by Bruce Wagner
Gwen had exhausted herself, & Phoebe called for her to be calm. She told Gwen she was glad she had cried, but now she wanted her to take some deep breaths. Which Gwen did.
“You know, I don’t see Telma as an addict.” It was the only thing Phoebe could grab hold of; the rest was just too big. “I’ve worked with many, many children, & I don’t see that for Telma.”
“You don’t know what can happen, you don’t know, how could you, no one knows . . . O! Did I tell you what the woman said when they handed her the urn with her kid’s ashes? She said, ‘God is good.’ God is good. That’s what she said, Phoebe.”
“You’re right, Gwen. I don’t know what will happen to Telma. None of us have a crystal ball.” Whenever she talked about crystal balls, Gwen recoiled inside. “I can only hope for the best for her, the very best. That’s all we can ever do, Gwen.”
“You’re right. How about rainbows and roses and whiskers on kittens . . . Do you want to hear another sick thing I’ve been thinking? I lay there in bed imagining Telma’s 18. And she goes and gets her implants. They say some women get breast cancer from their implants, & the sick part is, I’m lying in bed imagining that when they’re in for a few years—you know, she turns 21 or 22 or 23—that’s when she gets cancer! Because of the implants! That’s how fucked up I am, Phoebe! It’s like now part of me wants her to get cancer! It’s so sick.”
“You’re depressed, Gwen. And when we’re depressed, we get morbid. We catastrophize—”
“‘Catastrophize!’”
“We’re filled with negative self-talk . . .”
“Just spare me, Phoebe. Please just fucking spare me. Why don’t you admit it? You’re probably thinking it, so why don’t you just admit that I’m the one who let it happen? It should not have happened, that’s the bottomline, but I let it! I am responsible, 1,000%. Because I am the mother.”
“You didn’t let anything happen.”
“O Phoebe, Phoebe, what do I do? How can I tell her? How can I————what do I say?”
“You tell her the truth.”
“I can’t!”
“You can. Because the truth is that you brought her to the very best doctors in the world. And they determined, with all of their knowledge & all of their expertise, that Telma had breast cancer. And they found out that they were wrong. They found out too late. And that you wish you could change what happened, but you can’t, because you’re just a human being. You’re just a mom. That’s what you tell her. And you tell her as soon as possible. You can bring her here or I can come to the house. But before that happens, before you do have that talk with her, I want to see you in better shape.”
“Phoebe, you have to help me.”
“That’s what I’m here for. You can do this, Gwen. You have to. Not just for Telma, but for you. Because she’s sensitive, she’s seen you depressed but she’s never seen you like this. You can’t keep her at her grandma’s forever. I don’t care how much you think you conceal it, Gwen, she knows something is terribly wrong, and it isn’t fair to her for you to prolong this. And you can’t go on beating yourself up either. The self-punishing has got to stop. The rage, the false guilt, will consume you. [moments of silence] Telma’s strong. You know how we’re always talking about her as an old soul? Well, I really believe that. Telma’s an old, old soul. And she’s tough. She must have been Cleopatra in another life.”
Gwen allowed herself a smile, & the shrink matched her.
“No,” said Gwen. “Mother Teresa. Did you know that she calls herself Daughter Teresa!”
“Ha! See? She’s tough and she’s resilient. But now I need you to be tough. I know you are, Gwen. I know you’re tough through observation. I’ve seen you be tough—fierce—heroic—not just in this room, but in your life. I’m seeing it now, you just can’t see it. I’ve seen you be a lioness, protecting your cub—yes I have, Gwen, & Telma had to get her courage from somewhere, no? That girl is a survivor, & so is her mom———————————”
“DON’T USE THAT WORD! DON’T EVER USE THAT WORD PHOEBE! I DON’T EVER WANT TO HEAR THAT WORD AGAIN FOR AS LONG AS I LIVE!”
paroxysm of sobs/moaning
empty boxes of Kleenex at her feet
then
Phoebe does something she usually avoids with patients, she walks around & kneels at the chair & holds her, rocking gently, like a mother, a mother & daughter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
CLEAN
[Telma]
Cave Dwellers
“Guess
who’s coming over for a visit on Friday?”
“Who?”
“Phoebe.”
“O Phoebe! I miss her!”
“Well, she misses you too. She wants to see you.”
“We’re not going to her office?”
“Nope.”
“I like her office.”
“She’s making a housecall.”
“Ratchet!”
“Ratchet? What does that mean?”
“Just—that it’s ratchet!”
. . .
“Mom, that boy Biggie called & asked me out to lunch.”
“Asked you out where?”
“Not really ‘out.’ He asked if I wanted to come to lunch at his house in Bel-Air.”
“Who else is going to be there?”
“His nanny & I guess a chef? And maybe his brother.”
“You said he was so shy. I think it’s nice that he called, that must have been very hard for him.”
“Welllllllllll . . . I actually called him.”
“O you did. How very forward of you.”
“Not to ask him out, just to talk. Then he asked me.”
“Have they found out what’s wrong with him?”
“No—I mean, I don’t think so. I guess I don’t really know. Maybe he’ll tell me when I see him.”
“And where are his parents again?”
“He lives with his dad. Him & his brother. His mom hasn’t been———I think maybe she was gay & maybe left his father for a woman.”
“This is something you were told, or something you’ve come up with using your amazing powers?”
“Sort of told. Kind of reading between the lines. I don’t think she ever—I don’t think the mom ever really came back. She, like, disappeared. As far as I know.”
“Not at all? To see her sons?”
“It’s sort of ratchety. That she never came home. Because from my understanding, it did happen a while ago.”
“Strange.”
“Biggie said that evidently his mom is a spelunker. A spelunker is a person who likes going into caves. Evidently, his mom & the woman are spelunkers who go all around the world finding caves. To explore. I don’t really have the whole story. I don’t even have one quarter of the story.”
“Kind of interesting, anyway. Don’t you think?”
“I don’t really want to gossip.”
“It’s information, not gossip.”
“It feels sorta gossipy.”
“You’re protective of your new friend, & that’s good. That’s a lovely quality, Telma.”
“Can I go there for lunch?”
“Of course you can.”
. . .
“Should I ask Phoebe to the fundraiser?”
“What fundraiser?”
“Mom! The Courage Ball.”
“When is that?”
“Mom, do you have Alzheimer’s?”
“That’s not very nice.”
“Mom, you’re on the committee. I’m going to perform.”
“O! That snuck up so fast. . . .”
“Mom, we’ve been talking about it. I’ve been rehearsing.”
“I’ve missed the last few meetings——”
“Steve Martin is hosting! Mom, you love Steve Martin! & they’re giving an award to Michael. Michael Douglas. And O my God, Rihanna!”
“It’s going to be an amazing evening.”
“Ratchet! You don’t se
em very excited.”
“I have a headache, that’s all.”
“Mommy?”
“What, honey.”
“I’m sorry I asked if you had Alzheimer’s.”
“It really didn’t bother me, sweetheart.”
“Good. Anyway, we get two extra tickets & I thought it would be nice to ask Biggie Brainard. I mean, not that he couldn’t get a ticket himself. Because he like owns the whole hospital. I thought it would be nice for him to come with.”
“It’s very nice. Very thoughtful.”
“Can I give the other ticket to Phoebe when she comes over? Don’t you think that’s a good idea, Mom? Don’t you think Phoebe would want to come?”
CLEAN
[Rikki]
Scripted Reality
Rikki
got an email from the Canoli-Maddin Casting Group, wanting him to come for an interview. They said that because they were seeing so many people, if the provided date & time didn’t work for him, they would not be able to reschedule. A Googlemap of the Westside was attached, with a near the intersection of Olympic & Centinela. The message closed with PLEASE DO NOT REPLY TO THIS EMAIL/DO NOT CONTACT BY PHONE.
He printed it out & showed it to Tom-Tom. She held it in her hand without reading, sitting on the couch stoned watching a “Behind the Scenes Feature Video!” on the Pregnant In Heels website streaming thru the flatscreen, sipping her Pharrell Williams strawberry Qream™ liqueur. Then she read Rikki’s email whereupon she closed her eyes as if having a prayerful telepathic moment before opening them again whence returning her attention to the Samsung. All she said was “knew it,” rhythmically repeating knew it, knew it, knew it, dead-eyed, understated, faintly syncopated, smoked her joint & watched her program without looking at him, not a glance, just knew it knew it knew it knew it knew it now a murmur, gurgling of a fountain, knew it, she said, cause it already happened. (The only part for her to play, being, to witness the miracle{s} & be of service.) She added—still unlooking at Rikki—that she knew it in the very same way the Mount Olympus opportunity was going to happen, knew she’d be moving into this big empty house & taking everyone with her, her ragtag “dependents,” & only the strong would survive, everyone would be forced to step up their game or leave. Funny or die. That meant Jerzy & (Rikki &) ReeRee too, cause she wasn’t gunna play favorites & had no time or patience for anybody’s shit. She was building an empire, she was branding, she was krisgenerating & putting her life on the line. And because of the energy she put out, things were moving fast. The love you make = the love you take. Tom-Tom had a vision I had a vision of love she would have her own hit reality show, Rikki was going to be a moviestar & she’d manage him on the side. (Tom-Tom had a lot of visions, some were so beautiful dark twisted fantasy she didn’t even want to summon them, it was not yet their time.) One of her visions said Rikki was gunna be huge, he was gunna POP, & her reality show was gunna BLOW the fuck UP. Cause dont let em bullshit you life’s a sprint not a marathon. Life’s a sprint nextel, you never know what’s gunna be on the frickin verizon ahahahahahahah. Yeah. Yeah, baby. This life is stevejobshort, my friends, so eat the freakin velvet cupcake.
Don’ worry bout me, & who I fire, It’s my empire, & yes I call the shots, I am the umpire————
The Tom-Tom train was leaving the station.
EXPLICIT
[Reeyonna]
Our Love Is Here To Stay
“When’s
your audition?”
“Wednesday.”
“Next week?”
“This week.”
“You mean tomorrow.”
“Yeah.”
“What’re you gunna do if you win? I mean if you get the part.”
“Be in the movie I guess.”
“What’re you gunna do if you get famous.”
“Be famous. I don’t know. Be famous.”
“What about us?”
“What about you?”
“Us. You, me & the baby.”
“What about it.”
“Are you gunna buy us a house?”
“Yeah I’ll buy us a house.”
“Would we get married?”
“I guess.”
“O now you guess. Now that you’re famous you have to guess.”
“I’m not guessing. I’m not guessing.”
“You said when you got adopted, after you were adopted we could get married.”
“OK. We will. I said we will.”
“I don’t want this baby born out of wedlock, Rikki.”
“It won’t. We can go to Vegas. Get married at the Hard Rock or some shit.”
“I don’t want to live in this house anymore.”
“What’s wrong with the house the house is tight.”
“I don’t want to be dependent on other people. Especially not that bitch.”
“I’ll move you out.”
“What do you mean you’ll move me out.”
“Move us both. I think my dad’s gunna give me some more bread.”
“Will you stop fucking other people?”
“What?”
“Are you going to stop fucking other people after we get married?”
“You’re trippin.”
“Like you do now?”
“Like I do now?”
“That’s right, Rikki.”
“O like I do now. & who am I supposed to be fucking?”
“Who? Who are you fucking? Should we start with Tom-Tom? Cause I don’t even know where to go after that.”
“I’m not fucking Tom-Tom.”
“Lowlife snaky bitch who thinks it’s cool to fuck my old man? Fucking grenade.”
“I’m not fucking Tom-Tom.”
“Rikki, don’t even. What’d you guys do, make a porn tape while you were making the audition tape? Is that what you did, you made a little porn tape too? & does my brother know? Does my brother know his dyke grenade girlfriend is fucking the father of his sister’s child? Rikki, you know you fucking make me sick.”
“He’s not even your full brother.”
“Fuck you, Rikki——”
“& she’s not even his girlfriend———”
“I know, she’s YOURS!”
“ReeRee, come on . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .”
“My brother’s probably happy cause he probably can’t fuck anyway.”
“Nobody’s fucking anyone, OK? You’re paranoid. You’re spending too much time in your room.”
“O! Right! Because she fucking banned me from the rest of the house! And don’t tell me you’re not fucking the skank.”
“There’s nothing happening like that.”
“Then whose blood was that on your dick two days ago?”
“Blood on my dick? I didn’t have blood on my dick——”
“O! So sorry! I didn’t mean to offend. Because from that look on your face, it’s like, O! I said something to really insult you!”
“You’re tripping, Reeyonna.”
“Maybe it wasn’t her blood. Maybe it was her shit. Maybe it’s just grenade shit———”
“Man you’re talking crazy.”
“You haven’t even seen crazy.”
“You know she’s a dyke.”
“O yeah! I forgot! She’s a dyke! That’s why she’s been fucking my brother for like 14 years! But maybe he has a pussy, maybe he’s just a big pussy! I gotta give you the benefit of the doubt, right? Have you ever seen my brother’s pussy?”
[He shakes his head, pissed/loaded]
“Skanksnake is bi. She’s a bi-sexual bi-polar CUNT.”
“And if I get the part in the movie, you’re gunna have to kiss her ass.”
“No, that would be you.”
“Cause I couldn’t have done any of that audition shit. I wouldn’t be going down there tomorrow. She really helped me.”
“Helped you get a disease maybe.”
“Reeyonna, you know what? Fuck it. Whatever.”
“Whatever? Whatever? Yo
u have no sensitivity to my feelings! You are so mean to me—”
“Come one Ree, don’t cry. Come on now—”
“You better wear a condom when we fuck.”
“Whatever.”
“Whatever? Whatever you fucking PIG I fucking HATE you!”
“Don’t be throwing shit at me—”
“Aren’t you even attracted to me anymore? [she went to Macy’s & bought a limited edition Karl Lagerfeld Impulse dress, she bought it in a bigger size so her stomach would fit, & took in the rest by sewing by hand, he didn’t even say anything, how nice she looked, she did up her hair too] You’d rather fuck a 35-year-old?”
“She’s 31.”
“O my God, you’re defending her————”
“I’m not defending her, Reeyonna. I’m not fuckin her either.”
“Why don’t we do it, we don’t even do it anymore.”
“I told you it’s hard with your stomach getting big like that. Cause when I start I feel like man I can’t put that in you cause it’s all like ooh whoa shit I’m gunna hurt the baby! I know it won’t but it’s still in my head.”
“Well try to get over it.”
