A Year in the Life BeforeA Stage Play by Jamie TrowerSet in New Zealand, this play tells of a year before the death of Regan O'Brien, a sixteen year-old Pakeha girl still trying to work out the intertwining stories of her life;Scene 1
SUMMER
[The stage
starts with a Pohutukawa tree filling the stage in a blue, yellow and green light.
Birds chirping in the background. There are littered sounds of dogs barking,
waves crashing against the beach and children playing in the background. UNCLE
BILL is sitting under the Pohutukawa tree
playing chords on an old-looking guitar. He’s playing along to the chords of Trinity
Roots’ Home, Land and Sea as it plays from the ghetto blaster perched next to
him. REGAN walks on stage and looks
up at the tree, runs her hands through the needles and sits beneath it. She
doesn’t notice UNCLE BILL at all. The
music dies down and UNCLE BILL freezes.
Regan is dressed in a pair of rugged jeans and a white singlet]
REGAN: This sure was
a beautiful summer (Beat) Hot.
Boiling, actually (Beat) 2003. The
sky was blue, birds chirruped in the overhanging trees and the smell of Uncle
Bill’s cooking wafted out to greet us. Fish and beer. That ‘Maori holiday’
smell. Even though I’m a ‘Pakeha-blood’, so Bill says with a laugh (Beat) The Pohutukawa tree’s red. All my
favorite colours: the light blue of the water kissing against the shore, the
green of the crisp leaves on the branches and the red [Pause] That beautiful red. Our Pohutukawa tree’s special, you see.
It stays those colours all year. The flowers stay open even when the wind’s
bitterly, or when the lawn’s orange with autumn (Beat) I’ve always wanted to return to the year in the life before.
Before it all happened. Before Mary got into some trouble. The years’ sounds,
its smells and its stories. The stories of Lenny, Mary and Oppa all going down
to their Aunt Mildred’s house and the stories of Aunt Holly and Uncle Bill
driving up to Kerikeri in the spring. I remember walking through the trees
around the house in Leigh. That sure did seem like the perfect Eden. Every so often, the mist of the under-lying fog
parted for a tiny animal to wander and inspect roots and grubs, only for the
creature to be swallowed up again a moment later. It was beautiful there. Life
was beautiful (Beat) Mary and Oppa went
to climb the big kauri next to the holiday park around the bay. Me being me, I
told them not to be so damn stupid. Uncle Bill and Aunty Holly know the owners
of that holiday park and when I died, they came over to pay their respects. I think
they’re called Stu and Sue, but, I don’t know (Beat) They wanted me to climb. All the way up to the top. But I
didn’t. I’m chicken, eh. Heights scare me.
[Pause]
That year sure was
something though. The whole beach had swarmed with life and the whānau all were
together. They sang, laughed and talked. That was beauty right there. The
beauty was in the life. The life under the stretching Pohutukawa tree. That
colorful Pohutukawa tree.
[Lights fade and REGAN and UNCLE
BILL exit. MARY and OPPA enter. The light colours change to a hazy gold, as
though it was the middle of a scorching summer day]
OPPA: My whānau and I were
down here at the beach all last summer. We swam in the sea and dried off under
the big orange ra. My tipuna and tipuna tāne sat under the shade of the tree in
their wheelchairs and watched us play in the moana. They didn’t like the heat.
No one did really, except Mary who stretched and scratched to get the ‘perfect’
tan (Beat) The life thrived under this
beautiful tree. Every time I looked up from the beach, they were always
laughing, holding hands and smiling. They were buried on the Taupiri mountain. They
had told me that that’s where had met all those years ago (Beat) Mary took it the hardest; she loved her grandparents. She
wailed over their caskets at the family marae down near Gisbourne (Beat) But death’s part of life, isn’t
it? We can’t live forever and that’s what Mary can’t understand. She was ripped
apart when Regan was taken too, being that they were so close. First was our
grandparents with age, and then it was Regan with…the secret (Beat) They fell like dominoes under that
tree.
MARY: I’ve always loved this
Pohutukawa. With its outstretched arms and prickly, tickly flowers. When Oppa
and I were younger, we named it Oranga Tonutanga " the tree of everlasting
life. I never knew it’d be the death of us too. All those years of laughter,
finished with one, final step (Beat) After
she was buried, our parents had told us that the Pohutukawa tree was Regan
looking over us. Even though the branches were bare. It was Regan waving to us
in the morning breeze and it was Regan who kept us cool on those scorching
days. Mum even said that when the Pohutukawa dies, we’ll be able to weave
purapurawhetu out of its flowers. Don’t know how that’d work, but it sounded
good (Beat) I knew it wasn’t though.
Regan was in Heaven, not in a quite beach on the outskirts of Leigh. Oppa knows
it too (Beat) Whenever we sit under
the remains of the Pohutukawa tree, we can see her silhouette against the
setting sun. That year caught us all by surprise. That year where everything
changed in that life of hers
[OPPA
and MARY go into freeze-frame. REGAN enters.
One Pohutukawa flower drops from the tree. REGAN picks up the flower and places it on the apron of the stage and kneels
down behind it, as though in prayer. Lights
dim to black]
© 2012 Jamie TrowerAuthor's Note
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Added on May 5, 2012 Last Updated on May 5, 2012 AuthorJamie TrowerNew ZealandAboutI am a 17 year old male and live in New Zealand. I found writing a huge refuge after suffering a brain injury in 2003. I fractured my skull in two places, had bleeding in the brain and I was in a.. more..Writing
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