(Scene 2. The Conservatory at Dalingridge Hall. VIRGINIA sits slackly in an old-fashioned wheeled chair, gazing into nothingness.)
LEONARD How are you today, Virginia? Sleep well?
VIRGINIA
(galvanizing)
How can there be sleep for those of us who see the flesh melted off the world? Have you come to gloat over the shattered splintered fragments of my body? You care nothing for what they do to me! You macerate my soul. With sleep comes horrible dreams. I was trapped in a drainpipe with the savage hairy man who squats, gobbling and belching, dabbling at my entrails. Soon I will be shrouded in snail slime sticky from the hollow stalk. Get away from me! I don’t want to see you!
LEONARD
(humbly)
I’ve brought chocolate creams. You used to love those.
VIRGINIA You are a shadow. You torment me with shadows of the people I might have been, all my unborn selves. Go away, Leonard. Your cause is hopeless.
LEONARD No cause is hopeless as long as we can talk.
VIRGINIA I have nothing to say to you. Your kind disgusts me.
LEONARD You can’t realize how utterly you would end my life too if you died or ever dismissed me. Aren’t I still your precious Mongoose? Aren’t you my beloved Mandrill?
VIRGINIA Any real relationship between men and women is unattainable. It’s all nonsense and lies.
LEONARD Weren’t we going to create our own special relationship? A real marriage, unlike everyone else’s, a vital, living thing. That’s what we promised.
VIRGINIA And then you brought me to George’s house, you traitor.
LEONARD Officialdom requires certification following suicide attempts! You’d be a ward in chancery! This is the only way!
(He seems about to sit down, she stops him)
VIRGINIA If you sit I’ll start screaming and I won’t stop.
LEONARD I’m so afraid of the future, Virginia, if you can’t get strong.
VIRGINIA You want me to tolerate filthy fingers stuck down my throat! That’s what it comes down to, isn’t it?
LEONARD Is eating chocolate creams so terrible?
(He offers the box)
VIRGINIA Don’t come near me.
(He sets the box on the little table, kneels)
LEONARD I would grovel to you and kiss your toes if you would only listen to me, Virginia. Aren’t you better now? Aren’t you getting stronger? Look, you’re free and out of your straps. You’re sleeping some and eating a little. Have the hallucinations gone away?
VIRGINIA I’m terrified of sleep. I’m terrified of chloral and the nightmares it provides. When I wake at night and understand all the terror, violence and unreason still presiding over the universe it is worse than death. I am nothing. I am nobody. I am I-less.
LEONARD Didn’t you always say that only writing that brings order to madness? You called art humanity’s one defense.
VIRGINIA Art is a conspiracy among the civilized. Yet how can we call people civilized who insist on enslaving half their populace? Behold myself, empty-handed and force-fed, by your order. I know I have a good mind, but you have surrendered me to the very people bent on destroying it.
LEONARD Civilization is largely humbug, Virginia. That may be the only thing I’ve learned. I always felt I’m playing a part upon a stage. You’re the only honest person I’ve ever met and now you’re at risk. I just want you to get well, Virginia, so we can plan our hundred books.
VIRGINIA You care nothing for my plans! Shall I ever write again one of those sentences that gives me the most intense pleasure? For years now, people jerked wires to make me jump like a jack in the box when all I want is peace. I long to be ten miles beneath the sea. Here I am stuck in polar ice, harassed by barbarians.
LEONARD Your ice drifts toward home.
VIRGINIA
I have no home.
LEONARD
You will get well and our life will become possible again. As soon as you gain weight and master some calm and some cheer, we are free!
VIRGINIA Calm and cheer in a world like this one! Don’t treat me like some retarded infant. When we walked together at Asheham you inveighed against the world as a stupid, corrupt brothel.
LEONARD And I still believe that. I wanted to go into politics but politics is brutal and discouraging. Now I think I must change the world through workers’ cooperatives. We must stand up against all the evils that we see.
VIRGINIA You said writers are born to be unhappy.
LEONARD I fear to some extent that must be true. It’s harder on you, because you’re a sensitive, poetic writer. But if we swear to support each other –
VIRGINIA My punishment is unending. Mother didn’t approve of school for girls. Boys should go everywhere and know everything, and girls should stay home and know nothing. All my brothers were sent to school, where I must say they did horribly. George and Gerald were incurably stupid and Thoby jumped out a window rather than write his prep. But I learned Greek! I learned Latin! I read every book in Father’s library, all on my own! And here I am, sentenced to Bedlam for it.
LEONARD When you have seen the squalor that I have, you will realize that Dalingridge Hall is no punishment, Virginia.
VIRGINIA It’s a punishment for me. Think of its owners, in their smug pride, rulers of the universe. How can you of all people, abide them? But they seduce even you with their privilege, luxury and glamor. What is the use of the finest education in the world if it teaches people not to hate force but to use it? Why can’t we learn the arts of understanding people’s lives and minds? All that the professions preach is worship of the sacred tree of property.
LEONARD The doctors say you pushed yourself too hard.
VIRGINIA Is that what you really think, that diving deep is dangerous? Go away, Leonard. I can’t bear to hear you lie to me.
(Lights up on – Graveyard with sign, DEAD LAKE CEMETERY. WHITNEY approaches to read a stone aloud)
WHITNEY “John Doe – a friendless stranger. The Lord will recognize His own”.
(Enter a grave-tending woman, MRS DAVISH with basket of gardening tools and wheeled cart of plants.)
MRS. DAVISH Did you know that poor lost soul?
WHITNEY Looks like nobody knew him.
MRS. DAVISH (Pulls an ear trumpet off her cart and holds it to her head) What’s that you say? Speak up.
WHITNEY A trumpet!
MRS. DAVISH Just funning with you! My hearing’s perfect.
(Tosses the trumpet back on the cart.)
You wouldn’t believe the things people leave on graves around here. And the signs say, Plants Only. Trust me, Great Grampster hears fine in heaven. Care to purchase a remembrance for this grave? It would be very thoughtful of you.
WHITNEY I’m not sure he’s the right one. Is he the only John Doe you’ve got?
MRS. DAVISH He’s the only one. Usually people no one can identify go straight to paupers’ field. But the Hidden Glade developers paid for this poor gentleman.
WHITNEY Why would they?
MRS. DAVISH Maybe ‘cause they’re the ones that disturbed his peace by digging him up. But they didn’t bother to buy the perpetual care — that is rarer than hen’s teeth… They do say nothing is perpetual but my fond fancy… Look, I could just give you some flowers if you’re not too particular.
(Rummages in her cart)
WHITNEY Nothing for me, thank you. Doesn’t he ever get … remembrances?
MRS. DAVISH Never. Poor lost soul. Anything that’s ever been on that grave, I’ve put there myself.
WHITNEY Well, that’s peculiar, don’t you think?
MRS. DAVISH Not in the least. It’s the rule, really. You’d be surprised. No one speaks for the dead.
WHITNEY But when you want to speak up for them, it seems like they object.
MRS. DAVISH (Smiles at her)
Some of them can get a little noisy.
WHITNEY So how long have you been working here?
MRS. DAVISH Oh! Thirty years. Thirty-five years, off and on. My grandmother brought me every Sunday. You could call it a ritual. You’re welcome to try breaking out of long-established rituals – but it can’t be done.
WHITNEY Glad I found you. Seems lately I owe everything to people living in the past. So this man was buried by the Dead Lake developers, eh?
MRS. DAVISH Sssh. They don’t like the connection to anything “dead”. Hidden Glade, it’s called these days. Yup, a backhoe tossed this man up and out like a ragdoll!
WHITNEY But where’d they find him?
MRS. DAVISH Heavens, I don’t know! You never saw such a frenzy of obfuscation! One of those houses around the lake they bulldozed is all I know. There’s no fact-getting at this late date.
(WHITNEY looks depressed – MRS DAVISH leans to stage whisper)
But they did have to call the cops!
(Sage nodding. WHITNEY perks up)
WHITNEY And why’s that?
MRS. DAVISH (Leans forward to whisper)
He was as full of lead as a shad full of roe! They took some out and left the other ones inside!
(Pats tombstone lovingly)
Died of “heavy metal” poisoning, poor old thing.
WHITNEY Wow! Not a popular guy.
MRS. DAVISH Either that, or he was far too popular to suit somebody.
(They laugh)
WHITNEY But couldn’t they tell what house he came from?
MRS. DAVISH I’m telling you they didn’t want to know! Tenants had been pushed out and disappeared long before.
(Pulls down an eyelid)
There’s none so blind as those who will not see.
WHITNEY I guess ancient corpses full of bullets are pretty blind, too.
MRS. DAVISH True, true. Who wants to buy a property that had a murder on it? Who signs up for a haunting? Said they owed it to the shareholders to hush things up. But truth is the daughter of time, not of authority, says the poet.
WHITNEY Surely somebody checked for missing people!
MRS. DAVISH Oh naturally. Naturally. But nobody was missing! Everyone accounted for. He was some poor stranger.
WHITNEY So maybe it was a “good riddance” situation.
MRS. DAVISH Most likely.
WHITNEY (Jubilant) Under the circumstances, then, I’d like to buy some flowers.
MRS. DAVISH The pinks are magnificent this time of year. Or acacia. Means “Secret love” in the language of flowers, not that anyone tries speaking that no more. But for those of us in the know, it lends a little added pleasure. Got some beautiful violets just coming into bloom.
WHITNEY The language of flowers, eh? So what do violets mean?
MRS. DAVISH Faithful love.
(Quoting)
“The faithful shall be rewarded,” that’s what the violets say.
(On the beach. Door in the house opens and CHARMAYNE, wearing only a filmy cover-up over her bikini, steps out exultantly to spread her arms to the moon)
CHARMAYNE Moon, Mother-Sister-Goddess, whose tears fertilize the world, I seek permission to penetrate your veil.
WHITNEY (Awkwardly standing) Er – Char –
CHARMAYNE Oh, my God, Whitney! You scared the life out of me. What are you doing here?
WHITNEY Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.
CHARMAYNE (Insulted)
I’m surprised, that’s all. You’re never here this late. Should I be flattered? What have you got there?
(WHITNEY proffers the bottle.)
WHITNEY I was trying to get up the nerve to speak to you.
CHARMAYNE Tequila?
(Laughs.)
WHITNEY It’s my drink. Want some?
CHARMAYNE Why couldn’t you just come to the door?
WHITNEY You were…with someone.
CHARMAYNE (Burbling laughter)
Ramon’s gone, you must have heard the television! Don’t be jealous of the television. You’re adorable! Give me some of that.
(Seats herself comfortably and takes the bottle)
WHITNEY Sorry I don’t have any cups.
CHARMAYNE Oh. Whitney, I’m the Queen of Cups, didn’t you know?
(Laughs and drinks)
Queen of bottles, too. So what did you want to talk to me about?
WHITNEY I wanted to ask your advice on something.
(Making it up on the spur of the moment)
I’ve got a problem at college, and you know all about men. My advisor is…handsy.
CHARMAYNE Handsy! There’s an expression I haven’t heard for awhile.
WHITNEY (Inspired) He’s a real – Casper the Grasper. He always pretends it’s a joke or a mistake. I don’t know what to do. He’s the head of the department. If I complain –
CHARMAYNE Never complain, Whit. Never settle. We’re better than that. You need to get even. Trust me, that’s where all the real satisfaction is.
(Takes another swig – offers it to WHITNEY who pretends to drink)
This is so much fun! I was yearning for a Girls Night Out!
(Puts her arm through WHITNEY’S)
This may amaze you, but I get lonely too. It’s a well-kept secret life can be lonely at the top. Finding my equal just gets harder and harder.
WHITNEY There’s Ramon –
CHARMAYNE Oh, please! Ramon’s just an employee and he knows it. Men! Even well-trained men are…a limited indulgence. And there’s one thing they can’t ever get right.
(Smacks WHITNEY’S thigh as she cuddles up to her)
This part.
(EIGHT looks over the boulder. WHITNEY seems emboldened by his presence)
WHITNEY So have you ever done it? Gotten even?
CHARMAYNE (Bragging)
I always get even. Nobody messes with me twice.
(Swig. She’s not even sharing the bottle anymore)
WHITNEY (Settling down for a story)
Tell me about it.
CHARMAYNE You’ll have to take off your clothes first.
(Uncomfortable moment. WHITNEY pulls away.)
Did you think offering me a drink would be enough to get me to unburden?
WHITNEY What are you talking about?
CHARMAYNE I need to know you’re not recording me, silly girl. I’ve been blackmailed by pros. What happens on Girls Night Out stays on Girls Night Out. Hos before bros. Come on. Hurry it up. Look at me, I’m not wearing anything.
WHITNEY (Peels down to her underwear)
Believe me, I’m not “recording” anything.
CHARMAYNE That’s what they all say. Knowledge backfires in the hands of the novice. Turn around. Let me look. Phone turned off?
(She runs her hand thru bra & panties)
You know what? I believe you. You couldn’t lie to save your soul. And you’re the most awful blusher, has anybody ever told you that? You blush with your whole body!
WHITNEY (Blushing)
I’m aware.
CHARMAYNE Lucky for you. People automatically trust blushers because blushing’s involuntary.
WHITNEY People trust me because they know I care about the truth.
CHARMAYNE Oh, bullshit! The truth! The Sacred Truth! There’s no such thing! There’s what happened and there’s what we think happened – who can tell the difference? OK, sit down. Take a load off. Have a drink to loosen you up.
(WHITNEY pretends to drink)
You’ve got a good body, you know that? Nice and hard. Lovely tone. You’re lacking a waist, that’s all. You inherited your father’s physique as well as his brains. It’s all about pluses and minuses. You have to work against the minuses. Men are prejudiced against waistless girls because their hard wiring makes them suckers for a certain waist to hip proportion. Did you know that? But we don’t care about them, do we? Who needs them? Prisoners of their reflexes! Born to mate! Man proposes, the goddess disposes!
WHITNEY Charmayne, you turn every conversation into a Whitney – critiqueathon. Why’s that?
CHARMAYNE Because you interest me, little Whit. You interest me extremely. You’re smart. The way your father was … at first.
WHITNEY (Refusing to be drawn. Grits her teeth to get through this.)
Please don’t talk about him. And don’t tell me to make myself gorgeous for Casper the Grasper.
CHARMAYNE Listen, if you were gorgeous he wouldn’t have the nerve to touch you.
WHITNEY I think the beautiful get harassed, too.
CHARMAYNE But they have more options. They can –
WHITNEY I want to hear about you. Tell me about that time that you got even.
CHARMAYNE (Very expansive)
There are so many! But let’s start at the beginning. Here’s something you didn’t know about me. I had a stepfather. You may complain about me, but the problem with you, Whit, is that you always take your good luck for granted. I never take anything for granted. I’m a day at the beach compared to that guy. Talk about “handsy”!
WHITNEY (Pretending to drink, then surrendering the bottle)
So what was he like?
CHARMAYNE What was he like? He was a monster, that’s what he was like. He was Death, the Hanged Man, the Tower. He thought he was the God of Wrath, that asshole. He was only a king of Destruction.
(Swigs from the bottle)
Destruction is easy. It’s creation that’s hard. It’s creating that takes it out of you. Every time I look in the mirror and recreate myself, I am spitting on his grave. He acted so convinced that I’d end up nothing, just like him. All he ever gave me was a spiral fracture of the arm.
WHITNEY (Shocked and appalled)
Why’d your Mom marry him?
CHARMAYNE She couldn’t believe he wanted to marry her! She’d never been married – God knows who my real father was. She thought if any vaguely presentable guy – even some unemployed wastrel on disability – proposes to you, you HAVE to say yes. She met him at the diner where she cooked. Oh, yeah, my Mom worked. And worked and worked. Two shifts a day. My step-dad was supposed to take care of me. She thought she’d hit the lottery to win some guy with a disability check and nothing but time on his hands to look after me for free. He used every second ratcheting up my misery. I couldn’t stay at school every minute, but you better believe I wanted to. I knew I had to go home to him eventually. But the joke was on him. He thought he was so smart but he sure underestimated me.
(She’s lost, now, talking to the audience)
What a scrawny, worthless loser! He knew the entire universe despised him so he thought he’d get himself a slave. Someone he could push around. I was eleven when he told me it was his duty to teach me about sex. He said that was what stepfathers were for.
WHITNEY But your Mom –
CHARMAYNE (Angrily)
Oh, my Mom knew perfectly well what was going on! It meant she didn’t have to cope with him!
(Returns attention to courting the audience, cultivating her reverie. WHITNEY muffles up to ease the flow)
Mom’s cooperation (I should say her silence, because she was way too fat to “cooperate”) could be bought with a carton of snack cakes.
My step-dad pretended I was ugly; that he could barely bring himself to touch me. He expected me to worship him. But he must have known that the moment I grew up I’d try to get away. Maybe he thought he could keep me forever, like a hostage. Once, when my girlfriends and I streaked our hair for a sleepover, he acted as if I had set the house on fire. Luckily it was the kind that washes out; otherwise I think he really would have shaved my head.
I remember exactly how scared I felt the first time I decided to ignore my stepfather’s dictates about how I should look and dress. My first day of high school I knew I couldn’t go in there looking like some Amish refugee. I had to step up my game. It was terror, rank terror, the kind that makes you wet yourself; but you know what enemies forget? That fear is the rocket fuel of rebellion. Remember that, Whitney. You’ll never experience an emotion like that; you’ve been too sheltered. My stepfather’s own possessive rage became the engine of his death.
I try not to think about him too often because my energy is the only thing that gives him life, but you know, I’m glad to share this with you. Open it up, get it out of my head. The memories are still there, perfect and crystal clear. Nothing that happened in all those years since packs that kind of punch. I was just beginning to realize that my stepfather couldn’t actually read my mind, had no eyes in the back of his head, could not see through walls, did not have spies everywhere, was not connected to the Mafia or the CIA. It was him or me. How could I destroy him?
That year Saturn and Mars were equally fiery, it was dry and there was a comet. Perfect for revolution. He was weakening and I was strengthening. Your father taught you that in chess queens rule: my step-dad was too stupid to know it. So our battles escalated. I was getting as tall as he was; he must have figured his fists and penis were no longer sufficient to control me. One day he produced a gun. His idea was that we would have a threesome, little me, paralyzed with fear, and Superman with his two dicks. My idea was different.
He knew I was afraid of the cellar. He used to lock me down there for punishment when I was little. As a child, I thought it was the mouth of hell; a dirt hole stinking like a sewer clawed out beneath the bowels of the house. When he pushed me down there I never even passed the top step but just clung to the doorknob, eye pressed to the light crack, wailing for release.
(A slug of fast-vanishing booze. Turns her attention back to WHITNEY)
Will is a muscle, Whit; you can train it just the way you train the body. I had transcended so many fears already; why couldn’t I outgrow this one? What is the fear of confrontation, really, but the fear of change? What is the fear of being caught but the fear of ultimate failure, of not being powerful enough? Poisoning him didn’t work – I tried that – hoping to make his death look accidental; so, what if he simply disappeared? Nobody except his bar buddies would even notice he was gone. And they were way too fuzzyheaded to stage any meaningful hunt. Mom could just keep cashing his checks. Who would know? And she owed me. He’d overstayed his welcome on this planet; neither of us needed a babysitter any more. If weapons are engines of confrontation, Whitney, both of us could use them.
That was when I fell in love with power, Whitney. I had to, and you can too, or you’ll never get anywhere. Let me be your teacher.
(Strokes WHITNEY’s hair, uses finger for a gun)
Pop, pop, pop, and “pop” is gone. I knew how to cock the pistol; I knew how to release the safety because I’d seen him do it countless times. If the cellar was dirty and stinky, and no one ever went down there, why couldn’t I bury him where nobody would ever look?
So, while he was out buying smokes I fired up my nerve and took a flashlight down to check it out. That wooden staircase rocked like it was going to collapse, but I told myself it had only to hold me two more times. There were bugs, just as I feared; centipedes and worms, but now I saw them as my friends. Let them eat the bastard up; if only they’d chew his bones as well. The walls were caving in; hunks of unhewn stone overpowered by tree roots. Then I saw my blessing. A wooden well cover. I knew the time was now.
I recalled the furor when the county forced us on to public water. My step-dad raged that fluoridation was a commie plot. And all that time the old well was down there. Water in the bottom reflected my flashlight as I leaned over. It was even set flush with the floor; what could be easier? I practiced moving the wooden cover; no problemo. The only difficulty now was to get him down here with the gun.
So I told him I heard rats; I knew he longed for targets; especially in front of me. When I said they were scratching at the door, he was ready to go.
But he liked being a man of surprises, fancying he was in control. He made me go down first, carrying the flashlight and a garbage bag. That meant I couldn’t tackle him from behind the way I’d planned. It cut down on my time for action, because as I think I said before, the place was just a tiny hole. He would see I was a liar.
But if he had surprises, I had ideas. The garbage bag gave me a good one. I had a friend who earnestly believed violence engenders hauntings, but she didn’t see her own death coming. But if what she said is true, that cellar’s haunted forever by me in a red sweater, red kilt and plaid tights; and my step-dad wearing a garbage bag over his head while we struggled for the gun. I had to drop the flashlight; it shot a crazy, useless stream of light across the floor; we were in darkness.
He was wiry and desperate and amazingly strong, but I had the gun two-handed and I would not have let it go if the world around me exploded into flames. I discovered in that moment the secret of power, Whit, if you want something with your whole being, if you have not one cell of doubt, you are invincible. I had to kick his crotch to loosen up his grip, but the gun came to me pre-cocked. What an idiot! I shot him right through the bag. That gun kicked like a rattlesnake. I shot him again and again and again, and one of the bullets somehow came back to graze me in the face. Doesn’t bother me. This chip along my cheekbone – see? I wear it as a badge of honor.
(Demonstrates to WHITNEY)
I still have that gun. I can show you if you want to see it.
(She’s slurring her words now. Shakes the empty bottle.)
There’s another one that fell before The Queen of Swords! Think we should put a message in this thing? What would we say?
(Pulls arm back to throw bottle into the audience, sits down hard)
WHITNEY So you’re telling me to shoot my way out?
(CHARMAYNE laughs. shakes & holds her head)
CHARMAYNE Oh, Whitney, you’re always so literal! Your father hoped you’d be a lawyer. Wow, am I drunk. Guess I should have eaten dinner, but who wants to eat alone? Don’t be so silly, Whit. You can’t dip your hand in the same river twice. Your guy’s got weaknesses is all I’m saying. Search – searching –
(Seems like she’s losing track of her thoughts)
You’ve got to search them out. I can’t do everything for you. Learn to defend yourself. No one helps anyone else and the sooner you find that out, the better off you’ll be.
(Throws herself on her back)
Look at those stars, Whit. So many stars. Every star’s a lost soul, struggling for a piece of sun. Did you know I can’t sleep, Whit? I haven’t slept in days. But, I think I can sleep now. There’s something so safe, so reassuring about you.
(Loud snoring. EIGHT and WHITNEY stand over her looking down)
WHITNEY Should we move her?
EIGHT Don’t disturb her. Jeez, when she goes down, she goes down hard.
(CHARMAYNE reaches up scrabbling at the air.)
CHARMAYNE I hear you! What did you say?
(Burps)
This has been so fun. Look out, there’s two of you!
(Rolls over, cuddles up in WHITNEY’s clothes. WHITNEY tries to cover herself – EIGHT lends her his Hawaiian shirt)
WHITNEY I don’t – thanks.
EIGHT Hey, it’s a beautiful night.
WHITNEY Well, they say confession is good for the soul. But you have to have a soul.
EIGHT I’m sure she’s got something left way down deep in there. But it’s probably a poor, stubby, underfed little thing. You take off, I’ll watch over her.
(The Hamptons. Lights up on WHITNEY, sitting against the boulder, staring out at the ocean, drinking from a bottle of tequila. EIGHT approaches and sits beside her silently.)
EIGHT What? No door hammering? Your fists must be sore.
WHITNEY I’m waiting for her to come out and swim. She usually does – when the moon is full. Then I’m going to brain her with this bottle. Which will be empty at that point.
(EIGHT takes the bottle away)
EIGHT Save the tequila for her. You catch more flies with the tequila than by trying to smash them drunkenly with a bottle.
WHITNEY Hey, but at least I’d feel better.
EIGHT Let’s play a game. Role-play with me. What were you planning to say to her?
WHITNEY (Screwing up her face with struggle)
I guess… nothing. She scares me so badly I can’t think. You should hear the way she talks to me! I can’t break through this “I’m a great lady and you’re a poor little supplicant” routine. I was planning on getting drunk and then maybe having enough courage to wing it.
EIGHT This sounds like HER game plan. Deer in the headlights.
WHITNEY Well, it’s working.
(She tries to wrestle the bottle away – he keeps tight control)
Hey! It’s MY bottle!
EIGHT Wait for it to hit you before you pack on more. You probably need every bit of this for her – she strikes me as a hard drinker. Take my word for it, booze and ocean are a dangerous combination.
WHITNEY Is that so?
EIGHT I know from personal experience.
WHITNEY Is that how you died?
EIGHT (Points to his chest)
Me? Last time I checked I was a conscious, breathing human being.
WHITNEY I’ve been seeing too many ghosts lately. I guess some of them aren’t even dead yet.
EIGHT (Sits down beside her)
Lay off of that stuff if you want to know what’s real.
(Long lingering kiss)
That real enough for you?
WHITNEY (She stares at him a long time)
I’m not sure. I think I need another one.
(He obliges.)
EIGHT Ready to tell me what happened?
WHITNEY And here I was figuring you were all knowing!
EIGHT It’s easy to be all knowing about someone else’s business. It’s my own that has me stumped. Share what you discovered.
WHITNEY Well, you sent me spinning off to confront her and get my fortune read. She told me some people don’t have souls.
EIGHT She’s lying. I’m all-knowing enough about that.
WHITNEY She says people lose their souls.
EIGHT She’s messing with you. Don’t believe a word she says.
WHITNEY So after we find out she’s an identity thief whose prey has mysteriously disappeared you send me dancing off to see who else she’s murdered. Guess what! Turns out here WAS a guy, she probably did it but we’ll never prove it.
EIGHT What makes you so sure?
WHITNEY The police destroyed the evidence! On purpose!
(She leans toward him and whispers conspiratorially)
“GRASSY KNOLL”
. EIGHT You can still win this. Even with incompetent police, bedfellow prosecutors and bribable jailers you can win this.
WHITNEY Why’s that?
EIGHT Karma. Also known as, what comes around goes around.
WHITNEY We WISH.
EIGHT All you need’s more time. Cons simply can’t get away with it forever. Call it “hanging in there”. You have to let destiny know that you won’t let go.
WHITNEY Did you say “Destiny?” That was her stripper name!
EIGHT See? It started already! Be as wily as a serpent and as gentle as a dove.
WHITNEY I think I aced the “gentle” part.
EIGHT So all you need is wily. Ever asked yourself why she wastes time with you? Hasn’t she got everything she wants? What’s she hanging around here for?
WHITNEY She enjoys torturing people, and the better she knows them the more fun it is.
EIGHT Maybe. I think she needs something from you and you need to figure out what that is.
WHITNEY She did say I reminded her of herself. I was so horrified I almost upchucked.
EIGHT There you go! She’s looking for an heir! A protégée!
WHITNEY She actually used that word!
EIGHT See? You’re on your way!
WHITNEY But why me?
EIGHT
Maybe she’s lonely.
WHITNEY Why not somebody more malleable? Who LIKES her and is impressed by her?
EIGHT Maybe you represent a challenge. She’s probably in awe of you. Maybe she’s a little bit in love with you.
WHITNEY As if! She’s always talking about how terrible my body is and how I need to get it fixed.
EIGHT Talks about your body, does she? I think we’re onto something.
WHITNEY She doesn’t “fall in love”, she tries to seduce people. It isn’t the same thing.
EIGHT Maybe she thinks it is. Here, Whit. I’ve got something for you. I’ve got something for you.
(Reaches in his pocket and hands her small object.)
WHITNEY What’s this? A bullet?
EIGHT I’m a treasure hunter, right? There I was minding my own business sweeping this particular patch of beach and your stepmother came out of her house and took a shot at me. So I waited to find the bullet and then I dug it out.
WHITNEY She shot at you?
EIGHT More than once, using some very unladylike language.
(Puts her hand on his heart)
Yes, my heart’s still pumping, no thanks to your stepmother. She damn near killed me.
WHITNEY And here I was wondering if she conjured you up out of her medieval imagination!
EIGHT Not hardly.
WHITNEY So what are you proposing I do with this thing?
EIGHT Humans are pattern makers, Whit. Pattern makers and pattern finders. If her pattern gets big enough everyone’s gonna see it.
WHITNEY (Studying the bullet)
Patterns, eh?
EIGHT Right. Sometimes when we see them they aren’t even there. That’s why waiting for the come around to go around is so important.
WHITNEY I don’t like waiting. Tell me what you’ve figured out about my stepmother so far.
EIGHT Look at this place.
(Waves a hand expansively)
I think she’s a trophy-collector.
WHITNEY That’s for sure. Every day she puts on a necklace belonging to the woman who disappeared. Imagine what she’s thinking!
EIGHT Maybe other people aren’t even real to her. She goes shooting up and down this beach, like she’s the only person in the universe. That blindness makes her lonely I’m guessing. And sloppy for sure.
WHITNEY So the gun itself could be a trophy?
EIGHT Why not? And even if she destroyed that gun, she’d never find all those bullets.
WHITNEY You’re thinking she shot somebody?
EIGHT I’d call that most probable.
WHITNEY But how am I going to find out who’s got her bullet in them?
EIGHT Ask her.
WHITNEY Ask her! Are you out of your mind? I can’t do it!
EIGHT Sure you can. You don’t know your own strength. Bet she loves to brag.
WHITNEY You know, she does.
EIGHT She’s probably irritated that the world hasn’t yet caught on to how clever she’s been, how superior she is. She’s fooled everyone and they don’t even know it. You don’t need me. You can catalogue all your stepmother’s weaknesses for yourself by now.
WHITNEY Well, I know she loves hanging all over me pushing her disgusting “advice”.
EIGHT Maybe her prime weakness is you.
WHITNEY Me? Never! According to her there’s nothing “right” about me.
EIGHT I’d say that lady protests too much. Look at it. You’re the only person she hasn’t been able to fool. She needs to win you over.
WHITNEY I think her weakness is Time. It’s running out on her and she’s got to know it.
EIGHT I think you underestimate your powers of attraction. But let’s say I agree with you. Explain your last statement.
WHITNEY I think the only things she really covets are power, youth and beauty. In fact, she staked her life on them.
EIGHT Then she’s looking at trouble, isn’t she? Makes her whole future is a disaster area.
WHITNEY (Realizing it fully)
Sure looks like it.
EIGHT So maybe you should tell her fortune, for once.
WHITNEY That wouldn’t work! She’d never believe me.
EIGHT But Time, Power, Youth & Beauty – they’re are all on your side. Cave! Here she comes.
WHITNEY What makes you think so? I don’t see her. Time to admit it; you’re otherworldly.
EIGHT I’ve got a highly developed sense of smell for sulfur. Don’t you worry. I’m gonna be right here.
(Lights up on Strip club., “Guilty Pleasures”. Pole, stage, café table with chairs on top. MR BUTTERBATCH wearing apron is sweeping floor. Enter WHITNEY with wheeled suitcase)
WHITNEY Didn’t this club used to be The Gentleman’s Secret?
BUTTERBATCH Long, long ago. Are you the new dancer?
WHITNEY Not hardly.
BUTTERBATCH Well, that’s lucky.
(Shakes his head.)
WHITNEY I’m looking for the owner.
BUTTERBATCH Oh, the owners never come in. Day manager arrives after eleven.
WHITNEY Maybe you can help me. Were you here sixteen years ago?
BUTTERBATCH Lady, I’ve been here since the beginning of time. Butterbatch is the name. Butter by name and bachelor by nature.
WHITNEY You’re just who I’m looking for…if your memory is any good.
(Takes down a chair and sits exhaustedly)
BUTTERBATCH My memory is fantastic. It’s pretty much all I’ve got these days. What is it that you want to know exactly? Are you implying I’m too old to know anything because I said you were too fat to be a dancer?
WHITNEY Did you say that?
BUTTERBATCH No. I’m polite. So maybe you shouldn’t go casting aspersions.
WHITNEY Honestly I wasn’t casting aspersions. I’m too tired to cast aspersions. I’ve been up all night, flying standby.
BUTTERBATCH (Vigorously sweeping)
Traveling steerage, were you? Well, that was dumb. That one’s on you.
WHITNEY Let’s start over. I’m investigating a murder.
BUTTERBATCH We’ve got two. Bar fight 96 or stage manager 99?
WHITNEY (Eyes popping)
Stage manager 1999! Wow! You get right to it.
BUTTERBATCH See? You’ve come to the right place. I know everything. We oldsters are the guardians of the past. Not that anyone cares these days. Crime shows don’t like unsolved crimes. Can’t get the media interested. What’s the “spin” is all they want to know. I can answer any question you’ve got but first, I’ve got a little question of my own.
(Getting comfortable leaning on his broom)
What’s it to you?
WHITNEY I don’t understand.
BUTTERBATCH Of course you don’t understand, that’s what I’m here for. I’m gonna explicate. But first you’ve got to riddle me this; Why ya wanna know?
WHITNEY Oh. Well, I think I know who might have killed that guy.
BUTTERBATCH Really? Cold case like that? Why ain’t you talkin’ to the police?
WHITNEY Because I need to talk to you first.
(Shows her phone)
Recognize this woman?
BUTTERBATCH I’m not sure. She wasn’t a waitress, I can tell you that, and she wasn’t a patron any night I was here. But those dancers – they change. Wigs, makeup. Costumes. They transform themselves. Professional chameleons.
WHITNEY Her name was Pearleen Purdy.
BUTTERBATCH Oh, Pearleen! Of course I remember her. Destiny! She barely used the pole! She worked the edge of the stage. Everyone remembers her. I’ve got guys that still ask about her. Poor Lester Westerhaven ain’t never got over her.
WHITNEY Destiny?
BUTTERBATCH That was her stage name. On account of the palm reading. Yup, she had quite a following. Now I always thought she was kind of scary.
WHITNEY You did? Why?
BUTTERBATCH She had these terrible eyes. She looked at people like she was trying to figure out how much space they took up and whether she could relieve them of it. Gave me the heebie-jeebies. You think Pearleen killed Burt?
WHITNEY Tell me more about these “heebie-jeebies”.
BUTTERBATCH You know how when women, like, go for things they want, they go all roundabout? Making nice? Playing coy? She wasn’t like that at all! She told you what she wanted right up front! The audience never saw that part. But when she was looking at everybody, it was like she was looking at nobody. I always felt like this was her world and the rest of us were just passing through.
WHITNEY So what did she want?
BUTTERBATCH Well, not me, I can tell you that much. And not Burt either, though he was pretty handsy. Casper the Grasper the girls called him. She was dating a couple of customers, I seem to remember. Rich guys. Married guys. She blew through Lester’s little stash like he was standing still.
WHITNEY (Reads her phone)
Says here Burt was found dead at nine AM June 16.
BUTTERBATCH By yours truly! You never saw such blood! Handcuffed to his chair; throat slit with a frog-gigger. Nasty little knife. Right here in the office. Blood everywhere!
(Shivers)
WHITNEY A frog-gigger?
BUTTERBATCH I’m still not over it. But you know I just don’t see how a little thing like Pearleen could manhandle a fellow that size! Burt was 250 pounds of hard blubber! Even handcuffed to a chair…
WHITNEY How about surprise? I mean, what if she just came up behind him? Say he was blindfolded.
BUTTERBATCH That would work. Now you’re talking. And he could have been high. He liked to be high when he thought he was gonna get some.
WHITNEY So what happened to Pearleen? Where was she at the time of the murder? Or after it?
BUTTERBATCH Who knows! You kidding me? Them dancers scattered like cockroaches in the sunlight! Half of ‘em were undocumented and the rest were violating parole. Everybody’s wanted for something or other.
WHITNEY But who had a motive?
BUTTERBATCH Everyone had a motive with Burt! Yours truly excepted, natch. Burt was the drug connection. The police pounced right on the drug angle because his stash was missing. Nobody wanted to be connected to that. Nobody even went to the poor guy’s funeral. It was just me and the owners. This place closed down entirely for a couple of weeks. We had to reopen under a new name, new dancers, everything.
WHITNEY Anything else you can tell me about Pearleen?
BUTTERBATCH Oh, she was a fortuneteller. She’d look deep in your eyes – right through to the back of your head – pretending to read your palm. Oh, my God! Gives me the shiverbumps now.
WHITNEY She never told your fortune?
BUTTERBATCH (Shudders) Heck no. I stay away from that stuff. Feels like they’re trying to put a mark on you. Somebody gives you a fortune, it might come true. I like to keep the future unexpected. Keeps life interesting. I wasn’t expecting you, see? Keeps me alert. And I’m still here, aren’t I?
WHITNEY This is just what I needed. Thanks for all your help.
BUTTERBATCH (Calling after her)
Off to the police? Planning to star on one of them crime shows?
WHITNEY Why not?
BUTTERBATCH Don’t waste your breath. They “lost” all the evidence. It’s just another grassy knoll!
(Punctuates with finger commas.)
Lost the evidence! That’s what I’m telling you. Thing they said was, “We don’t have the room to store all that stuff.”
WHITNEY Who said that?
BUTTERBATCH Cold case guy. I called him up because Burt’s dealer turned up dead in a mobile home out on Rt. 80. You’re not the only one wants to star in a crime show. I said should they take DNA for Burt’s case and they told me –
WHITNEY Evidence destroyed. Just my luck.
(Wheels suitcase away, staggering.)
BUTTERBATCH Don’t take it so hard. What comes around goes around. I always say.
WHITNEY And that helps how?
BUTTERBATCH Nobody gets away with nothing, not in my experience. Say, you’re sure you don’t want to audition? Talking to you now, I see a glimmer of light beneath that bushel of yours. Could be hidden talent. Let ‘er out and let ‘er rip. Tips here are very good.
(Goes to sit disconsolately on the beach behind the boulder, hidden from the house. EIGHT appears, wielding his metal detector.)
WHITNEY (Sarcastically)
Well if it ain’t the Prince of Wands.
EIGHT Excuse me? Name’s Eight. Like pieces of eight?
WHITNEY Well, I found out the demon’s name. And it got me exactly nowhere. It’s Creature from the Black Lagoon one, and Firewalkers zero.
EIGHT One battle ain’t a war. What happened?
WHITNEY She stole someone’s identity! And then that person disappeared! She killed her mentor. Probably robbed her into the bargain.
EIGHT That one’s a piece of work all right.
WHITNEY It’s real bad. But it was fourteen years ago. The missing person’s been declared dead even though no one ever found the body, my father’s trust says it doesn’t matter who he was married to when he died, and if Charmayne hasn’t already legally changed her name now she’s probably going to.
EIGHT Nothing works when you give up that fast.
WHITNEY She even had the nerve to accuse ME of Black Magic.
EIGHT She did? Oh, Whit! Don’t you see how great that is? You recognized the demon, called it by name, and it recognized YOU! You’re on your way, girl!
WHITNEY I thought you were the one warning me against descending to her level.
EIGHT (Hunkers down beside her)
She believes this stuff, is all I’m saying. She’s not your ordinary con. You can’t get her where she’s fake, so you have to get her where she’s real.
WHITNEY Well, I’m going to need a lot more magic. You got any on you?
EIGHT (Running his metal detector over her body – it rattles excitedly)
You don’t need my magic. You’ve got plenty of your own!
WHITNEY (Collapsing disconsolately)
Prove it.
EIGHT Look. I’d say there’s at least two reasons to steal an identity. One is, you actually want to be that person. The other is, you don’t want to be yourself.
WHITNEY Because?
EIGHT Do I have to spell everything out for you? I’m saying, if you’re willing to get rid of one person…
WHITNEY (Starting to get worked up)
You mean maybe she’s done it before? My stepmom, the serial killer!
(Lights up on The Library Basement Stacks at Dead Lake Community College a mini set with bookcase and elderly woman – MRS PREECE – wearing coke bottle glasses perched atop library ladder, putting books away. )
MRS PREECE Why are all these students so freakishly tall? I’m going to kill myself, one of those days, trying to approximate the eye line of some basketball-playing mutant. (WHITNEY appears shyly around the bookcase.)
WHITNEY Are you Mrs. Preece?
MRS. PREECE No need to shout. I’m half-blind, not deaf. Depends who’s asking.
WHITNEY I’ve been researching past Dead Lake students and the girl at the front desk said you know everything.
MRS. PREECE (Coming down the ladder) Then I’m that Mrs. Preece. For all I knew you were looking for my mother in law and she’s been dead these forty years. And believe you me, she was no picnic when she was alive, and now that she’s dead she’s been particularly troublesome.
(Looks WHITNEY up & down)
Aren’t you a nice young lady! Most girls these days look so terrible I pity them. They want to look terrible is what I conclude. It’s all I can do to keep from jumping back and gagging when I see one coming – it’s like some vision of the Apocalypse. They’re arming up for something – God knows what.
(Crosses herself)
You look like a strong healthy girl. Not like those female zombies.
WHITNEY I missed a lot. I guess I’ve been… held back.
MRS. PREECE Well, stay in school forever, that’s my advice. You, – you play hockey? What’s your sport?
WHITNEY God no. I hate sports.
MRS. PREECE Don’t say that, girl. Games are all we have to look forward to. The only time we get to win. I was a left wing in my time. But you can’t even say “left-wing” these days. Teatime!
(She swivels the ladder & bookcase to reveal two basket chairs and a squat bookcase holding a smoking kettle, which she unplugs. She pours two mugs of tea and settles into chair with a sigh.)
WHITNEY (Accepting a mug) Do you live down here?
MRS. PREECE Might as well. They’ve got facilities, haven’t they? Heat, light, the whole ball of wax. I’ve got a home but why go there? The spirit of my dead mother-in-law makes it clear she doesn’t approve of my housekeeping. No, libraries are where it’s at! Temples of learning, sanctuaries of knowledge. And they’re too cheap to hire a security guard for all this treasure. Scary. All they’ve got is little old me. When I go, it’s “poof” for all these memories. If I’m going to be haunted by somebody, I choose Emerson. Or any of the Transcendentalists, really.
(Waves a hand)
Education is SO wasted on the young. And it don’t stick long on the old folks, neither. People remember the way things SHOULD have happened. But I –
(Taps her head)
Been blessed in the brain-basket. I like the past. I remember the way things REALLY happened. So, long story short, you’ve come to the right place. Sit down and make yourself to home.
(Long sip)
Such a pleasure having company I’d smoke if I thought I could get away with it, but they’ve got them damn detectors. Interested in the Lake, you say? Good riddance to it! The Black Lagoon, we used to call it! Oh, it was a pile of muck after all the frogs died. You one of those conservation nuts? An echo-terrorist?
WHITNEY Eco-terrorist? No. Actually I’m looking for a person. I’m Whitney Quantreau, and I’m looking for Charmayne Carr. She claims she attended this school. Charmayne Carr?
MRS. PREECE I should have guessed right away that’s what you wanted! EVERYBODY’S looking for that one. Nobody knows what became of her. She just abandoned her house and walked away! But she wasn’t a student, she was a teacher. Health Ed.
WHITNEY She was? Who – who’s looking for her?
MRS. PREECE Her family. They need to know where she’s at! Got no idea in hell what’s become of her! And she used to support the lot of them. So it came as a shock. Does make a motive for sneaking away, having that pack hounding after you, I’d be thinking. And the cops say adults can go where they please. It’s a free country. You know what became of her?
WHITNEY Well – she got married. That’s all.
MRS. PREECE Married? To a MAN?
WHITNEY (Flustered) To my father, actually. What did you think?
MRS. PREECE Well, I’m not sure what’s the PC word for it, but she was one of them long-time dykes. Dressed like a man most of the time! Oh she was miserable when they tried to get her up into any sort of skirt. Nowadays she’d just go and get her sex fixed to something matching her desires.
WHITNEY (Shows her phone)
Is this her?
MRS. PREECE (Clutches her heart like she’s seen a ghost) Oh my goodness!
(Takes the phone)
Never thought I’d see HER again. So she’s a blonde now? She was a redhead when I knew her.
WHITNEY Isn’t that Charmayne Carr?
MRS. PREECE No, it most certainly isn’t! That’s Pearleen Purdy – Charmayne’s – I don’t know WHAT you’d call her. Doctor Carr’s girlfriend.
WHITNEY Are you certain?
MRS. PREECE How could a body be wrong about a thing like that? Nobody ever forgot Pearleen once they saw her. I’ve even got a picture of them together here somewhere.
(Produces a pile of college yearbooks from squat bookcase and shuffles through them)
These are my own personal Firewalkers. I don’t let them out of my hands.
WHITNEY Firewalkers!
MRS. PREECE Name of our basketball team, you know, the Firewalkers. Ought to be Airwalkers, but that was taken and we’re obligated to honor the Indians since we took their land whether they like it or not. Everyone walks through fire around here. Burning up the countryside’s practically a ritual. Let’s see, fourteen years ago, wasn’t it? The two of them were in a play together. “The Real Inspector Hound.”
(Offers the book)
Charmayne’s the one with the moustache. She was playing a man of course. Inspector Foot of the Yard.
(Agitated)
Now don’t you get stains on that!
WHITNEY (Puts mug down respectfully)
She – Pearleen looks so different!
MRS. PREECE Pearleen was older than most of the students. Word was she’d been a stripper out of Branson, Missouri. You’ve heard of Branson, Missouri? At The Gentleman’s Secret. Well, Dr. Carr had a nice big house out on the Heights and poor Pearleen grew up on that sorry lake. She came home when the developers passed out education money. Dr. Carr liked to invite girl students – poor students – I should say PRETTY students out to the Heights to live with her. She “helped” them. Folks around here called her place “The Opium Den” because it was so – I don’t know what you’d call it. Eastern-like. Cultish. With draperies and bronzes and incense. The works.
WHITNEY Cult-ish?
MRS. PREECE Yeah, Dr. Carr had one of them goddess religions she was the queen of. To each her own, I say. Live and let live.
WHITNEY Isis? TAROT? Let me guess, was she…the Queen of Swords?
MRS. PREECE Bingo. That’s it exactly. She played the cards and Pearleen played her. Dr. Carr made a pot of money with one of them role-playing games. Dr. Carr was the Queen and Pearleen was supposed to be a Princess, I think that’s the way it went. But Pearleen got rid of all those other girls one by one. Reminds me of a cat I used to have. He just couldn’t share. He chased all the other cats right off my bed. Couldn’t abide the competition. We try to turn the other cheek to promote a professional atmosphere but I‘m telling you, it was the scandal of the campus!
WHITNEY (Produces phone, uses zoom)
Did Charmayne Carr – Dr Carr – ever wear this necklace?
MRS. PREECE That dagger there? Well, it looks familiar. She had lots of totem like materials. But Dr. Carr had all these folds around her neck, you see… No one wants to gaze at that too closely! No, she was never one of the “pretty ones!”
WHITNEY And then she disappeared! Didn’t anybody find it suspicious?
MRS PREECE Suspicious! Wasn’t I telling you her family had a meltdown! They came out here screaming like banshees! Finally declared her legally dead so they could sell her property!
WHITNEY Do you remember any of their names?
MRS PREECE Her brother had some very ordinary name. Like John. But I’m telling you, they don’t care anymore. The estate’s settled! They’ve even got a fake gravesite established somewhere – had a service with shrieking and wailing. Be quite a shock to them when she comes back. They’re not wanting to resurrect the dead. You’ve got a different problem than that.
WHITNEY My stepmom’s an identity thief!
MRS. PREECE Your poor dad’s the one got trouble, bless his heart. Play and then pay, I say! Usually through the nose. I demand all my bills up front.
WHITNEY Too late for that. He’s dead, too.
(MRS PREECE drops her Firewalker with a resounding bang. Lights out.)
I’d like you to tell my fortune. Give me a reading. You know. With the cards.
CHARMAYNE
(Instantly interested)
Oh, you’d like that, would you? Why the sudden change of tune?
WHITNEY
(Graceless shrug)
I don’t want to come back on Thursday.
CHARMAYNE
(Rippling laugh)
I like you, Whitney. You shouldn’t be so teasable. I guess it’s Ramon who will have to come back Thursday. Surprises refresh me. You’ve never availed yourself of my gift of cartomancy before. Let me get my cards.
(Door snaps shut)
WHITNEY
(Seats herself in a patio chair)
Here goes nothing.
CHARMAYNE
(Appearing with a full tray)
Here, take this.
(Lumbers WHITNEY with enormous tray while CHARMAYNE carefully closes door behind her)
Careful with that!
(WHITNEY unloads tray onto patio table)
CHARMAYNE
I’m so pleased about this little tête a tête. Choose your poison. Kids these days drink only vodka. Vodka! (She snorts) Youth is so wasted on the young.
WHITNEY
I drink tequila.
CHARMAYNE
Oh, I bet you do. Care to knock back some shots?
(She mimes it)
In vino veritas, Whitney. I’ll save you the worm.
WHITNEY
Please don’t quote Latin at me. It makes me feel I’m back at boarding school.
CHARMAYNE
Life’s one school after another, Whitney. Endless initiation into unimagined horizons. All birth’s painful. A little medicine eases the transition.
WHITNEY
No thanks. I still have to drive home. Water’s fine.
CHARMAYNE
You always were as stubborn as a mule. So be it! Ready to concentrate on the future?
WHITNEY
I still have some questions about the past.
CHARMAYNE
(Sits, bounces a leg impatiently)
Oh, Whitney, Whitney! If I could only get you to see that your obsession with the past is so self-defeating! Here you are a young girl – an almost beautiful young girl who could be better than beautiful if she made any effort – and all you do is look back. On a mere nineteen years of life!
(Shakes her head)
If I’d stayed stuck like you, I’d still be gigging frogs down by the lake.
WHITNEY
What lake?
CHARMAYNE
(Immediate self-protection)
Oh, I grew up on a lake. Didn’t I mention? A sad sleazy little lake surrounded by wooden cabins – some of them actually on wheels. It’s all gone now.
WHITNEY
Maybe, but surely the lake is still there.
CHARMAYNE
Oh no. It’s all gone now. Paved over. Things change, Whitney. Get used to it! The past is always more disgusting than people are willing to concede.
WHITNEY
But who would pave a lake?
CHARMAYNE
The water was attacked by some invasive…they had to get rid of it. I would have walked through fire to get out of that place.
WHITNEY
(Very stubborn)
But how could you still be at the lake if it’s gone?
CHARMAYNE
I would have fought the changes, that’s my point. But what would I get? A dead lake and a dying life ! Instead, look at this!
(Waves over the audience)
I have the ocean! The whole Atlantic Ocean…
WHITNEY
So tell me about that dagger you wear around your neck.
CHARMAYNE
(Playing with it)
A girl after my own heart! No sooner do I give one gift than you want another. This golden dagger is a dear memento given to me by my mentor years ago. On completing my study of tarot.
WHITNEY
(Flat footedly)
What was her name?
CHARMAYNE
Oh, Whitney…Whitney…You can never bathe in the same river twice! I only care about the future. All this could be yours someday… if you play your cards right.
WHITNEY
Depends which deck we’re using.
CHARMAYNE
(Silvery laughter)
My deck of course! You don’t have a deck! Whitney, I want to be your friend. I treasured my own mentor – she made all the difference in my life – I’ve often wondered what it would be like to have a protégée. I never knew it would be you.
WHITNEY
Why do you think so?
CHARMAYNE
You’re so young, so unformed. And you have such a thirst for knowledge! I was that way once, wondering how things work.
(Reaches out to touch WHITNEY’S hair – WHITNEY steels herself)
If only you knew how much I want to give you things.
WHITNEY
You do?
(This disturbs her)
Like what?
CHARMAYNE
I could show you the lynchpins of the universe if only you would let me. Very few of us were born with a silver spoon in our mouths and a golden rattle clutched in our chubby baby hands the way you were, Whitney. You need to see the world for what it really is. You don’t accept what’s on offer – you go your own way – I was like that, too. I can teach you how to never be defeated. But first I must know. Are you a Querent or a Firewalker?
WHITNEY
A what?
CHARMAYNE
Is this idle curiosity or will you accept the challenge that is offered – whatever it requires? Can you stand up to what must be revealed?
(She produced and shuffles the tarot cards – with threatening skill)
The time is never riper. Open your mind, Whitney and accept. IF that’s what you’re here for.
WHITNEY
I’m definitely a firewalker.
CHARMAYNE
I thought so! Welcome to the Way of Fire. Enter the temple. Cut.
(Offers cards to WHITNEY who cuts the deck and selects one.)
CHARMAYNE
Don’t just take a card. Wait for the proper moment.
WHITNEY
Did you ever wait?
CHARMAYNE
(CHARMAYNE takes the card from her and studies it)
Touché!
I suppose you chose the card most eager to speak to you. Look, it’s The Fool!
(Tarot of The Fool springs up as a hologram or on projection screen)
WHITNEY
That’s supposed to be me?
CHARMAYNE
It’s the card you chose so yes, it has something to say to you. Look at it.
WHITNEY
That I‘m a number zero? Is that what it’s telling me? I don’t like your tarot language.
CHARMAYNE
You’re always braced for insult, Whitney. In your private language you can never be defined by someone else. Open your cage. The Fool is stuck, he can’t move on. Moving on is the First Principle of Life.
WHITNEY
(Leaning across the table)
My father is gone.
CHARMAYNE
He was almost ninety, Whitney. Death happens. You had him longer than I did. Get over it. I never question the past.
WHITNEY
I was raised to appreciate history because if you don’t understand it, you repeat it.
CHARMAYNE
We all were born graceless and angry, raging and accusatory. It’s only a shame if you stay that way. Look at the fool’s face. He thinks he’s free. See the rose he picked? All the while he’s standing on a cliff edge!
WHITNEY
I reject this card. I demand another card.
(Snatches one up. CHARMAYNE is unflustered.)
CHARMAYNE
That’s not the way this game is played.
WHITNEY
Maybe it’s the way I play. You don’t get to define me.
CHARMAYNE
Fortunately the tarot is wiser than you. Look what you’ve chosen! The Tarot laughs!
(Queen of Swords card appears onscreen – bare breasted and swinging double knives)
WHITNEY
You put that there!
CHARMAYNE
You chose it yourself!
WHITNEY
You probably had that card up your sleeve. Here’s my card – I’ll turn it up myself.
(Priestess Tarot card onscreen)
CHARMAYNE
The High Priestess! How appropriate!
WHITNEY
What’s appropriate about that?
CHARMAYNE
The High Priestess is a woman pretending to be a man, Whitney. She abhors feminine wiles. Because you’re so interested in history you might as well know she’s base on Pope Joan, the only female Pope. She’s the guardian of hidden knowledge. See, she’s holding the Torah with the last letter hidden.
(WHITNEY bridles)
WHITNEY
She looks like a little old man.
CHARMAYNE
Don’t take everything so personally. Seekers are often forced to wear disguise. Life’s a contest and the weak go to the wall. Look at the Priestess standing on the moon between the lotus pillars and ask yourself, how does that make you feel?
WHITNEY
Weak.
CHARMAYNE
Well don’t admit it ever. Never spill your guts. The first law is bluster. After awhile it comes naturally.
WHITNEY
I thought the first law was moving on.
CHARMAYNE
(Irritated)
That’s the first principle. Try to keep up.
WHITNEY
Doesn’t bluster risk losing yourself?
CHARMAYNE
There is no self! We are self-created. Your father always used to say – oh, never mind. The Priestess reveals her secret when the time is right.
WHITNEY
What did my father always say?
CHARMAYNE
You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. Now allow me to choose a card for you.
(Prince of Wands appears. He looks a lot like EIGHT)
CHARMAYNE
I knew a man would show up sooner or later. Do you know this handsome devil? What do you suppose is the meaning of his big, big stick?
(She laughs)
(WHITNEY works hard to stay cool)
WHITNEY
I‘ve met him.
CHARMAYNE
(Surprised and nettled that there’s anything she doesn’t know)
Oh? Where? Is he your boyfriend?
WHITNEY
(Smug)
You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.
CHARMAYNE
Still waters run deep! Possibly he’s your power card, Whitney. The elegant Prince of Wands has been pushed out of his home and sent on a journey with no weapon to protect himself other than sticks he picks up. He’s a dowser.
WHITNEY
He’s a treasure seeker.
CHARMAYNE
Well I’d very much like to meet him. We could have a tequila party. Would you like that?
WHITNEY
No. Just tell me what it means.
CHARMAYNE
This must be very new – I don’t blame you wanting to keep him to yourself. The Prince of Wands is about developing intuition, cultivating talents. He’s a wily character, not well born like the Prince of Swords. He’s scrappy, like me, came from nothing. He’s had to learn to excel at something – to master it. He presages sudden changes of direction, even a journey. It could be a lucky card, Whitney, especially since you rejected The Fool. But like everything else in life, you must claim it. Claim your power, Whitney, I can show you how. Should you fail; the card’s power is reversed. Then it presages devastating loss, capture, and imprisonment.
WHITNEY
Imprisonment?
CHARMAYNE
(Exasperated)
I could say more if you would tell me about him.
WHITNEY
Forget it. Give me another card.
CHARMAYNE
You’re entitled to an eight card spread.
WHITNEY
Eight?
CHARMAYNE
Is that your lucky number?
WHITNEY
Maybe.
(WHITNEY spreads cards messily over the table)
CHARMAYNE
This isn’t slapjack, Whitney. We all have to play the cards the goddess deals. You’ll cancel out the reading!
(WHITNEY throws cards to the ground.)
CHARMAYNE
Some reverence if you please!
WHITNEY
(Produces a card triumphantly)
Here’s the one I want! Judgment!
(The Judgment card appears onscreen)
Even this one’s not very impressive. Why does the Tarot show nothing but little old men?
CHARMAYNE
It doesn’t. The Major Arcana is strongly female.
WHITNEY
Well the Judgment Card looks like my Dad to me.
CHARMAYNE
That shows your ignorance. Some have eyes but are too blind to see.
(Wearily picking up cards)
The Tarot won’t be mocked, Whitney. You’re asking for trouble.
WHITNEY
I don’t think I’m the one in trouble.
CHARMAYNE
Believe me, you are.
WHITNEY
I DON’T believe you. Your threats are vague – you can’t even be specific.
CHARMAYNE
(Threateningly)
It’s whatever you most fear that stalks you. Behind the fear lies…the wish.
(She laughs)
The ignorant are so helpless! This card doesn’t even signify what you think it means.
WHITNEY
So what does it mean, then?
CHARMAYNE
It’s the regeneration card. See the dead rising on the bottom of the card there? That angel’s going to suck them right up into her trumpet!
(She laughs wildly)
WHITNEY
You don’t think the dead can rise?
CHARMAYNE
Depends on how they died.
WHITNEY
What do you mean, HOW?
CHARMAYNE
(Threateningly)
They can’t rise if they’ve lost their souls.
WHITNEY
(Shaken)
Oh, that’s bullshit. Who says that?
CHARMAYNE
The Book of the Dead. They’re the experts. Your firewalk is just beginning, Whitney! I’ve been doing it for years. My feet are well-hardened. There’s so much you don’t know.
WHITNEY
(Overturns the table standing up)
I guess the reading’s over.
(They face each other across the mess)
CHARMAYNE
I guess it is. Some people can’t be helped.
(As CHARMAYNE bends down WHITNEY pretends to leave but hides behind the boulder, trying to calm her breathing).
CHARMAYNE
(Calling after her)
That was a one-time offer! Let me know if you ever get serious about claiming your power!
(Shrugs)
Kids. They insist on leaving the field to me. Which is fine, knowing how I hate to share.
(Clears the table, takes tray into house EXIT).
WHITNEY
(Pulls out her phone and starts typing)
Book of the Dead, eh? I have some magic of my own and it’s called Google. I remember now, that faked up résumé said something about Dead Lake Community College…
After my fiancé graduated law school in Kentucky, we came East – where our families lived – to get married. I applied to Brooklyn College for the MFA program and was hired as a writing fellow. What followed was an experience so discouraging I can well understand why graduate students are at a high risk of suicide.
First, there’s the contrast between the high prestige of the position and the pitiable pay. You could literally make more money (and spend the same amount of time) combing the subway for lost change.
Next, there’s the “job” they want you to do, which is to prepare seriously undereducated freshman to write an essay justifying their admission into the hallowed world of academe.
I had fun developing my own syllabus, which was basically teaching critical thinking in the most fun way I could possibly imagine. A teacher “reviewer” who came to watch the class wrote me a rave review – I don’t think anyone in my life has ever praised me as much as he did. I still cherish that evaluation. But don’t get excited – the second guy (months later) disparaged me so much that if you add the two reviews together I think you’d have to give me a sad C-. But at that point, They Knew About Me – that I had no college degree -and so they were trying to get rid of me. Really, you can’t blame them – how could I prepare students to get something I didn’t have myself? And what – you may ask – was wrong with MY thinking and reasoning powers that I had not expected this?
The truth is, I had flouted “rules” all my life – they always seemed ridiculous – and because I was a “rara avis” I usually got away with it. But clearly, this could not continue. Much chastened by my brush with the universe (which represented itself as “sanity”) I did go ahead and get a BA degree in psychology from LaSalle. I even got half a masters under my belt from Springfield College until I saw that it was useless.
But back to Brooklyn. There were classes I took, of course, in WRITING – which was my absorbing interest and passion. I kept the fact that I had actually published a novel a secret because the class expressed such a tragic belief that being published was their deepest desire and most desperate and holy quest. I knew that it was the writing of the book itself – finding the subject AND the expression that was your spiritual release into the world – that was the most important absorbing and exciting. My first book was written to specifications – what was “popular” – under the ingenuous theory that I would develop important publishing relationships (my editor lost her job, my company bought out and revamped.) You could hardly brag about an experience like that.
For my class on the Novel I decided to write a novel. I thought it would be fun. If you wrote a chapter every week you would have a novel at the end.
One of my classmates was an ex-nun – a most interesting person – whose experiences strongly affected me. I effortlessly adapted her into my heroine, because my book was a mystery. Surely these are the easiest to write – they must evolve according to a plan. You have to introduce the problem, then the suspects, give clues, and make the reader care about the outcome. I had an idea it would be less emotional than my first book, which got bogged down into a bizarre love story about a fatherless girl pathetically seeking mentorship. THIS book would be all business.
I got such massive pushback from the class I’m kind of surprised I went through with it – but I was enjoying the writing and the characters were alive to me. “Criticism” in class was students laboriously reading each others’ work, describing its emotional effect on them and describing different ways things could be said. The forward motion of a novel – the sweep, the assumption of power – was thereby utterly dissipated. Everyone just rewrote the first chapters of different books endlessly. So it shouldn’t have been called “Novel Writing”, it should have been called “Paragraph Writing” – a class I wouldn’t take.
This teacher and I butted heads on all kinds of issues. First off, he said great writing couldn’t have a “happy ending.” I saw his point but I thought it shallow. Surely completion of a quest – solving a mystery – is an enormous relief. But mysteries aren’t serious writing, he insisted. (Uh oh. Since I was engaged on one.) Well, what about the Odyssey? Jane Austen? {Probably Tom Jones, if I could recall the ending.)
MODERN literature!! He insisted. We can’t have happy endings anymore!
That was when I realized the whole thing was bogus. If I was bogus, they were even more bogus. I was eight months’ pregnant at the time and this man’s feeble philosophy defied the spinning of the planets, the arrival of spring, the creation of Life itself. What a silly fellow.
I finished Pinch of Death, and still reread it with pleasure, A very charming book.
(A chorus of Cardinals, sedate & proper, approaches from right, a more colorful chorus of Goombas from left.)
CARDINALS Oyez, oyez, oyez. Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, pro in iudico minimum definitionem, quo justo intellegebat ne.
GOOMBAS A guy’s gotta live Ain’t a guy gotta live? You Do right by me and I’ll do right By you.
JACK RUBY (Appearing on balcony – flat affect – as crowd blends in below)
The world will never know the true facts Of what occurred. My motives. I’m the only person in the background That knows the truth pertaining to Everything relating to my Circumstances. The people who have had So much to gain and had such an Ulterior motive to put me in this position Will never let the true facts come Out to the world.
GOOMBA # 1 But you’re crazy!
JACK RUBY I have locomotor attacks-you.
(Spreading his arms, he falls ritualistically off balcony & is absorbed into crowd. JOE KENNEDY appears on balcony)
JOE KENNEDY Has anybody seen my son? I’m looking for my son.
GOOMBAS & CARDINALS TOGETHER Woe is you! Woe is you!
JOE Has anyone seen my boy?
CARDINAL VOICE Which one, your honor?
GOOMBA # 1 You rat, you.
JOE KENNEDY The big one. My big boy.
GOOMBA #2 But he’s crazy.
JACK RUBY He’s been struck. He’s been struck down.
GOOMBA #3 We all get hit. Take a rap, be a prince.
CARDINALS (together, waving arms) Vidit scriptorem vix in, ceteros tractatos assentior pro no. Ius etiam ornatus voluptua ne. Invenire democritum consectetuer an eum.
GOOMBA #4 Give us a taste! Just a little taste!
CARDINALS An offering! An offering!
JOE (Rains fluttering bills upon the crowd) My wife went to church My daughters prayed – I had four fine sons. Joe was smart, Jack was charming Bobby was loyal and Teddy –
(Pauses. Sighs.)
Teddy runs to keep up.
GOOMBA #5 Didn’t you make a deal?
JOE Deal? I made plenty Turned one dollar into twenty To forty, to five million. Of course I made deals.
CARDINAL #1 The father shall eat sour grapes And the children’s teeth Shall be set on edge.
(The CARDINALS break ranks and look at each other, amazed.)
CARDINAL #2 If you sow the wind you Reap the whirlwind.
(The CARDINALS & GOOMBAS merge together, oohing and sighing as if a wind shudders through them.)
GOOMBAS Omerta! Omerta!
CARDINALS Qui habitat! Qui habitat!
GOOMBAS & CARDINALS TOGETHER A deal’s a deal! A deal’s a deal!
JOE But I wanted only fine things My boys to grow up
Grab everything they wanted Take their place, rule the world.
GOOMBAS But you gotta play ball!
JOE I played ball with the unions! I played ball with the cruisers Settled scores with the bruisers. I know to grease skids I know to oil palms.
GOOMBA #1 We helped you with Jack And you sicced us with Bobby!
JOE I never sicced anybody!
(the crowd jeers and boos, CARDINALS cover faces in shame)
GOOMBA #2 Bobby won’t play right.
GOOMBA #3 Bobby’s a hard ass!
CARDINAL #3 (Very offended) Bobby’s a good boy!
GOOMBA #4 He’s TOO good a boy if you know what I mean.
JOE I’ll speak to Bobby! Let me speak to Bobby!
GOOMBAS Too late. It’s too late.
JACK RUBY You can’t speak to nobody, Joe. You’ve been struck down.
(JOE throws out his arms and falls into crowd as if dead. The CARDINALS rush out a wheelchair. NORMA JEANE appears sneaking through crowd. As JOE is whisked offstage, attention turns to her, in spite of the fact that she’s wearing dark glasses, a kerchief, halter top, ballet flats and Capri pants)
GOOMBA #1 Hey, guys, it’s Marilyn!
GOOMBAS (chanting) Marilyn, Marilyn!
NORMA JEANE That’s not me, boys, I’m Norma Jeane.
GOOMBA #2 Aw, come on Marilyn, there’s no disguising that shape!
GOOMBA #3 I can smell her!
NORMA JEANE Marilyn is dead, boys, everyone knows that.
(Takes off her glasses)
See? It’s just me. Poor old Norma-never-been-nowhere-Jeane.
CARDINAL #3 Lying’s a sin, Marilyn.
GOOMBA #1 Dance for us, Marilyn. Do a little of this- and that –
(he simulates a bump and grind)
And these and those!
CARDINAL #1 Just give us a little song, Marilyn. Just for the kids. We’d be ever so grateful.
NORMA JEANE You all know Marilyn’s dead. I’m just trying to find Bobby.
CARDINAL #2 Bobby? What do you want Bobby for?
CARDINAL #3 Are you trying to get that nice boy in trouble?
GOOMBAS (Chanting) Marilyn! Marilyn!
(They grab her up on their shoulders and lift her up to the balcony)
NORMA JEANE No! I don’t want to go! There’s no more Marilyn!
(But they are touching her everywhere. She gives up and climbs into the balcony.)
OK, boys, one last time.
(She throws off her glasses and kerchief, shakes out her hair, one grind, one bump, blows a kiss, EXITS.)
Alysse Aallyn 