Tara Rebele
is the author of And I’m Not Jenny,
forthcoming this spring from Slope Editions. The following performance piece
is from that collection.
In Penumbral Flats
Characters:
Lucia: live performer
Mother: video projection
Mental Health Professional (MHP): cardboard cutout with audio feed
Note: Lucia
begins in the light in order to look back at her shadows. The initial Summer
section of the piece chronologically follows the final Spring section. This
should be indicated in production.
The movement sequence between seasons is indicated in {} and should occur in
a circular, perhaps spiral, pattern. The movement sequence at the end of the
initial Summer section should break from the pattern. Percussion rhythms may
accompany the movement sequences, paced according to the speed of the
movement; if percussion is not used, some noise would be appropriate.
**
Summer
Lucia:
It isn’t unpleasant as one
might expect
sitting up late
on the sofa
with the ghosts
preferable even
to years spent
refusing
to be
haunted.
One could blame
the wind
were there any
to be had.
Mother:
Lucia. Turn off the lights. It’s late.
Lucia:
Late but not
MHP:
Medication compliance.
Lucia:
every second
again
every
the heaviest of
Mother:
Lucia. The lights. We’ll have a fire. I’ve read about those lamps ...
MHP:
Breakthrough episodes.
Lucia:
Every second.
So when you stand
in the light
your shadow
lurks.
Lest you forget
yesterday
you were
Yet when darkness
there’s no shadow
of the shadow
no trace
to long
and long
it lasts
if one
lasts
long
enough
point A erased
again
This is the better
MHP:
Maintenance is crucial. Regular patterns. Monitor moods.
Continue treatment. As directed.
Mother:
You haven’t taken your pills. Here.
Aren’t you warm with all that?
Lucia:
Yes.
And lucid.
And most.
I think I’ll be going.
{Lucia moves — fast to faster}
**
Fall
Lucia:
Can you see it? Can you see it? The light at the. The light that. The light. No. Again, but not before, yet before. It’s like déjà vu. My body knows this dark. Knows what to do. Remember? No.
Mother:
When Lucia was a child she was just wild about halogen …
MHP:
As a primary light source?
Lucia:
Skin still warm. Hasn’t been long. Yet. And I know. I know. I know something in the forecast calls for wanting. And forgetting. And night for months without dreams, sleep without stir, night without night without
Mother:
Regular old bulbs just wouldn’t do for that child. And she kept the lamps on round the clock, even when she slept.
MHP:
Don’t blame yourself. There was nothing you could have done.
Lucia:
Open my eyes and see nothing. Open my eyes and see nothing. Open my eyes and see nothing. Open my eyes and see nothing. Open. See. Nothing. Was something ever?
Mother:
Well, I don’t believe that. She was so bright. So intense.
Lucia:
Circadian rhythm shifts. Sheep to squirrel. Drowse to sleep. Deep. [Yawn]
MHP:
Classic case. We’ll go the usual route. In a few months she should be as good as …
Mother:
Lucia did everything with such dramatic flair. Do you know she wanted to be an actress? From the time she was three. Her name in lights.
Lucia:
Fallen.
Post-traumatic stress? Something repressed from childhood? Inability to cope with life pressures? Negative thinking? A self-destructive bent? Situational depression stemming from the devastating break-up of my unhappy relationship with the wrong X? Or could it just be PMS? What’s the diagnosis this time?
As if
a binary situation.
The lamp is on.
It is off.
I am on. I am off.
Light. No light.
And I glide between currents paying the middle no mind.
Now I am only now.
Not then nor when.
No matter if my eyes are open.
Or closed.
Or looking.
Or not.
Most forgetting occurs in the first few moments.
And it has been long since.
[yawn]
{Lucia moves—brisk to trudge}
[gets into a bed or curls up, fetal position, on ground facing audience]
**
Winter
[Lucia is lying
still, eyes open, staring blankly outward.]
Mother:
Daddy and I went to the Riverside for lunch yesterday. We saw your old friend. From high school … oh what’s her name … she was in all the same activities as you … ummm, Amy? Annie? Angie. That’s it. Angie. Don’t know what her last name is now that she’s married. She’s got a little one — almost three. They built in that big new development on the West side. Cute little girl. Tow head. Looks just like him.
MHP:
Inadequate response to first line treatment.
Mother:
You always had so many nice young men calling on you.
MHP:
We’ll increase to the maximum dose.
Mother:
Did I tell you Uncle Roger’s retiring? He and Aunt Mimi are moving. To Arizona. The air there is better for her allergies. They just put their house up. They’re looking at an adult community. Right on a golf course. Uncle Roger says he’ll be able to just walk off his back deck and tee off. Daddy says they’d better get some of those special polycarbonate windows.
MHP:
If that doesn’t work, we’ll try an alternate first line.
Mother:
Oh snap out of it!
MHP:
And/or augment.
Mother:
Billy and Susan are coming for the weekend. Billy’s going to help Daddy replace that back porch door and Susan and I are going over to the outlet stores to shop.
Lucia:
[sits up, snapping fingers, staring out, breaks and begins to speak]
Approximately fifteen human neurons have firepower equal to
one D battery.
Beta waves — high frequency, low amp — are associated with
arousal.
I am drawn to small portable electronic devices.
And flashlights.
It usually ends disastrously.
The therapists always said it was my self-destructive tendency.
The psychiatrist says my transmissions fail.
I just fire fire fire away.
But am not received.
Says I’ve been mistreated.
For years.
It’s not uncommon, really.
To be not ground.
And undetected.
[snaps]
Angie was such a snobbish little bitch.
[snaps]
Tell Billy and Susan I say.
[snaps fingers again and lies back down]
{Stillness}
MHP:
The blood tests showed toxicity. I suppose you really weren’t
feeling well. We’ll try something else.
**
Spring
Lucia:
Once I was incandescent.
{Lucia moves — upright to forward}
**
Late Spring
MHP:
Do NOT miss a dose.
Mother:
Lucia’s never been good at following directions. Her report cards. She always got check pluses in every other category. But “Cooperates and follows directions”? Check minus.
Lucia:
[sigh] Fluorescents.
Mother:
Spirited little thing she was. Always said she’d give us a run for our money. Had no idea.
MHP:
Do NOT stop taking your meds.
Mother:
Your hair’s growing. Always liked the way it curls at the ends when it grows out. Frames that pretty face. You really ought to keep it a little longer, it’s so boyish short.
MHP:
You’ll need to be seen weekly.
Mother:
Evelyn told me a handsome young man moved in to Fraser’s old place. She thinks he’s single …
Lucia:
So you told him your lovely daughter will be outta psych soon
and is just crazy to meet him?
[louder] Fluorescents.
Mother:
Well if you’d just try …
I’m telling everyone you’re in Europe.
MHP:
Lucia’s condition …
Mother:
We’ve had enough of your shenanigans.
MHP:
She needs time. She’s ill.
Lucia:
I need light.
Flight.
Clip the wings
to save the girl.
Gray is better.
Dull is well.
Stuff a pill in me.
I am a
socket
now.
Grounded.
Empty.
Waiting
for a prong
that doesn’t
come to
surge.
Mother:
Well it’s not like she’s got cancer. Or diabetes.
Lucia:
Beta beta beta beta beta beta
baby come back
what I wouldn’t give for
a good
transistor
pen light
when I was a girl
fading
I used to poke holes in the bottom of
glow sticks
hold the string and
spin spin spin
til the dark was
interrupted
my
handspun aurora
burn me
to dawn
and if the liquid faded first
well
Mother:
I mean, she’s always been moody. You don’t have to call it a disorder. Now she has an excuse.
MHP:
She’s stable now. No moods.
[Lucia appears on video monitor]
Lucia (video):
Don’t ever go to Europe! The food here in Europe is lousy! They make you take anti-psychotic drugs and if you refuse they’ll never let you leave Europe! The other tourists here in Europe are fucking insane! At dinner today an elderly European woman tried to stab me with a spoon. She thought I was after her European pudding. They’re just crazy about their diabetic butterscotch pudding here in Europe!
[quieter] This fucking European getaway was really overpriced.
Mother:
Well, good then.
Daddy was telling me that he saw an article in Sunday’s paper about Feline Leukemia, it listed the symptoms and he’s afraid Mitts might be sick. We’re getting her tested next
Lucia (live performer):
Excuse me
but I seem to be
eclipsed.
[Lucia moves — fast to faster]