Part VII: Time Warp 2000’s (Chapter 101) (Psychodrama)
When I look back on my childhood
I wonder how I survived at all.
It was, of course, a miserable childhood:
the happy childhood is hardly worth your
while.
– Frank McCourt, Angela’s Ashes
(Music:
Kitty Wells’, “I Don’t Claim to Be an Angel.” Spotlight comes up to reveal Auntie and Mother [Rosie]
– both dressed as angels in tattered, slightly soiled gowns, droopy halos,
askance wings – center stage, facing away from each other, their wrinkled wings
touching, their arms folded. They are connected by a snakeskin tether. Music
fades.)
Auntie: (In a
disgusted voice.) It’s all your fault...
Mother: (Exasperated.) What
do you mean it’s my fault? I’m not the one who bought the Twin Cherry Bings.
Auntie: Well, I certainly didn’t
buy them.
Mother: Someone bought them.
Auntie: Maybe little Candy bought
them.
(As the spotlight widens,
two “girl-women” – thus, not quite adults – but no longer children – enter, one
stage right and the other stage left. They are exact duplicates, except one is
dressed in a white dress, the other in red. Both dresses are frou-frouey, all
rustle and crinkle with ornamentation resembling red and white hard candies,
such as candy canes, peppermint disks, drops, etc.)
(They both wear red and
white berets that are striped like peppermint disks. Both girls are very blond,
almost white-haired but with a touch of gold, their hair style resembling that
of a poodle’s – impossibly curly bangs and frizzy curls poking out of their
berets. They wear matching patent leather shoes and socks with ruffles. They
should have a flighty, airy quality about them, as if they aren’t quite real. Auntie and Mother don’t seem to notice their arrival. The Girl in White stands next to Mother and The Girl in Red stands next to Auntie, suggesting an inverted version of angel
guardianship. The girls remain silent, as if eavesdropping.)
Mother: No way. She wouldn’t have
the nerve. (Pause. In a miffed voice:) By the way, her name is SAM...
Auntie: “Sam” sounds like a boy’s
name, for Pete’s sake.
Mother: But it’s HER name. It’s
what defines her.
Auntie: That’s if you want a
linebacker. Candy’s a girl name, if only you’d let me change her name, maybe
she wouldn’t be glomming down on Bings all the time.
Girl in Red: Damn
right!
(Here it becomes clear
that while the two girls can see and hear everything that Auntie and Mother do and say, this ability is not shared by Auntie and Mother.)
Auntie: Maybe she’d be the
delicate little sugar plum she was meant to be.
(The two girls begin doing
a ballet, suggestive of “The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy,” sans the music.)
Mother: Samantha’s my daughter –
I’ll make decisions regarding her name, thank you...
Girl in White: Candy’s
the name, and blame’s the game.
Girl in Red: We’re on
the same page, not like that dippy Goodsam/Badsam duo.
Auntie: (Distracted.)
Maybe she won those Bings on Kid’s Korner. Yes, that’s got to be it. Our people
know better than to give candy to a fat girl.
Girl in White: Our
Candy Kane would not be fat; Mother should have changed Samantha’s name. But we can eat all the Twin Bing Candy bars in the world and not get fat.
Girl in Red: We can
eat whatever we want, whenever we want; we had a long talk with the devil,
struck a deal.
Girl in White: (Curtsies.)
See how pretty we are?
Mother: How dare you call my baby
fat! She may be pleasingly plump, but she’s not fat.
Auntie: There’s nothing *pleasing* about being fat. (Shakes
her head and rolls her eyes. Walks downstage center, the tether pulling taut.
To Audience:) The story of my
life. I couldn’t have my own kids; I take two waifs under my wing. So, what
happens? One turns into a harlot and the other a blob.
Girl in White: What’s a
“harlot”?
Girl in Red: (In a
conspiratorial tone:) A little girl who does naughty things with boys.
Girl in White: What are
“naughty things”?
Girl in Red: (Shrugging.)
Beats me.
Auntie: This is the thanks I get.
Harlot.
Mother: (Pulls the tether,
forcing Auntie back.) You say
that to my face.
Auntie: (Stumbles toward Mother. Looks directly into her face. In
a sing-songy voice.) You are a harlot, a harlot, a harlot, you are a
harlot, all day long. You bore a fat kid, a fat kid, a fat kid, you bore a fat
kid, you bad, bad girl...
Girl in White: (Begins
doing a tap dance.) My name is Goodcandy, and I can do a soft shoe, too.
Mother: (Turns away from Auntie and covers her ears.) Why am
I listening to this?
Auntie: (Continues in a
sing-songy voice.) Rosie is a harlot, a harlot, a harlot, Rosie is a
harlot, all day long...
Girl in Red: (Does
two or three cartwheels across the stage. The skirt of her dress is so stiff
that it seems to defy gravity – no bloomers exposed. When she finishes, she
goes downstage center and addresses the Audience:)
My name is Badcandy, but it don’t mean a thing, ‘cause it ain’t got that swing.
Auntie: Rosie bore a fat kid, a
fat kid, a fat kid, Rosie bore a fat kid, Rosie’s a big bad girl...
Goodcandy: We are exactly alike in
every way; we don’t understand what it means being fat.
Badcandy: (Sadly.) We don’t
understand what it’s like being.
Auntie: (Continuing her
chant.) Rosie bore a fat kid, a fat kid, a fat kid, Rosie bore a fat kid,
Rosie’s a big bad girl...
Mother: (Walks downstage
center; the “tether” pulls taut. Auntie’s
chant continues but in the background. To Audience:)
You see why we fight all the time.
Auntie: Candy, Candy filled her
plate. Candy, Candy ate the cake. Candy, Candy burst her pants, Candy, Candy,
goodbye, France...
Goodcandy: Wrong. It’s (Mimicking.)
“Sammy, Sammy filled her plate. Sammy, Sammy ate the cake. Sammy, Sammy burst
her pants, Sammy, Sammy, goodbye, France...”
Badcandy: What’s “France”?
Goodcandy: (Shrugs.) I dunno.
Can’t be too important, though.
Auntie: (Auntie, still chanting, joins Mother downstage.) Candy, Candy
filled her plate. Candy, Candy ate the cake. Candy, Candy burst her pants,
Candy, Candy, goodbye, France...
Mother: (To Audience:) See how she is? Why I
stopped talking to her.
Auntie: (Stops her chant. To Mother:) Ungrateful brat. I
practically raised you, and this is my heavenly reward?
Mother: (Ignores Auntie. To Audience:) For years, we had this big feud...
Auntie: (To Audience:) The feud lasted
forever...
Goodcandy/Badcandy: What’s a
feud?
(Auntie and Mother
pull away from each other, as far as their tether will allow, and focus their
attention on the Audience. It is
clear, though, that they are still connected by more than just the tether. They
address the audience:)
Mother: Riled up the whole
family. It was infamous...
Auntie: Actually…the infamous
feud ended a week before Rosie died.
Goodcandy: (In a surprised tone:)
Our mother died?
Badcandy: You mean, ceased to be?
Mother: (To Audience:) Auntie
called me up and invited me to a juicy steak dinner. But I couldn’t make it. Thought
I had a stomach virus, so we made plans for the next week. But, then, the old
liver crapped out...
Goodcandy: This would have never
happened...
Badcandy: If only we had
persisted...
Mother: (To Audience:) I
wasn’t planning on dying. Samantha doesn’t understand that yet. I was going to
quit drinking.
Goodcandy: What on earth was our
mother drinking?
Badcandy: Peppermint Schnapps?
Goodcandy: Nothing quite so sweet.
Mother: (To Audience:) Really.
But my liver gave out before I had a chance to bottom out. I hope she tries to
understand.
Badcandy: I don’t understand...
Goodcandy: What’s to understand? She
died, and that’s that.
Auntie: (To Mother:) She will. Just give her
some time. (Back to Audience:) Rosie
and I had a nice chat that day. We finally understood each other. She had
settled down ‒ at least she didn’t give the family any more
trouble.
Mother: Until I died.
Badcandy: She wouldn’t have died if
we’d been around.
Goodcandy: We would’ve fixed
everything...
Badcandy: It’s a scientific fact: Candy
would’ve saved her life.
Goodcandy: But not to be. Mother’s
dead.
Auntie: Well, that. We won’t talk
about that God-awful funeral.
Mother: Still a sore point. But,
remember, I had nothing to do with that.
Auntie: Afterwards, I called up
Samantha and told her, “It broke your Nana’s heart when you didn’t attend your
mama’s funeral.”
Badcandy: Candy would’ve shown up,
no matter what.
Goodcandy: But it wouldn’t have
mattered. Mother would still be alive. So, it’s a moot point.
Mother: (To Auntie:) I wish you hadn’t brought
that up. It’s moot.
Auntie: (To Mother:) People should know when
they hurt each other. Maybe it wouldn’t happen so much.
Mother: My baby had some other
things going on in her life. She could only take so much ‒
Badcandy: Candy would’ve had her
shi – life together.
Goodcandy: And Mother would be
alive.
Auntie: But you’re her mother ‒
Mother: Please, let’s drop it!
Auntie: You disrespectful little
brat. Still sassing me, after all these years.
Mother: I’ll sass you for all
eternity. You can’t boss me around.
Auntie: (To Audience:) See what happens when the
powers-to-be stick us together?
Mother: (To Audience:) We’re stuck together
forever. See the tether? (Rattles it.)
Auntie: So, we
have to get along.
Badcandy: They are so pathetic
Goodcandy: (Sadly) But at
least they are.
(Goodcandy and Badcandy
remain on stage, but they seem to assume an ephemeral, shimmery translucent
quality. As Auntie and Mother continue their dialogue, the two
girls are busy dancing and cartwheeling, but they should appear more in the
background and should not distract too much.)
Mother: Actually…the
feud ended the week before I died.
Auntie: I called her up and
invited her to a juicy steak dinner. But she couldn’t make it. She thought she
had a stomach virus, so we made plans for the next week, but her liver gave
out. I don’t think she was planning to die. Samantha doesn’t quite understand that
yet. I told her, “Your mother says she was planning to stop drinking ‒ and I’ve
no reason to believe otherwise” ‒
Mother: (To Auntie:) Watch that tone of voice ‒
Auntie: (To Mother:) You take everything so
personally ‒
Mother: I never know with you.
Auntie: I’m just following the
script. Now, where was I?
Mother: You were about to talk
about my liver.
Auntie: Ah, yes, the ubiquitous
liver that gave up before you had a chance to bottom out. Anyway, I wish my grandniece
would try to understand.
Mother: She will, Auntie. Just
give her some time. (Back to Audience:)
Auntie and I had a nice talk that day. We finally understood each other. I
was all settled in my life. At least that’s what the family believed.
Auntie: (To Mother:) Until you up and died.
Mother: (To Auntie:) Well, there was that. Don’t
even talk about the funeral. I had nothing to do with it.
Auntie: Still a sore point.
Mother: Please!
Auntie: I know it broke little
Candy’s heart ‒
Mother: Samantha! Her name’s
Samantha!
Auntie: Candy!
Mother: Samantha!
Auntie: Candy!
Mother: Samantha!
(As this exchange
continues, Goodcandy and Badcandy stop dancing and cartwheeling.
They pause and then go downstage center. Crying, they hug each other tightly;
as they cling to each other, they appear to “melt” together, eventually merging
into a sweet-smelling lump, finally becoming a steaming, bubbling red and white
puddle of liquid sugar. Auntie and
Mother do not seem to notice this
metamorphosis.)
Auntie: Candy!
Mother: Samantha!
Auntie: Candy!
Mother: Samantha!
Auntie: Candy!
(This exchange goes on,
first with great spirit, but then slowly losing its punch. For the first time, Mother and Auntie notice the bubbling red and white puddle of liquid
sugar downstage center as it spreads around them.)
Mother: (Shaking her entire
body as if to rid herself of the preceding exchange. She tries stepping out of
the gooey mess.) Can’t we please get out of this loop?
Auntie: (Also trying to step
out of the puddle.) This is our Purgatory...
(Auntie and Mother
rattle and tug at the tether as if trying to break free of the connection. The
tether itself seems to take on a life of its own, writhing and coiling, thus
bringing the two women closer together, even as they struggle against the
forces of the tether.
(Goodsam and Badsam rise from the puddle, and as they assume solidity, the puddle lessens until it disappears altogether.)
(Music: First few lines of
Kitty Wells’, “I Don’t Claim to be an Angel.” Music fades. Darkness.)
(Curtain)