With a play you get instructions. Stage directions. Dialogue. Someone clothes you. Tells you where to be and when. You get to live the most intense moments of a life over and over again, with all the boring bits left out. And you get to practise. For weeks. And you’re applauded. Then you get changed. Leave through stage door. Bus home. Back to real life. All the boring stuff left in. Waiting. Temping. Answering phones and serving canapés. Nothing permanent. Can’t plan. Can’t get a mortgage or pay for a car. Audition comes in. Try to look right. Sit in a room surrounded by people who look just like you, all after the same part. Never hear back. Or if you get the part it’ll be sitting around in rehearsal and backstage making less than you did temping. Make these friendships with people, a little family, fall in love onstage and off and then it’s over and you don’t see them again. You try not to take it personally when people who aren’t as good as you get the parts. When you go from being the sexy ingénue to the tired mother of three.
But you keep going because sometimes, if you’re really lucky, you get to be onstage and say things that are absolutely true, even if they’re made-up. You get to do things which feel more real to you, more authentic, more meaningful than anything in your own life. You get to speak poetry, words you would never think to say but which become yours as you speak them.
When he shall die
take him and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine that all the world will be in love with night, and pay no worship to the garish sun.
,
It feels like Lydia wants me to acknowledge some buried trauma but there isn’t any. I played Antigone and every night my heart broke about her dead brother. Then my own brother died and I didn’t feel anything. I missed the funeral because I had a matinee. I’m not avoiding talking to the Group because I’ve got something to hide. It’s the opposite. If I’m not in character I’m not sure I’m really there. I’m already dead. I’m nothing. I want live a hundred lives and be everywhere and fight against the infinitesimal time we have on this planet.
Acting gives me the same thing I get from drugs and alcohol. Good parts are just harder to come by.
,
I really
I really miss my brother.
‘Piece of my Heart’ by Janis Joplin can be heard from another room.
Is that music?
MARK: My graduation party.
EMMA: You’re leaving?
MARK: Tomorrow, first thing.
,
EMMA: Good.
MARK: Orange squash and karaoke.
EMMA: You’re kidding.
MARK: Can I ask you something?
Is your name really Emma?
,
I’m leaving so you may as well tell me.
,
EMMA: Emma is my stage name. There was already someone with my real name.
,
My real name is Sarah.
MARK: Sarah.
Emma This isn’t even my real voice. I lost my accent at drama school. I naturally talk
EMMA speaks with an accent.
like this.
,
Don’t tell anyone.
Please.
,
MARK stands. He’s disappointed. Angry.
What? What did I say?
MARK: Is your brother dead?
,
Did you even have a brother?
EMMA: Mark,
MARK: did you?
,
If you come to the party I won’t stop you. But if you try to sing I will.
EMMA laughs. MARK isn’t joking.
It may be stupid but it’s important. A lot of people here are trying really hard to make themselves well. They’re being honest to a group of strangers. They’re taking risks. They’re turning themselves inside out and not sitting on the side-lines. You don’t get to do karaoke unless you’re part of the Group. You want to join the party, join the party.
EMMA: Are you fucking serious?
MARK stands in the doorway.
MARK: Hello, I’m Sarah. I’m Sarah and I’m an alcoholic and drug addict. I’m a liar and I’m going to fuck this up and break all your hearts by dropping dead on a bathroom floor because I’m too fucking interested in staring into the blank void of my own personality. I’m Sarah. Possibly. Who really knows? I’m Sarah and I’m brilliant at being other people and totally useless at being myself. I’m Sarah.
,
He leaves. EMMA listens to the music. It gets louder.
A small stage has been constructed.
FOSTER is singing.
The song finishes, polite applause and hugs for FOSTER. General chatter as the DOCTOR taps the microphone.
DOCTOR: Thank you Foster.
EMMA watches from the edge of the room.
The song list is going around, if you’d like to get up here and sing then put your name on the sheet.
Someone hands EMMA a cup of orange squash.
Tonight we say goodbye and good luck to a valued member of the Group. Mark.
General sounds of support and pats on the back for MARK. The DOCTOR gives MARK a scroll, tied with a ribbon.
I’d like to raise a non-alcoholic toast.
The GROUP put their cups in the air. All except EMMA.
This isn’t your first graduation. I hope it’s your last. Please understand what I mean when I say I hope I don’t see you again.
FOSTER: Don’t come back.
The GROUP cheer and drink their squash.
EMMA: Janis Joplin died of a Heroin overdose.
I’m just saying it’s an ironic choice of song there Foster.
God, is this what parties are like without alcohol?
She’s trying to be funny but it’s not working.
No, but seriously, I want to say a few things.
DOCTOR: Emma, this isn’t / the best
EMMA talks into the microphone.
EMMA: it’s Sarah actually. My name is Sarah. I’m sorry I’ve not been honest with you about that. Or anything, really. Truth is difficult when you lie for a living. But here goes.
I’m Sarah.
I’m not going to say that I’m an addict and an alcoholic.
I’m not going to say I’m powerless or surrender.
FOSTER: Surrender isn’t / defeat, it’s
EMMA: I won’t join your tribe. I don’t belong to you. I can’t surround myself with people who think the same as me because that’s / madness.
MEREDITH: This isn’t / the time or place.
EMMA: I’m sharing a truth with you. You all talk as if you’re the problem but the problem isn’t you, the problem is EVERYTHING ELSE. Self-medicating is the only way to survive in a world / that is broken.
SHAUN: Someone pull the plug.
LAURA: Fuck You / Sarah.
EMMA: It took my brother eight hours to die. Where’s the meaning in that? If there’s a higher power then strike me down. / Come ye spirits that tend on mortal thoughts.
The DOCTOR takes the microphone.
DOCTOR: Okay Sarah, that’s enough.
T: Let her / speak.
JODI: This isn’t about you. This is about Mark.
MARK: It’s okay Jodi, / she needs to do this.
Some of the GROUP have left the room. EMMA calls after them.
EMMA: I’d like to believe that my problems are meaningful. But they’re not. There are people dying of thirst. People living in war zones and here we are thinking about ourselves. As if we can solve everything by confronting our own defects. We’re not defective. It’s the world that’s fucked. Shouldn’t we feel good for all those who can’t? Don’t we owe it to them to say ‘fuck this, let’s drink’?
MARK: Sarah,
EMMA: if I deny myself choice then what am I? I want to live. I want to live vividly and make huge, spectacular, heroic mistakes.
Some of the GROUP are vocalising their agreement with EMMA. Arguments are breaking out.
Because what else is there? This?
Shame and boredom and orange fucking squash? Let’s have a real drink.
One drink just to know that the world won’t end.
FOSTER throws a cup of squash in EMMA’s face. She continues undeterred.
Don’t you remember how good it feels? Can’t you just taste it? The weight of it all just melting away?
The lights are changing. A spotlight gradually falls on EMMA. Music. Gradually, the room is turning into a bar with a dance floor. A disco ball throws tiny reflected spots of light around the room. The music grows louder.
The whole universe in one room. Your body hot with joy and certainty and love love love love love.
One by one the GROUP throw their squash into EMMA’s face. Lights flash, music pounds, CLUBBERS dance around her. Someone puts a pill on her tongue. She takes someone’s drink and downs it.
YOUNG WOMAN: You’re so gorgeous.
EMMA: Thanks, I’m just trying to say a few things.
YOUNG WOMAN: Amazing! I love everything you do.
EMMA: That’s so nice! I’m having such a great time!
The EMMAs, all dressed like EMMA rush in and they jump up and down to the music. The room is moving, warping, tilting with the thumping bass. The EMMAs move to the edge of the room and continue to dance as a bright light flashes in EMMA’s eyes. The word ‘EXIT’ lights up. EMMA is thrown by this for a moment. The lights of the club flash red and blue, the emergency light from an ambulance. DRESSERS dress EMMA as Marie Antoinette. The sound of a truck approaching, sounding its horn. The spotlight is the light from the truck’s headlights. It glares into EMMA’s eyes.
Am I driving right now?
The screech of brakes. A moment of impact. Sparks, or perhaps golden ticker tape, fall from the ceiling. EMMA is given a bouquet of flowers. A WOMAN holds out a clipboard.
WOMAN: Will you sign this?
EMMA: What I’m trying to say is
what I need to say is
PARAMEDICS cut EMMA out of her clothes and dress her in a hospital gown. A NURSE takes the flowers.
NURSE: you need to get back in bed. It’s dangerous for you to be walking around, do you understand?
EMMA: But I’m in the middle of something.
PARAMEDICS put an oxygen mask on EMMA’s face. She fights them off.
PARAMEDIC 1: Can you hear me?
PARAMEDIC 2: We’re going to have to pump your stomach. Okay?
DOCTORS and NURSES surround her, attaching monitoring apparatus. EMMA pulls off the oxygen mask.
EMMA: Thank you. Thank you so much!
MEDICAL STAFF rush around the room. The music and all other sounds increase. This is all happening very fast. The EMMAs continue to dance.
All I’m trying to say is that there’s a bar right outside.
EMMA pulls off the hospital gown.
We could just go for one drink. Yes?
EMMA’s nose begins to bleed heavily. The music is euphoric.
Together.
She is alone. Lights flicker on and the music stops. Horrible artificial light, the light that ends the party, that makes skin look grey and eyes look bloodshot.
EMMA looks around.
Let’s all just have a drink. Yes?
Yes?
The lights cut out. Silence.
,
Lights up on the audience. The music begins again.
,
Interval.
ACT TWO
The music from the end of ACT ONE has been playing in the auditorium and the foyer throughout the interval. It rises in volume as the lights fade, then cuts out as:
Electric lights flicker on. The reception at the rehabilitation centre. Night. The music continues playing, faintly from the radio. MARK has just turned on the lights. He is dressed in the same uniform FOSTER wore in ACT ONE.
EMMA is lying across the chairs in reception. A hood covers her face.
MARK: Can I help you?
,
MARK approaches EMMA.
Checking in or picking up?
,
Hello?
EMMA sits up. She mumbles.
EMMA: I need help.
MARK: What did you say?
She takes off her hood. She is very badly bruised.
EMMA: I said I need help.
MARK recognises her.
MARK: Holy shit.
EMMA: Will you please / help me?
MARK speaks into a handset.
MARK: Doctor to reception please, Doctor to reception.
The DOCTOR’s consultation room. Night. A desk lamp is on. The DOCTOR sits behind her desk. EMMA sits opposite. She looks very tired. Bruised. Bleeding.
MARK is with them, standing by the door with EMMA’s bags.
EMMA: You changed your hair.
,
My name is Sarah. My name is Sarah and I’m an alcoholic and drug addict. My life is unmanageable. I am willing and motivated to change. I need help. I surrender. I surrender. I surrender.
,
DOCTOR: Sarah, do you know what went wrong last time?
,
You tried to control everything. Every part of the process. That didn’t work so you hit the self-destruct button. Addicts control everything. They fear chaos. They think they’re the broken centre of the universe.
You have to have faith that things aren’t going to fall apart. Trust the process Sarah. Let go.
EMMA: How?
How do I do that?
I’m not being difficult or controlling, I really want to know.
I want to try.
,
The DOCTOR writes on a prescription pad and puts some pills in a little paper cup.
No.
DOCTOR: Take them.
EMMA: I came here to get off drugs, not to / take more.
DOCTOR: I understand that. But
EMMA: I can do it. I need to do it. Just get everything out. / Everything.
DOCTOR: Okay, I have sympathy with that but trust me, I’ve been doing this a long time / and
EMMA: I don’t want medication. I want to feel it. I need it to be irrevocable.
DOCTOR: It’s completely natural to want to have the most vivid experience because that’s what you’re used to, that’s what you feel you deserve and that’s what will make you feel more connected with your recovery. I get that. But going cold turkey is dangerous. It can kill you. There’ll be time for guilt and punishment and connection later.
This is the easy part. Don’t be stupid.
Take the meds.
The DOCTOR gives EMMA the cup of pills.
Go to your room.
,
EMMA: You really do sound like my mother.
The room.
EMMA looks at the meds. She goes into the bathroom. She drops the pills into the toilet. She flushes the chain.
MARK puts EMMA’s bags on the bed.
MARK: You know the drill right? Need me to go over anything?
EMMA: I can’t believe you actually got a job here.
MARK smiles.
MARK: Living the dream.
EMMA: What happened to Foster?
,
MARK: Oh, yeah, shit, you don’t know.
Stupid bastard. His um
his dog died. Went under a motorbike. And Foster just
he took it badly.
EMMA: Relapsed?
MARK: He was really low and they changed his antidepressants. The new meds sort of
knocked him off balance.
We don’t know if he meant to do it.
EMMA: Dead?
,
Shit.
MARK: Yeah.
Oh, listen, I need you to complete the forms. Next of kin. Your mum?
,
And we’ll need to arrange for her to visit. Both your parents.
EMMA: No.
MARK: It’s important those conversations take place here and are mediated / by a
EMMA: I don’t want them here. I need them to see me back home. Not as a patient.
; I know you’ll think that’s a bad idea.
MARK: It is a bad idea.
A knock on the door. PAUL enters. He looks very different to how he did in ACT ONE.
PAUL: I heard you were here.
He enters the room and walks quickly over to EMMA. She steps back and braces herself. He is going to embrace her but senses that this might be inappropriate.
Welcome back.
,
I’m sorry I wronged you.
It was the bleakest, darkest time in my life. But out of that darkness came a great light and the love of Jesus Christ. He came to me when I most needed him and he spoke to me and told me what I had to do.
,
MARK: Tell her what Jesus told you to do.
PAUL: He told me to drink. He told me to drink until I drowned. He told me to put Heroin in my veins and join him in heaven. That Robert and I would be together. That it would be blissful. That he would turn the poison into love in my veins.
EMMA: Okay.
PAUL: And I listened. And I followed him. And he brought me into his church. And I felt something break. And I felt his love. And I know the poison is love and that he is testing me. And I can overcome it.
He smiles at MARK.
We can all overcome it.
He holds EMMA’s and MARK’s hands in his.
He sent you here. Bless you for your kindness. And bless you Lord. We are three sinners. You watch our paths. You author them. You have given us the gift of desperation.
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
PAUL/MARK: Amen.
,
PAUL looks at EMMA.
PAUL: You have to say Amen.
EMMA: Why?
MARK: It’s like pressing ‘Send’ on an email.
,
EMMA: Amen.
PAUL grins at them, then leaves.
,
So I see Paul’s back.
MARK: Yeah.
They smile at each other. They become aware of being alone together.
,
Right, then. I’ll leave you / to it.
EMMA: Mark,
MARK: you’re going to be alright. We’ll be / monitoring you.
EMMA: My first acting job was a corporate / for this London-based
MARK: I’m not supposed to be alone with you in here. The rules are / pretty strict about
EMMA: I feel like I owe you. Like I owe you
I don’t know,
a true story.
,
MARK: What’s a ‘corporate’?
People, Places & Things Page 6