photo by Joe Mazza and Brave Lux

Monday, February 23, 2015

The Persistence of Memory

The Persistence of Memory
By Jacob Juntunen

GEORGE: A man.
MARGIE: A woman (age of actor doesn't matter)
STELLA: A woman

Setting:
This can be done on an empty stage, ideally with no wheelchair or fake car, though theatrical solutions to their representation are great. At rise, MARGIE is getting ready to go. GEORGE enters.

                                                            GEORGE
Where are you going?

                                                            MARGIE
Bible study.

                                                            GEORGE
Do you have a ride?

                                                            MARGIE
Of course I don’t have a ride, who would I have a ride from?

                                                            GEORGE
Stay here and play bingo. We have a place at the table set up for your wheelchair.

                                                            MARGIE
Why would I play bingo with a bunch of drooling idiots?

                                                            GEORGE
It’s good for your memory.

                                                            MARGIE
I don’t need any help with my memory. I’m in a wheelchair, not an Alzheimer’s patient.

                                                            GEORGE
We all need a little help with our memory sometimes.

                                                            MARGIE
My children need help with their memories, maybe coming to visit me more than once a year.

                                                            GEORGE
We’ve got some good prizes for bingo tonight: twinkies, bath salts—

                                                            MARGIE
All you want to do here is feed us sweets: dessert with every meal, twinkies for bingo—

                                                            GEORGE
Play for the bath salts, then.

                                                            MARGIE
It’s too hard getting in and out of my chair to take baths anymore.

                                                            GEORGE
That’s what the attendants are for, just push the call button in your room and someone will come to help you—

                                                            MARGIE
Why would I want two people like you pawing me naked? I need to have some mental stimulation, and everyone here is too stuck in their dementia to talk, so I’m going to Bible study. Are you going to try and stop me?

                                                            GEORGE
It’s not a prison.

                                                            MARGIE
Could have fooled me.

                                                            GEORGE
I’ll get the sign out sheet for you. But it’s dark outside already. I know you push your wheelchair in the street and not on the sidewalks. It’s not safe.

                                                            MARGIE
The sidewalks don’t have wheelchair ramps, so I have to use the street. That’s why I have the reflecting vest on the back of my chair and the bicycle light. It flashes, see?

                                                            GEORGE
I know everyone will miss you if you don’t go to bingo.

                                                            MARGIE
Bingo, bingo, bingo! Dessert, dessert, dessert! That’s all anybody wants around here! I need something more interesting! If there was any theatre or opera or classical music in this horrible little town my kids stuck me in, I’d go to them, but there’s not, so at least I can learn something about the Bible. Give me the sign out sheet so I can sign myself out of this not-prison full of salivating people with half-melted faces.

                                                            GEORGE
Fine. Be careful.

(MARGIE signs herself out, goes outside, and begins her long journey to the Church. She struggles. It is difficult for her to wheel the chair herself. She struggles for a bit. This can go on for some time. Then STELLA enters.)

                                                            STELLA
You lost, ma’am?

                                                            MARGIE
Of course I’m not lost. Just having trouble getting my wheelchair up this hill. I’m not as strong as I used to be. Why don’t you give me a ride?

                                                            STELLA
Police officers aren’t taxis, ma’am.

                                                            MARGIE
Aren’t you supposed to serve and protect?

                                                            STELLA
Yes, ma’am.

                                                            MARGIE
So serve me with a ride.

                                                            STELLA
Do you know who I am, ma’am?

                                                            MARGIE
You’re a police officer, I just said that.

                                                            STELLA
I’m Stella. We know each other, Margie.

                                                            MARGIE
I can barely see you in your car. Besides, you all look the same in your uniforms.

                                                            STELLA
Why don’t you let me help you into the car and I’ll give you a ride back to the home.

                                                            MARGIE
You just said you can’t give me a ride.

                                                            STELLA
I can’t give you a ride to the Catholic Church.

                                                            MARGIE
Why not?

                                                            STELLA
Your chair will fit in my trunk, come on—

                                                            MARGIE
No! You can’t force me! I haven’t broken any law! Stay away from me!

                                                            STELLA
Okay.

(MARGIE continues pushing herself along. STELLA stays near her.)

                                                            MARGIE
Are you just going to drive alongside me up this whole hill?

                                                            STELLA
I’m going to stay with you until I think you’re safe, ma’am.

                                                            MARGIE
Did the home send you?

                                                            STELLA
Don’t they have Bible study at the home?

                                                            MARGIE
Hah! Horrible Father Joe comes once a week for a Catholic Mass—

                                                            STELLA
So maybe I could take you home and—

                                                            MARGIE
But he does Mass as fast as possible. He barely pauses to let us give the responses, like he thinks we’ve forgotten, and he doesn’t teach me anything about the Bible, not like the Bible study we’ve got going at St. Francis. You’d like it.

                                                            STELLA
I’m sure I would.

                                                            MARGIE
Father Brown runs it, and all sorts of people come. Jonathan Goldberg comes—he’s Jewish—and he gives all kinds of insight into the Old Testament because he reads Hebrew. We even have one of those women with the headscarfs.

                                                            STELLA
Erum.

                                                            MARGIE
Right! How do you know her?

                                                            STELLA
I used to go to the Bible study.

                                                            MARGIE
That’s right! I remember you! You were younger.

                                                            STELLA
Thanks.

                                                            MARGIE
Don’t take it so hard. We were all younger. “Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”

                                                            STELLA
Is that the Bible?

                                                            MARGIE
Shelley. They don’t even have any good poetry in the home’s library. Fifty Shades of Gray and other soft porn. They can’t even commit real sins there.

                                                            STELLA
Well, here we are.

                                                            MARGIE
Thank you for the escort, but I’m good now. There’s a handicapped ramp.

                                                            STELLA
Look at the windows, Margie.

                                                            MARGIE
They look fine, I mean, they’re not the most beautiful stained glass I’ve ever seen—

                                                            STELLA
It’s dark. Completely dark.

                                                            MARGIE
Why are there no cars? Where is everybody?

                                                            STELLA
Father Brown died ten years ago. Don’t worry. You do this every now and then. I’ll give you a ride back. Bingo’s probably still going on. You should play. It’s good for your memory.


(Blackout.)