Act one
Curtains open. An opulent dining room with a fancy table and chairs, a grand bookcase behind it and two on an ornate patterned silk rug. Mum and Dad sit at the table, drinking coffee out of teacups and reading their own copy each of a newspaper.
A man stands in an all-black funeral suit with a top hat and walking stick at side of stage (narrator). He has a spotlight on him, and lighting is dim over the background.
Narrator: Isn’t it strange how your upbringing and the events that take place can remain with you into adulthood?
You may not be aware of it. It can loom silently behind you. It’s menacing, creeping-ever closer presence waiting for its time. Like the second hand of a clock prodding the minute to turn. Or sometimes, it’s something that has always been there. An invisible weight bearing down. Shoulders carrying tension they are unable to release, despite the danger long passed.
Trauma is the invisible friend that remains unacknowledged at the family dinner table. The uninvited guest at peaks and troughs of your life.
Many try to drown it of course, to silence it. Some try drink or sex, others drugs. Some ambitious souls, all three. Anything but to talk. We’d rather cause our bodies incalculable amounts of harm than acknowledge our pain.
They say acceptance is the first step. Then how come we’ve fallen at the first hurdle ?
Because acceptance requires the difficult work of holding up a mirror to the past. Examining it, combing over it. Sometimes, this means admitting how our actions may have caused others pain too. Many of us feel unable to face this. And so, we continue to trundle on, causing pain and ignoring pain. The human condition.
Lights come on, spotlight goes off. The dad pours whisky into his coffee and leaves the bottle on the table with a loud thud, mum doesn’t look up. The narrator slowly backs away off stage.
The youngest son, seven years old, runs into the dining room with a bright yellow toy truck that is making loud sounds and lighting up. He yells ‘BRUMM’ as he crashes it into the sofa. Mum loudly sighs.
Mum: Remind me why we had children again?
Dad: Beats me, they are so loud and a drain on the finances.
Mum: Jonathan, take your loud car into your room.
Jonathan: But mummy look, it has glow up wheels!
Jonathan runs up to his mum and holds the truck up to her, spinning the wheels. She does not look up from the paper.
Dad: Stop bothering us Jonny, go and play in your room.
Dad fills up his cup with whisky, knocking it back. The clock reads 5pm. Jonny sighs, head lowered and sniffling quietly he goes to his room.
Scene change
Jonny’s bedroom where he plays with his car on his bed, still crying softly. There is a knock at the door and Adam walks in, not waiting to be told to enter.
Adam: Jonny, it’s … why are you crying?
Jonny: Mummy was mean to me. Mum and dad never want to play.
Adam sits down on the bed and puts his arm around Jonny’s shoulders.
Adam: I’ll always be here to play with you Jonny.
Jonny: But you aren’t mum and dad. No matter how much you try you’ll never be mum and dad. I want them.
Adam: I understand, but sometimes adults don’t see you in the way they should. Get what I mean?
Jonny: Not really. BRUMMM
Jonny goes back to playing with the car and looks away from Adam. Adam sighs, then ruffles Jonny’s hair.
Adam: Dinner is in ten, okay?
Jonny: Okay, be down in a minute.
Adam leaves the room and shuts the door, pausing just outside for a moment he runs his hands through his hair in frustration. Inside the room, Jonny puts down the car on the floor and puts his head in his hands looking into the distance.
Scene change
Set back in the opulent dining room. This time the table has four chairs and is set for dinner. Mum, Dad and Adam are sat at the table in silence.
Dad: Where the bloody nora is Jonny? Dad bangs his fists on the table and shouts.
Mum: He’ll be down in a moment I’m sure sweetheart. No need to shout.
Dad: It’s my house, I’ll do what the bloody hell I please. I would like to eat my dinner before it turns stone cold. It’s already lukewarm!
Adam: Dad, please stop shouting. Jonny will be down now.
Jonny skips into the room.
Jonny: Sorrryyy. My ninja turtles were in the middle of a race and I had to see who’d win! Donatello took it in the end.
Dad: you need to get in the real-world. Sit down and eat your dinner.
Jonny walks over quietly; he sits at the table and begins to eat. Nobody says anything for 10 seconds. The only audible sound is dad pouring himself another large whisky and the clock ticking. Adam looks at the bottle pointedly, then at his mum, who catching his gaze quickly looks down focusing on the asparagus on her fork.
TO BE CONTINUED (potentially)!