by Alan Filewod
Almira: George, don’t!
(With one swift stroke Sedna motions George to finish the kill.
Blackout.
The sounds of the sea rise in a great cacophony of cries and seal baying.)
Almira: NNNNOOOOOOOOOO!!!
(The cries soften to the ripples of water on sand … Then silence.)
SCENE TEN
(The lights come up very slowly. Very gently. Almira and Sedna sit on the beach. They are still listening.)
Sedna: Are you all right?
Almira: No. (Pause.) That was quite a show. All for me?
Sedna: Yes.
Almira: Thanks.
Sedna: It was like this after the rains! Only I couldn’t stop crying long enough to listen to the silence.
Almira: The rains?
Sedna: Then right away we were called to the nesting grounds. And I went.
Almira: Why?
Sedna: There’d be no more selkies! You have go to on.
Almira: Where’d you find the energy?
Sedna: Where I found the love. Way down inside.
Almira: I would’ve stayed behind.
Sedna: You and the unicorns.
Almira: And kept right on playing.
Sedna: You don’t want to be a legend. I could have shown you the beautiful part of the story too.
Almira: What? Like the waves and ’sweet dewy grasses’ and snipes. Pip, pip, pip. You should talk to George.
Sedna: George doesn’t need talking to.
Almira: I don’t understand why you did that!
Sedna: Don’t you?
Almira: I know all about the cruelties you suffer.
Sedna: You write papers.
Almira: It’s been my life’s work.
Sedna: But you quit.
Almira: I’m tired.
Sedna: Try living three million years. So you quit your job. George isn’t what you thought he should be. So you quit him. And now you want to quit on life. Go on then. Ignore what little power you have been given. The power to create life.
Almira: Women have been having babies since forever. We haven’t changed one single event because of the birth of our children. All we’ve done is provide ammunition and victims!
Sedna: What will you change by destroying yourself?
Almira: How dare you talk of life! You murdered! You killed your husband!
Sedna: That’s right! You are finally getting it! I killed. I am guilty of becoming what I feared and hated. I tipped the balance of my world into despair.
Almira: If I can’t have control over the life I bear then I will take it away any way I can.
(Pause.)
Sedna: What would bring you peace?
Almira: I’d like … I’d like to go out there … I don’t know … just drift! For a long time …
Sedna: I can do that for you … Go on. (She pushes Almira towards the sea. Sounds of the seal music.) Drift. Dissolve. Disappear. Your body is light as water melting into the sea. Your hair is free. Petitions, numbers, slaughters, seals drain from your mind. Friends, hopes, fears pass from you! No more love! No mate! No baby! You’re adrift. Floating. At peace. All colour fades away. No red, no yellow, no green. Or orange, no purple, no blue. The sea whitens and cracks. Laughter shrivels. Words dim. Sound dies.
Sedna: The whole world is arid. With one gust it will vanish. (The music has become thin and empty.) It never was, and never will be … It is gone!
(Silence.)
Almira: You can’t do that.
Sedna: I did.
Almira: (placing her hands on her womb) No you didn’t.
Sedna: Yes I did.
Almira: I found something you can’t do.
Sedna: I wasn’t really trying.
Almira: You can’t take my baby.
Sedna: (smiling) Why not?
Almira: Because this is mine. (Pause.) And because I don’t want you to.
Sedna: (teasing) You’d be a terrible mother.
Almira: You’ll have to help me. After what you just did to me. You owe me. Help me.
Sedna: I’ll give her webbed feet!
Almira: All the kids will laugh at her at school!
Sedna: (barking) Ahruh! Ahruh!
Almira: (clapping and barking) We’re mad, mad, mad. Mad!!
Sedna: What’ll you tell George?
Almira: Oh …
Sedna: I’ll tell him.
Almira: He’ll die.
Sedna: Oh Almira, the sea will give you strength to bear the child. And when the child is born I could raise her with the wild creatures of the sea. She’d accept being a selkie and soon mate. The cycle would begin again!
Almira: Oh God …
Sedna: Daylight under the sea is beautiful but the nights are magnificent … (Realizing what Almira just said.)
Almira: You’re serious. Sedna … I’m so sorry. I can’t help you.
Sedna: (packing her possessions into the sand dune) I can’t think why I wanted to be a mother again.
Almira: You can’t leave me! I need your experience.
Sedna: It would seem that I’ve had enough.
Almira: I need your courage. (Putting her arms around Sedna.) … I would like you to be the child’s Godmother.
Sedna: No you don’t.
Almira: I do. We could share my child.
Sedna: You and me.
Almira: And George.
Sedna: George isn’t so bad.
Almira: Agreed?
Sedna: Agreed! (They hug each other.) I’m through with whelping parties.
Almira: I’ve just begun …
(In the shack, George finds the crumpled letter as the loons cry.)
Almira: Loons in love.
Sedna: (teasing) Be aware of desire and the lunacy of love.
Almira: Is it true they bond for life?
Sedna: Never leave each other’s side!
Almira: Their cries are so lonely.
Sedna: Maybe they recognize something we don’t
Almira: What’s that?
Sedna: Union is a gift. (Pause. Starting to move away.) We are always alone.
Almira: I could stay.
Sedna: Those are roles to which we are not suited.
George: Almiraaaaa!
(The sound of gulls, wind… Reality.)
Almira: That’s George! You go tell him, I’ll wait here. No … I want to do it.
Sedna: I could trade places with you …
(Almira stops)
Sedna: (shaking her head) Three million years of pups is enough.
Almira: I don’t know how to find you!
Sedna: Floating islands, like sensations; a caress, a sigh, desire … they are all affected by fear. When we’re afraid we simply stop perceiving them.
Almira: I’m not afraid.
Sedna: You’ll find me.
Almira: What’s next?
Sedna: In the time that I have left … Maybe I’ll travel with the loons. Perhaps they’ll help me find forgiveness before my father and I meet again … Now go on! I almost forgot! (From around her neck she takes a small skin bag tied with a red ribbon.) That’s for the baby. Just one bow. Open it!
Almira: A pearl! To you, Sedna. A toast. Death to our best friend.
George: Alliee!!
Sedna: You better go now …
Almira: You go first.
Sedna: Close your eyes and count to three.
(Chimes)
Sedna: (spinning Almira) In waking and sleeping dreams, in joy, in love, a seed is planted. Dream us a new dream, Almira. (Blackout.)
The soul shall struggle and stand,
In the end swift and free
As the stars, as the wind, as the night.
As the sun, as the sea.
SCENE ELEVEN
(Sedna and her seal tail are both gone. Almira is still in the kimono and spinning.)
George: Almira!
(Silence.)
Almira: (stopping) You didn’t go home.
George: Someone’s got to take care
of you.
Almira: I’m glad you stayed.
George: (noticing the kimono) Where’d you get this?
Almira: It’s a gift from the floating island.
George: You going to take me there?
Almira: You were there.
George: I was?
Almira: Maybe you don’t remember.
George: Don’t do this, Almira.
Almira: (pause) I almost stayed.
George: You’re here.
Almira: I kept remembering your smell … (She puts her arms around him.) I couldn’t resist … (She kisses George.)
George: Your nose will be the life and death of us.
(Loon calls.)
Almira: Loons mate for life.
George: Good for the loons.
Almira: For better or for worse.
George: In lunacy or love.
Almira: I’m not crazy.
George: I know that!
Almira: Neither are you.
George: No? (Taking from his shirt the crumpled Save-the-Selkie letter.) I found this. (Pause.) There are societies for the preservation of everything on this planet except for selkies and … ourselves. (He signs the letter.) George Murdoch!
George: No, I don’t feel crazy when I’m alone.
Almira: Neither do I.
George: Then we’re only crazy together. That’s all right then!
Almira: Just a pair of loonies. (Silence.) George … we are going to have a baby.
George: A baby? When?
Almira: Four more months.
George: You’re five months pregnant and no one knew.
Almira: Four days ago, the doctor, she knew.
George: I couldn’t tell.
Almira: Nature is very subtle … I’m sorry. I should have told you.
George: (grabbing her) That’s what all this vomiting, and junk food and smells are all about!
Almira: Maybe.
(The sound of the sea music enters softly. Almira begins to spin.)
George: A baby! That’s wonderful!
(The kimono fans out, rippling in higher and wider arcs.)
Almira: Names … babies need to have names. Dylan for the sea. But it won’t be a boy. Morgan or Merriweather. No … Pearl! Pearl for a girl.
George: A girl? You don’t know that.
Almira: Sedna does.
(Silence.)
George: Almira … For an instant … I might have seen her only … (Realizing) … the child. She wants our baby!
Almira: She doesn’t any more.
George: Almira …
Almira: She’s a friend. (Pause.) Hold me, George. (The music takes on the rhythm of a waltz.) We have never waltzed.
George: Sure we have.
Almira: We sway together.
George: That isn’t dancing?
Almira: Ballroom dancing with hundreds, thousands, millions of other dancers bobbing in those crazy hoops … 20 feet around.
George: (twirling Almira around him) Fifty.
Almira: A hundred.
George: A thousand!
Almira: A million!!
George: We’d all collide. (They bow.) Shall we?
Almira: (dancing) Look up! What do you see?
George: Clouds.
Almira: Inside!
George: Chandeliers.
Almira: What do you hear?
George: Music.
Almira: The whole room is swaying …
(The music swells.)
George: The chandelier is swaying.
Almira: We can’t collide. Keep looking up. And on my breasts is a great big red bow!! (Almira stops. The music disintegrates.) Smell …
George: (lightly) I’m not pregnant.
Almira: This is wrong! I smell that stink again. …
George: Fishguts. …
Almira: It shouldn’t be here.
George: Let’s just think about the baby.
(Silence.)
Almira: You know what it is.
(Silence.)
George: When I saw it through the glasses I knew it was the Hood. A fisherman must have caught it in his nets. I went down to the beach. The entire head was sliced right off! She must have been a beauty but now the hide was burned crisp from the salt and the sun. It was swollen with gas and the stink … It has been rotting for weeks.
Almira: You should have told me.
George: The smell was upsetting you! I knew it was causing those dreams. I tried to tow it away. Only the tide kept bringing it back! Every time I went down onto the beach there it was!
Almira: (barely audible) What did you do?
George: I cut it up. I cut it up into little tiny pieces so that if it came back on the tide again no one would recognize it and the gulls would eat it … Only there weren’t any gulls. I wanted to fix it for you so I cut it up.
Almira: It was Sedna!
George: That’s when I saw her …
Almira: Nnnnoooooooo!!! (Almira’s cry reverberates into silence.)
George: I wanted to fix it for you …
Almira: (very still) Sssshhh … (Almira puts George’s hand on her womb.) Feel …
George: What’s wrong?
Almira: The baby. She moved.
George: Where?
Almira: Way down inside … soft as a sigh. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Close your eyes. (They listen. Almira lifts her arm.) It’s still there. The wind, and the waves, and the sounds of the sea.
Almira: (waves) Forever … George?
George: Almira … I love you.
Almira: I love you. (They freeze.)
(The sound of the sea music.)
Blackout
THE END
Being at Home with Claude
René-Daniel Dubois Translation by Linda Gaboriau
Born in Montreal in 1953, René-Daniel Dubois is an actor, director, and playwright. After graduating from École Nationale de Théâtre du Canada in 1976, he studied at the Institut Alain Knapp in Paris. He is the author of seventeen stage plays, including Ne Blâmez Jamais les Bédouins (which he originally produced himself in a solo performance, and which has since been translated and published in English as Don’t Blame the Bedouins), Being at Home with Claude, and “Pericles, Prince of Tyre” by William Shakespeare, all of which have been successfully produced in English-speaking Canada as well as in Quebec. Being at Home with Claude has also been produced in Amsterdam and London. Dubois was named “Grand Montréalais dans le domaine du théâtre” in 1983.
Born in Boston, Linda Gaboriau moved to Montreal in 1963. After completing BA and MA degrees in French Language and Literature at McGill University, she decided to make Montreal her home. As a freelance broadcaster and journalist, she has hosted and produced radio shows for the CBC and Radio Canada networks, was theatre critic for the Montreal Gazette, and has contributed to various publications in Canada and the United States. She has been particularly active in Canadian and Quebec theatre. In addition to numerous contracts as a consultant for theatre companies and festivals, for both federal and provincial arts agencies, she has worked as a dramaturge and translator. For several years she was responsible for dramaturgical workshops as well as translation and exchange projects at Montreal’s Centre d’essai des auteurs dramatiques. She now devotes most of her time to translation, and has translated more than twenty plays.
PHOTO CREDITS: (LEFT) MONIC RICHARD, (RIGHT) GUY BORREMANS
Being at Home with Claude was first produced by the Théâtre de quat’sous in Montreal on 13 November 1985.
PRODUCTION
Director / Daniel Roussel
Set Design / Michel Crete
Lighting / Claude Accolas
CAST
Lothaire Bluteau / Him (Yves)
Guy Thauvette / The Inspector (Robert)
Robert Lalonde / The Stenographer (Guy)
Andre Therien / The Police Officer (Latreille)
CHARACTERS
Him (Yves), early 20s. Slim. Nervous
Th
e Inspector (Robert), late 30s
The Stenographer (Guy), the Inspector’s assistant. Late 30s, same as his
boss. A chain-smoker
The Police Officer (Latreille), employed as a security guard at the Courthouse. Has no idea what’s going on in Judge Delorme’s office and couldn’t care less
SET
Judge Delorme’s office in the Courthouse. A massive oak desk with one of the chairs which usually face the desk placed behind it. The judge’s swivel armchair has been pushed to the side. On the desk: blotter, pen set, inkwell, perpetual calendar, ashtray, picture frame, desk lamp, paperweight, books, etc. For the time being, all these props have been pushed to one end of the desk, leaving the top free for the entire interrogation. The second of the two visitors’ chairs is taken by Him.
In the middle of the wall stage left: the “side” door, leading to inner chambers, in stained wood.
In the middle of the upstage wall: the “main” door, the official entrance, imposing, upholstered. Him has the keys to this door in his pocket.
A very large map of the Island of Montreal, in colour.
A transom of frosted glass over the door.
A cardtable and a folding chair have been set up near the main door for the Stenographer. On the table: unused rolls of transcription paper and the rolls bearing the transcription of the interrogation; a large ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts; a stenotype machine.
The overall impression should be one of an office which has been set up for such a long time that its usual occupant obviously considers it his “living-room” and it has temporarily become the scene of a barbaric invasion.
Lighting: harsh and naturalistic.
PLAYWRIGHT’S NOTES
1 One of the dangers inherent in this text is the temptation one might feel (and to which one might succumb) to portray Him and the Inspector as merely wanting to give each other “a hard time.” In fact, they are simply hoping for a chance, in the case of the former: to sleep a little, while waiting for the judge who, he thinks, at least in the beginning, can help him; and in the case of the latter, to understand what it’s all about and how he ended up in this delicate situation where he risks finding himself in big trouble.
2 All of the characters, except for the Police Officer, Latreille, who has just begun his day and who is employed as a security guard at the Courthouse and is not part of the Montreal Police, are exhausted. Nevertheless, the pace is fast. It would be helpful to imagine that this play is the last act of a drama which has been going on for the past 36 hours and of which we will be witness only to the last hour (and a bit). This last hour is however totally autonomous and reaches its own peak which also happens to be the peak of the drama of which it is the final scene. The actors are not, therefore, beginning at “Square One,” but rather at “Square 80.”