Page 86 of Gifted & Talented

81

Scene: The smoldering, partially destroyed home office of the late Thayer Wren

The Players:

Meredith Wren

Arthur Wren

Eilidh Wren

(Hand-designed by God, which is to say, fully imagined by Lou.)

Meredith Wren sits behind her father’s elaborate mahogany desk, which has been untouched. Eilidh Wren enters the office from somewhere stage right, the burnt-to-a-crisp dining room.

Eilidh: Excuse me, you’re giving the company to Lou and you’re going to prison? Just… unilaterally, that’s what’s happening? No consulting with either of us?

Meredith: Were you expecting something different?

Arthur enters from the corridor leading to the bedrooms, looking tousled. He isn’t wearing a shirt. He is, however, wearing a pair of very loud, flamingo-print pants made famous on the Formula M circuit by one Yves Reza.

Arthur: Oh! You’re both here. I was just fetching Gill’s book.

Arthur picks up a hardcover that has been burned so severely it only reads NAPO , and the partially scorched A looks like an E .

Arthur: Here it is!

Eilidh and Meredith exchange a bemused frown.

Meredith: Where have you been, Brother Depravity?

Arthur: What’s that, Sister Nosy?

Arthur smiles absently. Meredith looks revolted. Eilidh looks aghast.

Meredith: Ugh. Never mind.

Eilidh: Arthur! What about Gillian?

Arthur: Hm? Oh, she’s always had voyeuristic tendencies.

Now Eilidh looks revolted. Meredith looks pleased, as if to say, good for her.

Arthur: Wait. What do you two think I’m talking about?

Meredith: Don’t answer that. It’s a trick.

Arthur: We’re playing Scrabble.

Meredith: I’m sure you are.

Arthur: Whatever happened with Cass, by the way?

Meredith: Oh, he got a cab home from the funeral.

Eilidh: You pissed him off that badly?

Meredith: Actually, I think the main problem was that I was being a little too wonderful.

Eilidh: Right, a hugely believable outcome.

Meredith: Thank you.

Arthur: What about Jamie?

Meredith: He’s on his way back to LA to get some things from storage, but he’ll be here for the arraignment.

Arthur: Arraignment?

Eilidh: Oh, just wait till you hear this!

Arthur waits expectantly.

Meredith: Oh, sorry. I thought Eilidh was going to say it. I’m going to prison.

Eilidh motions wildly as if to say, release the hounds. Arthur seems confused.

Arthur: Prison? For what?

Meredith: Fraud.

Arthur: Oh, because the Chirp doesn’t work?

Eilidh and Meredith in unison: It’s Chirp.

Arthur: It certainly is now.

Eilidh: Hello? Can you please tell her she’s not allowed to go to prison?

Meredith: Why am I not allowed? I did a crime. It’s called accountability. I’m due for some atonement.

Eilidh: Meredith, this is ridiculous, it’s practically self-flagellation!

Meredith: Is not. It’s penance.

Arthur: Even so, it does seem in poor taste for my congressional campaign, Sister Saintly.

Arthur pauses to look impressed.

Arthur: I don’t think I’ve ever used that variation before!

Eilidh looks exasperated.

Eilidh: You’re not allowed to go to prison, Meredith. What’s the point of being rich if you can’t just do time in some cushy rehab facility?

Meredith: I think it’s pretty clear that I’m trying my hardest not to be rich.

Arthur: Isn’t it funny how that works? We actively have to try.

He looks stunned.

Arthur: Maybe all billionaires are bad.

Meredith: On the subject of your campaign, I don’t suspect your polyamorous entanglements will be well met by the voting public.

Arthur (with great enthusiasm): Thank you, Sister Sage, I’d not considered that!

Meredith: Don’t sass me, Brother Lothario.

Eilidh: Hello? Has anyone remembered I exist?

Meredith: We know you exist, Eilidh. Your opinion just happens to be irrelevant at the moment.

Arthur: As does mine, evidently.

Meredith: Well, always.

Eilidh slumps into a half-charred chair.

Eilidh: I thought things would be different, you know. After everything.

She looks away.

Eilidh: I mean, are we even going to discuss the fact that we’re about to have a new sibling?

Meredith scoffs derisively.

Meredith: Please. That baby is young enough to be our collective child.

Eilidh: You get that that’s worse, right?

Arthur: I’m excited about it. I love babies.

Meredith: Says a man who doesn’t have to completely recreate his body to have one.

Arthur: I appreciate that you’re not using the word destroy! Though I did have an argument all queued up for that.

Meredith: Again, and I can’t understate this, your opinion on the matter is completely irrelevant.

Eilidh: Hello?

Meredith: Hello.

Eilidh: What are we going to do?

Meredith: I told you, I’m going to prison.

Arthur: I’m going to probably lose my election.

Meredith: Maybe not. You spend too much time on social media. I don’t think you’ve noticed that your opponent is seventy and still calls women “females.”

Arthur: And?

Meredith: And maybe you’ll win.

Arthur: And?

Meredith: And you can make that everyone else’s problem.

Eilidh: I really wanted Chirp to work, you know.

Eilidh is looking out the window. Meredith and Arthur exchange a glance, then turn to Eilidh.

Meredith: It does work. Just… not the way I promised it would. More like any ordinary antidepressant. It works, it just… can’t fix everything. Nothing can fix everything.

Arthur walks over to where Eilidh is sitting and rests a hand on her shoulder.

Arthur: I’m sorry we weren’t there for you, Eilidh.

Eilidh looks up at him with surprise.

Eilidh: What?

Arthur: When you had your accident. I’m sorry we didn’t come to the hospital. We should have been there with you.

Eilidh leans her cheek on Arthur’s hand. Meredith scoffs, prompting both of them to turn.

Meredith: Speak for yourself. Who says I didn’t come to the hospital?

Eilidh: Um. Me? You never came to see me.

Meredith: I came. I was there for a while.

Eilidh:??

Meredith: You were sleeping.

Eilidh: You didn’t wake me?

Meredith: Of course not. That would have been rude.

Arthur: Well, I’m sorry we didn’t go to your performances.

Meredith: Again, speak for yourself!

Eilidh: Are you joking?

Meredith: I saw all of your performances. They were very good. I think you’re very talented.

Eilidh:???

Meredith: What?

Eilidh: You never said anything.

Meredith: Why would I? You were busy after all the shows. I didn’t want to keep you.

Eilidh: Are you fucking insane?

Meredith: I honestly don’t know why you’re upset. No, don’t tell me. I don’t care.

Eilidh: Meredith!

Arthur is laughing.

Meredith: What are you laughing about?

Arthur: We’re just so stupid.

Meredith: Not me. I’m a genius.

Eilidh: Oh my god.

All three laugh. Eventually the laughter dies down.

Eilidh: So come on, I’m serious. We’re going to have another sibling.

Arthur: And? Death and I had to cope with having you.

Meredith shudders.

Meredith: A nightmare I constantly relive.

Eilidh: You were four!

Meredith: And?

Eilidh: This is different. We’re grown-ups!

Arthur: I feel like if you have to say it, it no longer applies. Like when Death has to tell us she’s a genius.

Meredith: I don’t have to. I enjoy bringing it up.

Eilidh throws her hands in the air.

Eilidh: I give up. Apparently you don’t even care.

Meredith and Arthur exchange another glance. This one is meaningful, a wordless conversation in a blink.

Meredith: We care, Sister Dramatic.

Arthur: Yeah, Sister Hysterical.

Eilidh looks up slowly.

Meredith: We just happen to be older and wiser.

Arthur: Well, older.

Meredith: Louder.

Arthur: More self-absorbed.

Meredith: Deeper in denial.

Arthur: It doesn’t mean we don’t care.

Meredith: We think it’s fucking weird, Eilidh.

Arthur: Sooooo fucking weird.

Meredith: But it’s happening. That’s life. Sometimes you go to prison. Sometimes your father procreates with his secretary. Sometimes you summon a plague of insects and burn down your dining room.

Arthur: That’s life, baby!

Meredith: That’s life!

Arthur and Meredith clink invisible champagne glasses.

Eilidh: You guys are insane.

Arthur drops a kiss to the top of Eilidh’s head.

Arthur: Anyway, I’m off to service my lovers in various ways. Mainly delayed gratification.

Meredith: Oh god.

Arthur grins and lopes shirtlessly into the corridor, disappearing. Eilidh turns to Meredith.

Meredith: You guys can decide how to sell the properties. And anything of value, you can split with Arthur and Dzhuliya.

Eilidh: You don’t feel at all guilty about giving up the company when Dad specifically said you had to give me a job?

Meredith: I don’t need to take care of you, Eilidh, you’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. You’re smart. You’ll figure it out.

Eilidh: I’m a washed up ingenue.

Meredith: So? I’m a washed-up prodigy. We all have our shit.

They sit in silence for a second.

Eilidh: You really watched me dance?

Meredith: Yes.

Eilidh: You liked it?

Meredith: I’ve always loved watching you dance. I don’t talk about it because I don’t talk about anything.

Eilidh: That’s true.

Meredith: You shouldn’t care about my opinion. I’m an idiot.

Eilidh: I thought you were a genius?

Meredith: Both can be true.

Eilidh: I think you’re a genius.

Meredith: I know. I think you are, too.

They look at each other for a while.

Meredith: I’d like it if you wrote to me.

Eilidh: Okay.

Pause.

Eilidh: Wait. Will you write back?

Meredith sighs exasperatedly.

Meredith: Fine.

Eilidh: I just want to talk to you.

Meredith: I do talk to you.

Pause.

Meredith, grudgingly: I love you.

Eilidh shakes her head.

Eilidh: You’re only saying that because I screamed at you.

Meredith: Well, yeah. I didn’t realize you didn’t know.

Eilidh: The genius/idiot complex strikes again.

Meredith: Take care of Arthur.

Eilidh: Why? He already has all hands on deck.

Meredith: Too many hands on that deck.

Eilidh: Literally every single hand is on that deck.

Meredith: Please stop talking about our brother’s deck.

Eilidh: What are you going to do in prison?

Meredith: It’s prison, Eilidh, not St. Bart’s.

Eilidh: I really wanted Chirp to work.

Meredith: I know. That’s why I’m going.

Eilidh: You told me you could make me happy.

Meredith: I shouldn’t have done that.

Eilidh: No, I’m saying—I’m saying thank you. Because in at least one instance, you were right.

They share a moment of sentimentality.

Meredith: Okay, well. I’m going to take a shower. Want pizza?

Eilidh: Yes please.

Meredith: What are you going to do while I’m in prison?

Eilidh: No idea. Probably eat pizza.

Meredith: Cool.

She rises to her feet and exits the room.

Eilidh looks around at her father’s office with a sense of finality. The thing in her chest shifts around to make room.

Eilidh: Bye, Dad. You weren’t very good at this. But I love you.

She exits the room and closes the charred office door. The canopy-laced sun hits the panes of the wood and fades gradually into the floor until stars blink again in the blackening sky.

End scene.