Do your dreams pulse with some energy ripening inside you? You are gathering force for a great work.
You Are A Power – You struggle to take command of your force. You feel the power and strength of undefined wishes and an inchoate longing to create your place in the world. No guide exists to this wilderness, you will have to map this forest yourself. Be brave.
All Connection Is an Energy Transfer –When you make any contact – even exchange a glance – with another living being, a current of energy passes between you, even if the “other” has been ruled “non-sentient” by our limited – and limiting – standards. In the depth of your being, you feel the electric thrill. This is the basis for the healing behind “forest bathing” and “garden bathing.”
Energy Drainage – That fact sets up the possibility that energy – your life force – can be sucked right out of you. Recognize when this is happening – when you are being fed upon. Get away from the predator as fast as you can go.
Goddess Challenge – There are plenty of traps ahead. Do not become discouraged. Accept that the flow of energy pulses with your every heartbeat, with your sleep/rest cycle, with the obligations you willingly seek to smooth your path.
Goddess Danger – Some of these obligations become too heavy, others seek to deter you from your set course. Still others offer false maps that seem to promise the ease of “I don’t have to do this alone.” We are all alone inside our heads and you – and only you – must be satisfied with the map you create. If you aren’t there’s no fellowship or wealth that can compensate you for that loss.
Goddess Opportunity – We revel in and with our fellow travelers. There could be a soulmate among them – for a time or for a life. Accept the wisdom of others, the wisdom of the path, consult other maps in designing your own. Be prepared to alter your map – joyously – with each new and fresh discovery. There will be many. Salut!
How Did People You Admire Manifest the Life Force? Jesus spent an epic 40 day & nights in the desert. Margaret Mead lived in Samoa studying the Samoans. Carl Sagan describes his “defining moment” as visiting the World’s Fair at four years old. It exploded and expanded his mind. Who are your models? Research them and study their transitions and experiments.
Magic & Mystery: A you accept yourself and accept your changes, you are confronting the dynamic of change, which is the manifestation of energy in existence. We are all alive and moving. This is a dance and you are the choreographer and star. Erik Erikson said “A good life is like a weaving. Energy is created in the tension. The pull and tug, the struggle, is everything.”
Commit to tiring yourself out during the day with thought, exercise and interrelations so that you can enjoy healthy sleep at night.
Models & Mentors – ‘Every thought has an energy. Thoughts send out a magnetic frequency” – Rhonda Byrne
“Energy is the power that drives every human being. It is not lost by exertion but maintained by it – for it is a faculty of the psyche” – Germaine Greer
“If you want to find the secrets of the universe, think in terms of energy, frequency and vibration” – Nikola Tesla
“The more positive energy you throw into the universe, the more positive energy you get back”
What kind of goddess are you? is the central question. Your body and spirit have a “grain” much like wood does – we call it “temperament. Going against this spoils your future. Your ego has work to do, figuring out who you are and what kind of strategy you excel at. What tools fit naturally to your hand? We think, we remember, we discuss, we write and we dream. Jung tells us that in your dream, you are everyone.
You Are A Seeker – You are self-defining and self-validating. You are on a quest. You wish to explore your possible incarnations.
Goddess Danger – The worst hazard of self-reflection is not navel-gazing (micro study can be very revealing) but solipsism. Aloneness may in fact be Hell. We can never lose touch with those around us because it is others we are fighting for, not for Self alone. Many warlords, sensing your promise, will try to recruit or outright capture you. Avoid warlords who fail to treat you with respect. In our increasingly autocratic world we are very familiar with Aging Babies who want the rest of us to nursemaid their fussy, immaturity because Growing Up is Ouchy. For God’s sake, for your own sake, for the benefit of the Universe and in hope of Eternity, don’t cater to or worse yet, BECOME one of THOSE. There is no shame in telling others you are “finding yourself.”
Goddess Challenge – Set a Spirituality Schedule to reflect your needs and interests. Appoint time to be absolutely alone, for meditation and reflection. If you cannot find a room to yourself, a closet will do. You can sit in the meditation position or assume any position that allows you to be comfortable enough to become physically forgetful. Concentrate first on building a life that allows both inner and outer growth. Surround yourself with people who respect this decision.
Goddess Opportunity – This is a journey. Accept it. Begin a journal with 1. “I” and write down your meditation thoughts and desires. This can be a poem, a fantasy, a checklist – whatever pattern occurs to you as supportive of your desires. Make a list of goals. Accept that it will evolve, transform. Push shame away. This is about YOU. Of course as you mature, your goals will evolve, and your journal will reflect that. When you have completed your Time Alone – ten minutes to an hour – whatever works for you – pat yourself on the back. What an achievement! You are started on a path of making changing Nightmares into Dreams and making dreams come true.
Planning & Mapping: Goddesses lead a designed life. A diary (also called a Training Journal) offers the ideal format in which to plan. Attempt to quantify the difficulties that you feel and assess possible reactions. Just because a situation is tough does not mean it shouldn’t be explored – on the contrary:
– A goddess repels takeover – You are your own goddess – not somebody else’s hired emblem.
A goddess feelsinstinctivelywhat she needs to defend – your soul will reveal it to you – through relationships, through instinct, through time and through dreams.
A goddess knows when to let down her guard – there are times to connect, to share, to Love.
A goddess learns from mistakes and hones her art. There is no Failure: only Learning. All education is precious.
Goddesses look for opportunities – Resistance training sharpens our game. We are each other’s cuttle bones, as well as cuddle bones.
Goddesses aren’t afraid of difficulty – the more time it takes the more fun it is. Your life is a long story, full of exciting challenges. Goddesses love gathering around the campfire to share adventures.
The First Resistance – Often savage, it comes from yourself. Slowly we realize we have hijackers inside our brains wrestling for control. You can recognize these by their negative content. They clearly wish to subdue us into clones which is NOT HEALTHY.
Becoming a Goddess – It is this resistance that first marks our goddess status. Congratulate yourself. You are on the road.
Training Journal – Carefully assess your desires versus the demands on you. List expected results if you gave in to either. Develop a concept of health. Is “freedom” staying up all night, consuming whatever substance makes you “feel better”? Clearly not. Assess the negative voice; “You’re weak”, for example. Being “in flight” from the negative voice is actually giving it mastery, so you must stand up to it. Learn to answer back – “I’m in training. I did better today than yesterday.” Keep track of your achievements. Even really small ones: “I meditated for 10 minutes” are significant.
Accept mystery: Life isn’t “win or lose.” It can’t be quantified because we are magical souls with magic coursing through us. Sometimes it’s impossible to figure out and must simply be absorbed, not rationalized. Learn to enjoy art and accept the relief it offers. Reflect back as much magic & mystery as you can muster. Your tastes will develop according to your growth – that’s a good thing. Treat yourself like a loving sensei who wants the best for you.
Models & Mentors: Always survey possible models. Who do you admire?
Is it
Bruce Lee? “The difference between a goddess and an average man is laser focus.”
Is it Carl Jung? “I am not what happened to me I am what I choose to become.” Read. Study. Educate yourself. Develop your own models.
“Avoid having your ego so close to your position that when your position falls, your ego falls with it” – Colin Powell
“Don’t let your ego get in the way of your success”- Tony Horton
“The ego seeks to divide and separate. The spirit seeks to unify and heal.” – Pema Chodron
The phone man said the best that we could get was a party line. No real privacy – ever. I was dumbfounded. “There’s no real privacy on them other lines neither,” said Mr. Sterling, the phone man. “You just think there is.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Arnold told me, right in the phone man’s presence. “We’ll get our phone through the Internet like all sane people. The land line is only for emergencies.”
Sometimes when the phone rang we weren’t supposed to answer it because it wasn’t our “ring”. Maybe Arnold can ignore a ringing phone: I can’t. Especially if it goes off in the middle of the night. No counting a “ring pattern” there – not with the echoes of sleep rattling through your head.
“Who could be calling at this hour?” I demanded of my husband. Rhetorically.
But he said, “Cows. Bears.” In his dream or on the phone?
As usual it was up to me to answer it. “Hello?” I quavered. A sharp intake of breath but no one spoke. I
had played this game before. Could we have brought our own ghosts with us?
‘That you, Gayle?” I boldly inquired. “Just checking up on us? We’re fine. The baby’s fine. Arnold says hi.”
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It was only afterwards that I wondered if the caller was my uncle’s “housekeeper”. The unpaid one he swore would be compensated in his will. Who else would be angry enough to hound us? And there was always the possibility that it was my uncle himself, wanting to complain about the way I’d spent his money. It would be just like the stupid dead to initiate calls they can’t complete.
FIVE – MEATSAFE
Our first visitors came when before we were ready (as visitors will). Before the cable was connected. Willette had streaked her hair with an unbecoming dissipated rock star red which, considering her coal black eyebrows and pointed chin made her resemble Sarah Bernhardt in her coffin. She had two legs, however. Willette had always been High Maintenance. Compared with her, Stan, a little plumper, somewhat balder now, seemed refreshingly cooperative and easily amused. In honor of our upstate move he wore a sweaters with a vaguely Chistmassy theme.
“Snowflakes! Moose!” he genially exclaimed. “What’s not to like?”
“You’re not missing anything in the city,” said Willette. “We’ve been burgled.”
take?” Stan. “Better glasses don’t help.”
“Omigod,” I sympathized, “What did they “A Cuisinart and my reading glasses,” said “Those instructions are rough,” I agreed.
“We told the cops to be on the lookout for a bandit with severe left eye astigmatism,” Stan joked.
“Not that they’ll look,” said Willette gloomily. “They never do.”
“Until the guy kills somebody,” agreed Arnold.
“They don’t even care about that now,” asserted Willette. “They bargain murders down to “accidents” just to skew their crime statistics. Fighting crime from a desk chair.”
“Nice work if you can get it,” echoed Arnold, a sociable host refilling wineglasses.
They had been stuck in traffic so we were dining at nine-thirty, a distinct hardship for anyone with my raging metabolism. I had eaten the cheese and crackers all by myself and was forced to smack together some distinctly unappetizing crudités. Zucchini slices with sour cream, anyone? Fortunately it didn’t matter. They wanted dinner and dinner itself hardly mattered because the dining room was so dark. Without windows, but six doors, there were constant and mysteriously unaccountable drafts; the candles slanting first one way and then the other. Over Martel and coffee conversation languished. No Martel for me. No wine. I was trying to be good. Trying to be good does not a dinner party make.
“I know,” I roused myself. “Let’s play
Icicle.”
“Icicle?” they all wanted to know. “How do you play that?”
“One person hides and everyone goes looking for him. When you find him you have to squeeze in as close as you can get. Last person left is the icicle.”
“That’s sardines!” scoffed Arnold. “I’ve played that.”
But Willette was intrigued. “Good game for this house,” she said. “We’ll find cubbyholes and corners even you haven’t seen.”
“I’m warning you, I’m the world-class champion sardines player,” said Stan. “I once won hanging for an hour in a garment bag.”
With a challenge like that, he had to go first.
“Basement off limits!” shouted Arnold. “It’s dangerous down there.” Was that an implied waiver of danger elsewhere? We listened to his footfalls clatter up the stairs and wander overhead.
“Sounds like there are three of him,” said Willette. Of course we weren’t bothering to count.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” I teased. “Real estate agent says this house is haunted.”
Willette seemed unintimidated. Stan I could have impressed.
“Our refrigerator tried to eat the delivery man,” said Arnold, getting into the spirit. “Both recovered and doing fine.”
“And there’s kind of a bad smell coming from Arnold’s study.” I suggested.
Arnold gave me A Look. Ooo, snap! Talk about burning with a cold fire! I pulled out the Big Guns. “Oswald Pewlett saw a fireball.”
“I feel a fireball coming on myself,” said Arnold, shaking the empty Martel bottle.
“Maybe it’s an animus.” said Willette. “You know, like a malignant spirit that attaches itself to unfinished business.”
I didn’t know. Upstairs a door slammed. Hard. We took that as a starter’s pistol. I let the others rush straight upstairs, elbowing each other like a middle- school recess, pretended at first to follow, then ducking behind a door.
World Champion Stan could not make it this easy for us, not even in an unfamiliar house. If it was me I would make a lot of noise going up the front stairs and then sneak quietly down the back. How he slammed that door I don’t know, but it doesn’t sound difficult with our drafts. If you balanced something on it and opened a window…
Outside had to be off-limits. I heard an unpleasant rustling in the rhododendrons. Think far enough outside the box, fall off the edge. I allowed myself to be seduced by the kitchen broom closet. It’s as narrow as an ironing board but runs the depth of the room, thus making an ideal crawlspace. And there was someone inthere. I could hear him breathing. “Is that you, Stan?”
The shadow rippled towards me. “I’ve missed you, Sharl.” That could have been my sigh, me just talking to myself. But then the voice spoke unmistakably and said the most surprising thing: “Time has no meaning.”
That’s not a message I would ever give myself, and it was my uncle’s voice, I swear it. I backed out in a panic, slammed the door so hard the doorknob fell off. The ghost was locked in, ha ha. Serves him right for refusing to play dead.
Willette and Arnold were upstairs together, looking equal parts smug and guilty. Like I couldn’t figure out what was going on. And they couldn’t say exactly where they’d searched. “Please yourselves,” I yawned. Maybe if I found Stan, he would show a sudden yen for pregnant women. Unlike everybody else.
“He’s not downstairs,” I declared, so it was time to inspect the attic. My flashlight revealed footprints in the dust along the steps. I pursued a faint tapping sound. In the dark, Stan had locked himself in the old meatsafe. Dumb place to hide! And he wasn’t happy about it. Like it was our fault. Willette, feeling a bit one down after the exposure of her skirmishes with Arnold, seized advantage like a wolverine protecting its mate.
“What if he had an asthma attack!”
Then you’d be a merry widow, I thought. But honest Stan said, “I don’t have asthma.”
“But an experience like that could give it to you,” said Willette. “Trauma triggers, they call it. “Traumatic inception”. Someone needs to take that door
off at the hinges.”
mandarin .”
“Don’t look at me,” said Arnold. “I’m a
The game was over. “Maybe in the morning,” I told Willette. “I’m gravid and I need my sleep.”
When Arnold finally came to bed – could Stan possibly have agreed to a threesome? I refused to let him in. “You’re the icicle,” I told him.
When I discovered one house on the list was haunted I gave the real estate agent no rest until he took me there. Honestly I had to do that man’s job for him. It was raining so heavily that morning that his car was like a bathysphere.
“I want to at least look at it. Cheer up; if there are leaks we’re sure to see them.”
“That’s it.” The agent still seemed very depressed as he reached for his golf umbrella. “It’s been empty fourteen years. No modernization whatever.”
Better and better. The bathrooms and kitchens I’d been seeing were like lip-sticked hogs in toe- shoes. There might even be original paneling. Peering out of the window I could see nothing through the darkening rain. “What’s it haunted by?”
I saw his wattles quiver in battle with his chin. Was I interfering with the real estate agent’s code?
“Various things.” Unadroitly he tried changing the subject and actually selling. “It has a view of the river. And it’s a real bargain.”
“Like what things?” Not reaching for my own umbrella or putting up my hood might tempt disclosure. I saw him wondering he could talk me out of going further.
(Sigh) “Oswald Pewlett saw a fireball.”
I was entranced! Had he searched his memory for the spectre least likely to queer a deal? “There
was a fire?”
He hastened to reassure. “A green fire.cold fire that doesn’t burn.”
A Delicious! I had to see it now! I pulled
galoshes over my ivory heels. “Let’s go!”
Perched above the road, the house was reached by a corkscrew of steps. The porch was an addition, so it was full of leaks, but the house was solid as a rock. Silent. High ceilinged. Original paneling. One bathroom for seven bedrooms, a marvelous thirties kitchen with no appliances, and a single light bulb in the exact center of every ceiling. This could be fun.
The real estate agent ensconced himself by the library window with its view of the river and refused to go upstairs. “I’ve seen it,” he said, pulling his fishing hat down over his ears as if assaulted by inner rain.
Upstairs there was no fireball, but the floors were littered with little glittery shards that turned out to be flies’ wings. No flies, mind you, only their wings. Thrifty spiders, I suppose who dine on all but isinglass. Is that how fairy legends started, I wondered. Fairy wings and flies’ wings – hard to tell the difference. I’m on the side of spiders. They can have all the flies they want.
And that’s how I bought The Old Chase Place.
THREE – DELIVER US
I should never have told Arnold the place was haunted, but I couldn’t resist bragging. “It has everything,” I sang.
“Air-conditioning too, so it seems,” he groused. He was always out to ruin my good time.
“That’s just the wind off the river. A natural chill factor. And real oak, too.”
“I’m not complaining.” He couldn’t help but warm to so much wood. In the city everything is “faux”. Alas the rooms were rather small, and in strange juxtaposition. Not a rich man’s house, you wouldn’t say, but perhaps the warren of a worrier.
“This will be my study,” said Arnold. He chose the one room in the house that still had a working fireplace – the others had been fitted with hideous stovepipes. But I didn’t argue, because at last he was smiling.
We were having a picnic lunch when the Sears truck drove up with the appliances. I didn’t see the accident because in my condition, meals are serious events. If I’m going to spend all morning nauseated then I’m going to spend all afternoon eating. (And all evening sleeping it off.) So when Arnold rose to show the hirelings what a forceful homeowner he could be, I pulled the fried chicken bucket closer.
When I heard a crunch and a hoarse cry I did run to the window. The ramp had fallen off the steps, tossing the refrigerator and pinning a delivery man. His mouth was open – I could see blood – and he was gasping for air. He reminded me of the fish my uncle caught on his
many unsporting ventures into the wild. He loved watching creatures die. He once presented me with a still- beating fish heart, saying, “It’s only the stupidest that go on living after they are really dead.” The fish, the headless running chickens — I guess the joke was on them, if they didn’t know they were dead. But the delivery man was not dead; we all affirmed the fact.
There was a flurry of activity while the driver jumped into the truck to call for help – we didn’t have a phone yet and cell phones don’t work out here. The fire and rescue truck arrived after about ten minutes to take over. Arnold had to help the second delivery man move in the appliance. “Get a camera,” he hissed.
He wanted me to take pictures of the ramp and the steps to show, although our porch was in sorry condition, it was the ramp anchoring that was at fault (them) and not the steps (us). That’s because it’s so important in life to figure out whose fault everything is.
“He’ll be all right,” I offered. “He had a lot of meat on him.”
“Jesus, Sharl,” said Arnold, “I heard his bones go crunch.” And that was the end of that picnic.
At least I had a brand new oven, refrigerator, dishwasher and washer/dryer. I went back to applying the coat of dark green paint to make the room picture-perfect. Hunter green for Hunter (boy or girl); a super-infant guaranteed to make all his mother’s dreams come true.
Andrew looked up from the Food section of the Sunday Times. “Did he jump out of his coffin and give everybody the finger?”
“No.” I sat down on a Brazilian leather cube impersonating a chair. “He left me a lot of money.”
That made Arnold sit up straight. Finally I had produced something worthy to compete with three- melon risotto. “How much?”
“A lot.” Two beats. “All of it.”
I hadn’t seen Arnold this excited in a long time. “This is the uncle we never once went to visit, even though he only lived in New Rochelle?”
“He’s the one.”
“And there are a lot of other relatives…” I saw the penny drop. “Is this the same guy who used to feel you up when you were little?”
“He’s the one.”
Arnold whistled. “Wow!” he said, “Break out the champagne! Let’s drink to old fashioned Calvinist guilt!”
But I couldn’t drink. “There’s an unpaid
housekeeper who says she’ll sue.” I tried dismissing that
ugly scene from my mind. But ugly scenes don’t go so easily.
“Screw her,” he laughed, “Doubtless the old man did. To the one who got away!” he snorkled. “With…” drum-roll on the glass coffee table… “all the money!”
“I could split it with her,” I said thoughtfully. “Except that I need it all.” And if I divorced Arnold, I’d have to split it with him.
His eyes narrowed over my unusual decisiveness. “Sounds like you’ve made a plan.”
“I have. I’m pregnant and I’m moving.”
He rose to pursue me to the kitchen. I was the pursued one now.
“Rich? Pregnant? Moving?” He banged his palm against his chest. “It’s a lot to handle for one afternoon. Where are you going, oh helpmeet?”
“Upstate. The country.” There was no champagne. Of course not. There had been nothing to celebrate for so, so long. I poured us each an apple juice. “You could come with.” Two beats. “But you’d have to give up your girlfriend.”
Surprise! I saw him try to toss it off and keep on dancing. “What’s that? Getting jealous are we? Symptomatic of your condition?”
“Gayle.” I leaned forward, giving back the name. “She sent me such a charming letter.” In which she stated her utter non-comprehension of why the moody bitch wouldn’t just step aside and let the poor, kind, considerate man go free. Ugh. Apple juice is disgustingly sweet. I’ve never understood how adults can covet the provinces of children. Poor little sugar addicts, they are ruined before they start. I tried adding powdered tea from a mix. Still bad. The no-liquor lifestyle is a tough sell.
He was sputtering like a damp firecracker. But it was not Arnold’s turn to speak.
“Screwing students is the beginning of the end for a teacher. You’re lucky she notified me and not the superintendent.”
Unfortunately I could always read Arnold’s mind. He really needs to get some more interesting thoughts. I saw him deciding he’d better stop aimless denial until confronted with the evidence against him.
“Why upstate?” he bartered, testing me. “Why not, say, Europe?”
“Because,” I answered, “I like to get something for my money.” That alone made me my uncle’s worthy heir. Glittering silver dollars lit the darkened rooms of memory. I persisted — for I’m nothing if not persistent — “Haven’t you heard of the curse of the lottery winner? They spend it all and then some. I want a property I can buy outright – debt-free.” Wouldn’t it be heaven owing nobody nothing?
He toddled toward the window on his be- jeaned insect legs. He looks much better in big-boy pants. Was he trying to imagine life without me? Or without New York? So I sealed the deal with a siren song. “You could finish your screenplay…”
Amy liked Aunt Petra from the moment she first met her, because Aunt Petra was the only
grown-up who understood about the ghost room.
It was Amy who carried Aunt Petra’s suitcase up the stairs and showed her into the Blue
Room, because Amy’s mother was busy with lunch.
“I wonder why they didn’t put me in the ghost room,” said the guest, not even looking around her cheery boudoir before flinging herself on the bed and wrapping herself like a caterpillar in her paisley
pashmina.
Amy’s heart beat faster. “How did you know?” she gasped. Aunt Petra hadn’t even toured the house. The door to the ghost room was always closed and as directed, Amy had tried to scuttle past without
glancing in its direction.
“It felt cold, for one thing,” said Aunt Petra. “Several degrees colder than the rest of the
house. Brrr.“ She shivered. “I’m still cold.”
“Mom says it’s the furthest from the furnace,” Amy told her, “But when we put in an electric
heater it kept shorting out.”
Aunt Petra laughed. “Never heard yet of a ghost who mastered electricity, but I’m prepared to
believe it’s possible.”
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That’s when Amy decided she liked Aunt Petra so much. She offered, since her aunt didn’t appear to be moving “Would you like me to unpack for
you?”
“That would be wonderful,” said her aunt, so Amy opened the suitcase. Clothes and books and cartons of cigarettes and pill bottles were just thrown in haphazardly, but Amy took things out carefully one by one, folded them the way her mother had taught her. She
gave each category of item its own drawer in the highboy.
“I see you have a scientific mind like your father,” Aunt Petra commented. “Would you please hand over those cigarettes?” As soon as she had them in
hand she lit one and puffed on it fiercely.
“I’m going to be an artist,” objected Amy, although she wasn’t supposed to correct or even “talk back” to adults, which meant never pointing out they were obviously wrong. Then, “Mother says those things
will kill you.”
“Everything kills you,” sighed her aunt. “Everything, everything. You’ve got to take your pick.” She coughed heavily. “Allow me to serve as a bad
example.” swinging her feet, and reverted to the subject she really
Amy sat on the slipper chair, wanted to discuss. “There’s the smell,” she offered.
Aunt Petra looked at her floral cigarette in surprise so Amy elaborated, “In the ghost room. We washed it down in disinfectant and Mother had the rat man in but there was no getting rid of it. It comes
and goes.”
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”Very interesting,” said Petra in her drawling voice. “This will allow us to identify the ghostly
presence. What exactly does it smell like?” Amy considered. A question she
had never been asked before. “Dirty feet.”
“Ah,” said Petra. “I recognize that one. It’s the stench of neglect. Neglect and consequent
regret. Truthfully, do you go in there often?”
And although Amy had been forbidden to enter the room if she was going to insist on talking about the ghost, she liked Aunt Petra so much she
answered honestly. “Yes.” “So have you seen this ghost?”
Amy nodded gravely. “And you, Aunt Petra? Have you ever seen a ghost?”
“No,” said Aunt Petra, “I never have and I never will. Some people are gifted one way and some another.” She stubbed out her cigarette in the water glass Amy’s mother had thoughtfully provided for quite another purpose. Amy was too surprised by the revelation that you could believe in ghosts without ever seeing one to notice. Aunt Petra was certainly a strange species of grownup. So Amy asked, “But why would you want to
believe in ghosts? I mean if you didn’t have to?”
“When you get older you’ll find it very nice to believe that life doesn’t come to a full stop just because we’re no longer physically around,” her aunt responded. “Anyone over thirty is already a big fan of
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second chances.” She smoked. ‘And third and fourth. Infinite chances are very attractive.”
“Well Mother doesn’t believe in ghosts. She took me to the doctor.” Amy hated the fat doctor whose fingers smelled of penicillin. He was only good for shots. And sure enough, he gave her a vitamin shot. Vitamin B12 to cure her of ghosts. Amy had been afraid it would work, but of course it didn’t. Thinking about it, she ran her finger thoughtfully around the rim of
the empty suitcase.
“Know what’s especially amazing about it all?” asked Petra. “Your mother was half your age
when she saw her first ghost.”
me!”
Amy squealed incredulously. “Tell
“Well, our high school was right next to the kindergarten and so I always walked your mother home after class. And one day my appendix burst right in the middle of gym – I was rushed to the hospital but in the excitement everyone forgot about your mother completely. She waited until it was dark and then she tried walking home alone. She said this dog – she described him perfectly with his long droopy ears and the spot to the right of his nose – was following her. And he had such a friendly face he gave her courage. She knew he wouldn’t allow anything bad to happen to her. Then when
she got home he disappeared.” Amy jumped up and down in her
excitement. “And the dog was a ghost?”
“It was my dog Peanut who died long before your mother was even born. We had no pictures of him and we never talked about him, so how
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could she have known? I wished I could have been the one to see him but I was grateful to him for walking her home. I liked thinking he was there.”
“You should tell her she saw a ghost,” insisted Amy. “She doesn’t even know!”
“Oh, you know your mother,” said Petra comfortably. “She wouldn’t believe either of us. We should give thanks instead for her practical head. Look at this beautiful room. And I know in advance that dinner
will be delicious and healthy.” Amy cared not a fig for house-
keeping. “I wish our ghost was a dog.” “Tell me all about him.” Aunt Petra
fixed her niece with a bright, beady stare.
“He’s an old man in a rocking chair. The rocking chair’s a ghost, too. He sits with a finger in the Bible, looking out the window at the frozen pond. He
never ever looks at me. Not once.”
“Maybe you’re a ghost to him,” said Petra. “What’s he look like?”
“He has white hair brushed straight up. And overalls. And boots with big looping laces that touch the floor. And his face is all wrinkly. His earlobes
dangle almost to his shoulders.”
“I can just see him,” said Petra. “Doesn’t he ever read the Bible? Just looks at the pond? I
wonder if I know what he’s thinking.”
86 – Awake Till the End – Stories by Alysse Aallyn
“I don’t see how you could.” Did ghosts have thoughts? Amy was astonished.
“He’s probably thinking he’s useless and his life is over. Wanting to jump right into that pond
but afraid of what will happen.”
“He must have jumped if he’s a “Maybe he regrets it.” “He ought to go to heaven with the
ghost,” said Amy. rest of the spirits and stop bothering us,” said Amy
heatedly. the doorway. “Let Aunt Petra rest before dinner. She’s had
a long trip.” said Amy, and Aunt Petra backed her up.
“Maybe we should tell him that.” “Amy!” Amy’s mother appeared in
“I wasn’t bothering her, honest,”
“We were having a wonderful talk.”
Downstairs her mother gave Amy a hug. “I know Petra wishes she had a little girl like you.”
“Well, why doesn’t she get one?”
Amy’s mother tapped a wooden spoon uncomfortably against her left cheek. “You know
mothers need a daddy to make a baby.”
“Well, why doesn’t she get one of those?” It was terrible the way grownups acted powerless
all the time when they had all the power in the world.
87 – Awake Till the End – Stories by Alysse Aallyn
“Because she looks like hell warmed over,” said Amy’s father, sitting at the kitchen table with
his newspaper. “Marriage isn’t just about looks!”
“Bob!” barked Amy’s mother. “She acts snarky and superior too,”
said Amy’s dad. “Nobody likes that.”
“But you want me to be superior,” argued Amy. “You put me in the advanced class and made
me skip second grade.” “Just know you are superior without
acting that way,” said her father, confusingly.
Amy didn’t believe him for a minute. Aunt Petra was so easy to talk to she could probably explain to Amy the most puzzling problem of all: the difference between insides and outsides. How come people looked one way and felt another? In the following days she hung around her aunt, who never chased Amy away or acted bored by her company. She was the first to
tell Amy that her name meant “Loved.”
“The one who is loved. Could there be a better name? That says it all. My name means
“stone”.” change it,” said Amy. Aunt Petra was the one always
“If you don’t like it you should saying life was all about choice.
“Some things you’re stuck with,” said Petra. “Some things you can fix. It takes a lot of living
to tell the difference.”
88 – Awake Till the End – Stories by Alysse Aallyn
Of course she wanted Amy to take her to the ghost room. Aunt Petra told her sister that the light was just right for watercolors and so Amy’s mother allowed a special dispensation. At the doorway Aunt Petra halted, spread her arms and chanted,“Cold Huntsman,
depart, take your knife from out my heart.”
Cold Huntsman?”
Amy was impressed. “Who’s the
“The Cold Huntsman is Death,” said Petra. “It was just something we used to say when we were children, going anywhere scary. It’s a big help when passing graveyards by the light of the moon. It must have worked because I’m still here. Let me know when the
ghost comes back.”
Amy considered it a lot more exciting to be a child in the olden days, walking by yourself to school and strolling past graveyards by the light of the moon. No one she knew was allowed to get away with anything like that now. Parents seemed to
assume everything was fatal
Gratefully she offered, “Would you like me to paint a picture of you?”
“I would love that.” “It will be a picture of your insides,”
said Amy, “because I can’t do people’s outsides yet.”
“Better and better,” said Petra. “It’s just my insides that I care about. How can one girl get so
lucky?”
Aunt Petra was the perfect model, because all she wanted was to lie there. So Amy drew her with a face like the sun. Then one day the ghost came back.
89 – Awake Till the End – Stories by Alysse Aallyn
“He’s there,” she told Aunt Petra through chattering teeth. It was colder than it had ever been, and she felt a deep sense of horror, like she had
somehow made things worse.
Petra sat right up and threw off her pashmina. “I’m going to tell him he can go,” she said.
“Leave us.”
Amy waited in Petra’s room in an agony of excitement. When Aunt Petra finally returned her face was gray with exhaustion. She threw herself on the
bed.
“He’s gone,” she said.
“Did you see him?”
“I didn’t need to see him, I could feel him. I went and stood in his place right by the window.
Where he must have been sitting.” “You must have made him so
angry,” whispered Amy. “Was he the Cold Huntsman?”
“No. The Cold Huntsman had come and gone. I told him what he chose was the right thing and everyone else forgave him so we wanted him to forgive
himself.”
“And then?” “And then he went away. I think for
good. I hope so. We’ll see.”
“Let’s tell Mom!”
Amy jumped wildly up and down.
90 – Awake Till the End – Stories by Alysse Aallyn
But Petra made herself very small, under her shawl on the big bed. “When you grow up you will learn there are some things you can never tell
anybody.”
After Aunt Petra left the ghost didn’t come back. The room warmed up and the stink went away. Amy’s mom wouldn’t let Amy move her bed in there, but she was allowed to put her art table in the ghost’s place, under the window. Petra was right; the ghost had sat in the very best light. Amy was working there one day when she had the funniest feeling. She turned around and there was
Aunt Petra, lying under a shawl on the bed, eyes closed. Amy burst through the kitchen door
wailing. “Aunt Petra’s dead!”
Her mother’s face was stained with tears. “I should have told you,” she sobbed, “but I didn’t
know the best way. How on earth did you guess?”
But although Amy was a long way from grown up she had finally learned that there are some
(Ordinary dorm room with desk lights, two twin beds, built ins. JAZZ feels her body as if to reassure herself that it’s still there. CORSO – bare-chested –is sitting on one of the beds, studying a laptop)
CORSO
Lose something?
JAZZ
I lost everything. What are you doing here?
CORSO
Installing fun software. You seem distraught– your mood begs improvement. Come over here into the light and let me look at you.
JAZZ
I’m not distraught, I’m disgusted. Hey, that’s my laptop.
CORSO
Nothing human disgusts. Take it from me, you’re going to love your new social media interface.
JAZZ
The thing that disgusted me wasn’t human. Is your software a game?
CORSO
Everything worth doing devolves into game. As your administrator, I’m in charge of upgrades. We’ll do Mr. Quinn next. Any idea where he’s been hiding?
JAZZ
Stevie Farrell, din’t you mean? How did you get in here?
CORSO
I’m loco parentis, poor, suspicious little Jazz, just checking up. You’ve been keeping such bad company. And Stevie’s not the worst of it – there’s a prowler around campus who seems to have it in for you. Let’s hope it’s not too late to put your feet on a better course.
JAZZ
I’m leaving if you’re not.
CORSO
Poor Jazz, what can we do to mitigate these fears?
JAZZ
(Throws herself impulsively on the other bed)
I’m not afraid of you.
CORSO
I see we have much work ahead.
JAZZ
(She finds his shirt – reacts like it’s infectious and throws it at him)
Why can’t you keep your clothes on?
CORSO
(Catching the shirt effortlessly)
Stevie and I were very informal; I was hoping we could be informal too. I gather he confessed his proclivities to you?
JAZZ
I heard a lot about how you can’t be trusted.
CORSO
Credulous Jazz! We must teach you discernment. Education is challenge, not safety or comfort – I strengthen minds and bodies to appreciate, manipulate and surmount reality. Recreate your own world. If you don’t want those things, then you’re fodder like the rest of them.
(fans himself with the shirt)
These rooms are very hot. Do you know the trick to opening these windows? Aren’t you feeling overdressed?
JAZZ
I saw your game.
CORSO
I borrowed bodies that weren’t being used! And aren’t you the better for it? Restful sleep, interesting dreams, AND a paycheck, now there’s a deal. I’ll throw in little Stevie to be your guide.
JAZZ
How can we converse when you pervert language? You pervert language and ideas. You pervert bodies.
CORSO
Debate’s not your forte, Jazz. I can assist with that. You entered this room requesting an upgrade in your selective amnesia. It’s something we all must have, otherwise none of us could function. I can help you control it.
JAZZ
If it comes from you, I don’t want it.
CORSO
Poor little Jazz! Who could you be channeling – me or him? Or perhaps it’s that desperado asking everyone for scuttlebutt?
JAZZ
I went with the flow till the flow tried to drown me. I’m becoming my own person.
CORSO
All freshmen think that. Is the real Jazz so robotic? You used to be so much more fun. You were quite the adventurer.
(laughs)
Let’s laugh together. Why so serious?
(mimes a ridiculously pulled down clown face)
Life unlocks all its secret pleasures once you master the key.
CHASE
(Bursts into the room)
Is the key murder? Soul murder, followed by physical murder to make sure the souls stay dead?
(JAZZ vaults to her feet, they hug, obviously drawing strength from one another)
CHASE
Stand up, you bastard.
CORSO
Oh, can the paranoia, little Steve. Victimology is so limiting. Jazz and I aren’tinvolved, if that’s what’s bothering you. We share a strictly business relationship. There’s room for you, too if you down your tools of self-destruction.
(Rises imposingly. He’s bigger thanCHASE)
CHASE
We have all the proof we need. You can’t get away with it.
JAZZ
The bodies are piling up.
CORSO
But they long to pile, and not feel guilty! Everyone wants to be a porn star!
CHASE
We know what you did.
CORSO
What a shame, then, that you felt the need to mime unconsciousness. When will feel your feelings and live your truth? Isn’t that what youth is all about?
JAZZ
Being drugged isn’t truth!
CORSO
Yet you – both of you – acceded to all of it. Names along the bottom line. The law says you’re adults.
JAZZ
I know what you did is illegal!
CORSO
Fashion to law, little Jazz, and with such startling speed! Too bad the law is amorphous, the law’s in transition, it’s a creature of fashion just as you were. Things that were illegal last year are perfectly legal today. People go to court and bankrupt themselves to “win” – ask your sad friend – but the law doesn’t help them feel they have won. They spend the rest of their lives trying to recapture the glow of surrender.
CHASE
You are vile and despicable – everything about you is saturated with evil.
CORSO
I see that you two have made loserdom your bond. It’s so unhealthy, all this focus on the past. You could enjoy both youth and wealth, but you consciously choose misery. Let’s try ratiocination for a change. Who gives benefits and who gives problems? Haven’t I made all your tiny dreams come true? You can have Mr. Quinn if you want him, Jazz, anyone can. Now let’s concentrate on upgrading these immature fantasies.
CHASE
What if we tell the Dean?
CORSO
Who, Bernie?I’m sure you’ll find Bernie doesn’t expect me to police my students’ very randy sex and dream lives.Bernie and I understand each other perfectly. People loveporn, everyone wants an avatar and to feel like a creator. Let’s consecrate all this blood and shit to transcendental purposes.
JAZZ
You use words you can’t understand.We’re soulmates. We’ve seen worlds of possibility, of universe and time.
CORSO
You’re welcome!
JAZZ
You’ll never know what we can do.
CORSO
Pretty sure I can guess. Everything except freedom?
CHASE
Your freedom is all fake. You’re nothing but an appetite. All youcreate are slaves.
CORSO
Oh. Slaves! In a limitlessuniverse, slaves are no fun at all. It’s such a bore always having to direct.
(fanning himself)
Jazz, how can you tolerate this hideous heat? I know there’s a trick to these windows.
(Successfully opens window)
Stevie, get us a drink. Let’s sit down and talk this over like grownups.
CHASE
Not a chance.
(BEXappears spot-lit on the TOWER LIFT, scanning with his binoculars, holding his shotgun at the ready. He sights his quarry & racks his slide)
JAZZ
Look out the window, Dr. Corso.
(She pulls CHASE away)
Tell me what you see.
CORSO
(Peering)
Who’s out there, Jazz? Bile stained, piss stained revenants skulking home for parietals?
(BEXclimbs awkwardly out on the tower lift, hooking his leg, trying to get a good shot)
CORSO
(Waves out at the world)
Run home, littleoneironauts! Your memory cards expired!
(JAZZ grabsCHASEand pulls him to the floor. Shots ring out.CORSO, looks down at his chest as red stains bloom across his back. Plummets slowly out through the window. Recoil causes BEXto lose his footing – drop his gun – throw his arms up – cry out – fall)
JAZZ
Set a demon to catch a demon!
CHASE
May the aspirations of murderers always overreach.
JAZZ
And those of lovers override.
CHASE
Time to free the others? Whether they like it or not?
JAZZ
Kiss me.
(They kiss.Sacred music, pink glitter.DARKNESS. FINAL CURTAIN)
– KITCHEN set, bar with overhead wineglass and pot rack, burners steaming ( ZOYAorchestrates the food)
ZOYA
Stevie, could you open the wine and let it breathe?
(Clutches her own throat)
No one wants a strangled wine.
CHASE
Jazz drinks any kind of wine.
ZOYA
Jazz? What kind of name is that?
JAZZ
It’s a nickname. My name is Jasmyn Suzino.
ZOYA
(Thawing. She is cautious and protective, not mean)
If you’re important to my son I’m so glad you’re here.
CHASE
She’s very important to me.
ZOYA
I hope you like Welsh rarebit and Coquille Saint Jacques.
JAZZ
Sounds delicious. I hear you do your own cooking?
(CHASE takes bottle and opener from his mother.)
ZOYA
Love is the main ingredient, I always say. Red or white?
(She pulls down wineglasses from the overhead rack. There are several bottles of wine.CHASEopens them one after the other. JAZZ looks a little scared as if she might have to drink all this)
JAZZ
Oh, whatever. May I have ice, please?
CHASE
(Being a Farrell)
No.
ZOYA
Oh, for heavens sake let her have whatever she wants! Lemon, sugar! Anything! This is a party!
(Slaps out an ice bucket)
CHASE
Taste it without ice first. It’s Christmas wine from Lebanon.
JAZZ
Wow. Delicious. You’re right….forget the ice.
(JAZZsits at the bar – ZOYAblots the corner of JAZZ’s mouth with a napkin, lays napkins down. What with spoons and potlids, she gives an impression of sacred priestess juggling sacred tools)
CHASE
Mom made all this lace herself.
JAZZ
Awesome. Exquisite. I didn’t know humans made lace.
CHASE
Mom was beaten into submission by nuns. You propitiate the gods by giving them lace.
ZOYA
(Raps him sharply with a spoon)
Stevie, you heretic! What will our guest think?
CHASE
“Make our damn lace or be consumed by the Holocaust!”
ZOYA
Stevie! Oh, what’s the use? You’ll never change. I forgive you.
JAZZ
Uh, the flowers on that cake look almost real.
ZOYA
I love making sugar flowers. Those are lilies and camellias. I wore them at my wedding.
CHASE
Mom studied pastry making at the Cordon Bleu in Paris.
ZOYA
It was just a summer course. Canapés or crudités?
CHASE
Crudity always.
JAZZ
(ToCHASE)
Paris! Were you there?
CHASE
Naw. I was just a bullet in my father’s bandolier in those days.
ZOYA
Oh, Stevie! You’re such a silly! How I love you! No, he’s never been to Paris. We’ve not been back. That was our honeymoon, so long, long ago.
(Seems like she might cry)
It’s so hard to keep the rarebit from separating.
(sniffs – offers a plate)
Duck pâté?
JAZZ
Er, sure.
(ZOYA and CHASE toss off their wine, he refills their glasses. JAZZ holds hers against her chest. ZOYA reaches down a platter)
ZOYA
I love to cook! Following a recipe to make things right. I wish people ate more, but they’re always on such weird diets. Cyanne’s a vegan who won’t eat gluten. Everything’s changed. I used to pick my own watercress but now I’m afraid of the fisher cats.
CHASE
Fishers eat squirrels, mom, not people.
ZOYA
Somebody needs to eat those squirrels. They’re too assertive. But it’s the fisher cats who scream – like someone being murdered.
CHASE
They’re nocturnal, Mom. And watercress is out of season.
ZOYA
(Fighting back tears)
So how does your family celebrate grand occasions, Jasmyn? I’m sure it’s something more splendid than a homely family party.
JAZZ
(nervous)
We make a lot of toasts.
(She lifts her glass. ZOYAandCHASEboth drain their glasses and immediately refill as if that’s what etiquette requires)
ZOYA
Stevie, you say the blessing.
CHASE
You’re going to have to stop calling me that, Mom. My name is Chase.
ZOYA
But that’s a stupid name. It doesn’t mean anything. Steven was your grandfather’s name.
CHASE
But he’s gone. You want me to be gone?
ZOYA
I’m praying you never leave again.
(Lifts her glass)
Zemlya pukhom!
CHASE
It’s your birthday, Mom. We toast to you.
(He raises his glass)
ZOYA
(Abashed, almost frightened.)
No more bad luck. I’m not fit to catch God’s eye. Dolgaya zhizn!
JAZZ
What’s that mean?
CHASE
Long life.
JAZZ
Long life!
(They drink. A moment of happiness. Enter CUTTER FARRELLdressed as if for wild weather. CUTTER slowly removes outer gear but continues to play with belt – appraising the group as if wondering who to use it on. He is a cold, cold-eyed man, a paler, blockier version of CHASE. Accepts drink from placatory ZOYA)
CUTTER
Filthy night. What have we here?
ZOYA
Stevie brought a friend to my birthday party! Isn’t that exciting?
CUTTER
(Takes drink, cranes his neck insultingly)
Little Stevie brought a date? Where is he? I don’t see him.
(JAZZsteps up bravely and offers her hand)
JAZZ
Hi, I’m Jasmyn Suzino.
(CUTTERtakes her hand and presses it to his chest, looking her up and down at his leisure)
CUTTER
Where did this dark-eyed beauty spring from? Be still my loins. I’m Cutter Farrell, young lady. Pleased to make your acquaintance.
JAZZ
(Awkwardly)
I go to school with Chase. Er – Steven.
CUTTER
Bet you met him yesterday.
(JAZZ reacts as though this might be true. CHASE steps forward, detaches JAZZ’s arm)
CHASE
Pick on someone in your own weight class, Dad.
CUTTER
And that would be you? I’ve heard braggadocio but I’m getting tired waiting.
ZOYA
(Panicky)
Please don’t fight. It’s my birthday.
CUTTER
I don’t like surprises. That’s all.
(Pops some savory in his mouth and drains half his drink)
So. Suzino. What kind of a name is that?
JAZZ
It’s Portuguese.
CUTTER
Is there a Dad in your picture?
JAZZ
(After a beat)
Not really.
CUTTER
That’s the Portuguese in him. We Irish, now, keep families together. We hang on till every lost dog is drawn and quartered.
(ZOYAsnaps tensely atCHASEwho is eating)
ZOYA
(Spanks his arm with her lace napkin)
Don’t double dip, darling! It’s disgusting!
(Blots her forehead)
I’m sorry.
CUTTER
(Poking freely among the crudités tray)
When’s dinner?
(ZOYAclatters pot lids hopelessly)
ZOYA
Half an hour. Forty-five minutes.
CUTTER
Just enough time for a private pow-wow. Bring your drinks, kids. You’ll need them.
CHASE
No thank you.
CUTTER
I’ve got a business proposition for you. Come along now: fair’s fair. You’ve got to give me a chance to get my money back. All the cash I spent on you…
CHASE
I’m not putting my money into any of your schemes.
(CUTTERtakesJAZZ’s arm)
CUTTER
Fine. Then your little girlfriend and I will have a sit down. You stay out here with Mummy the way you always preferred, Jasmyn and I will have a heart to heart and find out what’s what.
ZOYA
(Desperate)
Cutter, please!
CUTTER
You cook, dumpling, I’ll entertain our guests.
ZOYA
By arguing?
CUTTER
I only stand up for what’s mine.
(ToCHASEwho’s sliding unwillingly off his barstool)
You’re going to wantto see this. Believe me. It’s the next biggest thing, and I’m offering you a buy-in on the ground floor.
CUTTER’S DEN- SCENE XIV. Macho and dark; leather furniture, deer head, creels and powder horns, gun rack
CUTTER
So, what are you studying in this college of yours?
JAZZ
We’re participating in a research experiment.
CUTTER
I’ll bet you are. Anything to do with the Internet?
JAZZ
The Internet?
CUTTER
(Shaking his head as he looks atCHASE)
Where do you get these girls? You haven’t heard of the Internet, young missy? The World Wide Web?
JAZZ
(Blushing but controlling herself at a warning look fromCHASE)
It has nothing to do with that.
CUTTER
(Studying her speculatively)
Well, I can’t answer for how they behave in Portugal, but it’s possible you were pimped out without your knowledge.
(Picks up a video controller. CHASEandJAZZstares stupefied at a screen that flickers dancing shapes over their faces)
CUTTER
Look what your boyfriend got you into! It’s a game, see? You can make them do any combination, anything you want.
(Struggles with his controller)
How do you make this thing go frame by frame?
JAZZ
Oh, my God. It’s US!
CHASE
Turn that thing off!
(CHASElunges for his Dad, they tussle, CUTTER playing “keep away” with remote)
CUTTER
Wait, wait –the good part is coming up!
(CHASE succeeds in dashing controller to floor, screen light goes off)
Here’s a fine thing for a father to have to see! You could at least ensure they disguise the faces – but you all make yourselves so recognizable with those tattoos. Nice birthday gift for mommy, wouldn’t you say?
(CHASE lunging – they are full-on wrestling)
CUTTER
This idea’s worth millions – unless you sign away your rights – AGAIN. But that’s what you do, isn’t it? Anything rather than take dad’s advice! Why don’t you hit me, since you’ve been longing to. Go ahead – hit your father!
(CHASEmanages to turn off screen, throw remote, pushes CUTTER away)
CHASE
Come on, Jazz, let’s get out of here.
CUTTER
I suppose you’ll claim that was art.
(Heavy fake Irish accent)
Will you be taking it around to the festivals now? Put it up for the booby prize?
CHASE
You’re dead to me.
(Dragging JAZZ away)
CUTTER
I’m dead to you, you spineless party pooper?I’mdead toyou?
(ZOYA appears holding a wine opener pushed to her neck)
ZOYA
I’m dead to everyone and nobody noticed!Nobody even noticed!
(JAZZ tries to go to her, CHASE pulls her away downstage – lights off on FARRELL RESIDENCE)
SCENE XI – FARRELL RESIDENCE. (ZOYA, festively dressed excitable little woman with dyed hair teeters forward on high heels)
ZOYA
Stevie!
(She clutches CHASE, kissing him everywhere)
Oh Stevie, Stevie, I was so afraid you wouldn’t come.
CHASE
Miss your birthday? How could I possibly? And I brought a friend.
(JAZZ wavesnervously)
JAZZ
(Awkwardly extending plant)
Happy Birthday.
(Painfully obvious this is way too big a plant for this tiny person)
ZOYA
(Making no move to take it)
Oh, my. That looks so…interesting. Well come in, come in.
( JAZZ unloads plant on hall table, looking around, awed. ZOYA regards plant apprehensively.)
ZOYA
I suppose I’m ancient, dry and prickly just like this plant. Does it come with directions?
JAZZ
It’s a Christmas cactus. It’s going to have three blooms. See?
ZOYA
(Without enthusiasm)
Lovely.
(Clings to CHASE)
It’s so wonderful to see you!
(She squeezes him)
Look how tall you’ve gotten.
CHASE
(hugs her)
Good to see you, Mom. You’re looking well.
JAZZ
Sorry I’m not dressed for a party.
CHASE
Jazz had kind of a disaster. Somebody jumped out of her dorm room window.
(JAZZand CHASEexchange looks)
ZOYA
How terrible! Were they badly hurt?
CHASE
(With relish)
Killed, Mom. Dead.
(His mother backs away, looking at the pair of them)
ZOYA
Do they give you an automatic A and send you home?
CHASE
Urban legend, Mom. You’ve got to stop believing myths.
(His mother strikes him lightly on the arm)
ZOYA
I never know when you’re teasing.
CHASE
If Jazz could borrow something of Cyanne’s…?
ZOYA
(Recollecting she’s the hostess)
Of course, of course. Cyanne has way too many clothes. She’s always shopping. You look about the same size. She’d say yes but she’s away at college. She’s pledging my sorority. Quick drink before you freshen up?
(An expression almost of panic)
Because I’ve got to get back – back to the kitchen.
(Backs away as if dragged – exit)
CHASE
My Mom always bakes her own birthday cake.
JAZZ
Why didn’t you tell me your mother hates plants?
(Gestures)
All these plants are fake.
CHASE
Mom says growth’s a lot of work.
JAZZ
(Mimes looking at family photos on the walls)
That you as a baby?
CHASE
The very same. Aren’t I adorable? You can’t tell which is me and which is Cyanne.
JAZZ
You all look so happy.
CHASE
Appearances can be deceiving.
JAZZ
So your real name’s Stevie.
CHASE
Steven. Now that you know it, forget it. Just another thing that’s gone.
JAZZ
You could have told me.
CHASE
Who knew we’d end up here? I’ve never been good at telling people things. The vortex assumed control.
(BEXappears in a spot on theTOWER LIFT, holding a pair of binoculars and a shotgun. Scans the stage)
CHASE
(Holding JAZZ close)
You’re making me feel incredibly powerful
(They kiss with increasing urgency. BEX appears to focus on them. He racks his gun angrily, climbs down, his spot dissolving. JAZZ and CHASE’s “shadows” explode hugely against the back wall, seeming to rise up in the air)
JAZZ
Feel that?
CHASE
I do. Don’t fight it.
JAZZ
Who’s fighting it? You’re the one fighting it.
SCENE X – SWAP MEET. (When the lights come up the curtain has fallen and JAZZ and CHASEstand outside it, hand in hand, staring into the audience.)
JAZZ
Where are we?
CHASE
Looks like a swap meet. But all they’re selling is Christmas stuff.
JAZZ
That’s weird.
CHASE
Especially since I hate Christmas.
JAZZ
Who could possibly hate Christmas?
CHASE
It never lives up to its billing.
(RADappears, pushing a shopping cart. Sets up a table and starts laying out junk)
RAD
Hi, guys! Long time no see. You in the market for a knickknack? Ganja? Electronics? Jewelry?
CHASE
Is this your gig?
RAD
Gotta have a side hustle – gotta get the scratch. You’d be amazed what some people just throw away. How about a nice Christmas cactus? I did have a shotgun but I sold it.
CHASE
You sold a shotgun? Who to?
RAD
Biker dude from out of town. He said if it didn’t work he would come looking for me.
JAZZ
Does it work?
RAD
Let’s hope so. Just passing on whatever I find.
CHASE
We don’t want anything.
JAZZ
Speak for yourself. I’d love a Christmas cactus.
(RADreaches into the depths of his cart and produces an unflowering – apparently dead plant –JAZZ takes it)
CHASE
Great. It’s dead.
JAZZ
It is not. It only blooms once a year. Says here, this one’s going to have three blossoms.
RAD
Can’t go to the party without a present.
CHASE
What party?
RAD
Isn’t life a party?
JAZZ
So far.
CHASE
More like a bribe for the deadboat captain. So we poor ghosts don’t get shoved into steerage.
RAD
That’ll be a hundred bucks.
CHASE
A hundred bucks!
RAD
This is a rare, one time offer. Not shown on TV. I’ve got bills.
JAZZ
Blood money, remember?
CHASE
If that’s what you want. You got giftwrap?
(RAD produces pink foil and a massive ribbon)
JAZZ
Wow. This says “Happy Birthday.” Do we know anybody born in December?
CHASE
My mom.
JAZZ
Oh, my God! Hide!
(She drags CHASEdown the stage steps to cower behind the stairs. BEXappears with a shotgun, racking the slide. RAD hastily packs up. Both exit offstage)
Alysse Aallyn 