Bear Claw

I like taking baths so I wrote this scene.

Lights up:
The girl is concealed inside a porcelain bathtub. The bathtub is antique with golden claws and large handles. The girl lies back, sticking her toes inside the faucet at random. Bocelli’s “Time To Say Goodbye” plays softly in the background. The girl addresses her mother and the audience at different points.

GIRL: I love this song, don’t you? Andrea Bocelli is blind and I always like to imagine him with eyes closed, his fingers moving through the air as he orchestrates. I don’t know if he really does that but he should.

MOTHER: What are you doing in there, girl? It’s been an hour.

GIRL: It’s been two, mother! And don’t even think of coming in here.

MOTHER: And what if I did?

GIRL: Just don’t! Can’t a girl get any privacy? This is my place. I can’t be touched here.

MOTHER: You know when I was a girl I bathed with my mother! She would scrub my back; it was so lovely. It was quality time!

GIRL: You grew up in the seventies. It was different then. You had long black hair and breasts to the floor. I’ve seen the photographs. My mother singed her eyelashes off with a hash pipe one summer afternoon in a field of cows. She could hear cars humming on the highway nearby.

MOTHER: I did not! Don’t tell people that!

GIRL: Just don’t come in here!

MOTHER: What do you do in there? You’re awfully mysterious.

GIRL: I don’t do anything. I just think and read and eat the occasional scoop of ice cream.

MOTHER: Can’t I come in? I could wash your toes. I could soap your hair. I could shave your legs.

GIRL: Don’t you have anything better to do?

MOTHER: I just want to be close to you!

GIRL: Jesus Christ. I should never leave this tub. After all, I have everything I need: exfoliants and soaps and magazines and the dreams that tangle in my head. I once brought an entire box of popsicles into this tub and sat for four hours; my lips and tongue were blue. My insides were all pruny, like shriveled fruit. I adored it.

MOTHER: All that cleanliness isn’t good for you! You should go outside and run around in the mud! We could take a boat ride together!

GIRL: You’ll say anything to get me out there with you.

MOTHER: I’m lonely!

GIRL: I can’t be responsible. It sounds selfish but it’s the truth. A girl has to stand on her own two feet. I work hard for the solitary peace of this bathtub. I look forward to it all day. Sometimes I lose focus, falling into daydreams, and when I look up, my boss is staring at me through his thick glasses, quietly slapping a ruler against his hand. “You’ve been dreaming again, haven’t ya? You got numbers to crunch,” he says, the steel heavy in his lined hand. Let me tell you, I’ve got to get out of accounting. I’m good with numbers, with their quiet symmetry and predictability, but I don’t like them. I’d flush them all down the drain if I could. Yes, sir, I would.

MOTHER: What are you mumbling about? Numbers?

GIRL: Go do something domestic, mother! Chop some carrots or water the plants. She’s head of a fortune 500 company but she can’t be bothered to chop up garlic for dinner. I adore her, I want to strangle her. It’s satisfying to experience that duality of emotion. Don’t you think?

MOTHER: Your grandmother is here! She would love to come in!

GRANDMOTHER: Darling, do let me in! I’ll rustle us up some martinis. I’ll braid your hair, sing you a song.

GIRL: No! I’m happy to be by myself. Why is that such a crime?

GRANDMOTHER: It’s not, sweets. I used to bathe with your mother, you know.

GIRL: Yes, I know, I know. That doesn’t make it right.

GRANDMOTHER: We’re family. Your dirt is my dirt and don’t ever forget it.

GIRL: My grandmother is a recovering alcoholic, does that give her credibility? She thinks so.

GRANDMOTHER: I WAS ONCE AN ALCOHOLIC! I’M FINE NOW BUT I UNDERSTAND YOUR DEEPEST SORROW, TRULY I DO! LET ME IN THERE, WE CAN TALK!

GIRL: I’m fine! I just want to read my tabloid. Brad and Angelina are going for baby number thirty-four.

GRANDMOTHER: Christ on a cracker! I need a stiff drink at the thought of it.

GIRL: It’s tough to be a girl, sometimes, but I don’t see another option. Do you?