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 McCourtAngela’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)

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