(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 Hamptons cottage, as before. WHITNEY assaults the door.)
WHITNEY Charmayne!! Charmayne!!
(Her stepmother opens the door. Slower, less confident; accusatory)
CHARMAYNE You’ve been avoiding me, Whitney. Why haven’t you returned my calls? I thought we were besties.
WHITNEY I wanted to bring you something.
CHARMAYNE (Haughty, but momentarily excited in spite of herself)
And what could you possibly give the woman who has everything?
WHITNEY Just this.
(Tenders a bullet)
CHARMAYNE Ooooo, scary! And what’s this supposed to represent?
WHITNEY It’s a bullet, Charmayne. It matches the bullets in your gun, the bullets all over this beach and the bullets in your stepfather.
CHARMAYNE My stepfather!
WHITNEY Yup. I’ve been to visit his grave.
CHARMAYNE Well, thank you for this –
(Mockingly, as she throws it out to sea)
I was never was two-faced as you, Whitney. My stepfather – who’s in hell, as you very well know from the personal, confidential disclosures that I made to you during a Girls Night Out – doesn’t have a grave. Anyway, nobody cares about that old stuff anymore.
WHITNEY There’s no statute of limitations on murder.
CHARMAYNE (Tries to grab her)
Statute! Limitations! Whit, do you need cash to go to law school?
WHITNEY (Evading her neatly)
It’s time to answer for what you’ve done.
(CHARMAYNE walks past her towards the ocean – crossed arms, thinking)
CHARMAYNE Your father wouldn’t want this.
WHITNEY I’m not doing it for him. I’m doing it for me.
CHARMAYNE This feels so odd. It’s not what I expected, at all. You never fail to surprise me, Whitney. Your enmity is so flattering. I feel… courted.
(Turns around to face WHITNEY, back in control)
So you think you know everything about me now?
WHITNEY I know all I need to know. For example, that you’re wondering right now whether it’s worth your while to get rid of me. Whether I have a partner in my researches who knows everything I’m doing. And the answer is yes.
CHARMAYNE I was not wondering how to get rid of you, Whitney! As if! I couldn’t get rid of you if I tried. You’re one of the Immortals.
WHITNEY Am I supposed to know what that is?
CHARMAYNE We Immortals have been here since time immemorial. We recognize each other. We are transformable, but essentially indestructible.
WHITNEY Wow, that’s so comforting. Lucky for us! And now it’s time for my second gift. I’m going to tell your fortune.
(Sits at the patio set table and starts shuffling cards)
CHARMAYNE (Approaching nervously, interested in spite of herself)
You can’t tell my fortune.
WHITNEY I’m the only one who can.
CHARMAYNE But that’s not my deck. So you can’t use it.
WHITNEY No. It’s my deck. You have to play the cards the goddess deals, right? Sit down. First, I’ll tell you your past.
(Produces a card – Hermit leaps up on the screen. Cards seemingly tremble, shimmer in the air) Recognize him?
(CHARMAYNE sits down)
CHARMAYNE It’s the Hermit.
WHITNEY There he is, with his broom and his light. Don’t you recognize him?
CHARMAYNE That’s a staff.
WHITNEY It’s a broom. It’s holding him up more than he’s holding it up. I saw him. I spoke to him. Mr. Butterbatch.
CHARMAYNE (Sounds delighted)
Old Butterbatch! Is HE still ticking! I can scarcely believe it – he was a hundred when I knew him. How is the old geezer?
WHITNEY Fine and dandy. I must say he remembers you very well, Destiny. He told me all about how the police have been longing to find the source of the female DNA all over the frog gigger they found sticking out of Burt’s throat. You must have cut yourself! Imagine that! Probably just a little nick. How would you even have noticed it, when there was so much blood?
CHARMAYNE Burt was vile, Whitney. Vile. Anyone would have done it. He needed to be put down.
WHITNEY Maybe, Charmayne. Who can judge? O, right, this guy! Justice!
(Tarot card leaps up to screen and trembles in the air)
CHARMAYNE Justice is female, Whitney. But I have faith in you. You’ll figure it out.
WHITNEY Must be where the phrase “stings like a bitch” comes from. And see that box she’s sitting on? That’s the box they’re going to put you in.
CHARMAYNE No one’s putting me in a box. Never.
WHITNEY Oh, they’re going to put you in a box, Charmayne. They’re going to put you in a series of boxes, like some kind of dangerous Matrushka doll. That’s three separate states you’ve unleashed mayhem in and they’re all going to want a crack at you. And who’s this? The Lovers!
(Tarot card onscreen)
There’s your girlfriend, Charmayne Carr. You must have known the cards would turn on you someday, Charmayne. Why don’t you just tell her family where you stashed that body? The prosecutor’s going to get it out of you, one way or another. After a few weeks of instant mashed potato mix, egg substitute, baloney and wonderbread you’ll tell them anything they want to know.
CHARMAYNE (Mocking) Shows what you know! I wonder if your much-vaunted “classical education” isn’t a pair of distortion goggles after all. Dr Carr’s family rejected her and she never gave a damn for any of them! She was free of all that. And for your information, the Lovers was never was her card. She was the Empress.
WHITNEY You said you weren’t two-faced like me, Charmayne. But you were careful, weren’t you? Did you give her the honor of confronting her the way I’m confronting you now or did wait until her back was turned?
CHARMAYNE She gave me her life! She was longing for me to absorb her! It was her free choice, one I wouldn’t expect you to understand. I was an Immortal! She recognized it and she yielded.
WHITNEY Sure, sure. That’s what always happens. The fish throws himself into the boat to save you from spearing it. Tell yourself anything that lets you sleep at night. Oh, wait, you can’t sleep, can you? It’s starting to show on your face.
(CHARMAYNE stands up and turns away, touching her face)
CHARMAYNE That was just mean, Whitney. That was uncalled for.
(WHITNEY produces another Tarot card – it leaps to the screen and shimmers in the air) Who’s this? An Emperor with the long white beard! Who can that be, I wonder!
CHARMAYNE (Turned away from the card, forces herself to sit down, put her feet up and make a show of relaxing)
Let me guess. A certain cardiac surgeon of our acquaintance?
WHITNEY Thoracic.
CHARMAYNE Thoracic surgeon. Now we get within sight of your real problem, Whitney, the real fountain of your rage. Your father was such a charming man, even in extreme old age. The Lady of Life met the Lord of Death: it was just the way he wanted it, it had to happen. He was so touchingly eager to enrich me, to pass along his acquisitions. You’re just jealous because he found a new pupil.
WHITNEY You thanked him by killing him!
CHARMAYNE I did reward him, Whitney. Your father was suffering. He begged me to put him out of his misery. Would you like me to summon him from the grave so you can ask him? You’ll see I’m right! I think from the first moment our eyes met in the job interview he knew I was the only one who could get the job done exactly the way he wanted. He begged me for that extra dose of morphine. Having a body became a torment to him. He could no longer enjoy anything.
WHITNEY As your body will torment you, while you rot away in jail. But at least somebody will get to enjoy it – whatever bullies or “Immortals” you’re lucky – or unlucky enough to run into. They’ll pass you around like a pizza.
CHARMAYNE (Snatches her feet off the table) I’m not going to jail, silly Whitney! Not ever! I served my time!
WHITNEY (Pulling herself forcibly together she produces another card – Judgment on screen – hugely vibrating )
Sorry, Pearleen – or whoever you are this week – childhood doesn’t count. Now here’s a lady you’ve never met. She showed me your stepfather’s grave.
CHARMAYNE (Labored change of tactics)
I like this new you, Whitney. So forceful, so ablaze.
(Pretends to shiver)
It’s so sexy. Pity it’s all wasted, that you’ve been so misled. Judgment is not the card you’ve been looking for all your life.
(Picks it up and sends it spinning – onscreen card – which she avoids looking at – seems to swell)
WHITNEY But this is the one card we have in common. The lady who tends your stepfather’s grave – saving it for the investigators – she brandished a trumpet and everything. Looks like the goddess has given up on you, Charmayne.
CHARMAYNE Nice try, but my stepfather doesn’t have a grave. He didn’t deserve one.
WHITNEY Yeah, he does, and I took a picture of it. See?
(Shows her phone)
The Hidden Glade developers found him when they paved over Dead Lake and they treated him to a nice box of his very own. There he is, just waiting for someone to find a match to those bullets.
(She pulls a bullet from a chain around her neck)
This bullet, for example. I chose it from the many bullets you’ve sprayed around this beach. You’ll never find them all.
CHARMAYNE (Crossed arms) I never transitioned anyone that didn’t want it or deserve it.
WHITNEY Transition! Now there’s a word! But the law doesn’t respect your private language, you know. They have a language all their own. You killed Charmayne Carr to steal her identity. You killed my father to get rich. You killed the night manager to steal his stash. You killed your stepfather to steal his wheels and run away.
CHARMAYNE (Firing up immediately)
None of that is true and you of all people –
WHITNEY That’s what they’ll say. I’m just trying to prepare you. That’s what prosecutors always say, based on what they can prove. It’s worst case scenario right at the beginning, Pearleen, so prepare yourself. I’m sure your oh-so-expensive defense attorney will explain to them about your “Immortals” theory. That’ll sound good to the jury. Or maybe he’ll just give up and plead insanity. Possibly you should represent yourself in court – after you’ve had all that plastic surgery you’ve been thinking about.
CHARMAYNE I ‘m not bothering with the law, Whitney. Don’t you see that the law’s a charade? A puppet dance for marionettes? I was greedy for life, Whitney. For ecstasy, for joy. For experiences and possessions, so I took them. I’m not ashamed. I’ve had everything I ever wanted.
WHITNEY Then isn’t it time?
CHARMAYNE For what?
WHITNEY To give up.
CHARMAYNE I’ll never give up!
WHITNEY (Produces a final card)
Because here’s your future. The Hanged Man. He sees the world upside down. And it’s the last thing he sees.
(Card onscreen)
CHARMAYNE You’re young, Whitney. Nothing wrong with that! You know nothing about the real world, by which I mean the invisible world that pulses beneath the visible. Your father kept you from it with that “classical education”. You need to take your time figuring out who – and what you really are. I could help you. We could share all this.
WHITNEY No.
(Throws a card at her – Death appears onscreen)
Death, Charmayne. That’s your future. Your future is Death.
CHARMAYNE (Upends the table, scattering everything – rises from her chair)
I can’t die. It won’t happen. Didn’t I explain it to you? Listen, Whitney. We make our own reality. You’re my mirror.
WHITNEY I’m your parabolic mirror, sent to fry you to a crisp.
CHARMAYNE Don’t say it like that. What if I admit you’ve won? Here, take the dagger. Now you’re the new Queen of Swords.
WHITNEY Someone told me never to “settle”.
CHARMAYNE (Kneeling beside her)
It’s breaking my heart that I can’t explain this to you.
WHITNEY Don’t kid yourself, Destiny. A heart was one of the encumbrances you left behind.
CHARMAYNE Is this what love feels like? I’m not used to wanting things I can’t have.
WHITNEY You just tried to convince me you’re immortal, you’ll never talk me into thinking you’re human!
CHARMAYNE It’s so strange! You feel about me the way I thought about them. Murder kills feeling. And if you can’t feel, you can’t enjoy. If you can’t enjoy, you might as well be dead.
WHITNEY I guess there’s a limit to everything, and you’ve reached yours.
CHARMAYNE (Turns to face the audience)
Maybe it is my time to find out my next stage. I’ve always wondered who I really am. Your father called me a “living doll,” Burt said I was cold as ice, the Empress named me “the marble-hearted”. My step-dad said I wasn’t a little girl, I was a cockroach like him.
(Touches WHITNEY)
Help me.
WHITNEY I’m helping you to see that it’s the end. You’ve had a good run, but it’s over.
CHARMAYNE You don’t even know what you’re rejecting! Let me show you what you’re missing –
(Tries to embrace WHITNEY who pushes her away)
WHITNEY (Roughly)
You’re not my type.
CHARMAYNE Isn’t there anything I can give you to change your mind? Think, Whitney. Aren’t I the only person in the universe who really understands you? Sees you for what you are?
WHITNEY Actually, you aren’t. But there is something you can give me.
CHARMAYNE (Such relief)
What? Anything! Name it.
WHITNEY I want you to prove your immortality.
(Points out to the audience)
Swim out there. Keep swimming. And don’t come back.
CHARMAYNE Are you sure that’s what you really want?
WHITNEY (Gesturing)
Challenge your Goddess to a swimming match. Be my guest. Bye-bye.
CHARMAYNE A swim? That’s all you want? When I am willing to share everything? All the secrets?
WHITNEY A swim to eternity. That’s all that I want.
CHARMAYNE (Brittle laugh)
You can see me naked any time, Whitney. No need to go through all this.
WHITNEY Just swim. I don’t care how.
CHARMAYNE But it’s freezing!
WHITNEY You swim here every night.
CHARMAYNE But the weather’s changed. It’s gone dark and cold. Still, they say beyond the water lies a place where all waters part. I could re-invent myself.
(Looking out)
So once again I’m the initiate, am I? It’s funny how things come around.
(Comes closer peering way, way out beyond the audience’s eyes.)
I wonder what’s out there. A little tequila before I go? For old time’s sake?
WHITNEY You’ve had all the tequila. Go.
(WHITNEY’S implacable so CHARMAYNE starts undressing.)
CHARMAYNE Look at my beautiful body, Whit. Won’t it be a shame to waste it?
WHITNEY Stop begging and save your strength.
CHARMAYNE (Insulted)
Begging? Is that what you think I’m doing?
(To herself)
The Empress told me that to find your dominant was heaven. I see it now. You’re the goddess who can never be denied.
(Bows at her feet – WHITNEY steps away in agitation)
WHITNEY Stuff it. Soft soap won’t work on me. I’ve never had it and I don’t want it. Your goddess is out there. Go find her.
CHARMAYNE (Kicking her clothes away)
This is all so different from what I imagined. I’m so different. It’s the ultimate surprise.
WHITNEY You may have more surprises waiting just around the corner.
CHARMAYNE I can feel myself getting younger. Like a child, begging for that one last story before lights out! Who knew after all this time that sacrifice – that giving up my strength would prove to be the missing fountain of youth! Will the Goddess reveal herself to me unveiled? Whose face will she wear, I wonder?
(Shivers)
WHITNEY You knew this was coming! You had to know!
CHARMAYNE I thought if my past ever caught up to me I’d…be destroyed. Disemboweled like the Hanging Man. Poison. The asp. Who knew it would feel so sweet? Relief.
WHITNEY (Somewhat shaken)
More cons.
CHARMAYNE What relief to concentrate on the physical challenge ahead. Oh, the blessing of the physical!
(Steps into the “water”, clutching her arms.)
There was always another freedom, right around the corner. What new thing comes next? Freedom’s the lover I pursued all my life, and still she evades me. There’s always a greater freedom… somewhere.
(Steps down into the audience. Swimming)
Suddenly I feel so shy. It’s like being thirteen again. If my stepfather had never existed, who would I have become?
WHITNEY (Coming down to the water to watch)
Maybe you’ll find out.
CHARMAYNE The Empress recommended surrender. She said it felt so good! They all told me…or tried to tell me. Who could predict that Death would come to me as a beautiful young woman?
(Breaststroke)
Is this right? Am I doing it right?
(WHITNEY gestures “farther out”. CHARMAYNE blows her a kiss.)
Goodbye, my nemesis.
(Faces outwards.)
Hello, Virginity!
(Swims away through the audience. Exit.)
(WHITNEY drops her “Judgment” pose, leaps to her feet, paces up and down the beach, peering out to sea. Increasingly anxious. Enter EIGHT to stand behind her and put his arms around her. She shakes him loose. Pacing.)
EIGHT Is she gone?
WHITNEY
I’ll never know! I thought it was all an act! I never thought it would work! She can’t be gone if I don’t feel she’s gone, can she? I’m so scared she injected herself inside me, like a brainworm! Am I a murderer now, too?
(Calls loudly)
Wait, wait! I’ve changed my mind! Come back! Let’s talk!
(EIGHT tries to calm her, she collapses into bitter weeping.)
EIGHT You’re acting like you lost your best friend. Don’t forget she was your bitterest enemy. She was the world’s enemy.
WHITNEY You confused her with your demon, but she was my demon.
(Shaking her head)
No, no. It was over too fast. What did I say? I blurted out a bunch of lies, just like she did. I had to turn myself into her in order to catch her! What if I can’t change back? I did everything wrong.
EIGHT (Hugs her)
Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re decompressing. You were in an impossible situation. It worked! You did everything right.
WHITNEY But I miss her. Now I have nothing. No offense, but now I have nobody.
EIGHT No offense taken. You’re just feeling the emptiness where the anger used to be. Let it melt away. Of course it’s going to hurt. There’s a whole wide world out there and it needs you. The universe is full of treasure.
WHITNEY Didn’t I tell you I hate it when you talk about treasure?
EIGHT No. Sorry. Maybe I need a new expression.
WHITNEY I need a lot of new expressions. New words. I need a whole new language.
EIGHT It’s out there, Whitney. When you can’t manage forgiveness, just let go.
WHITNEY That’s what she said! It’s myself I can’t forgive.
EIGHT It takes awhile. You’ll figure it out. It’s like being born all over again. I have faith in you.
WHITNEY She said that too!
EIGHT She doesn’t own ideas, Whitney. She doesn’t own emotions, or the past, or even the future. She used those things as camouflage for her greed. For her appetites. Come. Walk with me.
WHITNEY No. No. I can’t leave. She might come back. You’re just trying to re-make me in your image.
EIGHT Absolutely not. The thing I like most about you is, you’re not me. Take your time, Whitney. This is your chance to be you. You’re telling your own fortune, now.
WHITNEY (Looking out over the ocean)
If I’m telling my own fortune I might as well give myself a really good one. Do you think she’s really gone?
EIGHT She’s less than nothing now. Hold my hand.
(Touching her)
You’re cold. Don’t you want to go inside?
WHITNEY No. I have to stay right here. For awhile.
(Sits down.)
In case she comes back. She might come back. Will you wait with me? At least till dark? Or till I get used to missing her? There were so many things I forgot to say.
EIGHT Rehearse them. Tell them all to me. I’m here.
(Sits beside her, they clutch hands, staring out into the audience. Lights out)
(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.
(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.
(Behind WHITNEY’S back appears an old man dressed for fishing. He carries a tackle box and two fishing rods.)
WHITNEY (Shouting after EIGHT) Some “master of the elements” you are. Scared of a little chill!
DR. QUANTREAU Whitney? Ready to go fishing? The bluefish are running.
WHITNEY (Overcome)
Dad! Dad! Oh, my God! Dad!
DR. QUANTREAU Don’t touch me. I’m covered with hooks.
(He casts a line)
WHITNEY (Confused)
Dad, you can’t catch bluefish from here!
DR. QUANTREAU Whitney, you’re forgetting that I’m dead. I can do anything I want.
WHITNEY (Collapsing emotionally)
Dad, you’ve left everything in a mess!
DR. QUANTREAU I don’t think so. You seem fine to me.
WHITNEY Dad, Charmayne is some kind of monster! She kills people who get in her way! She probably killed you!
DR. QUANTREAU What does that matter now? It was my time to go.
(Casting, moving up the beach.)
WHITNEY This is NOT the way I imagined it.
DR. QUANTREAU Nothing ever is.
WHITNEY Let me put it this way, Dad. You married a lying, greedy, murderous stripper!
DR. QUANTREAU Not bad for a deteriorating old geezer, huh?
(WHITNEY is gob smacked. Watches him silently for a while.)
WHITNEY (Mustering all her energy)
Well, I’m not letting her get away with it.
DR. QUANTREAU Forget it, Whitney. Allow an old man to have his fun. I made plenty of money for everybody. Let it go.
WHITNEY Dad! She made you beg for water! I saw it!
DR. QUANTREAU Adults play games, Whitney. Conflict makes life interesting; keeps the fish fresh. I guess you wouldn’t understand. You were always so serious.
WHITNEY You made me serious! You wanted me serious! You said life was serious.
DR QUANTREAU (Reflects)
Besides, I probably deserved it. Ever heard that expression “what goes around comes around?” I made your mother beg for money. We all did it. I regret it now.
(Shrugs)
You should have seen the faces on the other guys when I brought Charmayne to the club!
(Cackles gleefully)
Were they jealous! Didn’t know I had it in me!
(Wandering away into the “water” – into the audience)
WHITNEY (Calling after him despondently)
Dad, don’t go! Let’s talk about…things. We never talked about real things. We only talked about…history. Why Alexander the Great didn’t need armies as big as the people he attacked.
DR. QUANTREAU Honey, I don’t have to worry about “things” any more. Or Alexander the Great. You could come fishing with me. I love fishing. I get to fish all the time.
WHITNEY (With a passion)
I see now I’ve always hated fishing. It’s the most boring activity on the planet.
DR. QUANTREAU I like it. It relaxes me. It’s just a game, Whit. Our games define us. Elevate your game, Whit.
WHITNEY You against some nine pound fish! Like that’s fair!
DR. QUANTREAU Honey, no one cares about fairness. Fairness is impossible. Expertise, that’s the thing. Self-improvement. Mastering whatever it is you set out to do.
(Casts)
WHITNEY But you keep leaving me, again and again, over and over! Don’t you still love me?
DR. QUANTREAU Of course I love you, Whitney. And Darby and McKenzie and Charmayne and your mother – what was her name? Doris. I loved Doris and before her I loved Edna. But the fish are running! See them go? If the fish are running, I’ve got to follow! Goodbye, Whitney! Be a good girl.
(Exit.)
WHITNEY (Shouting after him)
You’re just a figment of my adolescent imagination!
(Bursts into tears sobbing her heart out.)
I refuse to take advice from ghosts.
(Dries her tears, sighs, takes out her phone)
Unsolved murders in Branson, Missouri…what was it? Fourteen years ago?
CHARMAYNE (Appearing at the door – seemingly annoyed)
Whitney, you really do have to make an appointment. I don’t have time to play with you today.
WHITNEY Oh, I think you’ll see me – Pearleen.
CHARMAYNE (Steps outside, closes door carefully)
Oh? Are your efforts to master the black arts finally paying off?
WHITNEY There’s no “black ops” about it. I’ve been investigating you.
CHARMAYNE Moi? Little me? How flattering. I love being the center of attention. I revel in your…involvement.
(Making it sound sexual. Crosses her arms defensively, but says boldly)
It’s not illegal to change your name, you know. Some names are very common. You can call yourself anything you want. And some of us were saddled by our thoughtless parents with disabling monikers we couldn’t wait to get rid of.
WHITNEY But you are pretending to be someone else!
CHARMAYNE Prove it.
WHITNEY You’re wearing her necklace!
CHARMAYNE She gave it to me. Among many other gifts. I thought I explained all that to you.
WHITNEY And now no one can find her!
CHARMAYNE Poor little know-nothing. You’re not even a Querent, you’re lower than that. Sludge. Pity you didn’t pursue my entire course of instruction. Then you’d see that when there’s a new Queen of Swords it’s traditional for the previous Queen to make herself scarce.
WHITNEY You did something to her!
CHARMAYNE Prove it.
WHITNEY Plus, you misrepresented yourself when we hired you!
CHARMAYNE Oh, I told Arthur all about it! It only made him admire me more. He proposed, didn’t he? I don’t think you knew your father as well as you thought you did, Whitney. He appreciated people who made something of themselves, who figured out the physics of existence. He didn’t care for helpless wannabes who hang around trading on their birth names and trying to cash in on the past. We complemented each other. He told me, I “embraced multitudes.” And that’s what he loved about me.
WHITNEY He was quoting Whitman. I doubt your marriage is even legal!
CHARMAYNE Now hold on, sister. Have you bothered to research common law marriage in this state? Don’t come annoying me when you haven’t done your homework! I’ll give you a head start by telling you Dr. Quantreau’s trust defines his wife as “ux” – not by name but anyone he called his wife at the time of his death.
WHITNEY Prove it.
CHARMAYNE I don’t have to. And a further piece of advice? When you’re coming after someone, it’s very dangerous to put them on notice. Because then they’ll be ready for you…fully armed.
(Getting up her nerve…calling after CHARMAYNE …too late)
Like you speak French!
(Goes to sit disconsolately on a boulder.)
This is MY story and I’m not letting her tell it.
(A beachily dressed; closely shaved man with a metal detector comes up the beach slowly. Investigating.)
WHITNEY
Hey! Don’t you know this is private property?
EIGHT
Only to the waterline. No one owns the ocean. Which means it belongs to everyone. This your place?
WHITNEY
No. Belongs to my stepmother. The place she sold to buy this one was the house I grew up in.
EIGHT
So now you’re free. Like me.
WHITNEY
(Watches him work)
Who are you? What are you doing?
EIGHT
I’m a beachcomber and a treasure hunter. Name’s Eight. Like Pieces of Eight.
WHITNEY
Is that what you find?
EIGHT
I find everything eventually. Look at this.
(She comes closer)
WHITNEY
What is it?
EIGHT
Prehistoric shark’s tooth.
WHITNEY
Looks like an arrowhead.
EIGHT
They could have used it for that. You want it?
(She shrinks from contact)
WHITNEY
I don’t know. What would I do with it?
EIGHT
(Lifts his arm)
Treasure seekers help other treasure seekers. It’s the beachcomber’s code. Otherwise it goes back to the sea.
WHITNEY
Then I’ll take it.
(Turns it over in her hands.)
I wish it was a magic charm.
EIGHT
Really? Why’s that?
WHITNEY
I need magic to fight her.
(Gesticulates at house and whispers)
She’s a demon.
EIGHT
You mean demonic? Or an actual demon?
WHITNEY
I mean an actual demon. Like from another planet.
EIGHT
Most demons are homegrown.
WHITNEY
This one cultivates magic. Reads Tarot. Calls herself The Queen of Swords.
EIGHT
That’s nothing but a pack of cards. No magic there.
WHITNEY
She murdered my father. I know it.
(A beat. Game change.)
EIGHT
You sure of that?
WHITNEY
Absolutely certain. He had this neurological condition, and he hired her to be his attendant. She wasn’t qualified – not at all. He had me sit in the interviews since I lived there too. I could see how taken with her he was. I begged him not to do it but –
(she shrugs sadly)
EIGHT
Let me guess. She was a sight for sore eyes.
WHITNEY
(Nodding)
Yeah. But so fake, though! Fake everything: hair, breasts, accent. Fake résumé, even. But he didn’t want to see through her. He just didn’t care.
EIGHT
I get it. He wanted to take his own path to health.
WHITNEY
He wanted to grab for the gusto. As soon as they were married –
(Slits her own throat with a finger.)
EIGHT
Any idea how she did it?
WHITNEY
Smothering? Drugs? It wouldn’t have been hard. She cremated him right away and there wasn’t even an autopsy.
EIGHT
Did you tell anybody?
WHITNEY
I told everybody. But she has them all under her spell. People were relieved he was gone! Less trouble for everybody. Even my sisters who – neither of them can stand Charmayne – said, “Well, at least he died happy!” I was the only one who even missed him. He was already old when we were born, you see. Darby – that’s my oldest sister – said – “Oh, he’d been gone a long time already. Can’t you see that?” And McKenzie – she’s the other one – said – “Everyone dies “unnaturally” nowadays. That’s what death is.” I was the only one who thought it was wrong. My dad said the only education worth having is learning to tell right from wrong.
EIGHT
I get it. You thirst after righteousness.
WHITNEY
Justice. Justice is what I want. People keep telling me it doesn’t exist.
EIGHT
Are you certain it’s not revenge you’re looking for?
WHITNEY
Well, that would be nice too. I mean, she makes me so mad. Don’t you feel it? Wouldn’t anyone? But justice is what I’ll settle for.
EIGHT
It’s a bad situation.
WHITNEY
You don’t know what a relief it is to have someone actually listen to me. I even – one day – I saw him.
EIGHT
You saw him? Your father’s – ghost?
WHITNEY
(Nodding vigorously)
I did.
EIGHT
Was he all about vengeance?
WHITNEY
He didn’t speak.
(Tears up.)
He just showed up in my room at college – probably the same moment she was killing him – and looked at me so sadly. I knew it was some kind of vision because he was his younger self – from before he had his stroke. I thought he was angry at me. Going away to school and leaving him alone with Charmayne – maybe I let him down.
EIGHT
Hey, you told him not to hire her. I mean, you were just a kid! What could you do?
WHITNEY
He admired people who “spoke truth to power”. He wanted me to be self-sufficient, use logic and hone my own instincts. She was awful to him! She made him beg for water. I saw it.
EIGHT
Sounds like a demon all right.
WHITNEY
“Withholding hydration” they call it. I should have protected him, the way he always protected me. He said I was his intellectual heir.
EIGHT
Are we talking money?
WHITNEY
No, I don’t mean that. We already had trust funds and things. What I mean is, he told me I was like him, that I had the same kind of mind. He said knowledge is everything and you have to cultivate a bullshit detector. Even though I was the youngest – me and my sisters have different mothers – he told everyone only I was fit to stand in his shoes.
EIGHT
Well, I’m starting to see why your sisters might not want to cooperate.
WHITNEY
People have to stand up for what they believe!
(Very earnestly.)
EIGHT
You blush when you’re angry.
WHITNEY
I blush whenever there’s another person in the room. But what do you think I should do? I’m scared of her. She threatened me.
EIGHT
How?
WHITNEY
She said I’m nothing and she created everything. She’ll send me back into the darkness. She wants to “tell my fortune” so she can predict all the terrible things that are going to happen to me. When she calls herself Queen of Swords, she tries to sound like she’s Master of the Universe.
EIGHT
Sounds like a con artist to me. They just feel around for anything someone will believe. Don’t let her get the drop on you.
WHITNEY
But what if those cards tell the future?
EIGHT
Tarot’s just another dead language, Whitney. You could learn it if you really wanted to. Language shapes how people think.
(Taps his head)
Don’t meet her on her turf. Predators like their prey frozen. And confused.
WHITNEY
How did you know my name?
EIGHT
I hang around. I hear things.
WHITNEY
So, you’re an eavesdropper.
EIGHT
Treasure seekers are serendipitous. We pick up what we can find.
WHITNEY
Well, you can’t pick me up.
EIGHT
(Still working his stretch of beach)
I wouldn’t dream of it.
WHITNEY
(not thrilled to hear this)
But what if she really is magic? It seems that way sometimes. I don’t know how to stand up to her.
EIGHT
Don’t sideline yourself so quick. You’re here, aren’t you? A person who can see the dead can do anything. Magic’s a game and anyone can play. Games are about rule-making – about control – gaining advantage on somebody, Whit.
WHITNEY
My father said never to play a game that’s rigged.
EIGHT
What if its rigged in your favor? And this one is. You know what happens to murderers?
WHITNEY
I’m hoping they get caught.
EIGHT
The truth will out.
WHITNEY
(Looking nervously up at the house)
Charmayne thinks she’s indestructible.
EIGHT
Wow. Sounds like a dare. I’m partial to dares myself.
WHITNEY
She says anything anybody tries to do to her comes back on them a million times. That it’s pointless to fight her. But I’m not giving up. You see why (looks at the tooth) I might need all the magic I can get?
EIGHT
Make her play your game.
WHITNEY
I’d love to see that! What do I do? Exactly?
EIGHT
Today’s your lucky day. I just happen to know some magic.
WHITNEY
Is that part of being a treasure seeker?
EIGHT
Sure. First, you master the elements. That’s way bigger magic than flipping cards and cutting off old men’s hydration.
WHITNEY
(Skeptical)
So how’d you that?
EIGHT
I’ve been swept out to sea. I’ve been buried in sand and I’ve been frozen in snow.
WHITNEY
We’re going to need way bigger magic than that.
EIGHT
See this mark on the top of my head?
WHITNEY
(Rubbing his head)
Looks like scars! Where did they come from?
EIGHT
I had a demon of my own. Once.
WHITNEY
You did?
EIGHT
Yeah, and he was hard to destroy. Took a piece out of me, I can tell you. He marked me right here.
WHITNEY
(Very hopeful)
Did you mark him?
EIGHT
I told you I destroyed him. And then I marked myself.
(Opens his Hawaiian shirt to show tattoo)
WHITNEY
(Reading)
“Be not Afraid.” How’s that help anything?
EIGHT
It’s a reminder.
WHITNEY
But you defeated him?
EIGHT
Sure did. He’s locked in a box and he’ll never get out. That’s what sent me wandering.
WHITNEY
How come?
EIGHT
Because every action produces an opposite reaction. He’s static, I’m in motion. Searching.
WHITNEY
But if he’s still alive…can’t he still hurt you?
EIGHT
No. He’s lost all his power. But I did have to take control. And I had to work on setting myself free.
WHITNEY
(Flouncing down onto the beach)
I’d rather just kill her. Serve her right.
EIGHT
No, no; don’t give her that. That’s what she wants.
WHITNEY
Trust me, that is NOT what she WANTS.
EIGHT
(Nodding vigorously)
Trust ME, it is. She’s hoping to turn you into HER. She’d have a new young life, a new young body. I’m not sure anyone could rescue you then.
WHITNEY
So tell me what you think I should I do.
EIGHT
Play it by the Bible. You’ve got to call a demon by its name.
WHITNEY
(Unimpressed)
Really? The Bible? That’s all you’ve got?
EIGHT
Hey, the Bible’s full of demons.
WHITNEY
So how do I learn her name? Tell me.
EIGHT
You said she had a fake everything. If that fake résumé still exists. I’d start there.
WHITNEY
(Arms crossed)
She probably destroyed every copy. Then what?
EIGHT
Don’t be a “yes, but”. You know she’s got secrets. The past’s the best predictor of the future. Find out her past and make sure she knows you know. Believe me, suddenly she’ll find you the most interesting person on the planet.
WHITNEY
Why’s that?
EIGHT
Because here’s the secret. Demons long to be revealed. If she invites you to dance –
(Does a little dance, waltzing the metal detector)
Dance with her. Then – suddenly, at the time of your choosing you – step aside.
WHITNEY
Step aside?
EIGHT
(Involving her in his dance)
Step aside. Let her own momentum bring her down.
WHITNEY
(Very frustrated, dancing like she has two left feet)
I‘ll never get it.
EIGHT
First you have to tell your own fortune. Then you tell hers.
(Heads off down the beach while she’s thinking about it)
WHITNEY
She’ll try to put ideas in my head!
EIGHT
But if she’s a demon, your ideas are stronger than her ideas.
WHITNEY
You don’t know how persuasive she can be.
EIGHT
(From the end of the beach)
Oh, I know.
WHITNEY
Wait! Where are you going?
EIGHT
I’ve got to get moving. I only found one treasure here.
WHITNEY
And you gave it away.
EIGHT
(Looking at her meaningfully)
That’s not the one I mean.
(Resumes his quest)
WHITNEY
Wait, wait! Give me your phone number!
(Pulls out her phone)
EIGHT
I don’t use those things.
WHITNEY
But where can I find you? When will I see you again?
EIGHT
Don’t worry. I’m always around. I like this beach.
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.
This film, probably his last, is not the movie to rescue the 88 year old filmmaker but it certainly marks an advance in his artistic life. Throughout his career, Allen has leveraged an apparently traumatically low self-esteem, inviting us to laugh at the hoops society forces ordinarily inadequate people to jump through for admiration, employment, companionship & love.
As he matured, he began implying that society itself is a crime and we are its victims (Shadow & Fog, Crimes & Misdemeanors, Hollywood Ending, Match Point, Broadway Danny Rose, Cassandra’s Dream, Interiors, Irrational Man, Scoop, Manhattan Murder Mystery, Bullets Over Broadway.)
I’ve come to believe he’s our Marcel Proust – sharply attuned to the pathos and ambition of our social signaling and teasing us with scandalous gossip about how far some of us might be willing to take our desperate impostures. What will we do to get what we want and what might we do when challenged?
Throughout his career, he has presented beautiful young women as the ultimate desirable acquisition of the good life; otherworldly angels whose psyches are completely closed to him, but whose bodies he hopes to subjugate.
Coup de Chance offers one of these mysterious creatures as its protagonist, a beautiful gallery worker “rescued” from her life with a shiftless musician by a wealthy, jealous man terrified of losing her. Yet she is bored, bored, BORED by his dull existence of object acquisition and gourmet travel and secretly falls for a handsome, exciting young man with a head full of dreams.
This film was banned from Cannes as a show of solidarity with the credible accusations of sexual impropriety by Allen’s daughter, whose story as an adult and a child, has never varied. The persona who comes across in Allen’s stories is inquisitive and clueless and needy enough to have done what he is accused of, yet most of us will never know the truth. Creator of his own worst fears, he triggered their realization. “Exposed”, discredited and cast out; still he is making films.
Artists we can unreservedly admire as human beings are rare, Picasso and Tolstoy and Byron, for example, displayed outrageously cruel, downright illegal behavior for all to see. But it’s quite possible that the sinner’s story is always the more interesting one from the perspective of our own humdrum lives. Certainly no one knows crime as intimately as a criminal.
Unlike the brilliant Match Point, the intensely immersive Cassandra’s Dream, the creepy Crimes & Misdemeanors and the tour de force Irrational Man, Coup de Chance’s plot is a mere story board, lacking the three-dimensional richness this collaborative art usually supplies, but it closes with Allen’s final gift to us, the end philosophy of his lifetime of restless questing. His last word? That each of us is a lucky miracle and that life itself is a miracle we must learn to revel in and appreciate.
EVA I am gnawed by an aching hopeless wish. Loneliness leads to breakdown, Becomes dementia. I batter Around the rooms of this castle, However brightly-plumaged, Knocking into furniture, A tragic bird who’s trapped indoors. Even dizzy with drink I maintain the frigidity Of an Edwardian hostess Intolerant of scenes at meals. Without you life’s a half-lit room.
EVAN I’ve become a character in your melodrama An absurd creature of romantic vice. Hopeless dilemma.
EVA What could be more beautiful than our ten days in New York, Walking among the perverted architecture. No loss of illusion, rather an increase. I’m in the midst of a dreary financial crisis, Having breakdown on my feet. I hope I don’t sound too shocked and sad. You are life to me as nothing is. My fingers still tremble, Touching you after 17 years.
EVAN This is the Eva I first met, first knew, first loved. We waited it out and didn’t lose each other. I was sane or mad to doubt you & myself. We are like two people sweating blood I feel further from you than ever. I dread losing you But Elayna’s power still holds me. I fear I may do one of you harm.
EVA Thanks for the money, I hope it doesn’t embarrass you too much. You are a reviver and a balm. We must be in Paris together before we die.
EVAN If you want me to be unselfish, let me be unselfish. You are my greatest friend. I’m Trying to keep off the drink while you’re here, Otherwise I know I’ll wreck everything. Three manhattans makes me crazy. Your feverish cheer does not seem solid. Is this the wreckage of our love? Once frightened of your clinical eye Now I’m more frightened of my own. I’ve matriculated in Your fearful university.
EVA We sheer away in horror Scenting fumes of evil As we lose control. Defeat and exhaustion, alarm and despondency. Demoralized and sad. Slam down the lid on pain and resentment: I have taken against your family. Let’s dance. To sit In silence denigrates our love.
EVAN My heart aches for you. We talked for the first time in weeks About hurt and resentment. I could manage my life if it weren’t for you And you could manage yours if it weren’t for me. You infect me with your despair and I flee to my wife To release the pressure. Her quickening influence works my imagination.
EVA I hate that you are in New York without me. You pervade that place as God pervades our hearts. My life is based on my assumption Of togetherness and my Secret fear you’re being got at When we could be snug together. I obsess that you’re in places where I’m not. I could not live without seeing you. I dread our visit may turn sour.
EVAN Everything except your beautiful self rusts Or dies or goes away. My love only seems dead; it’s alive underneath. If you die I shall never forgive you We need ideas that are less about ourselves.
EVAN I hurt Elayna tonight But there’s no help for it. She cares for me and I only care for a life apart. A clean break, an amputation Makes me frantic and guilty. She says we have a happy marriage only because She willed it. This smell of death and decay Makes me long for sex. Could you help me find a girl – any girl you choose – Or will you call me a sex mad degenerate? Panic makes my hands shake. I thought of Elayna and I wept.
EVA I received your sad, wild letter. I accept that you can’t free yourself. Do you accept it? I feel so very near you. I accept that you make sex Desperately with strangers – Do you accept it? Can anyone love such a cold-blooded person?
EVAN How silly I am, I thought I was reconciled to our ending, Expected a falling off of tension & illusion. But it’s a prospect I can’t face.
EVA Miracles happen but The gift of love causes guilt & pain.
EVAN I am utterly becalmed. What I dread most is silence, The latest form of impotence. I need stringing up and tautening. Revenge on love. Revenge on me.
EVA I am suffused with love because I am free. My work becomes our child, An extension of us. Immortal. Still, Something vanishes when you’re not there.
EVAN Elayna broke her hip. How irreplaceable she is to me. Our brand of married happiness is entirely unsung. I shrink to leave her even for a day.
EVA I’m sorry it’s not fatal. Am I dispensable to you? You love no one. If you turn against me I’ll die in a week because I have no one looking after me.
EVAN Turn against you! Agonizing! In spite of the hangover of humiliation I broke down all reserves so we could be together. A very happy day and I was sorry to leave you.
EVA Wed & sad. Past distress is muffled by age & habit. Today we meet formally as if at a garden party. A promise unfulfilled.
EVAN You looked so ill I was nagged by fear I bored you. I long for the happiness of old age, Guilt free, pain free, fear free. In your silence I feel your calming hand.
EVA I invited Elayna to lunch.
EVAN I am not best pleased. The day you come to like each other Our love will die. It will be Poison to our love. Elayna rarely admits depression. I have had not just love but loyalty. Your ghost will haunt me till I die. You force ruthlessness. It is a good thing your throat is sore Or you would never stop talking.
EVA Are you sending me your signet ring? I want something solid to remember you As I dodge death, fight off this Paralyzing loneliness. Our last communion.
(EVA fades away. EVAN is alone.)
EVAN Is the flaw in love a flaw in me? I never should have married. My heart jumps with pain like a hooked fish. I am rudderless. Upon your death My ring comes back, All your contrivances revealed. Now you are gone, I find you everywhere. We will never see each other again; Never, never, never. You are gone from me forever. I walk the streets and weep. Is this delayed shock? Boredom or despair? I will never cease to feel this pain till I cease feeling anything. For the last three nights, I dreamed of you. Did I anger you, neglect you? It’s too late to pray – I await your final book with horror. I need to know I was your life. Please Come back one last time to tell me Just for an hour. If you ever thought you loved more than I You are revenged.
Alysse Aallyn 