LONG DISTANCE
a play by
Emmy Kreilkamp
CHARACTERS:
FRANK, a man of 80+ years
CECELIA, a woman of 80+ years
CHANCE, a man, 30 years old
MARIA, a woman, 50 years old
Synopsis: Characters use an abandoned phone booth in a park to connect to loved ones.
Scene 1:
At Rise: An abandoned phone booth in a park, most of the plastic/glass has been removed so we are clearly able to hear the following conversations. Lots of trees. Sunlight dappled on the ground. A bench. FRANK sits on the bench. CECELIA enters, crosses the stage and sits
CECELIA
So, this is it?
FRANK
It is.
CECELIA
Are you sure it works?
FRANK
Are you going to talk to him today?
CECELIA
No.
FRANK
You could try
CECELIA
Listen, Frank, I appreciate you trying to…
FRANK
It might help
CECELIA
It’s pointless
FRANK
Maybe
(Pause.)
FRANK
Did you get the token?
CECELIA
The token?
FRANK
They gave out tokens at the center. To use in the booth.
CECELIA
Why would that matter?
FRANK
It won’t work without the token
(CECELIA looks at the booth and back at FRANK.)
CECELIA
You can’t be serious.
FRANK
You can’t be serious.
CECELIA
Have you tried it?
FRANK
Not yet.
CECELIA
Maybe you should.
FRANK
I have no need.
CECELIA
You could try nonetheless.
FRANK
Harold said it worked for him.
CECELIA
He did?
FRANK
Yep.
CECELIA
Maybe tomorrow.
(Pause.)
FRANK
Well, I need to get back.
(FRANK and CECELIA leave in opposite directions. Lights shift.)
Scene 2:
CHANCE enters, he is wearing an odd looking hoodie, perhaps tie-dyed or with an otherwise bright and ridiculous looking pattern. He looks around, picks up the phone, blows into it.
CHANCE
Hello? Hello? This is ridiculous.
(Pause.)
CHANCE
Oh, wait.
(CHANCE takes out the token, puts it in the phone.)
CHANCE
I don’t know your number. I’ll try…
(CHANCE dials 10 numbers. Waits.)
CHANCE
Hi Mom. I know it’s been a long time. I didn’t know what to say. I’m not angry anymore. I’ve moved on. I don’t really think about it. I did, for a long time. But not anymore. I’ve got my own kids now and with work and coaching basketball, my life is full. Busy.
(Pause.)
CHANCE
I appreciated your letters. You didn’t need to keep sending them, apologizing. I was partly at fault too. I gave you cause. It started to make me feel bad, hearing you say sorry over and over. I stopped reading them but they kept coming. And then they stopped. I kept them for a long time. It didn’t feel right throwing them away so I burned them. We have a fireplace and I like to sit by the fire in the evening and read. My counselor suggested I do that so that I don’t keep rereading them. Pulling me back to that time. He said I should come here too. That it might help if I say these things aloud.
(Pause.)
CHANCE
I was reading to Ian last night and there was this passage about a rock, thrown into a pond. That you don’t know the impact you have on others because the ripples reach parts of the water you can’t even see. Even below the surface there are ripples and waves. (Pause.) I’m standing on the shore, mom, and the waves keep coming.
(Long pause. He chews on his hair)
CHANCE
Well, I don’t know what else to say. Goodbye.
(CHANCE puts the phone down and exits while the lights shift and CECELIA enters from the opposite direction. CECELIA walks slowly with a cane. Goes to bench. Sits a long while. Looks at the booth. Picks up cane and leaves in the same direction she entered. Lights shift.)
Scene 3:
Mary enters walking briskly, goes straight to phone. Picks it up, puts in token.
MARY
I’ve called all the hospitals. The police station. Your ex-girlfriends. Louise. No one knows anything. I’m afraid you’re stuck between a rock and a wall somewhere. Unable to get out, without cell phone service and by yourself. I don’t think you’d have the strength to saw off your arm with a pocketknife.
(Pause.)
MARY
I don’t know why I came.
(Pause.)
MARY
I think they’re not telling me the truth. I think people know where you are but they’re not telling me. The letters didn’t come back. From your last address. They didn’t come back, which leads me to believe they got to you. But maybe people don’t return things any more. RETURN TO SENDER it would say on the letter. Sometimes with a stamp that said NO LONGER AT THIS ADDRESS. Sometimes written by hand. Now I think people just throw them out. Easier that way. Less work. Even for the post office.
(Pause.)
MARY
When you were little we had a landline. We even had long distance. Remember that, long distance. (Smiles.) Like a long distance relationship. A great space between two people. And a phone line between it.
(Pause.)
MARY
The lady at the center told me about this place. So many people have nowhere to go to talk to their loved ones after the Tsunami. So many bodies lost in the ocean.
(Pause.)
MARY
I’m sorry I didn’t believe you when you said that you wanted to get clean. I didn’t know that that would be the last time I would see you. It’s been four years Chance. (Pause.) Four years, 1 month and 3 days. (Pause.) Are you still wearing that goofy sweatshirt? Are you still chewing on your hair? Do you ever think of me?
(Long pause.)
MARY
I hope you didn’t die like all the others. I wish I could hear your voice.
(Pause.)
MARY
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything.
(MARY is distraught. She puts phone down but it falls off the receiver, she rushes out and doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. Phone is dangling from the base. Lights shift to the next scene and appear brighter as though it is a different part of the day or a different day with no blackout.)
Scene 4:
FRANK, enters as before and crosses to the bench, sits. Looks at booth. Sees the phone dangling. Crosses to booth, picks up phone. Listens for a moment then puts it back on the receiver. Goes back to bench and sits. CECELIA enters and crosses the stage slowly with a wooden cane. She sits on the bench. They both look out. A long pause. She then turns to FRANK, smiles, he smiles back, she turns and looks out.
FRANK
Are you going to try today?
CECELIA
Maybe.
(Long pause. CECELIA slowly gets up, enters the phone booth but does not speak at first. She looks at FRANK.)
CECELIA
Can I have some privacy, please?
(FRANK gets up, turns, smiling, crosses and exits. CECELIA gets token out and puts it in the phone.)
CECELIA
Listen you son of a bitch, I don’t forgive you. Why did you leave me? How was I supposed to survive without you? We had no savings. Mountains of debt. They’ve taken the boat, the van, the camper, all I have left is the house and now it’s on the market. There won’t be much left after I pay off the second mortgage and then what am I going to do? … “Love is enough” you used to say. But it’s not enough. Not now. I’ve got medications that need to be refilled. And doctors appointments and I can’t afford to keep my phone on.
(Stops speaking, looks at the phone in her hand.)
CECELIA
This damn thing. What’s the point. I might as well be talking to an empty chair at the table.
(Pause. Puts phone against her chest. Looks out. Pause.)
CECELIA
And still I miss your face. The notes you left me on the counter. Your little doodles. Comedic impressions of me. Of you. Of Smoky. Little smiles and goofy winks. (Pause.) How could you do that to me? To us?
(Long pause.)
CECELIA
You probably thought you would live another 20 years, like me. That you’d catch up. “One day our ship will come in, Cecelia.” Our ship sunk, Wilbur. It sunk. With me in it. You bastard.
(CECELIA puts phone down, picks up cane, starts to cross stage. Stops. Pauses. Turns back, crosses, picks up phone.)
CECELIA
I still love you. (Pause.) That’s all.
(CECELIA puts phone down, picks up cane, crosses stage. Exits. Long pause. The phone in the booth starts to ring. )
BLACKOUT
END OF PLAY
About the Author
Emmy Kreilkamp is a theatre artist based in the Pacific Northwest. She is a playwright, director and professor of theatre and drama at at Centralia College in Washington State. She holds a PhD in Theatre and Drama from Indiana University and an M.A. from Kent State University.