2005 Writers Forum
Laurel Anne White
dean wong
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Listen to an excerpt of Laurel's reading (MP3) |
Act One, Scene Two: Martha’s Story (excerpt)
Late summer moon light. A forest clearing near a river: blackberry bushes run wild, a few seemingly gathered piles of leaves, some boulders/large rocks between the audience and the river. We hear the river throughout the play except when noted. An overgrown car path ends in the clearing, winding in from the blackness.
Stage lights dim; during the following MARTHA’s face and shoulders are in light that shifts with her words like flashes of street and store lights, red stop lights, and shadows of rain as through a windshield spattering and running down her face & shoulders.
MARTHA
The minute I got in – into the car? I had a feeling, like I should’ve – I dunno. I was in, had my hand on the handle, the inside of the door, and I yanked it closed and just as it latched, crunch click, a lock clicked. I had this – knot – like a knot of vomit just shot up hot in my throat, sour. And I looked back and I could see the bus stop slippin’ away, getting small in the rain, and the Quick Stop just this bright, white square of light, the flashing red sign on that tall, tall pole, all shrinking away, all ripply through the rain coming down on the glass. A plastic bag kicked up by the wind, I saw how it flew, hit the window like that, and gone, just a blue spot in the night…
The radio was on, and there was a – chicken, an actor playing like he was a chicken, about being fresh, Washington grown. And then a woman, chatty, talking about the I-90 traffic, 405, the "S" curves, and how it was slick from the new rain and everyone should take care driving home tonight, maybe take "alternate routes." He was laughing about that, or maybe about the chicken, and then he switched to some music. And you know, he was nice, I mean so nice – with the radio on, and he was talking about the Huskies and the first big game coming up. Wasn’t it chilly for still being summer, he said. And he pretended to shiver and then laughed, like he was – laughing at himself, and he was so, you know, relaxed. So I relaxed.
We must’ve stopped at ten, fifteen lights, stop signs, and I was relaxed, okay. I didn’t think of jumping out, and I could’ve. I thought it was okay, after all, that he was okay. I was relaxed. And then he took that turn. He took that turn, and I didn’t say anything. I didn’t say anything, because in the movies they always say – the woman always says "What are you doing, where are we going?" And then she gets it. So I didn’t say anything so I wouldn’t be like the woman in the movie, and he just hummed, and drove, windshield wipers swish swish swish.
And then – he didn’t look at me – then he asked me if I wanted "some." Didn’t I want some of his "stuff," his "thing," he said. I thought, "Oh no" – then, "okay, he’s just a perv, he’s a perv and he thinks I’m a prostitute," so I said, laughing, kinda, "Hey, I’m not into that, if that’s what you thought." I said, "I’ve got a job." And he looked at me, sideways, still driving, and he smiled, real sweet. Real Sweet. And I was all at once real cold, I remember, staring at that smile, that face. Cold.
Jack Straw Productions: The Audio Arts Center for the Pacific Northwest