by Rachel Cusk
MEDEA
It was a very winding road but I took the bends well. I felt masterful.
W4
People are wrong about women drivers, you know.
MEDEA
The hills and valleys sped by. I felt free. I thought that I was free. (Pause.) Then something happened. A strange noise started.
W5
Something was wrong with the engine?
MEDEA
The car started to lose power.
W1
That’s my worst nightmare!
MEDEA
At first I refused to believe it. But the hills and valleys began to pass more slowly. They began to come into focus around me.
W2
You were breaking down.
MEDEA
I began to see how barren and wild they were, how empty.
W3
What did you do?
MEDEA
I pressed the accelerator harder and harder. But there was nothing there any more.
W4
I never drive anywhere alone, especially at night.
MEDEA
The car went slower and slower.
W5
You never know what might happen, do you?
MEDEA
Then at last it stopped.
W1
You’re putting all your faith in a machine.
MEDEA
I sat there in the silence, listening to the wind and the last calls of the birds.
W2
And machines can go wrong.
MEDEA
It was as if now that the noise and motion had stopped I could finally see and hear and feel.
W3
The thing is, you don’t actually know how it works.
MEDEA
I felt alive, as if though I had never been alive before.
W4
You don’t understand the mechanics, do you?
MEDEA
I watched the sun setting over the hills.
W5
You tend to leave all that to your husband.
MEDEA
I felt – hope.
W1
It’s a bit silly, isn’t it, when you start to think about it.
Pause.
MEDEA
And in that same moment, I realised darkness was coming.
W2
And you were alone.
MEDEA
Darkness.
W3
You were a long way from home.
MEDEA
Darkness.
W4
You hadn’t thought to bring your coat.
MEDEA
Darkness.
W5
You didn’t even have a map.
MEDEA
Darkness.
W1
The children would start to wonder where you were.
MEDEA
Darkness
Pause.
MEDEA
Darkness.
SCENE 15
The BOYS are running round and round through the trees, with MEDEA sitting writing in the middle. They run round and round her and she ignores them. Then JASON and GLAUCE and dog join in, running round and round her. She ignores them and keeps writing, beginning to laugh at what she’s writing. She laughs and laughs, until the effect is rather demoniacal.
SCENE 16
JASON and MEDEA in the boulder landscape. MEDEA isn’t writing. There’s a postbox at the back of the stage.
JASON
I know it’s only for one night, but I’m seeing it as pretty positive.
MEDEA
It’s a start, isn’t it?
JASON
They need to understand, though. The house isn’t set up for kids. They’ll need to be on their best behaviour. No shoes inside, that kind of thing.
MEDEA
They’ll get used to it. Children are so adaptable.
JASON
I admit it, she’s young. She struggles with the whole idea of children. She’s not interested in being anybody’s mother.
MEDEA
Well, obviously not yet, but –
JASON
Well I’m not saying that isn’t a possibility, but it wouldn’t be my choice. I’m happy with the children I’ve got. And now that things are getting so big, I want to focus on my career. But if the boys had a little sister one of these days – well, that might not be such a bad thing. It might actually bring her closer to them. And you can’t deny a woman the right to her own baby.
Pause.
Look, you should be trying to find someone yourself. You’re still an attractive woman.
MEDEA
Still?
JASON
For your age, yes. You should look on the internet. That’s how everyone does it these days.
His phone pings and he reads it then texts a reply.
How’s the writing going?
MEDEA
Oh, you know, fine. To be honest there isn’t much time for it, now that I’m a full time mum.
His phone pings again and he reads it.
JASON (Distracted.)
Ah – yes exactly. I think you’ve really got to make a decision to move on. You’ll find you’re a lot happier when you do.
Pause.
All those years we spent together – there were some good times, I do admit that, but it was always such a – such a slog. We worked and worked to get somewhere – we were like two people roped together, climbing a mountain. And now we’ve reached the top and we can finally see the whole world spread out in front of us. We don’t need each other any more. We can cut the rope.
Pause.
This is about freedom.
Pause.
We need to give each other our freedom back.
MEDEA
I’m going to let her have it. The choker. I’ve decided. The boys can bring it when they come.
JASON
Oh good. That’s wonderful news.
His phone pings again and he looks at it.
I have to go. Look, what I’m saying is, bear with her. At the moment the children are a problem for her. She’s just not ready – she’s young and she’s beautiful and she wants to have fun. And I don’t want to lose her, for all sorts of reasons. In any case, they ought to be with you. You’re their – their mother. It’s what they want. And like I said, I’m going to put myself first for a while. I think it will be better for all of us in the end if I do.
He touches her face and she flinches.
It’s really good to see you so calm. I’m starting to feel the storm is over.
He gets up and leaves. MEDEA crosses to her desk and opens the drawer. She takes out a manuscript and puts it in an envelope and addresses it. Then she takes out another manuscript and does the same thing.
MEDEA
Once I had a little dome made of silvered glass.
My father brought it back from Venice.
Inside the dome was a tiny city
with gondolas that bobbed on painted waves
and miniature bells in miniature towers
and little pink palaces, and silver canals.
I kept it on my mantelpiece.
I loved it more than anything.
When you shook it, snow fell on the tiny city
and the little dome became a world of whirling white.
It was so beautiful I wanted to enter it,
to pass through the glass and live in its reality
and walk beside the canals, and feel the snow falling on my face.
One day I broke it.
I couldn’t tolerate its sealed perfection.
It hurt me to love it, when I was outside of it.
I wanted to get inside.
So I smashed the glass barrier.
All the liquid came out, and the plastic pieces of snow,
and the magic of the tiny city.
Pause.
It didn’t hurt to love it any more.
Then she picks up the envel
opes and carries them to the postbox. The first one goes in easily and tries to put the second one in. It’s too big. She shoves and shoves and struggles. The postbox shakes and falls on its side. She punches it repeatedly, shoving the envelope in. The stage begins to grow dark. Finally she succeeds in shoving it in and she collapses, exhausted. The stage is now her ‘dream’ landscape – she rises and moves in a dreamlike fashion. There are two cardboard boxes in one part of the stage, and NURSE and TUTOR sitting at their table in another. The WOMEN stand here and there holding pots and pans. MEDEA tries to communicate with NURSE and TUTOR but can’t reach them. Then she turns and sees the boxes, which start to rock. JASON and GLAUCE enter: GLAUCE is wearing the pearl choker. They begin to kiss and fondle one another while MEDEA watches. She becomes visibly distressed. The boxes rock harder. The WOMEN start to bang their pots and pans together. MEDEA approaches JASON and GLAUCE with her arms outstretched as if to strangle GLAUCE. Then the boxes finally fall over and the BOYS tumble out, as though dead. JASON and GLAUCE see MEDEA and cower. Then MEDEA sees the BOYS lying on the floor and is frozen between her desire to destroy JASON/GLAUCE and her desire to attend to her children.
SCENE 17
MEDEA is in the driving seat of a car. BOY 1 is asleep on the back seat. BOY 2 sits beside MEDEA in the front.
B2
Do you love?
MEDEA
Yes.
B2
I mean, who do you love?
MEDEA
I love you.
B2
Is that why I’m here?
MEDEA
You’re here because you want to be.
B2
Am I?
Pause.
Can I say something?
MEDEA
Yes.
B2
I don’t like Dad any more.
Pause.
Mrs Arthur at school says that’s like not liking myself.
MEDEA
Do you like yourself?
B2
Yes.
Pause.
Dad makes me so angry I sometimes want to kill him. Then I feel really guilty afterwards.
Pause.
Mrs Arthur says that if you think something, it’s the same as doing it.
MEDEA
That’s not true.
B2
That’s what I said. And she said that if I talked back again, I’d have to stand outside the classroom. So I said, what if I just think about talking back? I was SO sure she’d send me out, but she didn’t. I bet she thought about it though.
MEDEA smiles. Long pause.
MEDEA
I’m going to go away.
B2
Are you?
MEDEA
Yes.
B2
How long for?
MEDEA
A long time.
Pause.
B2
Will you come back?
MEDEA
No.
Pause.
B2
Will we see you?
MEDEA
No.
Long pause.
B2
What’s going to happen to us?
MEDEA
You’ll live with your dad.
B2
At her house?
MEDEA
Yes.
B2
She’ll never let us do that.
MEDEA
She’ll have to.
Pause.
B2
Why are you going?
MEDEA
Because I’ll die if I don’t.
B2
But we’ll die if you do.
Pause.
Everything will change if you do that.
MEDEA
I know.
B2
I’ll hate you.
MEDEA
I know.
B2
He’ll hate you too. But I’ll hate you more.
Pause.
Do you have to?
MEDEA
Yes.
B2
When?
Pause.
When?
Pause.
Wait, is that where we’re going? Just wait! Are we going there now?
Pause.
Is that where we’re going?
Lights out.
SCENE 18
MESSENGER
One tries to keep a balanced view
of humans and the things they do;
but speaking for moi and moi alone
this is too naughty to condone.
What could be easier to condemn
than a mother abandoning her children?
A mother’s task is to protect:
unnatural should she defect.
Surely she should take the hit –
let him get away with it –
spare those lambs the fear and pain,
sacrifice herself, not them…
Shrugs.
I’m just an onlooker to this drama –
though that does involve a degree of trauma.
One doesn’t like to take sides
But fact is, a divided house divides
itself down to the last crumb.
Partisanship is forced upon one.
As when the earth has a violent spasm
People find themselves on either side of the chasm
Somewhat randomly.
Entre nous, I’m sure you agree
the husband’s somewhat easier to like –
the wife’s about as cuddly as an iron spike.
And personally speaking, I like to back a winner:
I’m not that fussed if he’s saint or sinner.
Still, one felt for her – how could you not?
Discarded, middle-aged, left there to rot.
But the future belongs to the bold and the amorous:
abandoned wives are at best unglamorous.
You expect her to step aside,
acknowledge defeat by the new young bride;
shout a bit maybe, cry her woe,
but ultimately – to let him go.
Deep down we want her to, let’s admit:
the social order depends on it.
Anything else is too much of a chore:
this whining about justice is a bit of a bore.
We’ve all homes to go to – the show must go on.
So suck it up darling, and let’s move on.
Didn’t you know? Betrayal’s common enough.
Not that we’re saying that it’s not tough.
It’s just that sometimes a man wants to step out of his own history
in middle age. The mystery
of self finds no other solution.
Pause.
But we gods see it as a form of pollution,
this grabbing of the wheel of fate.
Hubris and insolence are what we hate.
We are the writers of the human plot.
Free to decide your own fates you are not.
Imbalance offends our whole sense of art.
The self-willed man denies his part
in the human design.
He spoils the line
and must be corrected.
Our authority is disrespected
when a man is ruled by sex, and worse
when he tries to call it honour. Our curse
will allow him no rest.
The pretty face was a test
of ego and he failed it. Sex is a trick
the gods have devised. A man’s prick
is where right and wrong fight it out.
Truth must win the bout
or all hell is let loose.
To begin with it looked like he’d get what he wanted:
a second life, novelty, beauty, all granted.
But the wife understood the rules of this game.
Story and truth must be one and the same.
Narration is governed by laws pure as maths –
> art and life follow parallel paths.
Of all things she feared mockery the most,
so she took that fear and made it her boast.
Her construction
was pure destruction:
a story written with a smile, not a frown.
A story that made her husband look a clown
and his pretty new wife a comical bitch
whose face was a mask for a hideous witch.
The laws of truth were inverted,
turned upside down, but not perverted.
The show was an instant smash hit.
All that anger disguised as wit
was like sugar-coated hate.
People lapped it up and fate
changed direction.
This plot received a major correction.
The nation watched riveted in their houses:
it went global, her tale of rotten spouses.
The husband became a figure of fun,
but the girl was the real public enemy number one.
Life’s like that for women, they get the blame.
Her charmed life was instantly blackened with shame.
Pilloried and laughed at wherever she went,
her cosseted brain took a positive dent.
It was never the strongest of organs; the part
that was strange was how life mimicked art.
In the show she grows fat, and gambles their cash;
the pearl choker gives her a permanent rash.
Being stuck with the kids drives her out of her mind;
she’s jealous as a cat, and a tad more unkind.
She drones on and on about poor little me;
her friends see the situation and flee.
Thing is, she’d always had all the attention:
so married life just feels like detention.
She’s cruel to the boys, who stay locked in their room;
she drinks all alone, in a house like a tomb.
Her husband, after all that boasting and bragging,
is driven out by her bitching and nagging.
So she sits with her little pet dog in her lap,
her only true friend in this sad marriage trap.
All this came to pass in actuality;
fiction became factuality.
Her infamy grew faster and faster
and before our eyes grew into disaster.
One day, on the doorstep of their place,
a stranger threw acid in her face.
Her skin was burned entirely away:
That witless villain, beauty, died that day.
The daughter’s downfall was the end of the father;
The loss of her looks was the fatal lather.
These narcissists love their children like sin;
so off he went to the loony bin.
His business went bust, the house was sold;
Jason found himself out in the cold,
just like Medea wrote it.
You might quote it:
