First of all, I deeply apologize for my absence—the Abbey's been more hectic than usual.
Secondly, amongst this crazy week (covered in AP Euro tests and AP Euro identifications and Drama monologues and Enharmonix rehearsals and voice lessons and Legally Blonde rehearsals and Precalculus problems), I got to see a play last week, called "The Children's Hour."
It was to be me and my entire drama class (comprised of seven freshmen plus me) traveling to The Gamm Theatre, which is this quaint little thing in Providence. Highly recommend it.
All we knew going into it was that the story took place at a girl's boarding school and it was written in the 1930s. And a big scandal involving homosexuality occurs.
Not a chance did I think I'd walk out of that theater with my heart on the floor, shattered in a million pieces. *Spoiler alert, if you're still interested in watching it yourself, I suggest you stop reading right now*
We walk into the tiny theatre (that looks more like a black-box) and take our seats. My first thought is how on earth are they going to fit an entire cast on that smidgeon of a stage??? It's cute, of course, but doesn't seem very practical. The walls are entirely covered by a series of dusty, green chalk boards, all different sizes and all antique-looking. I'm sure that's the idea, anyway. An old-fashioned sort of swing plays through the speakers. Emma turns to me and says she doesn't quite like the music. We sit and we wait.
Before long, a more modern, more upbeat yet sexy tune plays through the speakers behind our heads. Schoolgirls bust into the room dressed in plaid little skirts and burgundy bobby socks. A highly ostentatious old woman attempts to take control of the class. She wears a flower-print dress. Too many colors on it are clashing. She recites a scene from Julius Caesar. Some girls pretend to listen while others cause trouble behind chalk boards.
All's well and good as one by one, the protagonists (and antagonists) are introduced: Karen, a sweet-as-can-be school teacher and headmistress; Joe, her perfect doctor of a fiancee; Martha, co-headmistress as well as Karen's best friend; Aunt Lily, the ostentatious old lady who likes to think of herself as a world-renowned actress; Mrs. Tilferd, the most generous donor to the school, and her troublesome, rowdy granddaughter, Mary.
Mary's got some serious issues to say the least. She's a compulsive liar, a prime manipulator, persistent bully, and quite frankly, a virus to human nature. Fed up with being constantly punished, she throws a fit and runs away from school back to her grandmother's place, using all her malice and all her charm to weasel her way through grandma. Ultimately, she convinces her grandmother that some "funny business" has been happening at school between the two headmistresses—some "sinful" acts that are completely "unnatural".
That was all it took. One tiny little lie, one eensie-weensie little rumor to unravel a series of most tumultuous events. Grandmother Tilferd, most horrified, proceeds to call up the rest of the school and orders all the parents to take their children home. She believes the school is not "safe" anymore.
Absolutely perplexed, Karen, Martha, and Joe appear at Grandmother Tilferd's house, demanding answers. All anyone can do is watch in shock as Mary stands by her story, Mrs. Tilferd taking her side, seeing as Mary's the only little angel she's got left. "I don't understand and I'm not sure I want to understand," she spits.
Little by little, Karen and Martha's whole world spirals into a pit of most unwelcome despair. Over the course of seven months, they lose the trial, their school shuts down, they lose their jobs, they lose their money, their reputations, all their hopes and dreams. All because of one very unhappy and mentally disturbed little girl.
Joe comes and visits the two almost-starving women at their closed-down schoolhouse. Through it all, he has not abandoned them. He supports them and provides for them—even though Martha is not his bride to be. Joe quite possibly might be the most underrated character of the whole play and must be recognized for his heart of gold.
Karen gets into an argument with Joe, kindled by paranoia. She believes Joe will grow to resent her for the rest of their lives since they can never take back the events that had occurred. She asks him to leave—to take a break from her—and unwillingly, he surrenders, leaving a confused and distraught Karen in his wake.
Martha walks into the room and begins her confession.
"I love you."
"Why, I love you too, Martha."
"But you see... I've always loved you. Perhaps the way the others said," she admits.
Karen refuses to believe it's true. She tries blaming Martha's delusions on exhaustion and paranoia and hunger. She orders Martha to go to bed.
"Karen, all my life I knew something was wrong but I didn't know what. Now, I'm starting to understand..."
We walk into the tiny theatre (that looks more like a black-box) and take our seats. My first thought is how on earth are they going to fit an entire cast on that smidgeon of a stage??? It's cute, of course, but doesn't seem very practical. The walls are entirely covered by a series of dusty, green chalk boards, all different sizes and all antique-looking. I'm sure that's the idea, anyway. An old-fashioned sort of swing plays through the speakers. Emma turns to me and says she doesn't quite like the music. We sit and we wait.
Before long, a more modern, more upbeat yet sexy tune plays through the speakers behind our heads. Schoolgirls bust into the room dressed in plaid little skirts and burgundy bobby socks. A highly ostentatious old woman attempts to take control of the class. She wears a flower-print dress. Too many colors on it are clashing. She recites a scene from Julius Caesar. Some girls pretend to listen while others cause trouble behind chalk boards.
All's well and good as one by one, the protagonists (and antagonists) are introduced: Karen, a sweet-as-can-be school teacher and headmistress; Joe, her perfect doctor of a fiancee; Martha, co-headmistress as well as Karen's best friend; Aunt Lily, the ostentatious old lady who likes to think of herself as a world-renowned actress; Mrs. Tilferd, the most generous donor to the school, and her troublesome, rowdy granddaughter, Mary.
Mary's got some serious issues to say the least. She's a compulsive liar, a prime manipulator, persistent bully, and quite frankly, a virus to human nature. Fed up with being constantly punished, she throws a fit and runs away from school back to her grandmother's place, using all her malice and all her charm to weasel her way through grandma. Ultimately, she convinces her grandmother that some "funny business" has been happening at school between the two headmistresses—some "sinful" acts that are completely "unnatural".
That was all it took. One tiny little lie, one eensie-weensie little rumor to unravel a series of most tumultuous events. Grandmother Tilferd, most horrified, proceeds to call up the rest of the school and orders all the parents to take their children home. She believes the school is not "safe" anymore.
Absolutely perplexed, Karen, Martha, and Joe appear at Grandmother Tilferd's house, demanding answers. All anyone can do is watch in shock as Mary stands by her story, Mrs. Tilferd taking her side, seeing as Mary's the only little angel she's got left. "I don't understand and I'm not sure I want to understand," she spits.
Little by little, Karen and Martha's whole world spirals into a pit of most unwelcome despair. Over the course of seven months, they lose the trial, their school shuts down, they lose their jobs, they lose their money, their reputations, all their hopes and dreams. All because of one very unhappy and mentally disturbed little girl.
Joe comes and visits the two almost-starving women at their closed-down schoolhouse. Through it all, he has not abandoned them. He supports them and provides for them—even though Martha is not his bride to be. Joe quite possibly might be the most underrated character of the whole play and must be recognized for his heart of gold.
Karen gets into an argument with Joe, kindled by paranoia. She believes Joe will grow to resent her for the rest of their lives since they can never take back the events that had occurred. She asks him to leave—to take a break from her—and unwillingly, he surrenders, leaving a confused and distraught Karen in his wake.
Martha walks into the room and begins her confession.
"I love you."
"Why, I love you too, Martha."
"But you see... I've always loved you. Perhaps the way the others said," she admits.
Karen refuses to believe it's true. She tries blaming Martha's delusions on exhaustion and paranoia and hunger. She orders Martha to go to bed.
"Karen, all my life I knew something was wrong but I didn't know what. Now, I'm starting to understand..."
"Martha, for God's sake, go to bed."
Martha stops short, her next words lodging in her throat. We can see the desperation and despair in her eyes.
"All right."
She walks over to the door. Karen keeps her back to her.
As she opens the door, she says,"Goodnight, darling". And she is gone.
Karen shuts her eyes, contemplating what she just said. The regret is plain on her face.
She turns back towards Martha's bedroom door when it happens.
No one expected the shot.
No one had prepared for that most heart-wrenching sound.
Karen doesn't even scream. She swallows a gasp, eyes wide and unforgiving as she steadies herself to the ground.
Mrs. Tilferd comes knocking on the door, eager to share her news.
"It's all been figured out! The girls confessed! Oh, isn't it wonderful, Karen?! You and Martha are free!"
"Martha is dead. Go. It makes no difference anymore."
"But I—"
"Get out of my house."
Karen doesn't look back to check as Mrs. Tilferd shuts the door.
The stage grows dimmer and dimmer, darkness nearly enveloping Karen as she's left all alone in the room.
She stands herself up, takes a look around the empty, chalkboard-covered room, swiping her hand across the ancient chalk dust. A place this familiar shouldn't hold this much pain.
Then she walks towards the door—her dead best friend just on the other side.
Darkness swallows her every step, but when when she opens the door, all we see is light.
And that was the end.
Everyone, everyone in that tiny little theater stood up and clapped like nothing I'd ever seen before.
Everyone but me and little Emma.
Tears stream silently down my cheeks. My hand clings to my neck and I suddenly realize I haven't been breathing.
I exhale and look over at Emma. Her expression is identical to mine—numb, confused, lost, and forlorn.
We don't clap.
It takes us far too long to register when people start to get up and leave.
Neither of us feel like talking. It feels disrespectful to talk. Meanwhile, the rest of our chatterbox class rambles on and on about how that was so depressing and they've never watched something so sad in their life.
But that's the thing. It wasn't even real. They haven't witnessed that kind of loss and I hope to God they never have to.
Emma keeps it together until we're about fifty feet away from the red mini-bus. She grabs at my elbow and lets out the tiniest sobs.
The rest of the class has moved on to chat about other things but neither of us see how they can.
I want nothing more than to pull her in a giant hug and tell her everything's gonna be okay.
But I can't because I know she'd hate me if I started a scene.
So I wait for us to climb on the bus and ask her if she wants to sit in the back. When she nods, I make my way over to the seat and leave room for her as I sit down. Within seconds, her head is in my lap and her whole body shakes with uncontrollable sobs.
I don't say anything as I sit there and comb through her hair and rub circles into her back.
Sometimes there's just nothing to say.
After a while though, she sits up and I ask her what she's thinking about.
"Luc,"
"Yeah, me too,"
We didn't even know Luc all that well and it still has this much of an impact on us.
Suicide is not a joke. It is not a game. It is not something someone wakes up and "decides" to do.
As someone who's struggled with suicidal thoughts for a long while, it is far more complicated than any other "decision".
I'm not trying to speak for everyone out there because everyone goes through quite different experiences, but it certainly is not easy battling those thoughts everyday.
Luc is the second person I know to have committed suicide. The first one was a boy at my other school, back in DR. His name was Ben. He was only sixteen.
All I ask is that if you ever, and I mean EVER, have feelings of hurting yourself or others, please ask for help. I beg of you, do NOT keep it to yourself.
National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 1-800-273-8255
They are available 24/7. Do not think of yourself as an inconvenience. You are not a burden.
All in all, Thursday was a rough night. I didn't sleep much and to top it off, the next morning was the Presidential Inauguration.
All I can say is they played the livestream of it during my precalculus class and I felt like vomiting the entire time.
Despite this series of events, I am alive and okay and to tell the truth, the news of the Women's March on January 21st made my heart leap.
It was so uplifting to see so many people unite and fight for these very human and very necessary concerns and beliefs.
I hope you all have it in your heart to power through and march beyond.
It will not be easy but it will be worth it.
Hasta la próxima,
So so so much love xoxo
Maya
No comments:
Post a Comment