Issue 3 • Fall 2002 • Featured Writer • Drama
Nicola Harwood
V
Everywhere. Dust.
Martha and Lily. The reservation. Lily above.
MARTHA
I'm concerned there's drugs involved or in the very least alcohol...Hanna's had these incidents recently...She must have...how sacred? Don't they do drugs at places like that? The Mexicans do. I know that much. I just don't want her jumping off any cliffs...or driving into -- Do you have a car ? If you could just show me where you think I might find them.
LILY
There's cars.
MARTHA
They took my car.
LILY
I'll take you.
MARTHA
You will?
LILY
Sure. I know where they are.
MARTHA
What about the police? Should I call the police?
LILY
Oh no, no need to bother about that guy. We'll go -- just the two of us.
MARTHA
Where? Where are we going?
LILY
Like you said -- sacred places.
Hanna and Frances in Martha's car. Yelling, country music. Tires squealing. Glass breaking. Hanna and Frances come to an abrupt stop. Sound of bar under.
FRANCES
Welcome to the Ranch Hotel!
HANNA
I thought you said sacred places!
FRANCES
First bar to let Indians drink inside.
HANNA
Why are we here?
FRANCES
Lookin' for someone.
HANNA
Who?
FRANCES
My father.
HANNA
We can't go in there. You can't go in there.
FRANCES
Why not?
HANNA
With me.
FRANCES
You wanna know what it's like to be Indian.
Frances starts walking into the bar. Hanna grabs her.
HANNA
No!
FRANCES
Let go of me.
HANNA
Let's get out of here. Come on, please.
FRANCES
Go then! GO! Take your Mom's car and go.
HANNA
I can't drive!
FRANCES
Then walk.
Frances pulls away and goes into the bar. Hanna hesitates. Follows.
Lily, still above, sits as though driving. Martha also sits, below, as though being driven. Lily turns the car, they bump over a pothole and she pulls to a stop. Martha is uneasy.
MARTHA
Where are we?
Lily climbs out of the car. (She remains above the stage) Starts pulling out all the stolen equipment.
LILY
This is the camp Alex Jack made the night he disappeared. Last place anyone saw him alive. You got all this fancy equipment. Money. A whole crew of hippies working for ya. Lookin' for arrowheads. Maybe it's time you started lookin' for something a bit more contemporary.
Dumps equipment on the ground.
MARTHA
I am looking for my daughter!
LILY
Welcome to the club.
Lily climbs back in her "car."
MARTHA
Where are you going?
LILY
Gotta get back home. Got something on the stove.
MARTHA
Oh no you're not -- you're not just leaving me here. You can't just leave me here. I don't know where I am -- I could --
LILY
Only four, five hour walk back as the crow flies. But then -- you find them girls. They'll give you a ride.
Lily disappears.
Alice dripping wet with only her paddle and broken compass. No shotgun, no pack.
ALICE
The truth is, exploration is not a vague science. You do not wander about aimlessly until you happen to strike upon some thing or some where. The ocean perhaps. The edge of the world. And fall off of it. No. Quite the opposite. Exploration consists of detailed observations culminating in relatively accurate predictions based upon applied assumptions. Which is something people of the great Western civilizations have come to have great faith in. Assumptions.
She looks one last time at her broken compass, bangs it against her leg. Bangs it again.)
I swear "true north" has become an oxymoron.
She wanders off.
MARTHA
Hanna!?
Martha exits, searching for Hanna.
The bar. Frances and Hanna. Sound of bar.
FRANCES
I see him from the back. I recognize his black hair -- kinda messy and his big shoulders and his red checked wool jacket. I know it's him. I don't care if he's drunk. I don't care if he tries to hit me. I'm here to take him home and make him stay there, make it so he never goes to town that night. He'll stay home and in the morning we'll go get firewood or maybe just drive around. I got it in my head -- the map of that night all drawn up ready for him to say "I never drove to town with Johnny and Peter Salis. No.
I stayed home. Next day, you and me went to get firewood or maybe we just drove around. You remember."
Or maybe I'm gonna kill him when I find him. Make him turn around and if I could I'd drive a bullet between his wide black eyes. Maybe I'm gonna kill him this time.
And I come up on his back and I'm double scared now cuz it's the same dream, the same nightmare that I touch him on the shoulder and he turns around and there's no face at all, just a pile of white ash like under the stove and so I go up to him --
HANNA
You. You are supposed to take me to the sacred places. A new place. A very old place. Anyplace. But this. Not this dark bar full of men. Not here. Not this.
FRANCES
Every two weeks I come to town and I walk through every bar in town lookin' for my father. He's there. He's in every one of them and I'm walking from one bar to the next looking for the back of his head, looking for a trace. And every time I go up to him and touch him on the shoulder and make him turn around and look at me. Make him turn around and look at me. Make him turn his face around and look at me.
HANNA
There's no one. There is no one who has ever looked like you ... and I look. We are ghost lovers. Maybe we don't exist at all. Without a route home, guidelines or measurements. All I need is one fixed point and I can make a map. Find out where we are. Find the place where we could be. One fixed point. A planet. A star. Your face. Mars. Look at me. Turn around and look at me. Turn your face around and look at me.
Hanna reaches to touch Frances . Sound of bar out. Frances swings abruptly to face Hanna, fist raised. Sound back in.
FRANCES
Why did you follow me in here?
HANNA
You brought me here!
FRANCES
You like it?
HANNA
No.
FRANCES
Come on. It's the wild west. We'll have a few beers. We'll dance.
HANNA
Where's your father?
FRANCES
Come on. Let's dance.
Frances pulls Hanna to her, starts to kiss her.
MALE VOICE
Hey!
Someone grabs Frances from the back and she turns and swings. Hanna screams. Black.
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