Retta Charlotte Again

by Mary Brunini McArdle

conclusion

(Lights up, stage center. An angry Young Retta Charlotte sits brooding.)

Retta: Nothing’s any fun anymore. Eddie won’t talk to me at school because he’s afraid of being teased and none of the other boys look twice. I live too far out for them to bother. I’ve never been anywhere, done anything. I haven’t even been to Baton Rouge — and only once to Vicksburg! When I’m eighteen, no maybe even seventeen, I’m getting on a bus and I’m going to Baton Rouge and find a job, and then I’m going to college. Why, I might even go to New Orleans! And I’m never coming back! Never!

(Retta Charlotte stands in place, head down. Old Woman rises and speaks in place.)

Old Woman: There’s adventure in the hearts of women as well as men. They don’t have a monopoly on challenge — it only seems that they do because of family structure. It’s difficult to climb a mountain just because it’s there if you’re washing the dishes and making the beds.

(Retta Charlotte goes to rear of stage center and looks through imaginary window.)

Retta: Still — it’s awful pretty on the farm, especially after the sun goes down. I wonder if — if I went away, if I’d miss being in the country? The full moon’s out; the corn’s ripe and it has to be gotten in before tomorrow. I wish I didn’t have to stay in the house and watch the stove instead of working with the grownups. It’s a shame I don’t have any brothers or sisters — a younger sister could watch the stove instead of me. (She shrugs.) Guess I’d better set the table — the workers will be hungry when they get through.

(Retta Charlotte leaves window and goes forward toward audience.) Even though I’m not out there with the others, I can picture it as if I was. Why, I knew the Harvest Song when I was four years old! (Retta Charlotte recites song to audience.)

Retta:

All you reapers, go yonder,
To the cold, shadowed field,
Where the full moon is waiting;
The slim sickles to wield;
Where the corn and the barley
In their furrows have grown,
And the ripe fruits of labor
That the prior Spring were sown....
Though the night wind blows bitter,
Let the straw be your shield;
And the moon is your lantern,
While the crops are your yield.
Bear your burden with courage,
Work your pitchfork alone,
For your cohorts beside you
Will help bring the trove home;
And the dusk in the Autumn
In the cold, shadowed field,
Is your blanket and solace,
And the harvest your meal.
When the season is over,
The dry stalks missing and mown,
Then the moon will be setting,
And the leaves tossed and blown.

(Retta Charlotte retreats to back of stage center and stands in place, head down. Old Woman takes a sip from champagne glass, then rises and crosses to stage center.)

Old Woman: Didn’t I tell you nothing was simple? Now take a look at this. The harvest is in, the grownups have eaten, and Retta Charlotte has helped her Mama with the dishes. It’s very late, but Retta Charlotte hasn’t gone upstairs yet. (Sound of rocks hitting window.)

Retta: (going to window and looking out.) Eddie! I thought everybody had gone home. What are you doing here?

Eddie: I wanna talk to you, Retta Charlotte.

Retta: Eddie, it’s awful late. We’ve got school tomorrow. The bus comes at seven in the morning. And you’ve still got to walk two miles to get home.

Eddie: Please? Just for a minute?

Retta: Well, all right. Come in the kitchen. But keep your voice down. (She opens imaginary door and lets Eddie in.)

Eddie: I’ve been thinking.

Retta: Oh, really? You’ve been thinking?

Eddie: Yeah. We’ve been friends just about forever, haven’t we, Retta Charlotte? And neither of us has any brothers or sisters. Just imagine! Just imagine if we got married when we grew up and put our farms together. We’d be rich!

Retta: I don’t think anybody’s gonna get rich farming corn and cotton, Eddie.

Eddie: But I’d be a good farmer. And you love the outdoors so. Wouldn’t you be happy?

Retta: I — I —

Eddie: You are going to stay, aren’t you? In the country, I mean. I know you make really good grades, good enough to go to college, but — you wouldn’t leave, would you?

Retta: I — don’t — I’m not —

(Eddie leans forward and shyly kisses her. They step apart, astonished. Eddie grabs her and kisses her again. Then he runs out the door. Retta Charlotte stands in place, awestruck, as lights dim. She touches her mouth.)

Retta: Oh! What in the world? I feel like something’s pulling me down, down into the rich, dark soil. Eddie kissed me and that kiss is going all the way to the tips of my toes. But what about my dreams? Whatever am I going to do now?

(Retta Charlotte exits slowly. Old Woman crosses to stage center as lights come up.)

Old Woman: I can still see her — that young Retta Charlotte. And I can see someone else. The ghost of Retta Charlotte again.

(Young Retta Charlotte enters in different clothing; hesitates a few yards to the front and side of Old Woman.)

Old Woman: Do you think I used the word “ghost” because she’s some kind of apparition? Oh, no — she’s real, all right, and so like me — like I was. You just can’t see her as clearly as I can. But which Retta Charlotte is she? The child of the Retta Charlotte who stayed, or the child of the Retta Charlotte who left? ’Course, how do you know what Eddie did when he grew up? Maybe he left too. Maybe he and Retta Charlotte met up later in Baton Rouge or New Orleans. Who’s to say?

Retta: Mama? Mama? (Young Retta Charlotte runs from stage left to stage right and back again to stage left. She stops, looking disoriented.) Mama? Where are you? Who are you?

Old Woman: It doesn’t matter, darling. I’m here, whoever I am. And you’re here, too, whoever you are. Come. (Old Woman holds out her arms and Young Retta Charlotte runs to Old Woman. The two stand in place, holding each other.)

Old Woman: (to audience) Are you bewildered? Confused? You needn’t be. Life’s a muddle of twists and turns. I’ll warrant if you look back on your own, you’d be amazed at how many causes and effects there were by accident rather than design. But one thing’s for sure. There is another Retta Charlotte.

(Old Woman strokes the girl’s hair as Eddie enters and stands in place, stage left.)

Eddie: I’m still not a man grown, but the future’s right out there in front of me. I want to grab it, but I can’t somehow. Who is that girl? She sure resembles Retta Charlotte, but Retta Charlotte never wore her hair loose — she always had braids, even if one of ‘em was usually missin’ a ribbon. And that old woman with her? One minute she looks like she belongs on a farm, the next she’s a city lady. Things keep blurring in and out.

I’ve loved Retta Charlotte ever since I knew what the word meant. But I don’t know if I can give her what she needs. Sometimes she seems to fit in so well here, in the country. But sometimes there’s a look in her eyes I don’t understand. As if she’s seeing beyond us, both now and in the years to come. Were we meant to be together whatever happens? If she stays, will she stay with me? If she goes, will I follow? Is that my child with the old woman? Is that old woman the Retta Charlotte I used to know?

(Old Woman looks at Eddie and smiles and nods. He reaches out his arms and he and Old Woman recite finale, Retta Charlotte taking part in only stanzas two and three and reprise as lights dim slightly.)

Take care, Retta Charlotte,
With your braids and stained dress,
For the ghost of your daughter
To your love is confessed...
Thus the cycle’s repeated,
With its twists and its turns,
And we each make our choices
As life’s lessons are learned.
Are the voices we’re hearing
From the future or past?
And the years speeding by us
Till we’re finished at last?
Teach the young Retta Charlotte
To be watchful and warned,
While the mother who bore her
Holds her close in her arms.

(Reprise, last stanza. Lights dim, curtain closes.)

The End

Performance Time: Approximately 45 minutes

Honorable Mention (runner-up) in short plays, Mid-South Regional Writers’ Conference, 1998

Third Place in short plays, Alabama Conclave, 2002 (revised)