Madonna
A long, narrow hallway with a door at the end and two doors on the side. ASHLEY walks in from outside. Madonna’s ‘Vogue’ is distortedly heard from her headphones on high volume.
She turns down the hall and stops at the door, stage left. She looks up at its top. She turns off her walkman.
Ashley, 21. Nervous. Divided.
ASHLEY
One forty five. One forty five. Maybe –
She pulls out a piece of paper from her pocket for confirmation.
No. One. Four. Five. This. Is… Yeah, maybe I shouldn’t do this. Maybe I should just… go. Home.
She exhales dramatically, as if trying to catch her breath and puts the paper back in her pocket.
Okay. Okay. So. Hi….Moooohm.
No.
Hello Sonya.
(relishing) Sonya – that’s a beautiful name.
You don’t know who I am.
I’m not one of your students. I guess I should introduce myself.
But why should I? You should know me. I’m your DNA. Your marrow. Your conception. Don’t you recognize me? I guess not, when you didn’t finish the thought. I wonder what it took though. Seems it ended up all pretty immaculate. You got to tie me up in a bow and somewhere between the paper work and the family that covered your tracks you avoided any tough questions.
Enough of this bullshit. I am here. And this is just a door and a woman.
I think I’m going to be sick.
She looks into the waste bin.
Crusts. Sandwich. Couldn’t you have given me a better clue? Like – sushi, or eggplant Parmesan. This just makes you seem boring. Or worse. Unimaginative. I wonder if you would have made my lunches like she did. Would I have even eaten? Because I’ve thought about it you know. This life you imagined I would have had. Must have been pretty awful. To do a thing like that.
So I wonder why do you deserve anymore regard than say any stranger who would take me. Because there’s a lot of women out there. I’m sure not all of them have children. Or could have. Shit. Why do you deserve any more than my own parents. She would just…break if she knew I was here.
You know, Sonya, I’ve been having this dream lately. I’m standing on this bridge. And I’m looking out at the land that surrounds me – at its rocks and trees, which I understand. I know their story and they know mine. But here on the bridge, it is crumbling. I know there is little time. But then you’re there. You’re always there. Always a shifting series of faces, but you always give me this same feeling. It’s like…when I was a kid I used to curl up against her chest when we’d watch TV and listen to her heart. But ours would never beat as one. You – always a rhythm with you that called me. In this dream, our hearts, yours and mine, are pounding. It’s like a dance beat pumping out of the speakers, it’s so fucking LOUD and you just look at me and I know what’s going to happen and I say not again, not again, please don’t – its too much. But you do, you do, you always do, you dive off that bridge and you leave me alone and everything’s falling apart. But I still worry about you and how cold the river is.
And then last night, in my dream, you left behind a photo. THE photo. The one she showed me for the first time when we were watching television. The photo I have never matched up to.
She pulls an old photograph from her pocket and inspects it, looking for something new, something she hasn’t noticed before. She gives up, but keeps looking at it.
You look happy. Standing, holding me on your left arm.
Did you know?
Please, I’ve come here for a reason. I woke up from that dream this morning and turned on the news. The world’s falling apart and I’m afraid things are about to just get worse. And she’s just sleeping on the couch. Not even doing anything, not giving me anything.
She sleeps a lot lately. My mother. But I can’t even call her that. You took that away from me. You know, maybe you even freed me. But I need to know. What am I left with? I need something new to hold on to here. So, I’m ready now. For you to point the way. Now, before I change my mind. Give me your truth.
She composes herself, putting the photo back in her pocket, fixing her clothing and pushing back her hair. She faces the door boldly.
Hi. I’m Ashley.
