SCENE ONE
(An ANGELIC FIGURE in a grimy hazmat suit regards the audience. It gestures. Music begins. It gestures again. Lights up on PENELOPE sitting, writing in a notebook. Occasionally she pauses and looks up, at first expectantly, then impatiently, then worriedly, as the HAZMAT ANGEL sings.)
(sings)
DOWN WHERE THE STREAM
TAKES A TURN INTO THE REEDS
I WILL FALL DOWN ON MY KNEES,
DROWN MY PRIDE
(QUENTIN enters. From a distance he observes PENELOPE, who is unaware of him. For a moment he appears indecisive, then turns to leave.)
UP IN THE TREES,
THE SUN, IT SHINES DOWN THROUGH THE LEAVES
SPARKING OFF OLD MEMORIES.
THRICE DENIED
(The HAZMAT ANGEL extends an arm into QUENTIN's path, blocking him. QUENTIN stops, not seeing the HAZMAT ANGEL, but still sensing some presence in his way. He turns and starts to approach PENELOPE.)
ONE DAY THE HEAVENS WILL FALL
ONE DAY A GREAT WIND
WILL BLOW DOWN EVERY WALL
(The HAZMAT ANGEL gestures one last time. Lights out on the ANGEL, and as the music ends we hear a mechanical droning in the background. PENELOPE, now aware of QUENTIN's presence, closes the notebook and puts it away.)
You came.
You sound surprised.
When I asked you, you seemed... I don't know. You find it okay?
Followed the river, just like you said.
I was starting to think...
What?
You changed your mind.
No. No. I... went the wrong way first.
You almost missed it.
Missed what?
You'll see.
...
...
Do you want to sit?
Yeah.
...
...
So this is your spot?
Yeah.
You come here a lot?
Most days. If it's not raining. Or too cold.
It's nice.
...
...
(QUENTIN sniffs.)
What's wrong?
Do you smell something?
No. Do you?
Rotten eggs. Oil, fire. Lucifer.
Lucifer?
I mean, you know, like sulfur. Burning. Maybe it's coming from over there. That refinery.
(PENELOPE sniffs.)
You really don't smell it?
No.
Huh. You live here your whole life?
Fourteen years.
Maybe that's why. There was this kid at my old school, Timmy Dougherty. Had B.O., real bad. You'd be like "Dude, use some deodorant," but he'd just look at you, like you were speaking Chinese. I guess he'd lived with his own smell so long he couldn't smell it anymore.
I'm not saying you have B.O. You smell nice. You smell... pretty.
Um, thanks.
...
Did you see that? The refinery lights just flickered.
Someone just got the chair at Slocum. That's what everybody says around here when that happens. Whenever someone's executed at Slocum Prison, it draws the current, and the lights flicker all up and down the Crescent.
They still use the chair at Slocum?
Dunno. It's what people say.
So, you're from Jefferson?
Uh-huh.
Do you miss it?
Yeah, a little. My friends.
Why'd you move?
My dad got called up. He's overseas, in the war. And my mom's gone, like passed away, so I had to move in with my uncle.
I'm sorry. About your mom.
...
So, when does this thing happen?
Soon. It's worth the wait.
...
What does your dad do?
He's out of town. He's in, um, Dubai.
Wow. What's he doing there?
Business. He works for... I mean, he owns the refinery.
Seriously? I thought like a corporation owned it.
He owns the corporation.
...
My uncle used to work there. But then he got hurt. A pipe or something exploded. He was like disabled. I mean, he can walk, but he has a limp. And he's always in pain.
That's awful. I'm sorry. How's he doing now?
He just sits at home, mostly. Watches TV. Goes to the library, writes e-mails to people about the refinery. Says it's held together with masking tape and chewing gum. He says someday it'll go up in a big ball of fire.
God. I'm really sorry. I mean, he doesn't own it, my dad. He owns stock or whatever in the corporation. I can tell my dad to talk to someone. Make sure your uncle's taken care of.
You don't have to do that. You don't have to lie.
About what?
Your dad. I know where you live. I followed you. Yesterday, after school. I was just curious. I know it's like... It sounds... I mean, I liked you. I do like you. I just wanted to know.
You could have just asked.
Would you have told me?
...
I don't care if you're not, like, rich. Me, I'm the total opposite of rich. So whatever the deal is with your dad, I don't care. Forget I said anything.
Do you want me to go?
No.
I don't know him. My dad. I've never even met him.
Who is he? Or is he, like, gone?
You mean dead? My mom says he is, but I don't believe her.
What does she say about him?
Almost nothing. He's like a date, like B.C. or A.D. Like "Before I met that sonofabitch," or "Since that sonofabitch went away." She says she'll tell me more when I'm ready.
When'll that be?
Dunno.
Wow, that's... That's sad. I mean, it is sad, isn't it?
It's like somebody rubbed an eraser over half my life.
...
Thanks. For telling me, about your dad.
You would've found out sooner or later anyway. Everyone knows. At school. In town.
Still. Thanks. You ever try to track him down?
I don't know where to start. My mom won't tell me who he is. Nobody else seems to know.
But your mom does, right? What if she had to tell you?
I can't make her. I've tried, but I can't.
But what if she had no choice? At my old school, that kid, Timmy Dougherty, for the longest time he didn't know who his dad was. He kept asking and asking. His mom wouldn't tell him, and if anybody else knew they wouldn't say either. Guess why. It turned out his father was his uncle.
His mother's brother?
Uh-huh.
Ew.
I know, right? So nobody ever said anything, until this one day when they couldn't keep it a secret anymore. His mom had to tell him when they found out—
Hold on. It's starting. Tell me in a minute, but now you have to look. Do you see? The sun setting behind us, the refinery in front. See the steam, the smoke, flowering from the stacks, streaking the sky? And the sky's changing, darkening blue. The clouds are fading. The sky's starting to look solid, like a sheet. Smooth, unbroken steel. See the refinery lights through the steam? What do they look like?
Stars?
Yeah, stars. Not distant stars.
Like really close ones. Stars in a cloud.
It's like a nebula, right? Soon the sun'll be gone. We'll lose the sky, the ground, the line of trees, the horizon. We could be floating in space, watching a nebula, giving birth, to stars.
...
...
(QUENTIN sniffs.)
What?
The smell. It's gone. I don't smell it anymore.
...
...
(PENELOPE shifts a little bit—but just a little bit—closer to QUENTIN.)
...
...
Wow. That was...
Wasn't it?
Yeah. I see what you mean.
...
So. You were telling me how that kid found out who his father was.
SCENE TWO
(JESS. Just his face. The clattering of a computer keyboard.)
Dear sir
Dear sir or madam
To whom it may concern. I write regarding conditions of...
unsafety?
[no]
impending disaster?
[sounds crazy]
...unsafe conditions requiring your immediate attention. Until recently, I was a safety inspector at the DWD Refinery just outside Wheeler Bend. Said employment terminated due to an...
[incident?]
[yes]
...incident at the plant. A catalytic unit exploded. Four men were caught in the blast; I was the only survivor. My successor at the plant reported it as an accident.
However,
further investigation has...
[what]
revealed
[yes]
...revealed that this was no accident, but a deliberate attempt on my life.
Let me explain.
A week before the
[quote]
accident,
[unquote]
I detect dangerously high levels of sulfur in the crude. I file a report.
A week later, I am performing an inspection. Out of nowhere, an explosion.
Curious, isn't it? A safety inspector the victim of an accident,
so called,
left lame, unemployed
[em dash]
(From offstage, a VOICE)
Sir?
indeed
[comma]
unemployable
Sir?
[em dash]
mere days after filing a report.
Sir.
Yes?
Your time's up.
Just a minute.
It's the library. You have to share.
I'm almost done.
Bitch.
Coincidence?
I believe not.
I believe I was drawing close to a truth which certain... forces did not want known.
Sir, if you don't stop right now, I'm pulling the plug.
More to come.
Awaiting your reply,
A Concerned Citizen
SCENE THREE
(PENELOPE returning home, trying to be inconspicuous.)
Penelope?
(PENELOPE winces, then composes herself.)
Hi, mom.
(VERA enters.)
It's almost eleven.
Really?
I was worried sick. Where were you?
Turboburger.
Until eleven?
I was studying.
I told you, I don't want you out after nine.
I lost track of time. I'm sorry. I should have called. I'm fine, okay?
I made dinner. For both of us.
I didn't know.
You would have if you'd checked in like you're supposed to. If I knew you weren't going to be home, I wouldn't have bothered. I would've eaten at the restaurant after my shift.
I'm sorry, okay?
(PENELOPE starts to go.)
Were you by yourself?
I was with Sally.
I thought you were through with her.
I was. Now I'm not.
So you were studying. With Sally. At Turboburger.
They've got big tables. And Sally knows the manager. I think he's got a crush on her, so he lets us stay as long as we want.
Penelope, don't lie me to me.
I'm not lying.
Where were you, really?
...
You didn't go down by the refinery again.
...
I told you not to go down there anymore. Do you know how many chemicals are in the air down there?
There are chemicals everywhere. The air, the ground, the water, all up and down the Crescent. I can't get away from them anyway. I might as well get some enjoyment out of living here.
What enjoyment?
Never mind.
No, I want to know.
You wouldn't understand.
How am I supposed to if you don't tell me?
...
I don't want you going down there anymore. And I want you back here by nine. It's too late for you to be wandering around alone.
I wasn't alone.
Who were you with? And don't tell me you were with Sally. When you didn't come home, her house was the first place I called.
Were you with a boy?
...
Jesus.
Nothing happened. We just talked.
Until eleven.
Yes.
Who is he? What's his name?
Quentin.
I don't know any Quentin.
He's new.
Who are his parents?
They aren't here. He's living with his uncle.
Who's his uncle, then?
The guy with the limp, the one who's always on the computer in the library.
Okay, that's it. You're not seeing him again.
Why?
His uncle's a creep.
Quentin's not like that.
I'm not letting you go off by yourself with some horny teenager.
He's gay.
Nice try. Do you know what can happen if you're not careful?
I might experience some happiness for once in my life?
For about two minutes. And then what?
I might get knocked up, and then end up in some dead-end job and spend the rest of my life making everyone else as miserable as me?
...
Mom, wait, I—
You stay away from him, or there'll be hell to pay.
That's not fair! Every time I find something that makes me happy, you take it away.
I'm trying to keep you out of trouble.
Why can't you be nice to me for once in my life?
I work twelve hours a day so you'll have a roof over your head, food on the table, clothes on your back—
That's not what I mean.
Then what do you mean? If that's not nice—
Auntie Rae was nice.
Your Auntie Rae was a liar.
She was nice. I bet my father's nice.
Don't get me started on your father.
If he wasn't nice, what was he like? Who was he?
That's enough, Penelope.
Why don't you just tell me? Huh? Because if I knew who he was, I'd go find him, and he'd take me away, and you wouldn't have anyone to make miserable?
I'm too tired for this.
Mom—
I worked ten hours, then came home and made dinner, which you weren't even around to eat. Then I spent the rest of the night with my stomach in knots wondering where you were. I'm exhausted. I'm not having this conversation now. Just go, okay? Go to your room. Go, write in your diary.
It's not a diary, it's a journal.
Whatever it is. Just leave me alone.
(VERA exits.)
(Lights shift: PENELOPE, just her face. Separately, a HAZMAT ANGEL.)
Penelope remembers. In her journal, she writes the memory. It the last memory she has of her aunt. In the memory she is five years old.
Auntie Rae? Auntie Rae? Auntie Rae?
(Separately, AUNT RAE appears, in silhouette.)
Dr. Ring, please report to
Dr. Ring, please report to
(AUNT RAE stirs.)
Auntie Rae?
(AUNT RAE coughs.)
Where's your mother?
Getting a snack.
(whispering)
She said she couldn't take the smell.
Oh. Well.
I mean, um, I think she was joking.
I can't say I blame her.
Dr. Post, please report to
Dr. Post, please report to
Jiminy. There goes another one.
Another what?
Patient. I've cracked the code. You see, those aren't real doctors, those names over the speakers. There is no Dr. Post. It's their code for post-mortem.
Post-what?
It means somebody's been taken home.
Like taken to their house, or the angels took them home?
...
The angels.
That's sad.
Some days I think they don't have any real doctors here, just codes.
Mom says there's no such thing as angels.
Really.
And she says even if there were, they wouldn't come within a hundred miles of Wheeler Bend, it stinks so bad. She says the refinery's poisoned the whole town, and no pure angel wants any part of that.
She's wrong. There are angels, and when they come here, they come protected. They put on their big yellow jumpsuits and they come and they watch over us. They guide our way without us knowing. They sing to God and tell Him what they see in our hearts.
Dr. Peach, please report to
Dr. Peach, please report to
Dr. Peach. Haven't heard that one before. What do you think it means?
Maybe someone wants cobbler.
Don't we all.
Auntie Rae?
Yes, hon?
Why... Why...
Go ahead. Ask me. Ask me anything.
Why aren't you my mother?
Oh, Penelope.
Howcome you're not my mother, and Mom's not the one who's—
Hush. You mustn't. I'll be with you always, as long as you remember me.
Penelope tries to remember, but she can remember almost nothing: the splay of her aunt's hair, the rosebuds on her gown. Rae's face, when she pictures it, is only a patch of haze, a nebula.
And remember this too. No matter how dark it gets, there's light in this world. There's always light. Sometimes all you'll see is shadow. But the light is there. It always is, somewhere.
Penelope resolves to remember the light. She looks around the room, taking inventory: the light seeping through the venetian blinds, the light under the door, the light from the muted television.
Auntie Rae? Auntie Rae?
Dr. Post, please report to
Dr. Post, please report to
Auntie Rae, Auntie Rae, Auntie Rae, Auntie Rae!
What? What?
Oh. I'm sorry I woke you up. You were asleep.
It's all right.
I just had an idea. If the angels come for you I think I know how you can stop them.
There's no stopping the angels. Once they come for you, that's it.
No, I think I figured it out. You wanna know?
You'd better whisper. The angels are everywhere. You wouldn't want them to hear.
(PENELOPE whispers; we cannot hear what she says.)
Penelope tries to remember what she told Aunt Rae.
I hadn't thought of that.
She tries to remember, but she cannot.
Would it work?
She hopes it will come to her later.
It's worth a try.
[END OF EXCERPT]
Copyright 2011 by Robert Kerr