An Almost Perfect Thing Read online

  An Almost Perfect Thing © 2014 by Nicole Moeller

  Playwrights Canada Press

  202-269 Richmond Street West, Toronto, ON, Canada M5V 1X1

  phone 416.703.0013 • [email protected] • www.playwrightscanada.com

  No part of this book may be reproduced, downloaded, or used in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, except for excerpts in a review or by a licence from Access Copyright, www.accesscopyright.ca.

  For professional or amateur production rights, please contact the publisher

  Cover design and illustration by Sébastien Thibadeau

  Book design by Blake Sproule

  Author Photo © Fred Katz Photographic

  The Alegreya serif typeface used was designed by Juan Pablo del Peral. The Source Sans Pro sans serif typeface was designed by Paul D. Hunt. The typefaces are used under the SIL Open font license version 1.1.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Moeller, Nicole, author

  An Almost Perfect Thing [electronic resource] / Nicole Moeller.

  A play.

  Electronic monograph in multiple formats.

  Issued also in print format.

  ISBN 978-1-77091-208-3 (PDF).--ISBN 978-1-77091-209-0 (epub)

  I. Title

  PS8626.O4325A64 2014 C812'.6 C2013-907999-8

  C2013-908000-7

  We acknowledge the financial support of the Canada Council for the Arts, the Ontario Arts Council (OAC)—an agency of the Government of Ontario, which last year funded 1,681 individual artists and 1,125 organizations in 216 communities across Ontario for a total of $52.8 million—the Ontario Media Development Corporation, and the Government of Canada through the Canada Book Fund for our publishing activities.

  For Jared and Tracy

  A Note About the Style of the Play

  The scenes in which the characters address the audience directly are indicated throughout the play. In these scenes, each character is telling his/her individual story. They are not interacting with each other, but it is important to note that often one character's line informs or affects the next character's line. The scenes should bleed into each other quickly without solid blackouts. This is especially true of act one, scenes two through nine, which should almost be treated as though they were one.

  An Almost Perfect Thing was first produced by Workshop West Theatre at La Cité Francophone, Edmonton, Alberta, in March 2011. It featured the following cast and creative team:

  Chloe: Tess Degenstein

  Mathew: David Ley

  Greg: Frank Zotter

  Directed by Michael Clark

  Dramaturgy by Tracy Carroll

  Set and costume design by Daniela Masellis

  Lighting design by Itai Erdal

  Composition/sound design by Darrin Hagen

  Movement coach: Marie Nychka

  Stage managed by Lester Lee

  Special acknowledgement: Michael Peng

  Characters

  Greg: forty

  Mathew: in his forties

  Chloe: twelve to eighteen

  Locations

  Multiple settings are used throughout, with Mathew's house and Greg's condo often used on stage at the same time.

  ACT ONE

  SCENE ONE

  To the audience.

  GREG

  Once upon a time…

  MATHEW

  There was a girl.

  GREG

  A woman I guess you could call her by now.

  CHLOE bursts onto the stage gasping for air.

  A lady.

  CHLOE

  Bouchard Crescent.

  MATHEW

  She falls from the sky it seems.

  GREG

  Out of nowhere, really.

  MATHEW

  She appears like an angel.

  GREG

  Clinging to some sort of hope. Like she did for thousands of days before this one.

  MATHEW

  Waiting—

  CHLOE tries to catch her breath.

  CHLOE

  Smithson Avenue.

  MATHEW

  —to be saved.

  CHLOE

  Oak. Pine. Crab apple.

  GREG

  She races past the houses that once meant something.

  MATHEW

  Searching, hoping, praying.

  GREG

  Past that same brown Ford truck that's been rusting in front of that—

  CHLOE

  —grey house—

  GREG

  —since she was a little girl. And then she sees it. Like a piece of heaven and hell all mixed in one. She sees it.

  CHLOE

  Home.

  Beat. They all breathe together.

  SCENE TWO

  Shift. Martini Bar. To the audience.

  GREG

  I'm at this party. Opening of a new martini bar downtown called Martini Bar. I know four things about most people here:

  Career choice.

  Accomplishments or lack thereof.

  Where they sit on the political spectrum.

  And their preferred alcoholic beverage.

  Other than that I know as little about them as they do about me.

  Beat. He looks around the bar.

  Feel the beat of the music in my chest.

  Drink burning my throat.

  Head light.

  Search the bar…

  For someone…

  Anyone…

  Breathe…

  SCENE THREE

  Police station. To the audience.

  CHLOE

  (said at the same time as GREG) Breathe…

  My dad takes me to the police station. They put me in a small room and—

  The sound of a heavy door slamming.

  Dad!

  Why am I here? Am I in trouble?

  —Dad

  Don't cry. Bite my cheeks. Dig my fingernails into my hands.

  (imitating police officer) "Sorry for the wait there uh, Miss Evans. My name is Constable Peterson, but I want you to call me Ann, okay? We're going to get ya to the hospital in a bit here. But first, how 'bout we retrace your steps. How did you get to your dad's?"

  (to audience) Her voice… her body, her smile, the way she holds her hands together like that… She's nervous. I'm not in trouble. I can tell.

  (to police officer) I have to go. I have to go to the dentist. My teeth hurt. My teeth hurt so bad. Please. I have to go. I have to go NOW! I HAVE TO GO NOW!

  SCENE FOUR

  MATHEW's house, upstairs. To the audience.

  MATHEW

  Chloe!

  My head is…

  Chloe?

  He reaches for her.

  The couch…

  So groggy…

  Chloe?

  Fell asleep… I fell asleep…

  He looks around for her.

  Chloe?

  The light…

  downstairs…

  keys…

  The door is… open.

  What?

  Chloe?

  SCENE FIVE

  Martini Bar.

  GREG

  (to woman) Hey—I was hoping I'd see you. How've you been? I've missed you.

  (to audience) Alicia. Alyssa? Alyssia…

  (to woman) So. You feel
like getting outta here? For old time's sake…

  (imitating woman) "Didn't you just turn forty? Aren't you getting a little tired of the one-night stand? Greg."

  Beat.

  (acknowledging someone across the bar) Hey.

  (to the audience) We work together. He's young—younger than me—and he's already moved his way to the top. Traffic report to front page to "number one news blogger." Apparently his Twitter account has about five billion followers.

  (to co-worker) This, my friend, is for you. I figure it's time that I—

  He takes it and hands me the empty he's holding.

  (imitating co-worker) "Thanks."

  Asshole. Why do they all love him? Why did he get promoted? Why do I have to—

  SCENE SIX

  The hospital. To the audience.

  CHLOE

  (cutting GREG off, as if continuing his line) Why do I have to stay at the hospital?

  Why are the police holding my dad? Why won't he stop crying?

  (imitating dad) "Chloe! My baby! My baby! Chloe—"

  Why don't I feel anything?

  They make me share a room.

  I lock myself in the bathroom.

  I think about him.

  I breathe deep 'cause we have a connection and it'll make him breathe deep.

  He'll get crazy if he doesn't. Five… four… three…

  SCENE SEVEN

  MATHEW's house. To the audience.

  MATHEW

  Two… one…

  Search every room.

  Outside.

  Inside.

  She—

  Must—

  Be—

  Chloe—

  Somewhere.

  Through the house—

  Under the beds.

  Chairs.

  Cupboards.

  Chloe—

  She said—

  She'd never—

  Chloe—

  Grab my gun.

  Grab my gun.

  Finger on the trigger.

  She said she'd never leave me.

  Sweat dripping. Eyes burning—

  SCENE EIGHT

  Martini Bar. GREG wipes sweat from his forehead. To the audience.

  GREG

  I hate when I sweat. Drips from my forehead. Burns my eyes.

  Beat. He looks around the bar.

  I'm sick of this shit.

  He hails a cab.

  I grab a cab and head home.

  (to neighbours) Nice night.

  My neighbours don't talk. Not even when spoken to.

  We ride the seventeen floors in silence.

  Go inside.

  Turn on the TV.

  Make myself a drink.

  Rye and ginger.

  Go out on the balcony.

  Look down on the people below.

  Breathe.

  Beat.

  There are three million people in this city.

  If I jumped… if I fell…

  Would any of their lives be disrupted… altered… changed?

  I imagine, like everyone does sometimes, standing on the railing, looking down on the people below, and then just falling.

  Free. Finally…

  Beat. Lights up on MATHEW.

  And then—

  MATHEW

  I see it.

  GREG

  Hear it.

  MATHEW

  Chloe—

  GREG

  Evans. Chloe Evans.

  MATHEW

  A note. Her writing.

  GREG

  Run inside.

  MATHEW

  (reading) Dearest Mathew—

  Chloe—

  GREG

  Evans. Eighteen. Missing since she was twelve.

  MATHEW

  Chloe, no—

  GREG

  We— I— We— Thought she was dead.

  MATHEW

  Chloe!

  GREG

  This was my story. Six years ago this was—

  SCENE NINE

  To the audience.

  CHLOE

  (to nurse) I need air. I need to feel fresh air in my lungs.

  The sound and lights of flashing cameras.

  It hasn't even been a whole day… Their lights—

  She shields her eyes.

  They push past each other, trip over each other to get to me.

  Microphones in my face.

  Tape recorders at my mouth.

  More cameras, flashing and clicking.

  I need to… I want to… I don't know how to—

  Beat.

  And then I see it.

  Lights on MATHEW and GREG.

  MATHEW

  Turn on the TV.

  GREG

  Turn up the volume.

  CHLOE

  My reflection in the camera.

  GREG

  She looks—

  CHLOE

  Terrified.

  GREG

  Weak.

  MATHEW

  Remember your strength.

  CHLOE

  Remember my strength. Dig my fingernails into my hands. Bite my cheeks. Breathe. They look like animals.

  MATHEW

  Hair messy. Sweater crooked.

  CHLOE

  Desperate.

  GREG

  Face changed. Eyes the same.

  CHLOE

  Someone tries to pull me inside. (to nurse) Stop it!

  MATHEW

  And now—

  CHLOE

  I lock eyes with all of them. Smile. And say nothing.

  MATHEW

  I'll go back to the beginning.

  CHLOE

  Smile and say nothing.

  GREG

  This is my story.

  CHLOE

  Because this is my story.

  MATHEW

  This is my story.

  SCENE TEN

  Shift. To the audience.

  MATHEW

  I admit—

  CHLOE

  —the beginning—

  GREG

  —is a bit of a blur.

  CHLOE

  They push me from hospital to police to my dad to psychologists to my dad to police.

  GREG

  The picture of her smiling is in every newspaper, every news website across the country.

  MATHEW

  Ever since my mum died, I like to go to the library. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. It's a Wednesday when I first see her. The little girl.

  GREG

  Immediately my editor tells me someone else is assigned to the story.

  MATHEW

  She sits alone in the corner. Eight feet from where I am.

  GREG

  Her dad—

  CHLOE

  My dad—

  GREG

  It's him I need to talk to.

  MATHEW

  That leaves her here.

  CHLOE

  He doesn't have a clue what to say to me.

  GREG

  Of course he's not talking.

  MATHEW

  I watch him leave her here alone. For weeks he does this.

  GREG

  For weeks we hear nothing. The police keep saying the investigation is ongoing.

  MATHEW

  She's so well behaved. Barely moves a muscle.

  GREG

  We find out she's refusing to work with the police. They can't force her. She's done nothing wrong. They leave it up to the team of psychologists but—

&
nbsp; CHLOE

  No one can make you talk.

  GREG

  The story goes from national to international.

  CHLOE

  People follow me everywhere.

  GREG

  They say she was a runaway in Vancouver, Seattle, Winnipeg, Toronto, New York, London, Beijing. Men take credit for taking her. Women take credit for taking her.

  MATHEW

  The way she bites her fingernails and sticks her tongue out just a bit when she's writing… the way she smiles whenever she catches me looking at her.

  GREG

  Media from around the world park outside of her house. Still she says nothing.

  CHLOE

  I open the curtains. I stand at the window and I stare at them.

  MATHEW

  I'm drawn to her.

  GREG

  Lots of people wrote about her six years ago, but not like me. I was in the right place at the right time. For some reason I got exclusive interviews with her father. I sat with him as he cried. He showed me her bedroom, toys, video games. I interviewed her teachers, her friends. It wasn't just a story. I cared about her. About finding her. About catching the person who took her.

  CHLOE

  No one found me. For six years no one—

  GREG

  So I feel like I deserve this.

  MATHEW

  I feel like we're connected.

  GREG

  But just because you deserve something doesn't mean you'll get it. Because who am I, right? Nobody. Nothing. The words echo through my mind as I drive past her house two, three, four times a day. Follow her as she's driven around the city. Waiting for… something. Anything. A picture. Chance to talk to her. Some new information. You are so pathetic, Greg. I'm about to give up and—

  Beat.

  It's a random night. A not so random 7-Eleven.

  SCENE ELEVEN

  Shift. A 7-Eleven. GREG is inside. CHLOE enters. He checks her out, and she notices.

  GREG

  Go with cinnamon. Always a good choice.

  CHLOE

  Thank you for the recommendation. But I like spearmint.

  She looks at him. He recognizes her. She walks away. He follows.

  GREG

  Uh…

  CHLOE

  It's just gum, Mr. Kalowitz.