The Family Plan

Characters:

Brenna - 16-year-old girl

Downey - Brenna’s father

Hazel - Brenna’s mother

Auntie Polly/Pip - Brenna’s English aunt (along the tones of Julia Child)

Uncle Em - Brenna’s English uncle

Aunt Wanda – another aunt

Uncle Sid – another uncle

Taxi Driver

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Act One

Scene:

A kitchen table in a tidy, bright kitchen. Windows surround the table on two sides (stage left). There is a counter stage right on which mugs and a kettle, teapot and a plate with cookies sits. Characters may pick up mugs or cookies during scenes.

Mother and Brenna sitting at kitchen table, mugs in front of them.

Sounds of shouting, words not clear, offstage

Mother: Oh God, they’re at it again.

Brenna: Again? They haven’t stopped since last night.

Mother: It’s worse at night, isn’t it?

Brenna: Well, I haven’t been able to sleep at all since they got here. The screaming and hysterical crying and furniture smashing around…It goes on nearly all night. By the time they’ve exhausted themselves and fall asleep, it’s time for me to get up for school.

Mother: That’s not good. Not at all. Do you have any Valium left?

Brenna: I may, but I think I’ve used them all of them already, just trying to get a bit of sleep.

Mother: I should have a few extra somewhere. Remind me. You need your sleep.

Brenna: How can they not keep the two of you awake? Their room’s as close to yours as it is to mine.

Mother: Oh, we can hear them, but your daddy manages to fall asleep and his snoring partially drowns out what’s going on down the hall. I’m used to the snoring.

Brenna: Is there any whiskey left? I hid it in the bathroom cupboard. But I know they’ve got their own stock of booze stashed somewhere, and they never seem to run out of the antipsychotics – or whatever they are pills.

Mother: I was wondering how that got into the cupboard. I figured one of them had left it and forgotten where it was.

Short silence

Brenna: (pointing off stage right) What’s with the plates?

Mother: (pointing) It’s their lunch, waiting for them. Actually, it’s their breakfast since they slept until mid-afternoon.

Brenna: What is it? I’m kind of hungry. If they’re going to go to waste, I’ll have

some.

Mother: (stands up and walks to other side of counter): No.They may still come looking for it. I heard some shuffling around upstairs. Someone’s up…

finally.(Pause) Not that I want either of them down here, but I hope they don’t both ‘descend’ (said grandly) at the same time.

Brenna: Yeah. They’re better-behaved one at a time. But, together… Who knows when all hell is going to break loose?

Mother: At least they keep most of the hysterics upstairs. Down here, they’re comparatively quiet and polite. They could almost pass as royalty…butter wouldn’t melt in their mouths.

Brenna: (walks over to the plates, offstage right) Can’t I have some of this grapefruit? They won’t miss it. They likely won’t eat it at all.

Mother: Indeed they won’t. But leave it until we see if they come down with appetites.

Brenna: (returns to table) I don’t want that grapefruit going to waste. It’s all I have to eat.

Mother: And whose fault is that? You’ve only yourself to blame. You and your diets. Starvation, more like.

(Sound of a door opening then slammed shut, then sound of footsteps descending from ‘upstairs’ – off stage (front)

Brenna: Shit. Who’ll it be?

Mother (loudly|: Shhhhhhhh.

Uncle Em: (enters from stage left; then throws wide his arms in mock surprise at seeing them in the kitchen) If it isn’t my two favorite ladies (as if announcing it). Good morning to you.

Brenna (fake laugh): Good afternoon to you.

Uncle Em: (surprised) It’s NEVER afternoon already, is it?

Brenna: (sarcastic tone) It’s nearly evening.

Mother: (gives Brenna sharp look) Shhhh (quietly).

Uncle Em (to Brenna): So, how was school, my pretty?

Brenna (sarcastic tone): It’s Saturday.

Uncle Em: It’s not?

Brenna: Aye, It is.

Uncle Em: (agitated) I must tell Pip (his nickname for Aunt Polly). (he turns around, takes few steps towards ‘stairs’ and calls loudly in exaggerated tone):

Oh, my beloved (posh yet believable)…

(Silence)

Uncle Em: (shouting ever so politely) Pip, it’s ruddy afternoon.

Polly: (screaming offstage - left) I don’t bloody care if it’s bloody VE Day. I can’t take this anymore, you vile man.

Uncle Em: Excuse me, girls. (goes off stage left; noises of footsteps going upstairs)

(shouting) Unlock this bloody door, you horrid cow.

(Sound of door opening)

Polly: Here. (shouting hysterically) Take these disgusting things with you.

(Silence; sound of door slamming, then loud banging on door).

Uncle Em: (loudly) You’ll regret this, you evil witch. I should lock you away in the insane asylum.

Polly: (loudly) Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. (pause, then tone changes) Oh, all right, come in. Just this once.

Uncle Em (quietly) There’s a good girl. (pause) Now come down to civilization, Pip. We’re all waiting for you.

Polly: (loudly) You can bloody well wait. Don’t tell me what to do, you foul, wretched man.

(Sounds of footsteps coming ‘downstairs’)

Em: (appears stage left, looks upstairs) Come, my love. You look like a queen. Your subjects await you. (He giggles, puts finger to mouth as he exaggeratedly steps on tiptoe toward Brenna and Mother at table.) Wait until you see this.

Brenna: (looks at Mother) Oh God…what now?

Polly: (appears at bottom of stairs; in a loud, exaggerated Julia Child voice) Good morning one and all.

Uncle Em: You cow, it’s afternoon.

Polly: (ignores him): How are you this morning, Brenna? No school?

Uncle Em: (exaggerated, sweetly) It’s Saturday, my dearly beloved troll.

Polly: (ignores him and pulls out spare chair at table)

Mother (stands up and walks toward kitchen) I’ll put on the kettle.

Uncle Em: (exaggerated accent) Ah yes. A spot of tea. Good for what ails you, as they say.

Polly: Nobody bloody says that. You’re a simpleton, you mad man.

Uncle Em: (sarcastic exaggeration with smile) At your service, m’dear. (bows deferentially)

Mother: (in ‘kitchen’) Polly, would you like some lunch? You must be starving.

Polly: Thank you, no. Just the tea, please.

(Mother starts bustling about getting with kettle and teapot)

Mother: What about you, Em?

Uncle Em: No. No. Not a morsel. I shall drink in the beauty of my beloved Pip. Nothing more. I shall live 20 lifetimes on that alone.

Polly: (somewhat fondly) You stupid man. No one could tolerate you.

Brenna: (loudly) Well, I’m leaving. (gets up and begins to walk ‘through kitchen’, past Mother)

Mother: (through gritted teeth, to Brenna) Don’t you leave me. (Louder) Where are you headed, Brenna?

Brenna: (calls back) To bloody school. (annoyed and definitive)

(Silence but for clinking crockery and spoons)

Polly: (taken aback, then looks around her) Where are all the dogs?

End of Act One

Act Two

(Mother at kitchen counter)

(sound of door closing)

Uncle Em: (walks into kitchen from ‘stairs, sprightly and smiling, wearing a great coat) (rubs hands together) There. That should hold them until tea time.

Mother: Thanks for walking the dogs, Em. Brenna will appreciate that when she gets home.

Uncle Em: Where did you say she was going?

Mother: (trying to be civil) To school. It’s Tuesday.

Uncle Em: Ahh, of course.

Mother: (proffering teapot, plate in hand) Here, Em. Sit down and take your tea.

(Em sits)

Em: Thank you. That’s very kind (as he sits down)

(Mother puts mug and plate in front of him)

(Em picks up mug and drinks)

Em: There’s nothing like tea on a cold wintry day, now, is there?

Mother: A hot toddy would be nice, too. (regrets saying that)

Em: Ah, you’re right. A hot whiskey toddy, made with Jameson’s and honey. Have you any Irish whiskey, Gemma?

Mother: I’ll have to look. There was still some when I went to bed last night.

Em: Good. Good. I’ll have one if you’re making it.

(Mother looks daggers through him as he looks in other direction)

Silence

(Em picks up newspaper, lying folded on table; makes a ‘to do’ about snapping it open and holding it up to read) Look at that. The bloody bastards. The bastards.

Mother: (somewhat begrudgingly) What’s that, Em?

Em: They’re letting another troop of immigrants in. Flew them to Heathrow from some godforsaken place. I’ll see to this when I get home.

Mother: Home? When are you and Polly heading home, do you think? We’ll have to have a party before you leave.

Em: (puts down paper and turns to Mother) Well, we’ll have to wait until Polly’s back from South Africa, at least.

Mother: You talked to her last night. Any word of when she’s coming back?

Em: She dotes on those brats. She forgets they’re not hers and tries to take over. Elinor hates that. (he looks over to Mother). That daughter of ours does love to be bossy. (pause) Bossy Boots. I call her that. But she’s no match for Pip when Pip gets going. They usually have a huge falling out after a month or so. (chuckles) Then Elinor runs her out of town on a rail. That’s the perfect mother-daughter relationship, you see.

Mother: (laughs) Thank God Brenna and I have an easier relationship.

Em: Jolly right. But wait ‘til you have grandchildren. They cause trouble. All kids cause trouble.

Mother: Surely they don’t, Em. Some are very well-behaved and a pleasure.

Em: You’re a fool, Gemma. They’re all bad in some way. Wait long enough and you’ll see it.

Mother: Sure Caroline and Mitchell are lovely children. At least they were when they visited with Elinor last year.

Em: (snorts) They won’t be when dear old Pip is finished with them.

Silence

Mother: When will you be talking again to Polly?

Em: Tonight. If she behaves herself.

(Mother looks confused then shakes her head in resignation)

Mother: I hope she’s in good form. But you must miss her, Em, when she goes to visit Caroline and the children?

Em: (standing up, finishing his tea) Well, I must be off. The time is nigh…(as he’s pulling himself from chair (claps and rubs hands together)

Mother: It’s a wee bit early yet. She doesn’t get out until 3:45 at best. Well, I can sit in the car and read the newspaper (folds it and picks it up). You don’t mind, do you, Gem?

Mother: Will you bring it back with you? Downey would be lost without his evening read.

Em: If that’s what you want, then, that’s what I’ll do. (puts folded newspaper under arm.) Cheerio (leaves stage left.

Mother: Cheerio. (to herself) He’ll not bring it back, and there’ll be a war when there’s no paper here. (pause as she’s ‘cutting vegetables’) I’ll have to go down the road to the Variety Mart and get another one. I hope they’re not sold out.

(pause) The pair of them can’t leave soon enough.

Mother leaves stage right, rubbing hands on apron.

Sound of door opening.

Em: It’s bloody fucking cold out there. How do you live in this country? You’d have loved it in Korea. If you like the heat you would.

Brenna: You’re right. I hate winter. And cold. And snow.

Em: Too bloody right. Now, though, it was no Palais Royale there in the jungle, but you wouldn’t freeze like in this godforsaken land.

Brenna: I’m going to make tea if you want it. Would you like some? Do you want something to eat?

Em: Maybe later. I’ve got a good book going in the ‘boudoir’ (exaggerated). I want to finish it tonight. (goes toward stage right to go up ‘stairs’). (pause) Right then, fat bot, I’m off. (exits stage right)

Brenna: Fat bot, my ARSE. (thinks, then laughs). Well, that’s appropriate. (pause) God, I hate that man.

Mother: Hello, hello… (comes in stage left) I’m back.

Brenna: I didn’t know you were gone.

Mother: (quietly to Brenna) Where is he?

Brenna: (nods towards the upstairs). He’s in his ‘boudoir’ – what a pain in the arse – reading…methinks. Me also thinks he’s a cross dresser, calling it a boudoir.

Mother: God forgive you.

Brenna: God forgive me? God forgive him, more like. Them.

Mother: Will you set the table for the four of us, please?

Brenna: Yeah, in a minute. (sniffles)

Mother: Well you’ve got 45 minutes until this goes on the table. The second your Dad’s home. (pause, looks at Brenna) Are you crying? (she bends down to see into Brenna’s downturned face) Why? What is it?

Brenna: That rotten man.

Mother: What rotten man? There’s more than one about.

They look at each other and laugh, begrudgingly.

Brenna: The uncle. He’s an asshole.

Mother: (sighs) What did he do now, I’m afraid to ask?

Brenna: He won’t stop calling me ‘Fat Bot’. I’ve told him I’m anorexic, but he keeps saying it.

Mother: Sure he doesn’t know what he’s saying half the time. The DTs won’t ever leave him. He thinks he’s still in the horrible. Imagine. Alone. Nothing to eat. Nothing to protect himself from God knows who. Or what.

Brenna: North Koreans, most like.

Mother: (grimaces) Was it North? Was it not South?

Brenna: No, it was North because Seoul was the capital of the South, and he wasn’t there.

Mother: Are you not thinking of Saigon?

Brenna: (faux disgusted) No…that’s VietNam.

Mother: Seoul…Saigon. Whatever. It was jungle and he was lost for days.

Brenna: Still. It’s shitty of him calling me that. He told me he used to call Caroline that, and she punched him in the face one time. Tempting.

Mother: It is, aye.

Brenna: I wonder if it’s the DTs or the pills or the booze that makes him half mad?

Mother: I imagine it’s a bit of all three.

Brenna: More like a lot of all three.

Mother: True.

Sound of door slamming upstairs, and another off stage right.

Mother: Jesus, Mary and Joseph, they’re both here. Get that table set. Where’s the newspaper I bought? Do you know did Em bring back the one he took?

Brenna: (carrying cutlery to table) I have no idea. He was just very jolly when he picked me up. He’s definitely better without her about.

Mother: Ah, it’s a pity of them. God help them.