Drip Feed & the Half of It (NHB Modern Plays) by Karen Cogan

Author:Karen Cogan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Nick Hern Books

Rita’s House

I linger at the corner of the estate for as long as I dare.

Rain is spitting at me so I suck in my fear and approach.

Outside her door and I’m doing deep breathing. Can’t knock.

Jacqueline next door is staring at me through her curtains but I can’t knock. Can’t bring myself to.

Are you alright Brenda love? She’s inside alright. Just knock on the door.

I know how to get in Jacqueline. Thanks.

You’re in an awful state aren’t ya girl. What happened ya?

Fucking Jacqueline.

I pound on the door and dash to the side window and pound that too to escape Jacqueline’s chin hairs and nosiness.

And there she is. Rita.

A bit puffy-looking, holding a washing-up sponge.

Come in.

You sure?

Just come in love.

Relief.

Strong tea and three Kimberley biscuits and it smells like Fairy Liquid and my mam and I am breathing a bit freer.

I stare at Rita’s face ’cause she’s looking out the window at Jacqueline’s hateful cat bothering a brown bird. This is the closest I’ve been to her in a long while and she has some new lines around her mouth and her lipstick is bleeding into them in pink streams.

Do you want more tea?

Can I make it?

Grand

We’re face to face then and I smile a bit at her so she knows I still think she looks nice.

I’m worried Brenda.

Are you on drugs? Are you in trouble with the law? Are you… a prostitute?

Rita please

Why are you bleeding? Who saw you in town like that?

Do you need to go talk to someone? Something isn’t right with you.

What are you doing for work? When did you last visit Mam’s grave?

Who knows about the gayness? We need to do something about you.

Endless and my stomach is in my shoes and my breath bellows back up into my chest.

I’m focusing on the air freshener and the spotless empty oven and the six-pack of beans on the floor, not put away yet after the big shop. That’s a lot of beans for one woman living alone.

All this space and I’ll be back on the old couch under the window now Veronica is home.

Couldn’t she just get over it?

I’m just gay get over it.

And I feel my head rising up from the beans to face my sister.

And I say:

I’m actually leaving.

What?

I’m Emigrating.

It’s not emigrating any more Brenda. There’s no coffin-ships involved.

I’m moving then. I’m moving to France. I leave this evening.

France?

Paris actually.

Paris?

Yes Paris.

What are you going to do in Paris?

I’m not sure Rita but I’ll bloody be in Paris.

Thats a big expensive city dote. You get lost in Clonakilty.

Just… PARIS RITA.

Bye-bye now.

And I’m out. Again.

Jubilant at the lie but hollow from the welcome.

She’s right like. Imagine me in Paris. I am part of the furniture.

Veronica says that doesn’t have to be a bad thing if I don’t want it to be and that Olivia is a patronising fuck.

I lost my mam in Wilton Shopping Centre when I was five and I stood in the middle of the marbley floor screaming blue murder. And when she didn’t come, I climbed up on a plastic giraffe ride that you put fifty pee into to make it go.

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