A Ten-Minute Play

By: Judith Pratte

CHARACTERS

BARBARA: 55-70, but doesn’t act like it. An original—not eccentric, not an ex-hippie, but all and only herself.

JANIE : BARBARA’s daughter, 35-45. Carefully groomed. Hidden depths.

SETTING
Barbara’s house.

TIME Today.

BARBARA is doing karaoke without a machine, singing and dancing along with the Japanese band the 5-6-7-8s. She is using some kind of programmable player so she can easily punch up each tune.

BARBARA
singing and strutting, bad Japanese accent I walk like Jayne Mansfield. I talk like Jayne Mansfield.

JANIE enters and watches.

JANIE Mother. Mother. MOTHER!

BARBARA jumps a foot.

BARBARA
Shit, you scared the crap outa me. Didn’t I teach you to knock on the door?

JANIE turning down the music
I banged on the door. I leaned on the doorbell. It’s a wonder the neighbors don’t complain.

BARBARA
That’s why I don’t have ‘em. Oh hell, walked right into that one, didn’t I? Don’t get on me about living way out here by myself. We did that last time you visited. Couple of months ago now, isn’t it?

JANIE
I had an errand out here, so I thought I’d just stop by on my way back.

BARBARA
That’s very nice, dear. You’re a nice daughter. Would you like some tea?

JANIE without sarcasm That would be nice.

BARBARA
I’ll put the nice kettle on. [exits, calls from the kitchen]. Plain, chai, or celestial silage?

JANIE Herbal tea would be lovely, thanks.
BARBARA enters.

BARBARA
Kettle’s on the boil. Dear me, I’d planned to make gingerbread men cookies this morning but I’m not so young as I used to be, and somehow I just didn’t get around to it. Would you like a nice store-bought cookie?

JANIE
There’s no need to be sarcastic.

BARBARA
No. Sorry. But “I just thought I’d stop by,” what is that? You have something to say, let’s have it.

JANIE You’re always so confrontational.

BARBARA
And you never are. I know, right? It’s how you rebel—don’t be like your mother. Okay, no confrontations. How are you, dear? How’s Joshua? How’s Michael?

JANIE
I’m fine. Your grandson is fine. Michael is okay.

BARBARA
Okay?

JANIE
Business could be better. He works so hard.

BARBARA
You work hard too.

JANIE
Joshua will be entering kindergarten next month.

BARBARA
And you’re worried about empty nest syndrome. Don’t look at me, I never had it.

JANIE They grow up so fast.

BARBARA
They do.

JANIE
You haven’t seen Joshua in awhile. I thought maybe you’d like to come to dinner sometime.

BARBARA
Won’t he be in bed?

JANIE We could do an early dinner on Sunday.

BARBARA
I’ll check my calendar and let you know.

Pause

JANIE
So, is John here?

BARBARA
Now how did you find out about John?

JANIE
Oh, you know, it’s a small town.

BARBARA
So, you’re checking up on me?

JANIE
We’d just like to meet him, Mother. I mean, if he’s living … here.

BARBARA
We’re living together.

JANIE Have you known him long?

BARBARA
We go back a ways. He’s got a son who lives in Clarkville, so he decided to retire here.

JANIE
Clarkville’s forty miles away.

BARBARA
Forty-five.

JANIE
And he just moved right in with you.
BARBARA
Bringing all his disgusting music to mate with all my disgusting music. And this very trendy music machine to play them. How’d you like the 5-6-7-8s? [She turns on the sound, loud.] I think they are way cool.

JANIE Mother.

BARBARA
You just wish I listened to Peter, Paul and Mary like all the other mothers. Bob Dylan. Preelectric Bob Dylan. Holly Near.

JANIE
Could you turn that off?

BARBARA
Oh, wait, I know, you prefer Enya and elevator music.

JANIE
I do not like Enya. You always say I do, but I don’t.

BARBARA continuing
But you need to broaden your mind. Attend to the wisdom of your mother.

BARBARA switches to some ferocious rap or hip hop.

BARBARA
You might want to get used to this; Joshua will be listening to it soon.

The tea kettle screams.

BARBARA
Oops. Teatime.

BARBARA exits. JANIE turns down the music, paces. BARBARA returns with two mugs of tea, spoons sticking out.

BARBARA
Here you go. I’m just trying to tell you, you gotta get used to this stuff. He’ll find the music that you hate just to make you nuts.

JANIE
I didn’t do that.

BARBARA
No. You found other ways.

JANIE
Not on purpose. Not to make you nuts. It’s just how I am.

BARBARA
And I’m just how I am.

THEY drink their tea.

JANIE
So tell me about John.

BARBARA
He’s 49 years old. He’s a freelance Web designer. He moved here from the city. Nine-eleven got to him, and he has a granddaughter. And there was me. We decided long distance relationships suck.

JANIE Younger than you.

BARBARA
Yup. I’m a baby snatcher.

JANIE
You’re a wh—Cradle robber, mother. Baby snatching is no joke.

BARBARA
No, it works fine. Women live longer, so a younger man is better. Also, he’s had time to get used to the concept of a tough broad.

JANIE
I don’t think you’re a tough broad.

BARBARA
Don’t tell John that.

JANIE I hope we can meet him.

BARBARA
Maybe I should have you over to dinner.
JANIE
Maybe he could come with you on Sunday. If you’re free.

BARBARA
Have you talked to Michael about that?

JANIE
He’ll be fine.

BARBARA
Not when John starts telling bad jokes and vulgar war stories of a misspent life, he won’t.

JANIE Surely John can behave himself for one meal.

BARBARA
I’ve said that about your hubby many times.

JANIE
Michael is a wonderful host.

BARBARA
Michael is a pompous stuffed shirt.

JANIE
There’s no need to . . .

BARBARA
Okay, he’s a great guy, but he brings out the worst in me. And John will be worse than that.

JANIE
You think it will be better if we come here?

BARBARA
We’ll be spared the tour of the house, the pool, the elevator music. The beige décor.

JANIE
suddenly upset
You don’t like anything about me, do you? Not my house, not my husband, nothing. You think I’m a boring nobody, gave up my thrilling career as an executive staff assistant to be a housewife. I have no right to be your daughter.

BARBARA
We’ve done this. A million times. Mother daughter shit.

JANIE furious
You hate what I eat, how I dress, you hate my friends. But I have a right to live the way I think is right. You can’t—you always—you—you’re just like those mothers who criticize and criticize because their daughters are like you and they want them to be like me, and you say critical mothers are so awful and stupid, but you’re just like that with me all the time—

BARBARA turns on the music and cranks it.
Maybe Patti Smith’s. “Rock and Roll N***” . Or the most offensive music that your audience can stand.

JANIE
Mother, please. Mother. That is disGUSTING. Turn it OFF. Stop it. STOP IT. STOP. [She screams or yells, continuing until Barbara cuts the sound.]
STOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPIT

BARBARA cuts the sound. It is very quiet.

BARBARA impressed Wow.

Pause while JANIE tries to pull herself together.

BARBARA
I’m sorry you had a rootless childhood. I’m sorry I divorced your father. I’m sorry I named you Jarvia. But you changed that. You have your Janie life now, the way you want it, and I have my life the way I want it.

JANIE
I’m sorry, you always do this to me. I let you do this to me. I should just—

BARBARA continuing
I thought about leaving town, leaving you to it without your annoying mother, but I like this house, I like my friends, and I’m tired of moving around.

JANIE
continuing
I don’t know why I try. I come over here, I try to talk, just talk, but you –[Stops.] I’m tired of learning about my mother from people in the grocery store.

BARBARA
Gossipy bullshit. Put ‘em on extinction. Tell them to butt out.

JANIE
It’s not that easy.

BARBARA
Jarvia, Keen Spear, daughter of the Barbara the Barbarian. Ha-ha. More like Sell Out, daughter of . . . someone who shouldn’t have had one.

JANIE
Stranger. Barbara means stranger.

BARBARA
You’ve had thirty years to get used to that. I’m not a cookie baker.

JANIE
I am.

BARBARA
So, go bake some cookies.

JANIE Don’t you want to see your grandson grow up?

BARBARA plays another Patti Smith, quietly. Maybe “Til Victory,” or “Privilege.”

BARBARA
So, bring him to visit.

JANIE
Not with your boyfriend living here.

BARBARA
Not with my boyfriend here. Not if I teach him to listen to rap music. Not if I swear in his presence. Not if I let him eat sugar.

JANIE He’s my son.

BARBARA
Fine.

JANIE
A few simple rules …

BARBARA
Not if I teach him to dance with me. Not if I let him get filthy in the garden. Not if we watch chop socky movies. Not if we talk about religion. Not if I …

JANIE
interrupting You let me know my grandmothers.

BARBARA
I didn’t set up a lot of rules about it.

JANIE
They had rules. Especially Gramma. I loved visiting Gramma.

BARBARA
That’s where you learned ‘em. I wondered. It’s a see saw. Ticktock. My mother had rules. I don’t have rules; my daughter has rules. No matter what you do, whether he visits me or not, Joshua will not like rules.

JANIE He’s Michael’s son too.

BARBARA
How did Michael’s parents like rules? [Pause. JANIE doesn’t answer.] They were actual bona fide hippies, weren’t they? I managed to avoid that, at least. No wonder Michael and you get along. Ticktock. [Pause. JANIE is quiet.] Well?

JANIE
Sometimes you are a terrible listener.

BARBARA
I listen. My friends come to me for listening. I listen to everyone.

JANIE Not to me.

BARBARA
I listen to you.

JANIE
You interrupt all the time. You say “mother daughter shit,” and that’s the end of it. You only listen if I scream.

BARBARA
What do you want from me? I can’t be like you, you can’t be like me, Q-E-D.

JANIE
So we have to be strangers. Live in the same town and never talk. Never see your . . .

BARBARA puts on Sentimental Journey, the Les Brown/Doris Day recording. THEY listen to the first verse.

“Gonna take a Sentimental Journey, Gonna set my heart at ease. Gonna make a Sentimental Journey, to renew old memories.”

JANIE
gathering her stuff I should go.

BARBARA
Your grandfather loved that song.

JANIE
My grandfather—?

BARBARA
My dad. Loved that song.

JANIE I wish I’d known him.

BARBARA
I was young and stupid and thought he’d live forever.

JANIE
I didn’t mean to say it was your fault that I never—

BARBARA
interrupting at “fault” I know you didn’t. (Pause) I interrupted you, didn’t I?

JANIE
It’s okay.

BARBARA
Your grandfather liked rules. “Why do we have to eat with our fork?” “Because it’s good manners.” “Why do we have to have good manners?” “Because that’s the right way to behave.”

JANIE
It’s right to know your grandson.

BARBARA
Kindergarten. Already.

JANIE
Don’t worry. You’ll see him . . . now and then.

BARBARA
Did I ever tell you how much you look like my dad?

JANIE No.

BARBARA
He was an extremely stubborn man. We argued about everything. Forks, algebra, hairstyles, the best way to mow the lawn. Drove my mother nuts. But we liked it. [Pause] You look like him, but inside you’re more like my mother.

JANIE
Ticktock.

BARBARA
When I was about twenty-eight, Gramma and I were fighting. Not arguing, fighting. I hardly called home for a year. More. But your grandfather called me every month. “Hi, it’s Dad. How are you, Barbie?” “Fine, Dad.” “That’s nice.”

BARBARA and JANIE listen to Sentimental Journey for awhile.

JANIE
That’s nice.

End