by Ella Hickson
KATE laughs.
KATE. Did she ever get together with him?
NESSA. No – she was far too happy to become a wife.
Small beat.
KATE. What does that mean?
NESSA. Nothing – it was a joke /
KATE. / Do you think I should marry Albin?
Beat.
NESSA. I think the fact you have reservations is a good sign.
KATE. Why?
Beat.
NESSA. Because you’re smart. Because you’ve worked hard to work out who you are and what you want and you realise that…
KATE. That what?
Beat.
NESSA. That marriage compromises your – self.
KATE. I don’t know if I agree.
NESSA. Really?
NESSA looks at KATE, KATE avoids NESSA’s gaze.
Your ambition blunts a little – your confidence is… eroded.
KATE. I don’t want to hear this.
Pause.
NESSA. I remember being your age. Me and my girlfriends as we started creeping towards thirty and, I mean, we were a very independent bunch – we were self-aware – and we were reaching this age where marriage and babies were expected and it /
KATE. / You didn’t have to do it.
NESSA. It wasn’t the social expectation that was the problem, we wanted it – I wanted it – the house, the kids… it was the first time in my life I wanted something and I wasn’t able to get it just by working hard. A whole life of self-development, hard work to earn your choices and then suddenly, overnight, men had become these cardholders that could make or break our lives by breaking up with us at the wrong time because our wombs had a sell-by date. The implicit inequality of that, the shock of that injustice – caused by our own bodies – was… horrifying. (Pause.) And I don’t know how it happens – but that status imbalance somehow works its way into the foundations of a marriage.
KATE. Your marriage maybe – but not every marriage.
NESSA. I believe that in every marital home the female sense of self suffers from erosion more than the male.
KATE. What? I should just never get married, then?
NESSA. You can get married; just know that you will disappear a little; I wasn’t willing to accept that.
KATE. This feels horrible.
NESSA. I’m trying to protect you. Give you options.
KATE. The option to be alone?
NESSA. You’re never alone, friendship, lovers – enhance you – make you stronger – marriage is /
KATE. / Al and I – we’re friends, we talk – we’re not enemies, it’s not a war. We’re equal. I know it’s going to be hard but /
NESSA. / How hard?
KATE. Hard.
NESSA. Hard enough you might be unhappy?
KATE. Sometimes.
NESSA. For how long?
KATE. As long as it takes.
NESSA. Well, sooner or later that’s not hard, that’s just unhappy.
Pause.
KATE looks at her mother in askance – as if she has seen something new.
KATE. What was Dad’s choice?
Pause – NESSA looks at her shoes.
EDIT
KATE. Dad didn’t have a choice.
KATE. Dad could have got up and – and – left – he could have recovered, he could have made himself happy. Could he?
KELSO
KATE. What was Dad’s choice? Mum – what was Dad’s choice?
KATE sees the teeth at her feet – scattered on the floor.
KATE bends down to pick up the teeth.
Beat.
What is that?
IKE. They’re your teeth.
KATE picks up one tooth – it’s tiny – she holds it in her palm.
Beat.
Why did you bring Albin here?
KATE. I wanted to show him…
IKE. What?
KATE. Where I grew up.
Beat.
IKE bends down to start collecting the smashed pieces of the jar.
Dad, don’t – I’ll do it –
IKE waves KATE away, it’s almost aggressive – KATE steps back.
IKE. The past takes looking after, Kate. You can’t just pop by for cosy weekends that feel like home without someone doing the upkeep in-between – history is earned, worked for – kept by people.
KATE. But I don’t want you to have to /
IKE. / I want you to feel that you come from somewhere, because when that goes, when you throw that away – you start floating and you never come back down and it… fundamentally undermines you, for ever; and I don’t want you to struggle with that.
KATE. But not if it means you’re – stuck.
IKE. Even if it means, I’m stuck.
KATE. But I only come home twice a year it’s /
IKE. / Well, visit more often.
KATE. I don’t want to feel responsible for /
IKE (belts it). / Have you got any idea how hard it’s been!
KATE turns away from IKE.
MEMORY
KATE is twelve with a suitcase in her hand – she’s leaving the house to holiday with NESSA.
IKE stands at the door.
IKE. Are you off, then? Ready to go, eh? Have a good time with your mother. No, no, I’ll be fine on my own; don’t be silly. Have fun. I love you… very much.
IKE waves KATE off – he’s desperately trying to hold back tears.
KELSO
KATE turns on NESSA.
NESSA. These things are complicated, Kate – it’s never a case of /
KATE. / You think it’s your duty to warn me about disappointment?
NESSA. I’m just telling you what I wish I’d /
KATE. / Do you think a ten-year-old having to deal with a forty-year-old man that is falling apart, crying in the night and barely able to haul himself through the days but sucking it up and doing it anyway – do you think that ten-year-old still needs warning about disappointment?
NESSA doesn’t respond.
Do you?
NESSA. It’s not my fault that the institution is flawed, I know it’s upsetting, I know you want to believe, but –
KATE. There are plenty of people who make it work.
NESSA. I’m just trying to tell you what I wish my mother had told me.
KATE. Maybe she kept her mouth shut so you could muster enough courage to give it a shot.
NESSA. I don’t want to lie to you.
KATE. Crusts make your hair go curly and if you eat sweets you’ll shrink, carrots make you see in the dark, your eyes will go square and your face will stay that way.
NESSA. There are plenty of truths I protect you from, darling, but not this one – this one is too important.
KATE. Protect me? From what – what don’t I know? What don’t I know?
Beat.
NESSA. Being with someone who can’t be comfortable with where they’re from – they itch – itch and burn and burn until you’ve scratched so hard that you go see-through – you scratch a big hole in the middle of you – the kind of hole that no one can ever love you enough to fill – that isn’t the kind of mess someone wants to stay married to. Your father and I were never comfortable with where we were from – the fear of becoming our parents – got right into bed between us – and six people is too many people to have in a bed and be comfortable. That’s what I owe you – telling you that.
Long pause.
KATE. This is going to hurt.
IKE. Right.
KATE. I know you love me.
IKE. That doesn’t hurt.
KATE. I sometimes find it very hard to be around you, very very hard. I don’t look forward to it – it feels like a /
IKE. / Okay.
KATE. And I don’t think it’s your fault, I don’t – know – but I know you love me and you’ve been a brilliant dad so – it can’t be your fault.
IKE. Right.
KATE. Which makes it my fault or something in me – something wrong i
n me and the feeling of not wanting to be here is sometimes such a big feeling that it feels very wrong. And I don’t know when it happened or why but I used to love to hug you and now I find it very difficult and I’d like to fix that.
Silence.
IKE steps forward to hug KATE.
KATE steps backwards.
IKE. Why do you think it might be?
Long pause.
KATE. I’m terrified of becoming you.
Beat.
IKE (drawing breath – soldiering on). Why?
KATE. I don’t want to be left on my own.
IKE exits.
NESSA exits.
LONDON
KATE sits in the office on her own.
Eight
KELSO
KATE goes back to the box that she found her diaries in, she rootles around, starts pulling things out – old lipsticks, trinkets, medals. KATE looks at the debris. She then, with some fervour, starts pulling more boxes down from shelves – clearing out what is under her bed, pulling it all out and scattering it everywhere. She puts Bernard up high so he can watch things. KATE finds a book of old photos – sticks a few of them up on the wall. She finds certificates, birthday cards – a large poster of Leonardo di Caprio – back in his better years – she sticks it up on the wall and slaps his cheek knowingly. KATE finds a very old packet of cigarettes and lights one – one drag and she realises it’s ten years old, winces and carries on; another slug of wine. KATE pushes the bed around, the desk – rearranges furniture to try and recreate her childhood bedroom. In one corner of the room she gets hold of a corner of wallpaper and tries to pull it back – quite a big chuck of plaster comes off with it and she stops, a little alarmed. KATE pulls down another box, finds it full of old drawings and paintings – there is one of a family in a house, four windows and a front door, with Kate, Mum and Dad outside. KATE sticks it up on the wall. In the same box she pulls out a dress – it would fit a six-year-old perfectly; it’s sweet – a light-pink pinafore dress, roses, white collar, not prissy. KATE smells it; she feels such fondness she can hardly bear it – KATE takes a small sip of wine – KATE takes off her top – staggering over to put her hand over Leonardo di Caprio’s face/wag her finger at him whilst she does it. KATE puts on the dress – it’s tiny – but she gets into it just about. KATE goes back to the box and finds an old projector – she plugs it in and sets it up to project against the back wall – she fiddles around with it for a moment – it flickers up a video – it’s KATE, she’s no older than ten – she’s running around in the back garden with no clothes on doing cartwheels through the sprinkler, proud as punch and smiling furiously, she’s having a ball, doing a little victory dance after each one.
KATE walks up to the wall and touches the face of her little self. She lies back against the wall and leans her face against the projection of her skin. KATE smiles; KATE seems overwhelmingly sad…
ALBIN enters.
ALBIN. Kate – I’ve been for a walk and I’ve been thinking and I think –
KATE (standing quickly). No.
ALBIN looks up at her – looks at the room.
ALBIN. What are you doing?
KATE. I – please don’t say.
ALBIN notices the projection and stares – fondly.
Pause.
ALBIN looks back at the poster.
ALBIN. Leo – really? He’s such a prick.
KATE. Sorry. It was just – Romeo.
ALBIN. Oh.
KATE rips down the poster.
Silence.
KATE. State-dependent retrieval.
ALBIN. What?
KATE lifts up the bottle.
KATE. People can recall the information more accurately when intoxicated or –
ALBIN. If they’ve encoded the information in the same state.
KATE. Oh. Whoops.
ALBIN (points at the projection). You don’t look pissed.
KATE. No.
Beat.
ALBIN. Kate, about earlier – about what I said earlier /
KATE. / I’m very confident.
ALBIN. Right, okay – but about –
KATE. I know it doesn’t look like it – but I love my mum and dad – and it was happy, it is /
ALBIN. / Can we just leave them out for a second, just listen – I’ve been thinking about it, I’ve been walking for hours and hours and I can’t really feel my feet and I’ve been thinking and – I don’t think – I don’t think /
KATE. / Shh – don’t – I know, please – I – I know I’ve been, shouting and doubt and breeds doubt, doubt breeds doubt – it does – and – and – shouting breeds doubt and but I’m sorry and I’m all fixed up now, no holes, look – no holes.
KATE holds her arms open to him – ‘Look, Mum, no holes’ – she’s barely believing it.
ALBIN doesn’t answer.
Beat.
KATE flounders a little.
Well, just the one – (Winks at ALBIN.) eh?
KATE points at her crotch – smirks.
ALBIN. Okay – right – but – listen /
KATE. / No – wait – no, I have two holes – nearly forgot my bum – but – but no holes in the middle – no holes in the – middle – (Lifts up the little dress and shows ALBIN that she has no hole in the middle.) see! Whole; whole like – with a ‘W’ – not – no holes.
ALBIN. That’s great.
KATE. Weird that they’re the same when they’re opposite – whole, hole, whole, hole.
ALBIN. Kate!
KATE. Please please please don’t say it. (Starting to cry.) Please. I’m trying – I’m really trying.
ALBIN. This is so selfish.
KATE. I know – I know it’s horrible and selfish, yes – I know, I’m sorry – it’s repulsive – it’s not –
ALBIN. Well, just stop it then.
KATE. I’m sorry – I’m really sorry.
ALBIN. Be stronger.
KATE (bites her lip, stiffens up, nods her head.) Yes. (Gasps for breath, tries to hold it in.) Yes, yes.
ALBIN. Because this isn’t love – it’s need and that’s so – fucking – indiscriminate – do you understand, that’s not… I could be anyone – I could be anyone to fix this, just as long as I’m here – and keep – fucking standing here – it’s got nothing to do with me – right now I could be anyone; do you know how that feels?
KATE nods, still trying to hold it together – nods, sorry – silent, sorry.
KATE. I’m sorry – I’m sorry –
ALBIN. Stop it – stop fucking saying that.
KATE drags everything up in her to batten it all down – to brave-face it, biting lip, choking it down.
KATE. Yes.
Silence – some time – no one seems to be able to speak.
ALBIN takes a step away from her.
Al – I – when I was little – I have memories of when I was little and I’m – I’m seeing through my eyes – do you know what I mean? (Closes her eyes.) It’s hot, it’s summer and I’m lying on my bed – my little single bed and my windows are open and I can hear the fan going and feel breeze on me and I’m naked, if I look at the memory I’m in my head I’m looking at my body – I can see my little chest and toes and the backs of my hands on the white sheets and I look up and see the windows and I can hear the fan – I can hear it and I feel the hot of my skin and the cool of the sheets, I can feel myself pushing my little legs out to find a cold patch of sheet. Do you know what I /
ALBIN. / It’s a field-perspective memory – you see the memory as if looking through your eyes at the time – you’re in the memory – rather than observer memories where you watch yourself, you’re detached and you stand outside the memory and watch it – like you watch a film. The field ones, where you’re in it, are usually more emotional – more accurate.
