Circle Play (working title)
Guidance: Where there are blank lines, anyone can fill in what’s missingTITLE:
ACT I
SETTING: An office
[Eddi enters the office from offstage. She proceeds to take it apart, piece by piece, first slowly and then more and more quickly, going offstage with the office equipment and furniture until it is completely gone. The audience realizes the office was just a set. As it disappears a kitchen is revealed. It hasn’t been remodeled since the 50’s, when it was first built. The linoleum is worn, and the appliances elderly and grubby. It is night, and the kitchen is poorly lit. A small light fixture over the sink [back center stage] shines on anyone using the sink and the dark window over it so that their reflection can be seen by the audience.
Eddi drops wearily into one of the metal-frame kitchen chairs.]
Eddi: (To audience, while she unwinds a while in chair.)
When I was young, I treasured a certain, for me romantic, vision of my future married life, the life whose intended place has been filled by the one I'm living now. In that vision, I and a faceless husband and several inscrutable, conveniently independent, children, cohabited, each in his own self-absorbed style, a cheap, weed-infested property in a tolerant location. This place did not have to be lived up to; we were ourselves. In order that the children could spend their lives outdoors, it was always summer. They hid themselves away in the overgrowth, or in backyard forts, or crawling on their bellies through high grass in vacant lots. I figured in their lives as the giver of life and a place to sleep and the occasional maker of beds.
(She gets up, moves her chair beneath a high cupboard, stands on it and reaches up to pull a box from the cupboard. She brings it down and sets it on the sink.)
Chocolates. They're magic.
(Opening the box, she takes one out and pops it into her mouth. Behind her, the outside door opens slowly and a man looking suspiciously like Elvis Presley walks quietly in. Eddi turns to face him, standing passively, arms at her side. He comes up to her, takes her in his arms, kisses her lingeringly, then, as quietly retreats out the door, leaving her standing, face upturned and smiling. She's finishing the chocolate.)
See?
(She begins washing a few dirty dishes that have been left on the sink.)
The children didn't disappoint me.
(As she is saying this, a girl six or seven years old appears through the interior doorway, unnoticed by Eddi. The girl looks sleepily into the refrigerator, then, noticing the box of candies, takes one and leaves, still unnoticed.)
They pretty much take care of themselves. It's only after dark that I know where they are. They come to the smell of food. They take the food, they scurry off, next day they're back. What more can you ask? And considering the relaxed requirements of my vision, I certainly can't complain about Hank. He's never asked me to be anyone else, or offered to be anyone else for me. I miss that, but that's my fault for not wording the dream more carefully.
(The phone rings.)
(The phone, which is at one end of the kitchen counter, rings twice while Eddi dries her hands. She stares at the phone while she does this. Then she walks over, and a moment after the third ring, picks it up.)
Eddi:
(She puts down the phone and walks across and off stage right. She's gone for about twenty seconds. When she comes back in she's carrying a small plate with a juice glass upside down on it. She puts them in the sink and picks up the phone.)
Hey, still there? Well, at moment of going to press, she's stacking her dolls into a pyramid and can't decide whether Barbi or Barnie should be on top. ...I know. They have to start making these decisions so young these days. ...Yeah. ...Yeah. ...Me too. Well, but then you never really know if that's the right way to handle it in...Uh-huh. ...Uh-huh. Oh. I don't know. I think she stuck it under the bed and forgot...yeah, well, you know...uh-huh. That's it exactly, they... Uh-huh. ...yes, and...well, it all comes out to the same thing anyway, doesn't it? Oh, she...you know, I actually haven't actually seen Martie since sometime last year...no, of course not, they were playing some kind of tag yesterday...yeah, I know, oh, sorry about that...well, what? Oh, yes, actually. She said it was called Butcher Tag. ...I don't know. Who knows from one day to the next, anyway? I think it was like, if you're tagged, then, you don't have a head and you had to tag the next person with your eyes closed, I don't know. ...Uh-huh. ...Uh-huh. Oh, oh, OK. Well...oh, no, no. The one before that. ...Yeah. ...Yeah. ...OK, bye, yeah, bye!
(She hangs up the phone.)
Eddi:
As I said, I hadn’t had terribly high expectations of marriage and life, so I suppose I’m satisfied in the way it all panned out...
(She pauses, stops sweeping and, broom in hand, tilts her head upwards considering something to herself for a moment. Suddenly, she drops her head and resumes sweeping, visibly ‘deflated’ in spirit.)
Then again, I was just a girl when I formed my simple vision of life and embarked on the journey with Hank. In so many ways I’m not even the same person... (she smiles wanly and gives a little ‘humph’ laugh) ...the wedding china I chose doesn’t even remotely represent who I am today. Silly, I guess, analyzing who you are based on your preference in dishes...
(The tea kettle begins whistling. She quickly sweeps the gathered pile of dirt into a heap by the trash, leaving it there as she props the broom back at the end of the counter. She hurries over to the screaming tea kettle and snapping the knob to "off", removes the pot. She pours the hot water into a nearby tea cup and adds a tea bag from a little jar next to the stove. She carries her tea over to the kitchen table and sits wearily down.)
Now don’t get me wrong...I’m not talking about wishing I wasn’t married to Hank or having the five kids...I love them and my life with them. It’s just that sometimes I wonder who I would’ve been if I’d grown up on my own first. You know, gone to college or traveled...even just had a paying job of my own.
(She becomes lost in picturing these possibilities to herself, eventually dozing off - head propped in one hand over the cup of tea.)
LIGHTS DIM - END ACT ONE
[Eddi enters the office from left stage. To her right, at the back of the stage is a 12-foot picture window displaying a beautiful 360-degree view of San Francisco. Center stage is a 5'x7' mahogany desk with a leather recliner, 2 matching guest chairs, a free standing steel structure that appears to function as a lamp and two moderate floor plants that hug the guest chair legs. There is a fireplace at stage right with Eddi's portrait above it. In the portrait, she is holding her invention . . . a small fabric-covered pinching device, visually similar to that of a strawberry huller that functions to keep a woman's skirt from twisting around by clamping her skirt to her undergarments. She walks across stage in front of the desk and stops in front of her portrait. She stares into her own eyes for a very long time. She sees something moving in the eyes . . .like there's a hidden world behind them. A world where there are no penthouses and people to cook your meals and clean your house. Eddi turns away quickly as if she were afraid she'd get pulled in if she stared too long. She looks down at her watch to find that it's 6:22 am and the first meeting of the day begins in eight minutes.]
(Lights dim - spot on Eddi and portrait - 15 seconds. Stage hands replace office furnishings with meeting table and mirror. Lights fade up. Eddi picks up a stack of stapled handouts and turns to face center stage. In place of her office, there is now a long table that stretches endlessly away from the audience. This is enhanced by the mirror at the "end" of the table. A large stylized clock hangs from the "wall" stage left.
10 people enter from stage left in an abrupt business-like way. They take seats - 5 on the left and 5 on the right. All sit at the same time. Among the 10 are 3 children about ages 6, 8, and 11 plus two teenagers. One man watches Eddi continually. All are wearing business attire. Eddi doesn't sit, she paces up and down and around table as the meeting progresses.)
Eddi:
Ms. Jenkins:
(She hands Eddi a foot-high stack of papers.)
Eddi:
(All at table smile and some murmer comments to their neighbor. Up stage right, a spot fades in and holds one second. A distressed-looking man is holding a drawer handle in one hand and a pair of red jogging shorts in the other. He casts a puzzled look at the meeting table as the light fades out. No one but Eddi sees him, she scratches her head, then turns back to meeting.)
Eddi:
Any suggestions, comments or requests before we get down to our next quarters' goals and objectives?
(As she talks, she gives a handout to each board member. They begin to peruse the papers.
The Girl raises her hand.)
Girl:
(Eddi moves to end of table, facing audience, back to mirror. All turn to look at her. A secretary comes in and places a cup of tea in front of her. Stage lighting begins to fade from one color to another. The clock hands begin to turn faster and faster. Eddi puts her head down on her outstretched arm as lights fade out.
Stage dark. Stage hands change set back to kitchem.
A doorbell begins to ring. Lights come up on Eddi waking up at her kitchen table. The Girl is standing next to her holding an empty plate.
Girl:
(Doorbell is still ringing.
Eddi blinks, looks around the table, takes the plate, then rises to answer the door.)