The Death Spiral

Scene 1

(A forbidding July night. It is raining; claps of thunder rumble the cheap building. Outside, the highway is full of sinister noises, gusts of wind, the slush of water, car brakes, muffled screams. The interior of the room is in complete darkness except for the vigil lights on the sign-in table. Candles flicker in their ruby glass cups. CLAUDIA appears, framed in the doorway. A wispy chiffon scarf floats free in the breeze, which blows from behind her. CLAUDIA points to her gown.)

CLAUDIA: What’s this? The latest in shrouds. (Turns around, shows her half-covered back and bare feet) No back. No shoes. I don’t worry how I dress because people don’t look at you long inside a casket in New Orleans. This is the city that care forgot!

(LIGHTS: CLAUDIA flicks on a light.)

There’s a young man laid out in parlor B, who won’t say a thing. Those moody people from the Ninth Ward. I’ve to accept I’ve more education than he has. We’re not going to speak. He’ll never be from uptown. Why couldn’t I have been buried from Bultman’s—the mortuary on the avenue that’s like a plantation? They know how to showcase a body. (Somberly) When I think of it pouring on my tombstone… my little patch of dirt.

(SOUND: A truck approaches, then passes.)

Trucks racing outside. A Taco Bell next door. I don’t know anyone who uses a mortuary on Veterans Highway. (Inspecting the parlor) Tigerlily Kleenex boxes on every table, a blanket of plastic roses. (Points to her casket) And cheap lining, flamingo pink. (Gingerly picks up the sign-in book) Well, who do we have here? Death brings all the relatives out. (Sadly) Even in the rainy days of July.

(SOUND: Noises, hushed talking, and approaching footsteps.)

My family’s at the door. They’re sure enough late.

(SOUND: Muffled noises, talking, a harsh male laugh.)

My husband, Elliot. He smiled once or twice, and he was nice once or twice. If he gets any fatter, he’ll lose his looks. They call him the walrus ’cause he flops about. Elliot was homeless once, for seven or eight months, but it’s okay now, he drives a Mercedes. He’s got that jaundiced eye, from listening to the funeral director tally up the expenses. It was an extensive makeover. The man’s got money, but he’s not used to giving it to a mortician. (To ELLIOT) Come here, my hubby. Up close, you can see my eyelid wrinkle. My hair’s still growing. Death’s so messy. (To MARGUERITE) There’s my little girl, Marguerite. Behind her daddy. That haircut looks awful. Marguerite. Never show those ears. (Sadly) Remember when I plaited your hair in ten thousand itty-itty braids, and I left it like that for the whole summer. Stay back. Better not see me up close. You’ve got my pictures. All those Christmases and Easters when I looked so pretty. Elliot, take her away.

(SOUND: The startled soft cry of a child, which intensifies as CLAUDIA speaks.)

Stop the sniveling, Marguerite. We need gentlemen and ladies, even at the mortuary. Pretend graciousness. You’ll always be missing something, Marguerite. A mother who’s weak is no role model for a daughter. I’m just a little stone in the river that you pass to move on. Look, I want you to stand over there by the wall. Think pleasant thoughts. I’m experienced in dealing with grief. That’s my strongest point. Life’s going to sling disappointments at you. So if you start out sad, you’re already in trouble. Stay back. We mothers have got to go one by one. Perfectly normal procedure. God can’t kill everybody at once. It’s too expensive.

(SOUND: Whirl of cars passing. Heavy rain. A little girl shrieks.)

(CLAUDIA raises her hand as if admitting a secret to quiet the child.)

Your father said I fell off the roof of that six-floor building. But I didn’t. (Pause) I was pushed. However, fair’s fair. I provoked him first. Never touch a man in anger, sugar. They always hit back. Hard. It’s not their fault, really. It’s a testosterone thing. Can’t have the little woman shoving them around. (Pause) I dove like a winged chariot. No back up. No props. Someone carted my remains over here. The soul is left to linger after a violent death. Spirits don’t come and carry you aloft.

(SOUND: Bolt of lightning. Crash of thunder.)

(MARGUERITE howls.)

(LIGHTS: Lights rattle off and on.)
Stop crying, Marguerite! I don’t want to live again. Marriage is a curse. It both lifts you up, and gives men a vantage to shoot you down. Once you make marriage everything, you have the smell of desperation.

(SOUND: Mozart’s Requiem is played.)

(CLAUDIA laughs hoarsely, running her fingers wildly through her hair, enjoying the music and moonlight.)

How lovely. I’ve such energy under the moon. Daddy told me he was faithful, again and again until I believed him. Before I go to Hell, I’ve one chance to avenge him. To have someone’s name is to have some control over his soul. So, I’ll roam around. Then, on an ugly night when Dad’s got his hands on some pretty young thing, I’ll violate his fantasies, clutch his throat with my cold, withered hands and scare the life from him. (With a nervous chuckle) That’s something we ghosts can do. (Pause) Rain’s stopped. Time to slip inside my mahogany box. Close the lid. Waiting’s a tedious job, but I’ll be back.

Scene 2

It’s ten years later, in the not too distant present.

CLAUDIA puts on a glamorous Louis XV silver wig, silken gloves and jacket walks up to the Orleans Club, a sumptuous 1868 mansion. It serves as headquarters to a ladies’ social club and hosts many elegant teas and wedding receptions in New Orleans. SHE looks about fretfully, fearing to go inside and speaks to the audience.

CLAUDIA: Where am I? Can you throw the address at me again. I think I can remember but who needs the unknown right?

(Picks up a brochure)

Nice to go to a wedding in a 70115 zip code.

(Reads) Surrounded by lovely gardens and patios… you’ll enjoy the finest silver, crystal, linens, and freshly-made gourmet delicacies at the …Orleans (pronounced aw-lay-on) Club.

The Orleans Club. Is Elliot still using my membership? In a women’s club?

(Sees people coming, moves as if chatting ladies are coming past her. Screams out to ladies)

I’m dead y’all! I can’t eat your smoked salmon. Your wild mushroom tarts.

(Ironic) No my husband wasn’t being abusive. He tried to keep me on the roof. He’s a praying man. HA.

(Pushing gossips off) Y’all get back now. Or, I’ll send a wind before me.

I intend to come in. Though I’m not invited. Why am I here?? They need a new body to bury in the cemetery where I live. I’m coming to get one.

(SOUND: car breaks screeching)

(Calls offstage) Go away.

It took 10 years for that hearse to get here, it can wait a bit.

I’m not going back till I have to… That cemetery is a house of pain over there…All of that death around. So much unconsciousness… Death affirms death.

And the fluttering sweet peas and daffodils are of no help. Who says flowers are a little lifeline. …Lifeline to what?

Still in the cemetery, I had this epiphany. My husband is a person. He has feelings, too.

(Takes out a recorder and plays it)

… I’ll play Bach’s Fugue in G minor written before he violated the chambermaid in Church. Toughen up before I have to--.

Oh. They let you keep one object from earth. And make 2 visits back.
(Looks about sadly) Nothing’s changed. . .much.

I’ll step inside.

(Delighted) My memory has come back. I’m me in a place of acquaintances.

— The pastor? Town gossips, wanna be’s, would have and could never have beens!

Elliot’s dull relatives.

(SOUND: gonging offstage.)

What’s that bell?

(Looks at empty wrist) I’ve no sense of time. I’m still trying to start today.

(Looks up) Ah, the old grandfather’s clock.

It’s 6:30 on this lovely almost-autumn evening. God, I remember! I only have five minutes the first visit back.

(Feeling sad) I need different music, jazz... something in B flat minor--to energize me.

(Turns on celebratory music, like something from Wynton Marsalis)

(Peering in the hallway) The room is so big an eagle could fly around in it. I forgot.

There is a kind of Crie du Coeur inside now. . . . Despite the flowering vines, reception chairs with tulle, floral swags.

(Understanding) Everything for the wedding looks over the top gorgeous. If a bit too Chinese prairie.

(Spots ELLIOT)

Ah, Elliot, there you are. Oh, no. Are you still doing introductions? I didn’t come in late enough?

(Nervous blustering) My. You’re heading the reception line. . . Any further front you’d block the door.