Toronto, Mississippi by Joan MacLeod

Author:Joan MacLeod [MacLeod, Joan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781772010589
Publisher: Talonbooks
Published: 2016-01-28T05:00:00+00:00

Scene Two

A few days later. BILL is practising out loud for his poetry reading and lecture.

BILL:

Fellow poets and friends. “Black Morning” has been described by critics, or critic as the case may be, as a breakthrough sequence. But breaking through into what, you may well ask. (pause) Fuck it. (in a Memphis accent) I chased every woman I ever met. Know why? “Black Morning” plunges into a territory (beat) better left unexplored. Right. (Memphis accent) “Every woman adores a fascist, the boot in the face, the brute brute heart of a brute like you … ” I never stopped cruising. “Black Morning” plunges into and exposes the dark underbelly of that demon called –

JHANA:

(off ) Bill!

JHANA enters, from work, very wired.

BILL:

Hi angel.

JHANA:

I’m with the table in the workshop, right? Fat Steffie too. She’s mad. She’s mad like this. (shakes hand violently) Screws go flying! They just fly!

BILL:

Steffie has a hard time controlling her muscles –

JHANA:

She can’t do it –

BILL:

Maybe they’ve changed her medication

JHANA:

She’s not on the job!

BILL:

Some days she’s a whirlwind. Right?

JHANA:

A whirlwind Bill! You can’t sing at work. I said DON’T.

BILL:

Remember how you had a hard time counting how many screws to put in one bag? For Steffie –

JHANA:

Steffie can’t –

BILL:

Picking something up-

JHANA:

Steffie …

BILL:

Picking something up is way harder than counting. And putting it in a little bag? It’s murder.

JHANA:

She can’t help it, Bill.

BILL:

That’s right.

JHANA:

She’s mad! Hitting at Peter. Mean too. Peter can’t get out of his chair. You’re scared. Right? I push Peter for lunch. Don’t walk, Bill. Peter can’t. Listen to him. (JHANA groans) He talks hard. Like hurting. It doesn’t. I’m not Peter, Bill. You’re sad? At Peter?

BILL:

A little bit.

JHANA:

Betty died.

BILL:

I remember.

JHANA:

She’s not at the workshop. People die, Bill. Dogs, television. Steffie’s funny too. I’m not scared. (pause) Where’s my Daddy say Dad.

BILL:

I don’t know.

JHANA:

DAD!

BILL:

He’s not home, Jhana. Why don’t you slow down, kick your shoes off in front of the TV. Relax.

JHANA:

RELAX! They’re new. New and just coming in – all the little tiny screws. I’m behind Bill. That lady’s yelling on me, PAY ATTENTION!

BILL:

I could follow you a lot better if you’d slow down –

JHANA:

(stomping her feet in time) PAY ATTENTION! PAY ATTENTION! PAY ATTENTION! PAY ATTENTION … (long pause as JHANA notices BILL isn’t going to pay attention, then softly) Hi, Billy. Be Andrew yelling too. Bill please? Be Andrew.

BILL:

Not now, Jhani. They’ve asked me to do a reading, then a little talk on my process and that. Want to hear some?

JHANA:

No. I will keep talking. See? I can sing at lunch. Not at the worktable. That worktable’s for working. Everyone watches me. They love this.

BILL:

What do you sing?

JHANA:

(imitating Elvis) Good evening ladies and … ladies. It’s pleasure. Elvis Presley is here! (singing)

Love her tender, love her tender Never let her …

Lover her tender, lover her tender Lover her, love her tender …

Are you watching me?

BILL:

The world is watching you.

JHANA:

Good. Be Andrew. For dinner, Bill. Please?

BILL:

For ten minutes. When both hands are at six then you’re going to be the audience and I’m going to be the brilliant young poet behind the podium.

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