Dos Madres by Barbara Alfaro

This Play is the copyright of the Author and must NOT be Performed without the Author's PRIOR consent

CHARACTERS

Meg Sheridan, 39 years old, a writer.

Celia Sheridan, 44 years old, a missionary nun and Meg’s sister.

Beth Preston, 46 years old, a prospective adoptive parent.

Maria Camino, 25 years old, a widow and mother. Speaks with a pronounced Spanish accent.
.
Diedre Sheridan, 75 years old and Meg’s mother.

PLACE

New York City

TIME

2003
 
SCENE 1

Setting: A small sofa. There is an end table beside the sofa. A desk with a laptop and desk chair are nearby. A wedding picture of Meg’s parents, a photograph of Meg and Celia when they children and a photograph is of both girls with their father are on the desk. Fresh cut flowers are in a vase on the small end table.

At Rise: Meg sits at her desk, typing on her laptop. She stops typing, rises, and speaks directly to the audience.

MEG: Characters in a play, from Iago to Tom Wingfield, talk directly to the audience because, just as in life, it’s difficult to be wholly honest with those we love. Nudity is easy, it’s a naked soul that terrifies. So, we stand here telling our stories with the same harsh honesty that happens between strangers on a train. I know, because I’m a writer, you can try many times to have two characters in a scene speak to one another in an intimate way they never would if they were real and alive and each time, they’ll defy you, turn to the truth, and talk in that direct soft voice people confiding use.

It’s funny how sometimes sisters are assigned roles – the good one and the bad one, like in a fairy tale. My sister Celia was one of those people who, you know, took Christ literally. You see pictures of them in missionary magazines – smiling in the slums of Nairobi and San Salvador – while the rest of us are rushing to department store sales. I don’t understand that kind of courage. I’ve spent most of my life neck and neck with the Cowardly Lion. Celia ran away to God and I, I stayed here in the city where all you need is a sense of humor and the rent money.

I remember once when I was real little, I had a terrible nightmare. My sister comforted me by saying it was only a dream, that dreams couldn’t hurt us. But she was wrong because her dream caused her death. And my dream is one I duke it out with on a daily basis. The older I get, the surer I am dreams should come with warnings like the ones on cigarette packages – Caution, hazardous to your heart.

I’m like Psyche. You remember Psyche, the one with all the impossible tasks? Sorting seeds, gathering golden wool, fetching water from the River Styx. And as if all that weren’t enough, she had to steal beauty secrets from the Queen of the Dead.

Marriage seems to be my impossible task. I’ve been married twice. Oh, don’t feel sorry for me. I have the distinction of being the one who left. I have the distinction of being alone. Faith is another. How could Celia have been so certain there is a God? How weary the good make me. How tiresome they are with their shiny, righteous souls. It’s as if sin is something they’ve only heard of or read about.

The last time I saw my sister, I lost my temper with her. She put her hand out to me and I wouldn’t take it. She held me in her arms and I pushed her away. I pushed her away.



SCENE 2

At Rise: Beth is sitting on the sofa. Meg is standing nearby. She is looking over letters and legal documents.

MEG: Tell me again how you heard about me.

BETH: I overheard someone at a dinner party mention that you’re a playwright who does translations on the side.

MEG: The title of next play, “Overheard at a Dinner Party.”

BETH: As I said over the phone, my husband and I are in the process of adopting a Guatemalan boy. My Spanish is weak so I’ll need you to translate the adoption papers and other relevant documents. There is an element of urgency involved. You know the political situation in his country. And, of course, there isn’t even the most basic healthcare. I’ve traveled there twice with the church group I’m affiliated with to visit the orphanage but I’m not sure how many times I’ll be allowed back, at least with any guarantee of safe return. My husband and I are arranging to bring the boy here as soon as possible while there is still some assurance of safe passage. I’m hoping that once all the papers are in order, the adoption can proceed rather quickly.

MEG: How old is the boy?

BETH: Juan is three years old.

MEG: I see from these papers that his mother is alive.

BETH: Yes. Maria Camino…They’re mostly legal documents but there are also letters from Juan’s mother…to him, to Juan. They’re the blue stationery. I’d like to keep translations for Juan, for when he is older. I anticipate a time when he tries to understand and I don’t want him to judge her.

MEG: Or you.

BETH: I beg your pardon?

MEG: I imagine you don’t want Juan to judge you either.

BETH: I never thought of it that way. You said over the phone you know the village the boy is from. Have you been there?

MEG: No. Not me. My sister Celia was a nun there.

BETH: A Maryknoll?

MEG: She was a member of their order. You read about the two missionaries who were murdered?

BETH: I did.

MEG: My sister was one of them.

BETH: For God’s sake!

MEG: Yes.
 
SCENE 3

At rise: Night. Meg is seated at her desk. She is translating Maria’s letters. She handwrites her translations on a note pad, she pauses momentarily, looks up from her notes and then returns to translating. Maria can be heard singing the following lullaby in Spanish but she is not yet visible to the audience.

Arroz Con Leche

Arroz con leche
me quiero casar
con una señorita
de San Nicolás

Que sepa coser
Que sepa border
Que sepa abrir la Puerta
para ir a jugar

Con esta si
con esta no
con esta señorita
me caso yo


LIGHTS UP on Maria as LIGHTS DIM on Meg though Meg is still visible to the audience. It is clear that what Maria is saying is what Meg is translating at that moment.

MARIA: Precious Child. Little Bear, Osito. I hope someday when you are older you can understand what has happened and forgive me. The first thing to know is that I do not need you to love me for me to love you. I brought you to the orphanage so that you would be safe. I did not intend to give you up. I only wanted the sisters to protect you. The death squads are everywhere. I never know when they will strike. I only wanted you to be safe. But I know now you are not safe even with the good sisters…There are pictures of you I carry always with me in my heart…how, Little Bear, Osito, when you are playing, you suddenly turn to me and smile, and your eyes darting from side to side whenever you have misbehaved or thought something funny. And, at the end of the day, exhausted, but fighting sleep all the way, you lay your head on my lap and fall asleep. I listen to you breathing softly. You are my Little Bear, brave and strong. Sweet One, Darling, I was afraid for you so I brought you to the sisters. Then something not expected happened. A group of American ladies came to our village and visited the orphanage…Because you will live where there is freedom, you will never know what the lack of it is. The sisters taught me to read and to write but I want so much more for you. I want you to live where beautiful things can happen. I want your childhood to be…

LIGHTS FADE on Maria. LIGHTS UP on Meg.

MEG: Oh God, Celia, I miss you! Remember us when we were kids. How we used to set each other’s hair with those big, goofy curlers and paint our toenails and talk about boys till we were blurry-eyed. I have the strangest thoughts, Celia. I wonder why there were never any fresh flowers in the house. Isn’t that wild? God, were we that poor? I’m sure we could have afforded some flowers sometimes, especially before Da died. Maybe, if we had some flowers, maybe if we just had a bunch of goddamn daisies on the kitchen table, we would have been more normal!

MEG (Regaining her composure, addresses the audience.)
I can return to that last time with my sister as easily as walking into another room.

LIGHTS FADE but do not go completely to black. LIGHTS UP creating a surreal, dreamlike mood so it is clear that the following scene is a flashback scene.
 
SCENE 4

At rise: Celia sits on the living room chair, her eyes closed, her arms outstretched beside her, palms open. Folded bed linens and a pillow are on the sofa. Celia is meditating and has been for some while. She is dressed in contemporary casual clothing, not the traditional or old-fashion nun’s habit. The only sign she is a nun is the small wood cross (a cross, not a crucifix) she is wearing. Meg enters, carrying two cups of coffee, sees Celia meditating and turns to leave. Sensing Meg’s presence, Celia opens her eyes.

CELIA: Oh, don’t go.

MEG: Good morning. Still cream, no sugar?

CELIA: Yes, thanks.

MEG: I’ll make us a big breakfast – eggs, fried potatoes, toast.

CELIA: I’ll help.

MEG: No, you’re the guest.

CELIA: This is a comfortable apartment…so bright. And it has a window over the kitchen sink. Mom always liked that, a window over the sink. I remember her singing, just washing the dishes, she’d start singing.

MEG: Yeah, she was a regular songbird before Da died.

CELIA: Her singing voice was so beautiful. How are you, Megan?

MEG: I’m good. I have my books and my music.

CELIA: I don’t like to think of you being so alone.

MEG: I have friends who enjoy the things I do. Don’t be sad for me, Celia. Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if you hadn’t become intoxicated with missionary zeal?

CELIA: What a way to put it, you my make my faith sound like an affliction. You mean if I had a different vocation?

MEG: Yeah, if you hadn’t become a nun, if you’d stayed in New York. You and I could be sipping chilled white wine and munching spinach salads in some lovely restaurant, catching a matinee of a Broadway play – after taking turns standing on line at Times Square for half price theater tickets. Or better still, we’d break the long family tradition of borderline poverty and be very well to do. Maybe we’d be married ladies double dating with our hubbies. Both men are, of course, breathtakingly handsome and fabulously wealthy.

CELIA: Yes, of course. Will there be a passel of children too?

MEG: Runny-nosed, noisy miniatures of ourselves? For me, no thanks! You, on the other hand, as a devout Catholic, would have eight little kiddies.

CELIA: Only eight?

MEG: Oh, all right, make it an even dozen, but that does seem a matter between you and your billionaire husband.

CELIA: You have quite an imagination.

MEG: Oh, I don’t know, sisters usually live in the same country.

CELIA: I think of you and Mom every day…every day. I can’t forget the terrorist attack.

MEG: September 11th, I couldn’t stop shaking…my whole body kept trembling violently. Even now, two years later, whenever I hear a siren, every nerve in my body quivers.

CELIA: (Taking Meg’s hand in hers) Why don’t you move to someplace terrorists have never heard of? Someplace safe.
MEG: You’re a fine one to talk…You were always so affectionate with Mom and Da, holding their hands, hugging them. I could never be demonstrative like that. I remember once, I think I was around seven years old, I put a note on Mom’s pillow that said, “I know I don’t show it, but I love you.” Always the writer! If there really is a God, I’m sure after I die, he’ll say, “You were supposed to show it.” Don’t you miss anything here at all?

CELIA: I miss the quiet of convent life…silence during meals when all you hear is the clinking of ice cubes in a glass of water or a fork placed on the side of a plate. I loved the quiet. Studying in my room or praying in chapel, it was…But now, at the mission, taking care of so many children, especially the little ones, there’s not much time for…Still, I love the work. I feel it’s the way it was in the beginning, you know, for the early Christians, before the churches and cathedrals – groups of people coming together and living the gospel. At the center, we are able to care for a little over three hundred children but there are thousands of homeless children, thousands! Most of the street children are ten or eleven but some are as young as four. These children are murdered, often by the police during the night, and even in broad daylight while people pass by seeing everything and doing nothing.

MEG: One of the characters in Brecht’s The Three Penny Opera says “Human beings have the horrid capacity to make themselves heartless at will.”

CELIA: What kind of people murder children?

MEG: What kind of people look the other way? God! Celia! You’re not safe there! Why stay?

CELIA: Para los niños. (Translation: For the children). I lose heart sometimes. In Guatemala, faith is a full-time job…Oh Meg, it’s so good to be spending this time together. I called as soon as I got to the Mother House. I caught the first train I could.

MEG: The Mother House! All I can think of are Star Trek episodes with the mother ship. I see a big spacecraft filled with Maryknoll nuns! Mother Superior is in the commander’s chair and she looks not surprisingly like Captain Kirk.

CELIA: (Laughing) Oh Meg, no one makes me laugh the way you do.

MEG: Well, we here at the Sister House are glad you’re here.