debt-free.” Wouldn’t it be heaven owing nobody nothing?
He toddled toward the window on his be- jeaned insect legs. He looks much better in big-boy pants. Was he trying to imagine life without me? Or without New York? So I sealed the deal with a siren song. “You could finish your screenplay…”
Amy liked Aunt Petra from the moment she first met her, because Aunt Petra was the only
grown-up who understood about the ghost room.
It was Amy who carried Aunt Petra’s suitcase up the stairs and showed her into the Blue
Room, because Amy’s mother was busy with lunch.
“I wonder why they didn’t put me in the ghost room,” said the guest, not even looking around her cheery boudoir before flinging herself on the bed and wrapping herself like a caterpillar in her paisley
pashmina.
Amy’s heart beat faster. “How did you know?” she gasped. Aunt Petra hadn’t even toured the house. The door to the ghost room was always closed and as directed, Amy had tried to scuttle past without
glancing in its direction.
“It felt cold, for one thing,” said Aunt Petra. “Several degrees colder than the rest of the
house. Brrr.“ She shivered. “I’m still cold.”
“Mom says it’s the furthest from the furnace,” Amy told her, “But when we put in an electric
heater it kept shorting out.”
Aunt Petra laughed. “Never heard yet of a ghost who mastered electricity, but I’m prepared to
believe it’s possible.”
82 – Awake Till the End – Stories by Alysse Aallyn
That’s when Amy decided she liked Aunt Petra so much. She offered, since her aunt didn’t appear to be moving “Would you like me to unpack for
you?”
“That would be wonderful,” said her aunt, so Amy opened the suitcase. Clothes and books and cartons of cigarettes and pill bottles were just thrown in haphazardly, but Amy took things out carefully one by one, folded them the way her mother had taught her. She
gave each category of item its own drawer in the highboy.
“I see you have a scientific mind like your father,” Aunt Petra commented. “Would you please hand over those cigarettes?” As soon as she had them in
hand she lit one and puffed on it fiercely.
“I’m going to be an artist,” objected Amy, although she wasn’t supposed to correct or even “talk back” to adults, which meant never pointing out they were obviously wrong. Then, “Mother says those things
will kill you.”
“Everything kills you,” sighed her aunt. “Everything, everything. You’ve got to take your pick.” She coughed heavily. “Allow me to serve as a bad
example.” swinging her feet, and reverted to the subject she really
Amy sat on the slipper chair, wanted to discuss. “There’s the smell,” she offered.
Aunt Petra looked at her floral cigarette in surprise so Amy elaborated, “In the ghost room. We washed it down in disinfectant and Mother had the rat man in but there was no getting rid of it. It comes
and goes.”
83 – Awake Till the End – Stories by Alysse Aallyn
”Very interesting,” said Petra in her drawling voice. “This will allow us to identify the ghostly
presence. What exactly does it smell like?” Amy considered. A question she
had never been asked before. “Dirty feet.”
“Ah,” said Petra. “I recognize that one. It’s the stench of neglect. Neglect and consequent
regret. Truthfully, do you go in there often?”
And although Amy had been forbidden to enter the room if she was going to insist on talking about the ghost, she liked Aunt Petra so much she
answered honestly. “Yes.” “So have you seen this ghost?”
Amy nodded gravely. “And you, Aunt Petra? Have you ever seen a ghost?”
“No,” said Aunt Petra, “I never have and I never will. Some people are gifted one way and some another.” She stubbed out her cigarette in the water glass Amy’s mother had thoughtfully provided for quite another purpose. Amy was too surprised by the revelation that you could believe in ghosts without ever seeing one to notice. Aunt Petra was certainly a strange species of grownup. So Amy asked, “But why would you want to
believe in ghosts? I mean if you didn’t have to?”
“When you get older you’ll find it very nice to believe that life doesn’t come to a full stop just because we’re no longer physically around,” her aunt responded. “Anyone over thirty is already a big fan of
84 – Awake Till the End – Stories by Alysse Aallyn
second chances.” She smoked. ‘And third and fourth. Infinite chances are very attractive.”
“Well Mother doesn’t believe in ghosts. She took me to the doctor.” Amy hated the fat doctor whose fingers smelled of penicillin. He was only good for shots. And sure enough, he gave her a vitamin shot. Vitamin B12 to cure her of ghosts. Amy had been afraid it would work, but of course it didn’t. Thinking about it, she ran her finger thoughtfully around the rim of
the empty suitcase.
“Know what’s especially amazing about it all?” asked Petra. “Your mother was half your age
when she saw her first ghost.”
me!”
Amy squealed incredulously. “Tell
“Well, our high school was right next to the kindergarten and so I always walked your mother home after class. And one day my appendix burst right in the middle of gym – I was rushed to the hospital but in the excitement everyone forgot about your mother completely. She waited until it was dark and then she tried walking home alone. She said this dog – she described him perfectly with his long droopy ears and the spot to the right of his nose – was following her. And he had such a friendly face he gave her courage. She knew he wouldn’t allow anything bad to happen to her. Then when
she got home he disappeared.” Amy jumped up and down in her
excitement. “And the dog was a ghost?”
“It was my dog Peanut who died long before your mother was even born. We had no pictures of him and we never talked about him, so how
85 – Awake Till the End – Stories by Alysse Aallyn
could she have known? I wished I could have been the one to see him but I was grateful to him for walking her home. I liked thinking he was there.”
“You should tell her she saw a ghost,” insisted Amy. “She doesn’t even know!”
“Oh, you know your mother,” said Petra comfortably. “She wouldn’t believe either of us. We should give thanks instead for her practical head. Look at this beautiful room. And I know in advance that dinner
will be delicious and healthy.” Amy cared not a fig for house-
keeping. “I wish our ghost was a dog.” “Tell me all about him.” Aunt Petra
fixed her niece with a bright, beady stare.
“He’s an old man in a rocking chair. The rocking chair’s a ghost, too. He sits with a finger in the Bible, looking out the window at the frozen pond. He
never ever looks at me. Not once.”
“Maybe you’re a ghost to him,” said Petra. “What’s he look like?”
“He has white hair brushed straight up. And overalls. And boots with big looping laces that touch the floor. And his face is all wrinkly. His earlobes
dangle almost to his shoulders.”
“I can just see him,” said Petra. “Doesn’t he ever read the Bible? Just looks at the pond? I
wonder if I know what he’s thinking.”
86 – Awake Till the End – Stories by Alysse Aallyn
“I don’t see how you could.” Did ghosts have thoughts? Amy was astonished.
“He’s probably thinking he’s useless and his life is over. Wanting to jump right into that pond
but afraid of what will happen.”
“He must have jumped if he’s a “Maybe he regrets it.” “He ought to go to heaven with the
ghost,” said Amy. rest of the spirits and stop bothering us,” said Amy
heatedly. the doorway. “Let Aunt Petra rest before dinner. She’s had
a long trip.” said Amy, and Aunt Petra backed her up.
“Maybe we should tell him that.” “Amy!” Amy’s mother appeared in
“I wasn’t bothering her, honest,”
“We were having a wonderful talk.”
Downstairs her mother gave Amy a hug. “I know Petra wishes she had a little girl like you.”
“Well, why doesn’t she get one?”
Amy’s mother tapped a wooden spoon uncomfortably against her left cheek. “You know
mothers need a daddy to make a baby.”
“Well, why doesn’t she get one of those?” It was terrible the way grownups acted powerless
all the time when they had all the power in the world.
87 – Awake Till the End – Stories by Alysse Aallyn
“Because she looks like hell warmed over,” said Amy’s father, sitting at the kitchen table with
his newspaper. “Marriage isn’t just about looks!”
“Bob!” barked Amy’s mother. “She acts snarky and superior too,”
said Amy’s dad. “Nobody likes that.”
“But you want me to be superior,” argued Amy. “You put me in the advanced class and made
me skip second grade.” “Just know you are superior without
acting that way,” said her father, confusingly.
Amy didn’t believe him for a minute. Aunt Petra was so easy to talk to she could probably explain to Amy the most puzzling problem of all: the difference between insides and outsides. How come people looked one way and felt another? In the following days she hung around her aunt, who never chased Amy away or acted bored by her company. She was the first to
tell Amy that her name meant “Loved.”
“The one who is loved. Could there be a better name? That says it all. My name means
“stone”.” change it,” said Amy. Aunt Petra was the one always
“If you don’t like it you should saying life was all about choice.
“Some things you’re stuck with,” said Petra. “Some things you can fix. It takes a lot of living
to tell the difference.”
88 – Awake Till the End – Stories by Alysse Aallyn
Of course she wanted Amy to take her to the ghost room. Aunt Petra told her sister that the light was just right for watercolors and so Amy’s mother allowed a special dispensation. At the doorway Aunt Petra halted, spread her arms and chanted,“Cold Huntsman,
depart, take your knife from out my heart.”
Cold Huntsman?”
Amy was impressed. “Who’s the
“The Cold Huntsman is Death,” said Petra. “It was just something we used to say when we were children, going anywhere scary. It’s a big help when passing graveyards by the light of the moon. It must have worked because I’m still here. Let me know when the
ghost comes back.”
Amy considered it a lot more exciting to be a child in the olden days, walking by yourself to school and strolling past graveyards by the light of the moon. No one she knew was allowed to get away with anything like that now. Parents seemed to
assume everything was fatal
Gratefully she offered, “Would you like me to paint a picture of you?”
“I would love that.” “It will be a picture of your insides,”
said Amy, “because I can’t do people’s outsides yet.”
“Better and better,” said Petra. “It’s just my insides that I care about. How can one girl get so
lucky?”
Aunt Petra was the perfect model, because all she wanted was to lie there. So Amy drew her with a face like the sun. Then one day the ghost came back.
89 – Awake Till the End – Stories by Alysse Aallyn
“He’s there,” she told Aunt Petra through chattering teeth. It was colder than it had ever been, and she felt a deep sense of horror, like she had
somehow made things worse.
Petra sat right up and threw off her pashmina. “I’m going to tell him he can go,” she said.
“Leave us.”
Amy waited in Petra’s room in an agony of excitement. When Aunt Petra finally returned her face was gray with exhaustion. She threw herself on the
bed.
“He’s gone,” she said.
“Did you see him?”
“I didn’t need to see him, I could feel him. I went and stood in his place right by the window.
Where he must have been sitting.” “You must have made him so
angry,” whispered Amy. “Was he the Cold Huntsman?”
“No. The Cold Huntsman had come and gone. I told him what he chose was the right thing and everyone else forgave him so we wanted him to forgive
himself.”
“And then?” “And then he went away. I think for
good. I hope so. We’ll see.”
“Let’s tell Mom!”
Amy jumped wildly up and down.
90 – Awake Till the End – Stories by Alysse Aallyn
But Petra made herself very small, under her shawl on the big bed. “When you grow up you will learn there are some things you can never tell
anybody.”
After Aunt Petra left the ghost didn’t come back. The room warmed up and the stink went away. Amy’s mom wouldn’t let Amy move her bed in there, but she was allowed to put her art table in the ghost’s place, under the window. Petra was right; the ghost had sat in the very best light. Amy was working there one day when she had the funniest feeling. She turned around and there was
Aunt Petra, lying under a shawl on the bed, eyes closed. Amy burst through the kitchen door
wailing. “Aunt Petra’s dead!”
Her mother’s face was stained with tears. “I should have told you,” she sobbed, “but I didn’t
know the best way. How on earth did you guess?”
But although Amy was a long way from grown up she had finally learned that there are some
This can’t be real, Jazz. It isn’t real. It’s some planet we’re not on.
JAZZ
But it makes perfect sense. It answers all the questions. You know in your heart that was his plan all along.
CHASE
It can’t be real because my Mom is dead. Years ago. She killed herself the first Christmas I didn’t come home.
JAZZ
(Keeps trying to go back)
But I saw her. I We were there. How can it not be true?
(He tries to hug her – she resists)
Don’t touch me! I don’t feel like touching ever again.
(CHASEsits on the edge of the stage)
CHASE
Corso loves games – he’s always up for the latest thing. He can even claim he told us! We fell for it like puppies jumping for a biscuit.
JAZZ
So that part’s real? Our sex archetypes all over the cloud?
CHASE
Sexsomnia is real. He was way ahead of me.
(beat)
I should have guessed. It’s always the worst thing he can think of. Welcome to my nightmare.
JAZZ
I don’t want details.
CHASE
But we need to see – Everyone needs to see – just how the magician operates.
JAZZ
You’re right – magic is the important thing. There was magic all along, in spite of Corso.
CHASE
All he cares about it is cash and control. He honed the perfect weapon to take life hostage.
JAZZ
How ironic that the moment we stop believing, magic appears!
CHASE
Only toddlers believe. And toddlers are ill-equipped for these frolics. Where’s the magic in that?
JAZZ
Seeing your Mom was magic.
CHASE
Dark magic, you’ll agree. What were they thinking? Russian-Irish could never work!
JAZZ
My combination’s Portuguese-Swedish. Your Mom said she forgave you.
CHASE
She didn’t!
JAZZ
She did. I heard her. What was it like to see her again?
CHASE
Amazing and frustrating – the way it always was.
JAZZ
Admit we got the most wonderful bath! For a few minutes we saw how happy we could be.
CHASE
A ritual cleanse. Did seem like it was working.
JAZZ
I felt such peace, like nothing could hurt us ever.
CHASE
Then my Dad showed up.
JAZZ
So now I know him, too. I experienced them through you.
CHASE
In the house that never got finished. I pushed my Dad into bankruptcy. I destroyed my family.
JAZZ
You did not.
CHASE
If you’re going to be my soulmate you’ve seen the house of horrors where you have to live. Nobody could blame you for walking out.
JAZZ
Where would I walk to? Seriously. I thought the more worlds we saw the more paths – the more choices we would have, but the maze leads only two places – sickness and murder or – each other.
CHASE
But what if we resist?
JAZZ
Are we back to murder? A life for a life?
CHASE
Surely you see the appeal?
JAZZ
I think when you want to kill Corso it’s really your dad you want to kill.
CHASE
Wow! Free therapy! Bzzzt! No. My Dad I can get away from.
JAZZ
Apparently not.
CHASE
Once and done.
JAZZ
Finding crime scenes should not be inspiring us to create more of them.
CHASE
Why not, if everyone’s doing it?
JAZZ
Jails are full of defective reasoners.
CHASE
So I’m a defective reasoner, am I?
(JAZZsits beside him)
JAZZ
Seems like. I’m stuck with you and you’re stuck with me.
CHASE
But I don’t get it – if death doesn’t free you, what does?
JAZZ
Why couldn’t you tell me about her?
CHASE
I can’t even go there.
(long pause)
JAZZ
If you can’t go there I can’t see where there is to get to.
CHASE
Sexsomnia is like sleepwalking. They –
JAZZ
Would you stop it with trying to rationalize the irrational? It makes me feel so alone.
CHASE
(Holding her – she lets him)
We can’t have that.
(They start to kiss)
Maybe it hasn’t happened yet.
JAZZ
What part?
CHASE
The video Corso’s trying to create. If he hasn’t finished it, he hasn’t released it.
JAZZ
But what we did. It’s out there, alive, wandering the cloud.
CHASE
Maybe not.
JAZZ
I like this Chase better. So let’s get rid of it and warn the others.
CHASE
Are you sure they’ll care?
JAZZ
Someone will.
CHASE
They may prefer secrecy, or destruction. But people don’t believe without evidence.
JAZZ
Our suffering is the evidence.
(She pushes him away)
You wanted this to happen. You twisted my life into evidence for your crime scene. You used the rest of us as bait.
CHASE
I swear I had no idea he’d go this far. But if it’s real we’ve got to face up to it. Destroying the evidence doesn’t cancel our suffering.
JAZZ
Without the video, we don’t remember. If we pass it along, Corso wins – whoever we pass it to.
CHASE
It isn’t “gone” just because we can’t remember. Haven’t what we’ve been through shown us that? It becomes a negative hallucination.
JAZZ
I feel sure I don’t want to know what that is.
CHASE
It means is not seeing the obvious.
JAZZ
Forgetting is almost as good as innocence.
CHASE
That’s what Corso counted on.
JAZZ
Help me.
CHASE
I’m trying.
(the distance between them is growing. They reach out their arms to each other but it’s too late. CHASE fades into darkness)
– KITCHEN set, bar with overhead wineglass and pot rack, burners steaming ( ZOYAorchestrates the food)
ZOYA
Stevie, could you open the wine and let it breathe?
(Clutches her own throat)
No one wants a strangled wine.
CHASE
Jazz drinks any kind of wine.
ZOYA
Jazz? What kind of name is that?
JAZZ
It’s a nickname. My name is Jasmyn Suzino.
ZOYA
(Thawing. She is cautious and protective, not mean)
If you’re important to my son I’m so glad you’re here.
CHASE
She’s very important to me.
ZOYA
I hope you like Welsh rarebit and Coquille Saint Jacques.
JAZZ
Sounds delicious. I hear you do your own cooking?
(CHASE takes bottle and opener from his mother.)
ZOYA
Love is the main ingredient, I always say. Red or white?
(She pulls down wineglasses from the overhead rack. There are several bottles of wine.CHASEopens them one after the other. JAZZ looks a little scared as if she might have to drink all this)
JAZZ
Oh, whatever. May I have ice, please?
CHASE
(Being a Farrell)
No.
ZOYA
Oh, for heavens sake let her have whatever she wants! Lemon, sugar! Anything! This is a party!
(Slaps out an ice bucket)
CHASE
Taste it without ice first. It’s Christmas wine from Lebanon.
JAZZ
Wow. Delicious. You’re right….forget the ice.
(JAZZsits at the bar – ZOYAblots the corner of JAZZ’s mouth with a napkin, lays napkins down. What with spoons and potlids, she gives an impression of sacred priestess juggling sacred tools)
CHASE
Mom made all this lace herself.
JAZZ
Awesome. Exquisite. I didn’t know humans made lace.
CHASE
Mom was beaten into submission by nuns. You propitiate the gods by giving them lace.
ZOYA
(Raps him sharply with a spoon)
Stevie, you heretic! What will our guest think?
CHASE
“Make our damn lace or be consumed by the Holocaust!”
ZOYA
Stevie! Oh, what’s the use? You’ll never change. I forgive you.
JAZZ
Uh, the flowers on that cake look almost real.
ZOYA
I love making sugar flowers. Those are lilies and camellias. I wore them at my wedding.
CHASE
Mom studied pastry making at the Cordon Bleu in Paris.
ZOYA
It was just a summer course. Canapés or crudités?
CHASE
Crudity always.
JAZZ
(ToCHASE)
Paris! Were you there?
CHASE
Naw. I was just a bullet in my father’s bandolier in those days.
ZOYA
Oh, Stevie! You’re such a silly! How I love you! No, he’s never been to Paris. We’ve not been back. That was our honeymoon, so long, long ago.
(Seems like she might cry)
It’s so hard to keep the rarebit from separating.
(sniffs – offers a plate)
Duck pâté?
JAZZ
Er, sure.
(ZOYA and CHASE toss off their wine, he refills their glasses. JAZZ holds hers against her chest. ZOYA reaches down a platter)
ZOYA
I love to cook! Following a recipe to make things right. I wish people ate more, but they’re always on such weird diets. Cyanne’s a vegan who won’t eat gluten. Everything’s changed. I used to pick my own watercress but now I’m afraid of the fisher cats.
CHASE
Fishers eat squirrels, mom, not people.
ZOYA
Somebody needs to eat those squirrels. They’re too assertive. But it’s the fisher cats who scream – like someone being murdered.
CHASE
They’re nocturnal, Mom. And watercress is out of season.
ZOYA
(Fighting back tears)
So how does your family celebrate grand occasions, Jasmyn? I’m sure it’s something more splendid than a homely family party.
JAZZ
(nervous)
We make a lot of toasts.
(She lifts her glass. ZOYAandCHASEboth drain their glasses and immediately refill as if that’s what etiquette requires)
ZOYA
Stevie, you say the blessing.
CHASE
You’re going to have to stop calling me that, Mom. My name is Chase.
ZOYA
But that’s a stupid name. It doesn’t mean anything. Steven was your grandfather’s name.
CHASE
But he’s gone. You want me to be gone?
ZOYA
I’m praying you never leave again.
(Lifts her glass)
Zemlya pukhom!
CHASE
It’s your birthday, Mom. We toast to you.
(He raises his glass)
ZOYA
(Abashed, almost frightened.)
No more bad luck. I’m not fit to catch God’s eye. Dolgaya zhizn!
JAZZ
What’s that mean?
CHASE
Long life.
JAZZ
Long life!
(They drink. A moment of happiness. Enter CUTTER FARRELLdressed as if for wild weather. CUTTER slowly removes outer gear but continues to play with belt – appraising the group as if wondering who to use it on. He is a cold, cold-eyed man, a paler, blockier version of CHASE. Accepts drink from placatory ZOYA)
CUTTER
Filthy night. What have we here?
ZOYA
Stevie brought a friend to my birthday party! Isn’t that exciting?
CUTTER
(Takes drink, cranes his neck insultingly)
Little Stevie brought a date? Where is he? I don’t see him.
(JAZZsteps up bravely and offers her hand)
JAZZ
Hi, I’m Jasmyn Suzino.
(CUTTERtakes her hand and presses it to his chest, looking her up and down at his leisure)
CUTTER
Where did this dark-eyed beauty spring from? Be still my loins. I’m Cutter Farrell, young lady. Pleased to make your acquaintance.
JAZZ
(Awkwardly)
I go to school with Chase. Er – Steven.
CUTTER
Bet you met him yesterday.
(JAZZ reacts as though this might be true. CHASE steps forward, detaches JAZZ’s arm)
CHASE
Pick on someone in your own weight class, Dad.
CUTTER
And that would be you? I’ve heard braggadocio but I’m getting tired waiting.
ZOYA
(Panicky)
Please don’t fight. It’s my birthday.
CUTTER
I don’t like surprises. That’s all.
(Pops some savory in his mouth and drains half his drink)
So. Suzino. What kind of a name is that?
JAZZ
It’s Portuguese.
CUTTER
Is there a Dad in your picture?
JAZZ
(After a beat)
Not really.
CUTTER
That’s the Portuguese in him. We Irish, now, keep families together. We hang on till every lost dog is drawn and quartered.
(ZOYAsnaps tensely atCHASEwho is eating)
ZOYA
(Spanks his arm with her lace napkin)
Don’t double dip, darling! It’s disgusting!
(Blots her forehead)
I’m sorry.
CUTTER
(Poking freely among the crudités tray)
When’s dinner?
(ZOYAclatters pot lids hopelessly)
ZOYA
Half an hour. Forty-five minutes.
CUTTER
Just enough time for a private pow-wow. Bring your drinks, kids. You’ll need them.
CHASE
No thank you.
CUTTER
I’ve got a business proposition for you. Come along now: fair’s fair. You’ve got to give me a chance to get my money back. All the cash I spent on you…
CHASE
I’m not putting my money into any of your schemes.
(CUTTERtakesJAZZ’s arm)
CUTTER
Fine. Then your little girlfriend and I will have a sit down. You stay out here with Mummy the way you always preferred, Jasmyn and I will have a heart to heart and find out what’s what.
ZOYA
(Desperate)
Cutter, please!
CUTTER
You cook, dumpling, I’ll entertain our guests.
ZOYA
By arguing?
CUTTER
I only stand up for what’s mine.
(ToCHASEwho’s sliding unwillingly off his barstool)
You’re going to wantto see this. Believe me. It’s the next biggest thing, and I’m offering you a buy-in on the ground floor.
CUTTER’S DEN- SCENE XIV. Macho and dark; leather furniture, deer head, creels and powder horns, gun rack
CUTTER
So, what are you studying in this college of yours?
JAZZ
We’re participating in a research experiment.
CUTTER
I’ll bet you are. Anything to do with the Internet?
JAZZ
The Internet?
CUTTER
(Shaking his head as he looks atCHASE)
Where do you get these girls? You haven’t heard of the Internet, young missy? The World Wide Web?
JAZZ
(Blushing but controlling herself at a warning look fromCHASE)
It has nothing to do with that.
CUTTER
(Studying her speculatively)
Well, I can’t answer for how they behave in Portugal, but it’s possible you were pimped out without your knowledge.
(Picks up a video controller. CHASEandJAZZstares stupefied at a screen that flickers dancing shapes over their faces)
CUTTER
Look what your boyfriend got you into! It’s a game, see? You can make them do any combination, anything you want.
(Struggles with his controller)
How do you make this thing go frame by frame?
JAZZ
Oh, my God. It’s US!
CHASE
Turn that thing off!
(CHASElunges for his Dad, they tussle, CUTTER playing “keep away” with remote)
CUTTER
Wait, wait –the good part is coming up!
(CHASE succeeds in dashing controller to floor, screen light goes off)
Here’s a fine thing for a father to have to see! You could at least ensure they disguise the faces – but you all make yourselves so recognizable with those tattoos. Nice birthday gift for mommy, wouldn’t you say?
(CHASE lunging – they are full-on wrestling)
CUTTER
This idea’s worth millions – unless you sign away your rights – AGAIN. But that’s what you do, isn’t it? Anything rather than take dad’s advice! Why don’t you hit me, since you’ve been longing to. Go ahead – hit your father!
(CHASEmanages to turn off screen, throw remote, pushes CUTTER away)
CHASE
Come on, Jazz, let’s get out of here.
CUTTER
I suppose you’ll claim that was art.
(Heavy fake Irish accent)
Will you be taking it around to the festivals now? Put it up for the booby prize?
CHASE
You’re dead to me.
(Dragging JAZZ away)
CUTTER
I’m dead to you, you spineless party pooper?I’mdead toyou?
(ZOYA appears holding a wine opener pushed to her neck)
ZOYA
I’m dead to everyone and nobody noticed!Nobody even noticed!
(JAZZ tries to go to her, CHASE pulls her away downstage – lights off on FARRELL RESIDENCE)
SCENE XI – FARRELL RESIDENCE. (ZOYA, festively dressed excitable little woman with dyed hair teeters forward on high heels)
ZOYA
Stevie!
(She clutches CHASE, kissing him everywhere)
Oh Stevie, Stevie, I was so afraid you wouldn’t come.
CHASE
Miss your birthday? How could I possibly? And I brought a friend.
(JAZZ wavesnervously)
JAZZ
(Awkwardly extending plant)
Happy Birthday.
(Painfully obvious this is way too big a plant for this tiny person)
ZOYA
(Making no move to take it)
Oh, my. That looks so…interesting. Well come in, come in.
( JAZZ unloads plant on hall table, looking around, awed. ZOYA regards plant apprehensively.)
ZOYA
I suppose I’m ancient, dry and prickly just like this plant. Does it come with directions?
JAZZ
It’s a Christmas cactus. It’s going to have three blooms. See?
ZOYA
(Without enthusiasm)
Lovely.
(Clings to CHASE)
It’s so wonderful to see you!
(She squeezes him)
Look how tall you’ve gotten.
CHASE
(hugs her)
Good to see you, Mom. You’re looking well.
JAZZ
Sorry I’m not dressed for a party.
CHASE
Jazz had kind of a disaster. Somebody jumped out of her dorm room window.
(JAZZand CHASEexchange looks)
ZOYA
How terrible! Were they badly hurt?
CHASE
(With relish)
Killed, Mom. Dead.
(His mother backs away, looking at the pair of them)
ZOYA
Do they give you an automatic A and send you home?
CHASE
Urban legend, Mom. You’ve got to stop believing myths.
(His mother strikes him lightly on the arm)
ZOYA
I never know when you’re teasing.
CHASE
If Jazz could borrow something of Cyanne’s…?
ZOYA
(Recollecting she’s the hostess)
Of course, of course. Cyanne has way too many clothes. She’s always shopping. You look about the same size. She’d say yes but she’s away at college. She’s pledging my sorority. Quick drink before you freshen up?
(An expression almost of panic)
Because I’ve got to get back – back to the kitchen.
(Backs away as if dragged – exit)
CHASE
My Mom always bakes her own birthday cake.
JAZZ
Why didn’t you tell me your mother hates plants?
(Gestures)
All these plants are fake.
CHASE
Mom says growth’s a lot of work.
JAZZ
(Mimes looking at family photos on the walls)
That you as a baby?
CHASE
The very same. Aren’t I adorable? You can’t tell which is me and which is Cyanne.
JAZZ
You all look so happy.
CHASE
Appearances can be deceiving.
JAZZ
So your real name’s Stevie.
CHASE
Steven. Now that you know it, forget it. Just another thing that’s gone.
JAZZ
You could have told me.
CHASE
Who knew we’d end up here? I’ve never been good at telling people things. The vortex assumed control.
(BEXappears in a spot on theTOWER LIFT, holding a pair of binoculars and a shotgun. Scans the stage)
CHASE
(Holding JAZZ close)
You’re making me feel incredibly powerful
(They kiss with increasing urgency. BEX appears to focus on them. He racks his gun angrily, climbs down, his spot dissolving. JAZZ and CHASE’s “shadows” explode hugely against the back wall, seeming to rise up in the air)
JAZZ
Feel that?
CHASE
I do. Don’t fight it.
JAZZ
Who’s fighting it? You’re the one fighting it.
SCENE X – SWAP MEET. (When the lights come up the curtain has fallen and JAZZ and CHASEstand outside it, hand in hand, staring into the audience.)
JAZZ
Where are we?
CHASE
Looks like a swap meet. But all they’re selling is Christmas stuff.
JAZZ
That’s weird.
CHASE
Especially since I hate Christmas.
JAZZ
Who could possibly hate Christmas?
CHASE
It never lives up to its billing.
(RADappears, pushing a shopping cart. Sets up a table and starts laying out junk)
RAD
Hi, guys! Long time no see. You in the market for a knickknack? Ganja? Electronics? Jewelry?
CHASE
Is this your gig?
RAD
Gotta have a side hustle – gotta get the scratch. You’d be amazed what some people just throw away. How about a nice Christmas cactus? I did have a shotgun but I sold it.
CHASE
You sold a shotgun? Who to?
RAD
Biker dude from out of town. He said if it didn’t work he would come looking for me.
JAZZ
Does it work?
RAD
Let’s hope so. Just passing on whatever I find.
CHASE
We don’t want anything.
JAZZ
Speak for yourself. I’d love a Christmas cactus.
(RADreaches into the depths of his cart and produces an unflowering – apparently dead plant –JAZZ takes it)
CHASE
Great. It’s dead.
JAZZ
It is not. It only blooms once a year. Says here, this one’s going to have three blossoms.
RAD
Can’t go to the party without a present.
CHASE
What party?
RAD
Isn’t life a party?
JAZZ
So far.
CHASE
More like a bribe for the deadboat captain. So we poor ghosts don’t get shoved into steerage.
RAD
That’ll be a hundred bucks.
CHASE
A hundred bucks!
RAD
This is a rare, one time offer. Not shown on TV. I’ve got bills.
JAZZ
Blood money, remember?
CHASE
If that’s what you want. You got giftwrap?
(RAD produces pink foil and a massive ribbon)
JAZZ
Wow. This says “Happy Birthday.” Do we know anybody born in December?
CHASE
My mom.
JAZZ
Oh, my God! Hide!
(She drags CHASEdown the stage steps to cower behind the stairs. BEXappears with a shotgun, racking the slide. RAD hastily packs up. Both exit offstage)
They’re not letting anyone in. Do you know who lives in Room 824?
JAZZ
Actually, I live there.
SOLIZ
Oh, you do, do you? Well, some guy fell out your window.
JAZZ
Just like your dream!
SOLIZ
(threateningly)
I don’t know what you’re talking about.
CHASE
Some guy? Who?
SOLIZ
Unidentified. You can’t see him, he’s under a tent.
CHASE
Can’t Jazz collect her stuff?
SOLIZ
Come back later. It’s chaos over there.
(SOLIZfrees them from tape; JAZZandCHASElurch off downstage)
JAZZ
This is Soliz’s dream. I remember if she doesn’t.
CHASE
Except this was a guy.
JAZZ
Let’s hope it was Bex.
CHASE
So now you’re pro-violence?
JAZZ
Who’s saying I pushed him? It would be so unlike me.
CHASE
So, no going home for you.
JAZZ
Hadleigh was never my home.
CHASE
Well, you can camp out at my place while we figure out what to do with this new corpse.
JAZZ
Makes me harder for Bex to find. On the other hand when he does, he’ll just get madder.
CHASE
We’ve got enough problems without worrying about satisfying his unsatisfiable psyche. We’ve got three dead bodies!
JAZZ
And God knows how many crime scenes. Explain exactly why soulmating requires detective work?
CHASE
Maybe nature is one big crime scene. Red of tooth and claw.
JAZZ
You and your classical education.
CHASE
Voilã! Here we are at my place.
SCENE VIII – Lights go up on CHASE’S APT – disheveled male bedroom/kitchenette
JAZZ
This is definitely a crime scene.
(Throws herself into a low-slung chair)
CHASE
(Sitting close)
You expected harp music? Hey, you admitted your life was a crime scene too.
JAZZ
I guess I thought the point of soulmates is all the hard work would be magically be done.
CHASE
So no going over the past trying to understand and explain the mess? Wouldn’t that be nice!
JAZZ
Why can’t we just escape the mess? The mess would no longer matter. We could rise above the mess.
CHASE
Your fantasy forgets about the demons. If we’ve unleashed demons –
JAZZ
Who’s to say we unleashed them? I’m not responsible for Bex.
CHASE
Yet he’s out there, rampaging. At least I know I’m responsible for Corso.
JAZZ
But Corso’s using your involvement to keep his rampage going. Oh. Touché. I see what you mean.
CHASE
We’re dissociating. Living each other’s nightmares.
JAZZ
At least we’re braving hell together.
(they touch hands)
CHASE
If it’s purgatory, graduation’s a possibility.
JAZZ
We’re on a multiple universe scavenger hunt!
CHASE
A time and space jigsaw puzzle!
JAZZ
We need to get to the crime scene before the crime happens.
CHASE
How would we know it was a crime scene?
JAZZ
Tell me what you know. What Corso did to you.
CHASE
God! You know I don’t want to talk about it.
JAZZ
What specifically are you afraid will happen if you talk about it?
CHASE
That this whole thing would shatter right in front of me. I would wreck – whatever this is happening between us.
JAZZ
Maybe we’re meant to reveal, not repair, each other’s real selves.
CHASE
Let’s talk about your fears and malfeasance. That’s more fun for me.
JAZZ
Somebody increased power by sucking out ours. We’re going to reclaim it. Tell your soulmate what Dr. Corso did to you.
CHASE
If you know, aren’t you ruined too? How can I stay with someone who knows this disgusting thing about me?
JAZZ
I guess we’ll just have to see. We need to free ourselves to be with each other.
CHASE
But there’s the difference, right there – you left Bex, I pursued Corso. I came after him.
JAZZ
You are so competitive. If you need to be “worst”, prove it.
CHASE
He was a teacher at my choir school. Latin, of all things. We spent an eternity on the Aeneid. God, I hate talking about this. I haven’t talked about it since I was fifteen, with the lawyers and judges.
JAZZ
He molested you?
CHASE
Between my ninth and thirteenth years. He had a way of making us compete to be “the favorite”. If you could just get on that easy street, life became golden. Finally I saw what a prisoner I was. Mustered up the courage to get the hell out of there.
JAZZ
Jesus.
CHASE
Great pillow talk, huh? And that’s not the worst of it.
JAZZ
How could it get worse?
CHASE
I brought him other boys. Whatever he wanted.
JAZZ
You were a kid. None of this could possibly be your fault.
CHASE
Yet here I am. Still a slave.
JAZZ
But you found your soulmate.
(They hug)
How did it end?
CHASE
It hasn’tended. I mean, the sex thing ended when Corso met my sister – my twin sister – and decided he was ready to branch out. He was like, deliver her or else. That woke me up. I went home and refused to go back to school. I finally told my parents.
JAZZ
And?
CHASE
They pretty much behaved the worst they possibly could. First, they didn’t believe me. My dad has always been a total bastard making fun of me for singing in a high voice and wearing a lace collar and Mom was sort of a “the church can do no wrong” nut. You know, like, who are you going to believe, a priest or your own lying eyes? They just couldn’t take it in. Butthena kid at school hanged himself and things started to snowball. Corso got kicked out. People started suing. My dad smelled a payday. The other families accepted settlements not to squeal. Everybody settled except my father. He was holding out for the Big Money that was going to make all his dreams come true.
JAZZ
Then what?
CHASE
What always happens with my Dad. He was having such a good time holding the whip, he waited too long. The minute I turned sixteen, I got legally emancipated. I could prove that Dad was hitting me – I had the sense to record him – so the judge refused to give Dad the cash. Dad declared bankruptcy and I finished high school on my own. Living at the Y.
(Restless pacing)
So on top of everything else, I’m singlehandedly responsible for the destruction of my family.
JAZZ
Scapegoating. People need someone to blame, it’s another form of hostage-taking. This isn’t your fault. Time to forgive yourself.
(Leonard & Virginia Woolf in the Conservatory at Dalingridge Hall)
VIRGINIA If only I could trust you.
LEONARD You can.
VIRGINIA But these drugs turn my brain to cotton wool. There’s a pattern behind the cotton wool, if only I could find it. Did you know the Duckworths, that incestuous race, were cotton merchants? Coining money from the cotton wool that packs me now. If only I could fight back! But my will is so fragmented. My theory is that we all live so dishonestly, unconsciously, disconnected and detached. You are such a stranger! Everything about you is different. That must be why I married you.
LEONARD Tell me everything, Virginia. Tell me what you fear, so we can kill it.
VIRGINIA Where does one begin? Last night I looked in the mirror beneath a pitiless light and suddenly a dreadful animal face showed itself behind me. He bellowed, he stared, his nostrils flared. The pig’s snout broke the mirror until my thighs ached. How could one forget the thrusting of that ugly snout, the snout that meant starvation, pain and death? The purple foaming stain. Somehow it was all my fault. Roars of laughter at my expense. Dream or was it a memory? All that’s left is hopeless sadness. Being dragged down into a pit of absolute despair. Powerlessness. Paralysis. That’s what I remember.
LEONARD Begin at the beginning.
VIRGINIA The beginning is insomnia. I lie awake at night listening to a senile old man gasping, croaking vile indecencies. I thought it was Father, having a fit of the horrors. But the nurse said it was only a cat. Or perhaps the beginning was the whooping cough. I think I knew happiness before I became so ill. The grownups laughed with me, not at me. Whooping cough steals the breath – none of us could breathe. The atmosphere was tangled, matted with emotion. All the children came down with it, all of us gasping. Mother ran from bed to bed until her skin was paper thin and the bones stood out. I used to wonder if Mother had traded my life for hers, until I remembered she preferred the boys. Women serve, men are served.
LEONARD But all of you recovered.
VIRGINIA They threw me into a tank with Gerald, the alligator. Drowning. I knew I must not sink. Couldn’t get my head above the whirlpool.
LEONARD Go on.
VIRGINIA They covered the mirrors when Mother died. I was thirteen. Vanessa was sixteen, Thoby fifteen. Stella was twenty-five, quite grown up. George was twenty-seven, Gerald twenty-four. Adrian was twelve. No one told me what was happening. I was taken to her bed to say good bye but Mother seemed reproachful, so condemning and stern. She said, “Hold yourself straight, little Goat.”
LEONARD Why were you called Goat?
VIRGINIA I was Goat because I couldn’t control my purple rages. The others hated that he talked to me and gave me books. He didn’t allow Stella to read Cousine Bette but said it couldn’t harm me, because I had read Gibbons on the fall of Rome.
LEONARD Did everyone have nicknames?
VIRGINIA Adrian was Wombat, Nessa was the Saint. Thoby was the Goth because he fought. Mother advised self-control to everyone but Father. My mother had two characters, I think. Her real self, and the Angel in the House. Stifler and the life-giver. And to this day I have the oddest feeling that I’m two people, too.
LEONARD Are you talking about the poet Coventry Patmore’s Angel in the House?
VIRGINIA Yes. Wasn’t she so popular? Singing, “Sacrifice. Sacrifice yourself.” I caught her by the throat and killed her. It was self-defense. I had to kill her or she would have killed me.
LEONARD Your mother died of pneumonia, Virginia. Don’t feel guilty, Children are disgustingly violent, every one of them. It’s a wonder anyone lives to grow up. I’ve decided brute strength is the enemy of thought – that’s why bullies rule and why we must all be pacifists and abjure force, even though it goes against our natures. Tell me, was this “angel” thing why Nessa was called Saint?
VIRGINIA No. That was because she was too proud to tell a lie. We hid from Father in the garden, and when he demanded, Didn’t we hear me calling? We all said No. Only Nessa said Yes. I told her she was an old fraud.
LEONARD Goat is the worst name, I think.
VIRGINIA No, that was Stella! She was the Cow, because she brought the milk.
LEONARD These nicknames are strangely degrading.
VIRGINIA I named myself Miss Jan. I so longed to be someone else. Laura was the worst of us but she was called Her Ladyship of the Lake.
LEONARD How old was Laura and why on earth was she called that?
VIRGINIA Laura was exactly Gerald’s age. But she was gone by the time mother died. Sent away, because she wouldn’t mind. Father said she was the Giver of the Sword because she forced him to punish her. Then she screamed so he had to punish her more. When Maitland was writing Father’s life he said that everything about Laura would have to be suppressed. Everyone hated Laura.
LEONARD Why did you hate her?
VIRGINIA Temper tantrums. We all had temper tantrums, but hers were worse. Father was still having them, but Mother could calm him.
LEONARD So, Laura went to an asylum?
VIRGINIA When I was ten. Until then she lived with a governess at the top of the house. At night, we heard her howling like an animal.
LEONARD Did your parents ever say what exactly was the problem?
VIRGINIA Mother said she was wicked. Father said she was perverse. Thoby thought she wouldn’t stop touching herself. I read all Father’s letters when I helped Maitland with his book. Father begged Mother to marry him to help with Laura.
LEONARD But she couldn’t help, could she?
VIRGINIA Abominable system, family life. It goes from ignorance and indifference to denial and contempt, open attack and ultimate destruction. None of it was Mother’s fault. She was always visiting the poor and making them clothes. I always thought the poor knew how to enjoy themselves better than we do, because we are cooped up, day after day while they walk out freely.
LEONARD Did you ever visit Laura?
VIRGINIA Once I went with Stella. Laura spoke only gibberish. The only comprehensible sentence was, “I told him to go away.” I couldn’t go back because that was where I saw the deformed men.
LEONARD I don’t understand why Stella was The Cow. Wasn’t she a young, beautiful girl?
VIRGINIA I thought her lovelier than Mother. She was so pale, so white, she looked like cow parsley by moonlight. I don’t think Mother loved her, really. She was Mother’s loyal handmaid. Stella taught us our letters. She was supposed to look after Father when Mother was gone, and Mother was absent a lot.
LEONARD Where did your mother go?
VIRGINIA Nursing the sick. Mother loved nursing the sick, she said they were easier than the well. She seemed always so far away, in her mind. When we spoke to her she looked through us as if she didn’t see us. While Mother was gone, Stella stood in for her.
LEONARD Didn’t Stella have a life of her own?
VIRGINIA She turned down proposals, I know that. Mother didn’t want her to marry. Cousin Jem was obsessed with her – we children were frightened of him.
LEONARD Cousin Jem? Wasn’t he the mad cousin?
VIRGINIA Yes, but before he was locked up, he conceived a passion for Stella. He would run into the house, shouting, while Stella fled up the front stairs. He pursued her, bellowing, right to the nursery where he speared our toast on his swordstick. I thought he looked like a tormented bull. Father said to tell him Stella wasn’t home, but Mother said she could never bar her door to Jem. She said she loved him and he needed us because he was banned from all his clubs. Once he abducted me and Mother.
LEONARD He abducted you?
VIRGINIA Yes, funny, I’d forgotten it till just this moment. I suppose that’s how memory works. He took us to his rooms because he wanted me to pose for him. Mother didn’t want to go, but she couldn’t stop him. As he painted, he declaimed his own poetry:
“if all the harm that were done by men were doubled and doubled and doubled again squared and raised to the power of ten there wouldn’t be nearly enough, not near to keep a small girl for a tenth of a year.”
LEONARD And you were a small girl.
VIRGINIA I was. The smallest. I never saw the picture.
LEONARD How did you get away?
VIRGINIA Did I get away? I don’t remember. I always stammered when I told him Stella wasn’t home so he knew I was lying. When he grabbed me by the collar I thought of the Ripper Man who had been in all the papers. This is what they must have felt, those women, when they were grabbed by Ripper Man. I’m afraid I wet myself and Nurse was angry. She punished everything I did, but I never listened to her. Nurse claimed all emotions like fear, dread, disgust – come from desiring the wrong food or not moving one’s bowels. Children must accept whatever’s given. If you show a preference, then that’s the very thing you’re not allowed to have. It’s as bad for a girl to cry for what she wants as for a boy to land a blow. Yet we did both, because Nurse was nobody.
LEONARD Cousin Jem was taken away to the madhouse. That was a good thing, surely.
VIRGINIA Where he starved himself to death, and that’s what I shall do if ever you lock me up in one of those places.
LEONARD Go back to your mother’s death.
VIRGINIA I didn’t know what had happened until I saw the nurses crying. I thought they were pretending and we should laugh at them but everyone pulled a face. I went to kiss Mother but she was cold as iron. I never touch iron without thinking of her. Father caromed off people and walls, seeking anyone to wail against. It was like being shut up in a cage with a wild beast.
LEONARD My family was rigidly quiet when my father died. Stiff upper lip, get on with it, try harder, everyone must buckle down. That sort of thing.
VIRGINIA A family is a conspiracy, driven by uncontrollable lusts. I saw a man sitting with mother’s corpse but the others saw no one there. We became unmoored, entering a time of hopeless suspense, muddle, mismanagement, battling the stupidity of those in power. It was as if a finger had been laid upon our lips, sentencing us to a sultry, opaque miasma that choked us and blinded us. Father shouted at Stella if she didn’t stock his writing paper or ordered too much fish. I knew it really was because she couldn’t tell him he was a first-rate writer, as mother always did. Stella had no mind and nobody respected her. Poor father was haunted by fears that he only had a third-class mind.
LEONARD And did he, do you think?
VIRGINIA His ego crippled him. Self-assertion is so loathsome. Father began writing The Mausoleum Book. About death. He wailed from the top of the stairs, “We perished, each alone.” Nothing is to be dreaded so much as egotism. Stella tried her best to rescue us. I wasn’t kind to her because she dragged me to the dentist and ordered all my clothes. I couldn’t bear standing for inspection while being stuck with pins. She was made me wear stays for the first time. Then Stella fell in love.
LEONARD With Jack Waller Hills. Did you like him?
VIRGINIA I did then, but I realized later he was a terrible old Fascist. He used to say, “the weak are wrongdoers who foul the nets.” I know he meant me, that I was a weak wrongdoer. In the end, he was a typical man who liked to have his way. He always put his great hoof down. But at first, he seemed the only truth-teller we had ever met. I was thirsty for knowledge, and he knew things. He taught me how to sugar trees for moths, how to collect and mount butterflies, how to take pride in killing beautiful things. He told me everything about sex, about “street love”, common love, why it is that women can never walk alone. I was so shocked. I asked, What about honor? He said men never think of honor, that they had women constantly, so all their talk of purity is nonsense. Every man has his whore. Every woman except the cheap ones must be locked up tight. Yet they call women fallen! Men are the whores. It makes no sense to me.
LEONARD It does sound mad.
VIRGINIA The night Jack proposed a tramp broken into the garden. Thoby threatened him, shouting at him to go away. We were always frightened of tramps – it seemed they could get in anywhere. I was afraid one had invaded the house and was lurking and leering, waiting to pounce. But it was only Jack. When Father found out about the engagement he tried to stop the wedding but Stella had her own money so he could do nothing. He postponed the wedding until Stella agreed to buy the house next door so that she could still take care of him. During all this Nessa and I were forced to chaperone. You can’t think how awful it is to sit between a couple whispering and trying to touch. I was so angry at Stella I broke my umbrella in half.
LEONARD Child chaperones? Whatever will they think of next?
VIRGINIA I know! I often think I’m the only one who isn’t crazy! Stella and Jack convinced the aunts that Nessa and I could accompany them properly to Bognor but immediately we got there they sent us two out into the rain so they could be alone. We were soaked to the skin!
LEONARD Was there no one who could speak for you?
VIRGINIA The old aunts were the worst of the lot. They curdled our brains with their falsehoods and their pieties. The wedding was the most horrible ordeal. Nessa and I resolved to be Stoic and show no emotion, as if it were nothing touching us. If ever you show feelings you are treated like a beast at the zoo and will never escape the cage. Thus we were buried beneath obligations, under torrents of uncomfortable clothes, awkward visits and unspeakable rituals. I think we are to be congratulated, you and I, that we sidestepped that whole mess so neatly.
LEONARD Yes, the registry office is so much better. It’s over so fast. But after the wedding?
VIRGINIA The happy couple went to Italy, and we were left alone with Father. He was awful to Nessa, how I hated him! He shouted at her as he’d shouted at Stella. But Nessa stood up to him, she was a rock, she didn’t care. That’s when she summoned up her supreme indifference. It’s the bane of all who love her.
LEONARD But Vanessa had no money of her own.
VIRGINIA No. If Stella hadn’t given us allowances we would have had to beg Father for every penny. And then Stella and Jack came home early because Stella was ill.
LEONARD What was wrong with her?
VIRGINIA Violet Dickinson told me Jack must have hurt her with his violent lovemaking. That he broke her somehow. But Violet was just a spinster, so what could she possibly know? The doctors called it appendicitis but you know what cretins they turned out to be. They couldn’t operate because of the baby – she was pregnant, of course. On the night she died, I was sleeping in her new house – in her dressing room in fact –
LEONARD You were sleeping in Stella’s dressing room?
VIRGINIA Yes, I’d been so ill, you see. I always got ill when people went away. But Stella was dying so they sent George to fetch me. George the over-fed pug dog, fat as a louse, beady-eyed as a rat. He wrapped me in Stella’s fur cape and carried me back to Father’s house.
LEONARD And then?
VIRGINIA Stella died and Jack was left bereaved. Now we had two widowers wailing. The men in our family hardly waited for the bodies to be buried before turning to their next victim. I remember Jack holding my wrist on one side so tightly he left bruises, and George holding me on the other side. I was trapped, you see, I couldn’t get away. George won so Jack settled on Nessa. They actually wanted to marry! I couldn’t believe it. I told Nessa, you can’t be serious! She said, “So you’re against me too,” and gave me a look that broke my heart. But she knew they couldn’t marry because of the Deceased Wife’s Sister’s Act.
LEONARD They could have married in France.
VIRGINIA That’s what they say about everything, that “the French get away with it.” Luckily it all blew over because Nessa was granted a place at the Slade. Then I was quite alone. George pounced immediately and began ordering clothes and jewels to release me into society. I was the sacrificial offering to his violent gusts of passion and his mean little piggy brain.
LEONARD
And then?
VIRGINIA
And then Father began to die and I went mad a little. After he died, I went mad a lot.
LEONARD
Well, it isn’t any wonder, from what I’ve heard. If you are mad then so am I.
VIRGINIA You can’t think how long I’ve waited for those words!
(she reaches out a hand to him – he clutches it and kisses it)
LEONARD
Dearest! You will always be my only love!
(they gaze at each other, both trembling with pent-up emotion)
VIRGINIA But darling, if Dr. Craig consigns me to deepest darkness you will have to marry someone else. You can’t waste your life waiting for me.
LEONARD That won’t happen. Craig says our future’s what we make of it.
VIRGINIA Oh, honey mongoose! Let’s make a pact right now to rise above the nay-sayers. You have given me all the best things I have ever had in life, rescued me from the cliff edge again and again. You have been absolutely perfect to me, and I have been disgraceful to you. You work so hard and I do nothing. It’s all my fault. I was mad and angry before I met you and I am madder and angrier right now. I want you to know that I do want to cuddle you but I don’t know how to show it. In spite of my vilest imaginings I’ve always known that I love you and that you love me.
(he leans his face towards her, she awkwardly moves closer and they kiss delicately)
LEONARD Virginia, I promise not to ever push you any farther than you want to go.
VIRGINIA Oh honey! And I promise to follow all your rules; early bed, milk for breakfast; just so long as I can always read and write.
(they embrace)
LEONARD
If ever you cease writing I shall divorce you immediately.
VIRGINIA
(laughing awkwardly as if she has forgotten how)
It’s a bargain. Oh, darling, shall we really have our own press and print all our own work?
LEONARD Yes, and some of your friends if they are good enough. You decide.
VIRGINIA
And can I have a bulldog, too? I’ve always wanted a bulldog pup.
LEONARD
Certainly, my pet.
VIRGINIA
And can we live in London? A new house all our own?
LEONARD
Not London but perhaps some leafy suburb.
VIRGINIA
Leonard! Suburbs!
LEONARD
Think of the bulldog, Virginia. He must have a healthful life.
VIRGINIA
You’re right of course, Leonard. You are always right.
LEONARD
Bulldogs need a place to roam.
VIRGINIA
Fresh air and food. Lots of good red steak.
LEONARD
May I order dinner now, Virginia? Surely, it’s time.
VIRGINIA Yes, Leonard.
(She clutches his hand fiercely while with his other he rings the bell) CURTAIN – END
Alysse Aallyn 